French Lessons (7 page)

“Not
so nice is it? Being taken down a peg or two?”

Eleanor
calmed a little and wiped her eyes with a napkin. Catching one of the stewards
gawping from the bridge, Tamara shooed him away.

“I
– I feel so ashamed of myself...” Eleanor whimpered.

“I
know, honey. I know your Daddy gave it to you real good. You sure don’t look
too comfy.”

“I
don’t really mean being spanked,” Eleanor’s words surprised the older woman.

“I
mean yes, it was really embarrassing. And it’s horribly sore. But I know now it
was my own fault. For being so stupid and drinking too much, and using the
checking card. Falling in the sea was so scary. And Daddy had warned me to
behave, too. What I’m really most ashamed of though, is the way I’ve treated
you. You’ve always been so nice to me. And I was such a horrid awful person in
return. I’m sorry, Tamara. Can you ever forgive me?”

Tamara
was overwhelmed by this wave of contrition. Could Harry have been right? Just
one bare bottomed session over his knee, and his daughter was turning a corner?

“Oh
sweetheart! Of course I can! We just need a little time together. Come here.”
They hugged, Eleanor wincing as her bottom made deeper contact with the chair.

“Let’s
make a fresh start, shall we?” Tamara’s easy cadence and rich accent were
soothing to Eleanor’s ears. Why had she wasted all this time in petty game–playing?

“You’ve
been very soundly punished, El,” Tamara used her pet name as she held out her
stepdaughter to look her in the face. “And you’ve taken it. Your Daddy told me
all about it, so I know it was pretty tough going.”

Eleanor
blew her nose and relaxed, enjoying the chance to air her feelings. Despite the
terrible humiliation, she felt far less alone than at any point over the last
few, difficult months. She managed to speak easily to her stepmother for the
first time, feeling no defensiveness.

“Daddy
always spanked me properly when I was little, if you know what I mean. But not
for one minute did I think that he would do it
that way –
at
nineteen!”

“I
know, sweetie. But he’s your Daddy. He has your very best interests at heart.
And can I tell you something? There were times even in my twenties when my life
was looking off the rails. Gee, I wish now my Daddy had done the very same
thing. Just to show that he loved me.”

“
Really?” Eleanor was intrigued.

“Yep.
I was an only daughter, just like you. But my folks aren’t like Harry. I never
felt cherished. Your Daddy adores you. Sure, it’s a real big deal going over
his knee bare, and all of it. I can imagine how horribly embarrassed you feel.
But the soreness will pass in a couple of days. And you’ll be ready to take on
the world. Because you know what, I doubt you’ll be throwing any sour moods for
the sake of it again, now will you?”

“No....”
Eleanor said softly. “I’m going to prove I’m grown–up. And not disappoint
him again!” Eleanor felt much better, and bit hungrily into a croissant.
 

Tamara
was delighted with this change in the young woman’s demeanour.

“And
hey, that young man Charlie! What about him? Kinda cute ain’t he?” Tamara
giggled as Eleanor blushed shyly.

“Goodness
knows what he thinks of me. I almost got us both thrown out of The Grand. Then
he had to life me out of the sea! Oh what a complete fool I’ve been!”

“Well,
you have a whole holiday ahead to make it all better. Eat your breakfast. Then
we can find something for that sore spot, eh?”

“Oh
yes, please!” said Eleanor, the agony in her seat still a constant.

After
an hour or so planning the rest of the holiday together, Tamara went down to
the cabin and fetched a small tub of peppermint balm from her vanity case. As
they spotted Harry return to the yacht, she pressed it into Eleanor’s palm and
winked at her.

“That’ll
help, I reckon.”

“What
are you two girls conspiring?” Harry chuckled.

“Well,
I say we should have a celebratory dinner tonight – dontcha think honey?”
his wife breezed. “Maybe invite that nice young man Charles, from yesterday?
Goodness knows you owe him one!”

Eleanor
blushed again and looked to her father for a reaction. Harry beamed, delighted
that at last his wonderful wife and daughter seemed reconciled.

“Yes!
Splendid idea. I’ll talk to Fabien and organise langoustines.
 
Eleanor, I think it only right that you
pay a personal visit to The Grand as soon as possible, don’t you?”

His
daughter squirmed, reminded that apologies had to be made all round.

“Yes
Daddy. I’ll do that. And should I – see if Char –
 
if whatsisface is available to join us?”

