Shadow Lane Volume 4: The Chronicles of Random Point, Spanking, Sex, B&D and Anal Eroticism in a Small New England Village. Eve Howard

hope you’re not sorry,” he told her fervently, grabbing her hands and kissing them. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a better time in my life.”

      “I never meant for it to go so far,” she fretted, suddenly feeling horribly guilty about Peter.

      “Well, what did you expect with an invitation like that?”

      “Just some innocent thrills.”

      “And wasn’t that exactly what we had?”

      “Not really. You sodomized me.”

      “Was that the first time?”

      “Yes!”

      “I told you it wouldn’t hurt.”

      “It did hurt a bit, at first. But then even the pain seemed exciting. And then the pain disappeared and it just felt very naughty. And then I came.”

      “And then I came. Isn’t nature wonderful?”

      “Now you won’t respect me.”

      “Nonsense.”

      “You’ll talk about me all over school.”

      “I’ll do nothing of the sort.”

      “Now you think I’m cheap. Your kind always does.”

      “What do you mean my kind? Are you being fresh again? Because I still have some energy left to turn you over my knee one more time.”

      “But, did you enjoy it too?” she blurted out, flushing all over at the new threat.

      “I’m telling you quite honestly that it was the best.”

      “You were rather abrupt,” she critically observed. “Why, you didn’t even give me the opportunity to decline the sex. You slapped me harder when I tried to!”

      “You didn’t really mind, did you?”

      “I suppose I didn’t, really. But I hope you don’t act that way with every girl you go out with!”

      “Every girl I go out with doesn’t ask for a spanking.”

      “Oh, I’m sure that had nothing to do with your actions,” Jessie perceived. “After all, you were groping me before I discussed permissible liberties.”

      “What are you saying?”

      “With all due respect, you practically raped me.”

      “Oh, nonsense. You were wetter than any girl I’ve ever seen in my life.”

      “That’s not the point.”

      “I think it is.”

      “Perhaps I’m just perverse enough to respond to your rough attentions, in spite of myself. But I daresay your approach would scare the living daylights out of most girls.”

      “I understand what’s happening here,” said Lionel, who had been a psychology major at NYU. “You feel guilty because you had a climax, so now you’re trying to pin all the responsibility on me.”

      “Is that what I’m doing?”

      “Obviously.”

      “I’ll have to ponder that.”

      “Do. Meanwhile, I’ll say good night.”

      Jessie walked him to the door and let him kiss her, wanting very much to tell him the real reason for her unease. But still not knowing Lionel’s true character, she hesitated to introduce Peter as a rival. Her growing feeling for Peter made protecting the gentle teacher an imperative.

      “Good night, Lionel,” she said.

      “Will we see each other again?” he asked.

      “I don’t think so,” she replied steadily. This reply was not the one he wanted or expected and his lips compressed into a thin line.

      “Okay, fine. Just keep kidding yourself you’re a good girl,” he snapped and strode out into the corridor to punch the elevator button. Jessie closed the door behind him feeling as though she’d behaved as badly as she could have that night, both to Peter and Lionel.

      Jessie spent the weekend in torment, not knowing what to tell Peter when he asked her about her date. She still hadn’t decided on a story when rainy Monday morning arrived. Mercifully, lunchroom duty made Jessie unavailable for their usual bench date. However, Peter made a point of stopping by the lunchroom and handing her a little brown bag with a sandwich and cupcake. Jessie almost cried, feeling more guilty than ever. Noticing her stricken look, Peter instantly apprehended much of what had passed between Lionel and Jessie and felt quite awkward as he made a hasty retreat from the lunchroom.

      It seemed a perfect eternity to the three o’clock bell and Jessie’s nerves were in tatters by the time it rang. Now there were raincoats to be buttoned and galoshes to pull on, all of which took another ten minutes. Finally she was able to usher the double line of sturdy little six-year-olds into the yard to be claimed by their parents, big brothers and sisters or the school bus. By three-thirty the yard was clear. Jessie unfurled her beige umbrella and began to walk home through the village, picking her way through the puddles in her high heels wrapped in dainty, clear plastic button-up over-boots. On the way she stopped at the tearoom and cheered herself with a pot of tea and a dish of French pastries.

      “Hi, Jessie, mind if I join you?”

      Jessie looked up at Miss Kranz, who was very chic in a belted, black raincoat and matching cloche over her short-cropped, light red hair.

      “Not at all, Lorna,” Jessie declared, welcoming the distraction from her worrying.

      “They say it’s going to rain for the next week,” Lorna Kranz informed her fellow instructor.

      “M’m,” Jessie wondered if the strict third grade teacher was going to say anything interesting to her. Then, all at once, she did.

      “How did you like West Side Story?” Lorna slyly asked.

      “Pardon me?”

      “I saw you at the performance the other night. With Lionel Albrecht.”

      “Oh! Well, it was just wonderful. Wasn’t it?”

      “Magnificent.”

      “Yes.”

      “So, are you seeing Lionel?”

      “No. Decidedly not!” Jessie replied vehemently. Then she took a second look at the impeccable twenty-five year-old across the table. “Why? Do you like him?”

      “Well, to tell you the truth, I never thought of him as being available until I saw him with you.”

      “That’s funny. He never thought of me as being available until he saw me with Mr. Johanson. But the truth is, Mr. Johanson is the one I have the crush on.”

      “How interesting.”

      “Perhaps if Lionel knew that you were interested in him he’d ask you out.”

      “But you’re not interested in Lionel yourself?”

      “Not really. I like Mr. Johanson,” Jessie said fervently. Lorna actually smiled. As with Lionel, the act seemed both painful and difficult. “You’d be much better suited to Lionel than me,” Jessie suggested.

      “Really? Why do you say so?”

      “Well, with all due respect, you’re both so strict.”

      “Strict?” Lorna didn’t understand.

      “With the children.”

      “Oh!” the third grade teacher again tried to smile.

      “Why are you so strict with the children?”

      “Because it’s the only way to make them pay attention. You don’t know that because your little