Covert Cravings Page 2

  The problem then became – what to do with her new found interest. The fantasies haunted her. Of course vague thoughts about being tied up had wandered through her mind throughout the years. She did love sexy lingerie, and wore it for Scott in the early days of their relationship. But then he lent her one of his T–shirts and that was that.

  Hence: The Blog.

  She had been a reporter in her college days. Had thought about journalism as a career but it required too much work and the field was seriously competitive. So she settled for the retail side of the fashion industry and now managed an upscale boutique. The company was generous with their commissions and she enjoyed being the boss. It was great for the time being.

  But, the Blog. The Blog liberated the writer and gave Emily an outlet for her new found fantasy life; it had all worked. Until recently...

  It wasn’t the real thing. The more she heard from Samantha, the more she read and the more she wrote, the more she wanted it herself. She wanted it so badly that it was becoming almost painful.

  7:55. She absolutely had to get up. It was her turn to open the store. She had to be there at 9.

  Dammit!

  Hurrying out of bed, she turned on the faucets in the shower. She’d probably be late – again! Glancing across the double sink bathroom counter she saw Scott’s side was neat and tidy and hers an array of bottles and make up. She should really tidy it up but she was running late – again.

  Sigh

  She stepped under the steaming water. It felt wonderful. Scott! Scott was wonderful. He was really sweet and he put up with all her failings. Never being on time, making a mess, forgetting things at the grocery store, promising to make the list before going but never quite getting around to it. She would leave her dishes in the sink. Not dirty exactly. Just filled with hot water.

  “I was letting them soak,” she’d retort when he would complain.

  “You let a cup soak?” he’d testily reply.

  I do love you, Scott...

  Chapter Three

  Sitting on his surfboard, legs dangling in the cool water, Scott stared out at the horizon. It was quite the dilemma, an intriguing and sexy one but a dilemma nonetheless. He checked his watch and saw he had another fifteen minutes. Unlike Emily, Scott made it a point to be on time and this morning would be no exception. There was no swell to speak of but it was always good to get wet. The lack of rides was a blessing in disguise. No waves gave him time to think. He still couldn’t quite believe it. It had been a few days since his discovery and it was still sinking in.

  Scott was not a suspicious person. He was easy going, didn’t sweat the small stuff and considered himself a very fortunate person. What had started as a summer job, teaching kids how to surf a decade ago, had grown into a business of his own: a surf shop at Zuma beach in Malibu. He had made a business out of his sport and he loved every minute of it.

  Emily – aka Bunny – had entered his life thanks to one of the surfer chicks that would hang out at the shop. She had suggested he check out the store displays at a boutique at which she shopped. Always happy to consider new ideas, he stopped in one afternoon and ran into the happiest, prettiest, funniest, sexiest girl he’d ever met: Emily Hunter. Emily was like one of his beach bunny groupies, with cute freckles across her nose that made her look younger than her years. She was bright and bubbly with a Barbie Doll figure and a sweet sincerity he found absolutely endearing. He nicknamed her Bunny because she met every criteria of the epitome of a surf bunny, but she miraculously had the brains to go with it.

  Everything had been going along just fine. They’d been living together for about a year and he was seriously considering making it permanent, but something had changed. Over the last couple of months she had been on the computer almost every night, and if he walked up as she was typing she would become flustered, and he could see the image on the computer screen change.

  Scott didn’t think for a minute that his cutie pie was cheating on him, not even cyber cheating, but something was going on and he was determined to find out what. Finally, he slipped out of bed in the early hours of the morning and opened up her laptop. He had no fears of her waking up. If there was one thing Emily could do well it was sleep.

  Hitting the history tab he discovered she had been visiting Wordpress, the site that hosted his surfing blog.

  Strange, he had thought. Why is she going to my blog every night?

  Clicking on the link, expecting to find himself on his own blog site, he was momentarily confused, then totally shocked to find himself staring at a log-in screen for

  Bunny’s Blog!

  And the silly girl had checked the ‘Remember Me’ box!

  So like her, he had thought. No protection from prying eyes, including mine!

  The home page opened up and he saw she had posted 27 blogs in the last three months. Why hadn’t she told him about this? Expecting essays on fashion or her gossip about her friends or the boutique – or something equally innocuous – he could not believe his eyes when he read the title of the first post.

  Why My Boyfriend Spanks Me.

  The blog talked about how she was always late, and having run out of patience her boyfriend, a surfing hunk named Simon, grew tired of it one day and put her across his lap.

  I’d like to do just that right now, Missy, he’d thought when he finished reading it. At least she had the decency to change his name.

  He proceeded to read all 27 posts. With each post her writing and descriptive narrative became almost poetic, lyrical in fact, describing scenes in delicious detail.

  The feel of the warm wood paddle is almost comforting. A soothing, sweetness against my skin. I know it will soon fall with the sting of a hundred bees and I will whimper at the hot joy.

  He wasn’t a choirboy and certainly knew about the world of BDSM. Who didn’t? But it wasn’t something he’d actually experienced. Sure he’d hold down her wrists from time to time. But spanking, bondage, blindfolds, not really his cup of tea...