The
Walkers smiled and held hands.

“Go
for it, Eleanor,” Tamara winked at her again. Getting up from the table,
Eleanor rushed to her father’s side. This time he accepted her in his arms for
the biggest, warmest hug they’d shared in years.

“I’m
sorry, Daddy,” Eleanor whispered against her father’s strong, broad chest.

“I
know, my darling,” he held her tight. “And I’m sorry that I had to spank you.
But I’m not at all sorry I did it. So let’s make sure young lady, that it’s the
last time, eh?” He looked down at her smiling. Eleanor nodded, feeling at peace
at last.

The
last twenty–four hours had all been so exhausting Eleanor ruminated, as
she worked her way through her little cabin wardrobe. She wondered which of her
many evening outfits she should choose for dinner, especially with the
possibility of Charlie being there. She couldn’t help but rehearse the next
scene with him in her head. What if he didn’t really like her, after all?
Having had time to think about her behaviour and what she had put him through,
maybe she would be the very last person he wanted to see. But he was so very
handsome. And she could not forget the thrill of feeling his sturdy arm lift
her out from the water. He was so tall, so strong. And he’d done all his
studying abroad so he must be clever, too. Eleanor decided to make a real
effort. She’d spend the day getting ready, and see if Tamara’s ointment might not
help with the more immediate problem of her red–hot bottom. Then she
could head up to The Grand as the day wound down.

She
lay face down on her bunk bed. Gingerly, she slid down the sailing shorts and
knickers. She rubbed her bottom once again, feeling the roughness where the
shoe had done its very worst in Daddy’s hand. Unscrewing the stylish little pot
of cream, she took in the sharp, clean aroma of real peppermint. Carefully, she
dipped her hand and then as best she could, applied some of the lotion behind
her to her right cheek. At first touch, it was deliciously cold and numbing. It
felt so soft as she rubbed and rubbed, letting it ease some of the awful hot
soreness. Even the smell of the peppermint was a pleasing comfort.

Eleanor
stood and stepped out of her shorts. With her back to the wardrobe mirror, she
examined her bottom once more. It was still badly marked, and she felt woefully
childish again as she remembered exactly how it had got that way. Then using
both hands dipped in the minty lotion, she began to massage herself deeply. She
closed her eyes as the powerful substance worked its way into her skin. Around
and between her two cheeks, Eleanor explored and grew confident. Her fingers
felt easy and playful. The peppermint was working, almost freezing a lot of the
nasty, sore heat away. She thought about Charlie. How he had touched her and
held her hand, the alarming terror of hitting the water only to see his
concerned face as she soon as she surfaced, and feel his strength and courage
as he reached for her.

Lying
back down, Eleanor thought how very much she longed to kiss a man properly. She
loved spending long hours in the cinema and had seen countless passionate love
scenes. Rock Hudson, James Dean, and Clark Gable – such magnificent heroes,
so powerful and chivalrous! She wanted to feel the kind of long kisses they
gave their women on the screen. Would Charlie ever kiss her? Like that, all
wide–mouthed with their eyes closed?

She
lay on her side and raised her knees, continuing to rub her bottom and feeling
the effects of the spanking gradually ease a little more. Her fingers wandered
down between her legs, almost without her noticing that they had done so. As
she thought about the possibility of Charlie’s kiss, Eleanor felt a sudden dampness
from her secret girlish spot. It was comforting, exciting, and delightful. The
heat from her buttocks throbbed in time to her moving fingers. How strange and
yet not unpleasant.

Thinking
of Tamara’s regretful admissions earlier, Eleanor took the greatest comfort now
in knowing that for sure, Daddy loved her. Nestling down in her pink silk
quilt, she carried on rubbing a little. Then she closed her legs tight around
her hand, as she let her fingers wander a little inside her secret place, for
the very first time in her life. She closed her eyes and tried to imagine
Charlie’s face. These new, strong feelings were bizarre, yet so calming. Oh
please, let Charlie touch her again, hold her, kiss her ... and touch her where
no man had ever touched her before.

