Shadow Lane Volume 1 & 2: The Romance of Discipline, Spanking, Sex, B&D and Anal Eroticism in a Small New England Village. Eve Howard
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poised and let it shine from her eyes.
William lowered his paper briefly to note his wife’s reaction to his change in her plans. Marguerite also scrutinized her friend. Laura ate her pie without looking at any of them, her face a mask that disclosed no emotion.
Hugo whispered something in Susan’s ear that made her laugh. This annoyed William and Hugo was content.
Feeling that a new theme might be timely, Marguerite said, “I have a story ready for you to illustrate, Laura.” Laura pounced on the distraction, becoming animated at once.
“Maybe I’ll come with you and get the copy right after breakfast,” said Laura, “Since I’m not going to Boston with Susan after all.”
“Your story will have to wait, Marguerite,” William said, putting his paper down and standing up. “I need Laura to do some ad sketches for me this morning.” He put his jacket on. “Laura, I’ve left the photos I want you to work from in the studio. Get them done before two. I need them for a presentation. Okay?”
“Yes,” Laura said, with lowered eyes, but blushing fiercely at being spoken to in this manner before the others.
William was an architect who also owned Random Point’s largest construction firm. Because of her rendering abilities, William sometimes gave Laura the onerous assignment of sketching properties being offered by the company for sale, for trade publications and Sunday supplements throughout New England. It was a task that Laura equated with punishment.
Missing the trip to Boston didn’t disturb her. She was happy for Susan’s sake, for she knew how much her sister admired their elegant guest. It wasn’t even having to do William’s boring real estate drafting that Laura found so distressing. It was that William had humiliated her by issuing these commands in front of the others.
Having charged the atmosphere with tension, William kissed Susan good-bye, warned her to be good, excused himself politely to Marguerite and exited, ignoring Hugo.
Laura walked him to the door, as was her custom. He took her in his arms in the foyer.
“You’re pouting. I don’t like that,” he said, but kissed her red mouth anyway. Her lips were trembling and when he let her go she tried to hide her face. He turned her around. Her eyes were wet.
“What’s this?” he demanded. She shook her head and tried to push him away, wondering why he so seldom stepped out of the fantasy. Yet, all of her senses were athrill, to see how he would respond to the physical rebuff.
“I hope you’re not throwing a tantrum, Laura. Look at me!” He gave her a shake that opened her eyes. “I have no intention of letting you run around Boston with Hugo all week. Now get those drawings to me by two.”
Laura flashed her husband such a mutinous look then, that he was compelled to set his briefcase down, tuck his stubborn wife under one arm, and give her a hard half dozen smacks over the seat of her skirt.
“There,” he said getting her back on her feet. “Now you’ve got a reason to pout.”
She stood rubbing her bottom resentfully.
William put on his fedora, picked up his briefcase and went out the door. However, half way to his car he turned around to give her a wink. Laura still felt indignant but liked the way he looked in the fedora and reluctantly returned a small smile.
William was pleased when Laura arrived with the sketches at 1:00. He’d gone to lunch with a client and returned to find her patiently seated on one of the leather sofas in the reception area, in her raincoat and hat, with her portfolio tucked under her arm, like a school girl arriving early for her piano lesson.
On the way into his office, William introduced Laura to his new secretary, Damaris Perez, a petite New Yorker, who’d graduated with honors from the best business college in Boston. With black hair and a patrician complexion, Damaris displayed her charming figure in a smart suit with a peplum jacket, nipped waist, straight skirt and 4”
heels. She had a sensuous mouth, wore her long hair in a French roll and painted her fingernails dark red.
“Like her?” Williams asked, once they were alone. She nodded. “I thought you’d admire her taste,” he went on. “Though any girl who wears her skirts that tight and short, clearly deserves to be spanked. Don’t you think?”
“That depends on the girl,” Laura replied.
“Have you brought the sketches?”
Laura presented her work for her husband to approve.
“You’re a good girl,” he told her. “And since you’ve been so agreeable today, you may have a reward.”
“A reward?” Her response was wary. This was an unusual word on his lips.
“Yes. I’ve decided that I’m going to let you play with Hugo after all. You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Don’t bother answering, I know you.”
“But this morning you said —”
“I changed my mind.”
Laura wondered if this had something to do with the new secretary, who appeared the perfect size and shape to fit across her husband’s knee.
“You have my permission to go crazy on Halloween. But just on Halloween,” William told her.
When Damaris Perez put her phone down, William Random appeared at her shoulder, impatient for her words. “Well?”
“He’ll be right over,” his new secretary replied, loudly clicking her gum. William scrutinized the girl with irritation through his first pair of glasses, which were heavy and uncomfortable.
“All right Damaris,” he said. “Send Detective Flagg in as soon as he arrives.”
“‘Kay,” she replied, with a snap of her gum, starting to dial the phone.
“Hang up, young lady, “William told her suddenly. “Sit up straight when I’m talking to you and get rid of the gum.”
“Did I do something wrong?” she was mystified but obeyed both commands.
“Yes. You came to work today. These new glasses need adjusting and they’re making me cranky.”
“Are they magnifying my faults?”
“They’re allowing me to see that your comportment leaves a lot to be desired.”
“I’m sorry. What can I do?” Damaris wasn’t taking this seriously and gave him a saucy smile.
“You can start by buttoning that jacket properly. You should also be wearing a shirt under it.”
“It’s too tight.”
“Of course it is, you’re wearing it.”
Damaris sobered, her dark eyes glittering. Her pert bosom heaved as she fumbled with the chunky buttons of her glove-tight princess cut jacket. Her long red nails slowed her down.
William adjusted his glasses, folded his arms and began to lecture her sternly. But she only saw his body without hearing his words. She had been distracted by it all day.
William strode up and down while reminding her of the many privileges she enjoyed as his secretary. Her salary, car and apartment were mentioned in turn. Damaris covered her fluttering heart with her tiny hands.
Almost certain she was going to be fired; her full red lower lip began to quiver. But William was expanding on his theme and did not notice. “It isn’t your work I’m complaining about,” he went on. “It’s the way you look and act, the way you flirt with my clients and fraternize with my employees. Oh yes - I’ve actually seen you out in back, behind the warehouse, getting high with the boys. You behave more