  ...but with each post he read he found himself drawn into her fantasies, his cock stirring of its own accord. Her words seduced him and by the time he reached the last blog he was completely enthralled.

  But he was puzzled and concerned. Who was this Emily? For how long had she felt this way? Was this something she really wanted or was it just a passing phase?

  The final lines of her latest post had wrapped around him and were haunting him still –

  Do I lack self-discipline in certain areas?

  Absolutely.

  Do I love having someone to whom I must answer?

  Absolutely.

  Does he sometimes spank me hard just to remind me that he will?

  Absolutely.

  Do I Love This?

  Absolutely!

  What was he to do? He couldn’t just walk in the door one day and throw her across his knee and start slapping her butt, though just the thought caused an instant response. His cock was almost standing at attention and he attempted to will it away, unsuccessfully. He stared out at the horizon and saw a fresh set of small waves heading towards him.

  He’d dunked his toe in the figurative waters of her hidden fantasy life last night, fucking her hard for the first time in their relationship, and again this morning, insisting that she open her door when he came knocking. The temperature was darn near perfect. Turning his board to face the shore he looked over his shoulder and started paddling.

  One step at a time, he told himself, as the first wave picked him up and carried him gently forward. Enjoying the short, easy ride, he reached the sand and stood up, grabbed his board from the water and hurried away. In spite of the soothing trip in and his best attempts to refuse its rise, he still had a raging woody. He dashed across Pacific Coast Highway and darted around the back of the small complex that housed his shop, pulled the keys from their hiding place and opened the back entrance. He had a small bathroom where he would shower and change. During the summer, this was his morning procedure. In the w
inter, he would swim at the gym.

  Peeling off his wetsuit he hung it on a hanger and hooked it to the back of the door. Despite his early interlude with Emily, he was bursting. Stepping under the shower he turned on the faucets, favoring the water on the cool side, and let the stream splash over him. He grabbed the soap and lathered himself, leaning against the white tiled wall.

  He could see her – stretched across his lap – her skirt up and her panties down, the black lace pair with the French cut. He loved how she looked in those. He’d never spanked anyone but he could easily imagine how her skin would turn pink as he smacked her. Would she wriggle? He was stroking himself ferociously imagining her squirm as his hand fell repeatedly on her perfectly round ass.

  His bubble was looming and he suddenly thought how incredible it would be to have his naked cock rubbing against her belly as she writhed under his slapping hand.

  Oh, Bunny, if anyone deserves a spanking...! You love having someone to answer to? Let’s find out, shall we?

  The dam broke, his hot juice squirting forth, mingling with the splashing shower as it dribbled down his hand. He opened his eyes, not even recalling when he had closed them.

  As he finished washing and toweling off, he knew the first thing he had to do was learn all he could. From the blogs it was evident Emily had done quite a bit of research. She was a step or two ahead of him. He couldn’t have that. He needed to sprint, catch up to her and take the lead.

  Chapter Four

  Emily was ten minutes late but her co-manager, Suzanne, had arrived earlier than she needed to and had opened the store. Suzanne was making a habit of it. She really liked Emily but being on time was not Emily’s strong suit. Suzanne didn’t mind. She was the reliable one and the brainiac, and having Emily there meant she didn’t have to deal with the demanding customers or mess with the mannequins.

  Emily and Suzanne had both been considered for the job of manager when the position opened up. Emily had the personality and wow factor. The clients loved her and she was brilliant at the store displays. Suzanne, on the other hand, was the quiet, smart clerk who could keep tabs on the stock, arrange the schedules of the store personnel and keep the cash receipts recorded accurately. It was finally decided to make them co-managers; it had worked out perfectly.

  “So sorry, Suze,” Emily apologized as she burst in the door. “I just couldn’t get myself up this morning.”

  “It’s ok. I know being on time isn’t your thing,” Suzanne replied. “Besides, if I had a hunk like Scott next to me I wouldn’t want to get out of bed either.”

  Emily laughed. Suzanne was the quiet type but there was nothing shy about her sometimes.

  “You don’t want to ask,” Emily replied, giggling.

  “You’re so lucky. Scott’s such a cool guy,” Suzanne said wistfully. “I wish I could find a guy like that.”

  Emily sighed. Everyone liked Scott. He was just that guy. He was so personable and easy going. Even with his employees he was super understanding when things came up. But they didn’t take advantage of him. They liked and respected him too much. And he was so cute. He looked a little like Sting, but better. Having been a surfer since he was a kid he had the wide shoulders and great body surfers were famous for. And of course the sun bleached his hair, and his brown eyes were sexy as hell.

  She hadn’t been able to finish her blog the night before and it was bothering her. There were some boxes to be unpacked and clothes to be tagged, so she told Suzanne she was going to get the chore done and she moved to the back of the store and started ripping open the large packages.

  She wanted to do the work because it was mindless and she thought she might be able to compose the rest of the blog in her head. She knew it wasn’t until she was alone late at night in front of her computer that she could really let the words flow, but it was on her mind and she wanted to think about it.

  She pictured the screen...

  When he picked up the hairbrush I could feel the hot, hard sting before he’d even crossed the room. His Walk was slow, painfully slow and—

  ... and what? How would I feel?