Up
on deck, the staff of the Eleanor–Jane chattered excitedly about the
lavish dinner Monsieur Walker had ordered them to prepare. They were intrigued
by his instruction to include the young Mr. Hetherington at the table. Miss
Walker had been suitably punished for her dreadful behaviour he had informed
them all briefly, without going into any of the details they had already
guessed. Harry was adamant that there should be no further reference to the
events of the day before. Every effort was to be made to make young
Hetherington as welcome as possible. Fabien then repeated the same sentiment to
his staff in the galley, as each was dispatched with a task in advance of what
simply had to be a perfect evening. In her cabin, Eleanor finally selected a
tight–fitting, dove grey dress. Ankle–length, the silk bespoke
piece showed off her blonde curls wonderfully. Despite her throbbing seat under
her dress and knickers, Eleanor allowed herself a contented smile in eager
anticipation of seeing Charlie Hetherington again.
 

An
hour before dinner was due to be
served,
Eleanor
kissed her father and Tamara cheerily as she prepared to make her way up to The
Grand. She promised them both she’d be back in good time, and hopefully with
Charlie in tow.

“Good
girl,” said her father, hugging her. “Do you feel any better, my darling?” he
patted her bottom very gently through her dress.

“A
little, Daddy. Tamara helped,” she smiled shyly at her stepmother.

“I’m
pleased to hear it,” Harry grinned. “Off you go now. And do be good, please!”
Eleanor had absolutely no intention of being anything other than good as gold.
She swung her pink rose–clap clutch bag by her side, as she all but ran
up the hill.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Drawing
admiring glances from everyone in sight, Eleanor waltzed confidently into The
Grand and straight up to the bar. Before the maître d’ could utter a single
word, she had apologised. In relatively unbroken French, she told him she was
extremely sorry for her rudeness on the occasion of her previous visit. The fact
was that word of her punishment had drifted even as far as the hotel itself.

The
waiters had concurred that Harry Walker really was quite a magnificent chap,
deserving of his enormous success. His old–fashioned disciplining of his
daughter had clearly worked. They were forced to smile acceptingly back at her,
so charming and beautiful was the little Walker lady – when sober and
sensible like this.

“And
tell me please, do you know if Mr. Hetherington is in the hotel at the present
moment?” Eleanor asked Lefour.

“He
certainly is,” a strong voice came from behind her. Eleanor turned to find
Charlie standing before her, a casual grin lighting up his deep blue eyes. He
was already dressed for evening. His dark tuxedo looked quite perfect, against
the backlight of the fiery Mediterranean sunset from the windows beyond. His
black hair glistened with oil and there were those wicked blue eyes dancing.
Eleanor could barely disguise a gasp. He was utterly divine.
 

“Miss
Walker. I am charmed. Will you join me for a glass of champagne? Robert, you’ll
find us in my suite. The air should be wonderful from the balcony right now.”
He took Eleanor’s arm without a word.

Eleanor
was left speechless by his suave command of the situation. Within seconds, he
had led her upstairs to the first floor suites. Now she thrilled to the luxury
of his penthouse overlooking the harbour. The balcony doors were wide open to
the sweet evening sea air, just exactly as he had promised.

As
they waited for their drinks to arrive, they selected a jazz record together.
He left it playing quietly on the gramophone in the corner. They then wandered
out to the balcony to savour the last of the daylight.

“Daddy
would like you to join us for dinner, Mr. Hetherington.” Eleanor tried her best
to sound nonchalant about the invitation, while willing him to accept it.

“How
lovely! And it’s Charlie, as you very well know. I think we can dispense with
formalities given everything that happened yesterday, don’t you?”

She
blushed. Charlie was in his stride.

“You
are really a very lovely girl, Eleanor Walker. If terribly thoughtless and
very, very naughty,” he smiled in his irresistibly warm and seductive voice. “Jumping
in the sea like that – bravo!” He clapped, and Eleanor felt instantly
mocked, and irritated. Why was he such a teaser?

He
turned away to let the waiter in, leaving her no room to retort. She was
terrifically impressed with the ease at which he spoke French. He joked
cordially with the waiter and was clearly accustomed to drinking vintage champagne.
While she, as they both knew only too well, was not. The waiter left, beaming
at the generous gratuity from Hetherington. For a few long moments, Charlie
said nothing at all. But she could feel his eyes upon her, as she pretended to
be enjoying the view. The evening had started so very well, and she didn’t want
any more chiding or reference to yesterday.

At
last, Charlie spoke.

“Shall
we sit down, Mam’selle?” he asked and gestured to a little table on the
balcony. An ivory candle in an old wine bottle gave off an inviting glow.
Beyond the balcony, the water in the bay was turning a faint shade of pastel
pink. The quickly setting sun slid languidly behind the Monaco hills.

“I’d
rather – I’d rather stand,” said Eleanor quietly. He was teasing her again,
the pig! But Charlie had not been goading her. It was not until that moment
that he wondered if she really
was
unable, and not unwilling, to sit
down. Had her father punished her that hard? Certainly some of the crewmembers
had mentioned a “right row” going on from his bureau. And they knew she had
been sent to bed directly afterwards. She now looked so small and vulnerable in
the dying light. He could well imagine that a good spanking from a man of Harry
Walker’s stature would have been very sorely felt. Tentatively, he took Eleanor’s
hand.

“Come
on. Let’s try...” and led her to the table. Discreetly, he picked up a silk
cushion. From the Riviera Bar below came the chatter and laughter of guests
enjoying their sundown drinks. Inside the room, fast American jazz was playing.
Charlie placed the cushion on the Paris style cafe chair.

“Have
a go...” he said, proffering the seat.

Eleanor
pouted, then stooped to meet the chair. Her stiff, steadily aching bottom was
now something she was used to. As it made contact with the soft cushion, she
eased down slowly. Charlie processed it all. She’d been bared, no doubt about
it. Good for Walker!

“Well,
those were certainly pretty high tricks of yours yesterday, eh?” he grinned. “I
imagine your father was far from pleased. Do I detect that he perhaps gave you
something to remind you to behave?” Charlie glanced at the lower half of
Eleanor’s body as she shifted uncomfortably on her seat.

“You
think you’re so smart, don’t you?” she said ruefully, toying with her champagne
glass.

“It
doesn’t take the biggest brain to work out that your father saw fit to turn you
over his knee,” Charlie smiled. “Any decent father would have done exactly the
same thing. What on earth were you thinking of, Eleanor?” He was more serious
now.
 

“Please
don’t be mean about it!” Eleanor implored. “I just had a bit too much to drink
and I wasn’t thinking. Daddy was horribly cross. At first I thought he was
joking. But he wasn’t. And – and then he really was most severe with me.
Oh, it was just beastly!”

Charlie
laughed.

“Oh
you silly girl! You thoroughly deserved it. And it looks like you’ll have a few
days to think on it too, given your reluctance to sit down...” he only half
concealed a broad grin.

Eleanor
was thoroughly embarrassed. But there was little point in trying to hide it,
she supposed. And she did love the way his eyes twinkled when he laughed.

“It
hurts very much so,” she squirmed a little on the chair. “It felt most horribly
childish. I’m nineteen, after all.”
 
She sat back and winced a little, as Charlie took a sip of the ice–cold
champagne. He refused to take her side, seeing that in fact it took very little
to provoke her childishness.

“Well,
you should have thought of that before you misbehaved like a toddler. And I
have to say if you were my daughter, or even my sister, I’d have done exactly
the same thing myself. And given it to you damned hard, too...” his voice grew
quieter as he studied her up and down.

Eleanor
was now utterly indignant, and red–faced. She had wanted a quiet,
sophisticated drink with him to make up for the disaster of the first time. Now
he too was talking to her as though she were a three year old!

“You
needn’t begin a lecture, Hetherington,” Eleanor rounded on him,

“Not
that it’s any of your business, but I’ve apologised to my father. And to my
stepmother. And I would now like that to be the end of it, if you don’t mind.”

“So
you see no need to apologise to me?” Charlie narrowed his eyes.

“Whatever
do you mean?” Eleanor grew exasperated.

“It
was down to me to drag you out of the sea, wasn’t it? Believe me, I thought
twice about bothering after the way you spoke to us all. Your mouth can be
really rather unattractive, Eleanor.”

“Oh
stuff and nonsense!” said Eleanor. She stood up and waltzed off towards the
balcony edge, champagne glass in hand. “I was only having fun!”

“It
wasn’t fun for anyone but you, Missy,” said Charlie. “And I’ll remind you that
you very nearly got me into serious trouble. Not just with the hotel staff
here, but by giving a dreadful first impression to your father. I take great
exception to that.”

Charlie
now fixed her with a steely gaze.

Eleanor
was flabbergasted. Who did Charles Hetherington think he was? He had no
business speaking down to her when he was barely a few years older than her.