  And I felt goosebumps. He was calm. Too calm. I had kept him waiting a fully thirty minutes and he was going to make sure I never did it again.

  Damn! Why do I always go there?

  Because you want him to spank you for it! Because you know how hot and sexy it will feel, and because you really don’t like being late all the time!

  The phone rang, startling her out of her reverie. Suzanne’s voice crackled over the small intercom on the desk. It was Scott. Talk about timing! Still standing, she reached across and picked up the phone

  “Hey babe,” she said happily. “What’s up?”

  “What time are you planning on coming home tonight? Do you need to stay late for anything? Doing any displays?” he asked.

  “I’m unpacking some boxes now. If I see something special I might, but I don’t have to. Why do you ask?”

  “I was thinking I might be up for some Thai food. Would you like to pick some up for dinner?”

  “Sure. You want the usual? Pepper Chicken?”

  “Actually, no. I want to try a curry for a change. Get me some Chicken Panang with white rice.”

  She paused. This was not normal. She couldn’t remember the last time he had ordered anything other than his Pepper Chicken.

  “Are you sure?” she asked.

  “Of course I’m sure. I’m tired of the same old thing. Oh, and I need you to do something else for me,” he added.

  “Ok. What’s that?”

  “Stop at the drugstore and pick up one of those wooden hairbrushes, the round one – or oval. You know what I’m talking about? The kind that men used to spank their wives with back in the day.”

  All at once Emily’s heart completely stopped, as did her breathing. Then her throat constricted, followed by the buckling of her knees. They dropped out from under her and she fell butt first into a box of unpacked dresses.

  “Ooohhh...” she squealed, as she hit the soft landing.

  “Hello? Emily, are you there? Are you ok?” he asked, hearing the sound of her fall.

  “Uh huh,” she managed, realizing she was holding the receiver so tightly her knuckles were white and her fingers were hurting.

  “Is something the matter?”

  His voice was so calm, so controlled.

  Well of course his voice is calm, you ninny. He’s just talking! He has no idea what you were just thinking about. Or the fact that you’ve been obsessing about a hairbrush for weeks!

  “You know what I’m talking about don’t you? Remember those old newspaper ads where the man in the suit had his wife over his lap and he was holding a wooden hairbrush up over her ass?”

  Why did he have to keep saying it?

  “Uh huh,” she repeated, unable to think of anything else to say and completely sure she wouldn’t be able to speak even if she could.

  “Don’t you want to know why I want one?” he asked.

  Oh my God, of course. Why didn’t I ask him? He doesn’t use hairbrushes, just that comb he carries around all the time.

  Frantically, she tried to get her voice to work but her throat was still seized up, and now her mouth was utterly dry.

  “Uh huh,” she squeaked again.

  “Wow. You’re a veritable chatterbox today,” he chuckled.

  Say something, you idiot!

  “Just pre-occupied,” she stammered. “Stuff on my mind.”

  Why did you say that? Stuff on your mind? Arrggh.

  “You know… work stuff,” she added quickly.

  “Well, don’t you?” he asked.

  “Huh?” she replied, feeling totally unnerved and suddenly having no idea what he was talking about.

  “Don’t you want to know why I want the hairbrush? Are you sure you’re ok?” he pressed, “you sound kind of out of it.”

  “I’m fine,” she answered, rubbing her forehead, trying to collect herself and clamber out of
the box. “Yes. Tell me.”

  “I thought I’d spank you next time you’re late.”

  Whhaattt? OH MY GOD! DID HE JUST SAY THAT? Say something – anything! Make a joke. Laugh...

  “Try it!” she squeaked, and managed a hollow giggle.

  “I’m just kidding,” he chuckled. “Brad told me it was a great tool to sweep the sand out of the car mats.”

  Ok – I really need to get off this phone...

  “Someone’s calling me, Scott. I have to go,” she said quickly.

  “But you’ll pick one up for me?”

  “Sure. Bye”

  “Bye, Doll.”

  Emily hung up the phone and flopped down in the chair by the desk.

  Holy Crap! He must know. Dammit, he has to know. But how could he know? I need some coffee.

  Her face was hot and she felt kind of sick and there was a team of tiny gymnasts doing very complicated routines in her stomach. Unsteadily, she rose to her feet, looked at the crumpled box and decided to deal with it later. She walked clumsily to the front of the store and sat down behind the counter.

  “Hey – what’s the matter with you?” Suzanne asked. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Actually that’s not true, you look like you’ve been in the sun too long. You’re all red.”

  Emily buried her face in her hands. Right now she needed Samantha but her friend couldn’t take personal calls at work.

  “Too complicated to explain. Let’s just say Scott is full of surprises right now and I don’t know what to make of it.”

  “Better than being boring,” Suzanne commented.

  Emily stared at her. It had only been a few weeks back when that had been her very complaint.

  Scott hung up the phone grinning broadly. That would start her heart pumping. He hoped, given enough fodder she would confide in him. Share her fantasies. It was disappointing that she hadn’t already. He wondered if he was somehow to blame. But she knew he was not in the least judgmental.