“My
father has far greater things to think of, than you!” she scoffed.

“Why
should you care what he thinks of you in any case? You’ve all the money in the
world yourself. We’re just social climbers, the likes of you no doubt thinks!”
she lowered her voice, suddenly seeing that Charlie was not at all pleased.
Eleanor reminded herself that this was his hotel room, and he had influence in
the place. She wasn’t actually sure what she had meant with that last
particular outburst, and now she hated to see him look cross and even a little
saddened. Charlie was having none of it.

“Oh,
enough of your chip–on–shoulder nonsense, you daft chit. I don’t
give a stuff about bloody money, and I never have done. I can see the same is
true of your father. Otherwise he’d have ruined you with it, instead of making
you mind your manners and putting you over his knee when you need it. And I
care very much what he thinks of me, as it happens. I care, since I intend to
be spending a great deal more time with his precious daughter. But she had best
mind her tongue. Let me tell you something else, Miss Walker. Your father and I
share pretty tight opinions when it comes to how to deal with naughty girls.”

Eleanor
flushed a deep pink once more, her innate fiery spirit rising in her. The mixed
emotions of the last few days were becoming too much altogether. All of a
sudden she wanted nothing more than to run away after all, and be on her own.
She turned round, her eyes flashing at Charlie.

“We’ll
see about that! I choose my own company, thank you very much! You’re nothing
but a giddy playboy, that’s all. And don’t you talk about my father as if you
know the first thing about him. You couldn’t care less about me, or my
feelings. “ Her voice cracked. Eleanor was acutely aware that she didn’t really
mean that in the slightest, and regretted it as soon as the words were out of
her carefully painted lips.

“Really?”
said Charlie quietly. “Who was it that fished you out of the water when you
fell over the side of the yacht, in a drunken tantrum, eh? Who was it that
saved
you from a far worse fate than the very well–spanked bottom you find
it so impossible now to sit on?”
 

Eleanor
felt tears of rage and self–pity well up, as she remembered the horror of
the plunge overboard. Hearing Charlie use the very words that reduced her once
again to a helpless child, she boiled over.

“Well
you know what? I wish you’d left me there!” she yelled loudly. “I wish you’d
just left me to drown, yes! Saved me from having to be here with you all and
put up with this – this – wretched, miserable bullying! I hate you
all!”

Eleanor’s
tears spilled over. Enough, Charlie thought, was more than enough.

“OK,
Miss Walker,” he said, flat calm. “It is quite obvious to me that you have no
intention of apologising to me. One would have thought you’d have learned your
lesson. But if that is not the case...” he advanced towards her slowly, rolling
up the right sleeve of his fine thick silk jacket. Eleanor drew back on the
balcony. She looked quickly to his left to make sure she could make a bolt for
the door if necessary. But Charlie had all of that well covered.

“So
no–one loves you, eh? Your father giving you a warmed seat wasn’t enough
to convince you, was it? Well, it looks to me like you need another stiff
lesson in decency. And there’s no time like the present.”

Eleanor’s
heart fluttered as he advanced to within an inch of her.

“Don’t
you dare touch me, you hear?” she tried to snap but her voice trembled.

It
was as though Charlie had heard nothing. He snatched away her champagne glass
and deposited it on the balcony wall. Before she could move an inch, Charlie
gripped Eleanor tight by the upper arm. He began to march her over to the cast
iron bench by the balcony wall.

“Let
go of me!” Eleanor hissed “You’re hurting me!”

“I
am indeed,” said Charlie as he tightened his grip. “And it doesn’t stop here,
Eleanor–Jane Walker. You are about to learn that it is not only cross
Daddies who believe in hot bottoms for rough–mouthed little girls. You
will apologise!”

 
“How dare you talk to me like that!”
Eleanor was aghast. She tried her best to wrest away from his hard grip.

In
a flash, Charlie sat down hard on the iron bench. He yanked Eleanor down
roughly right across his knee, and hauled up her long grey evening dress to her
waist. She writhed in shock and fury. What on earth – this could not be
happening!

“How
dare you assault me, you brute?” Eleanor hissed in panic. It was quite one
thing to be spanked by her father. But by a stranger of a man barely older than
herself? This was outrageous!

“You
let me go this very minute, you idiotic clown of a man!” She kicked her long
legs furiously, her high patent heels scissoring in the sunset light that
spilled onto the balcony floor.