Shadow Lane Volume 8: The Spanking Libertines A Novel of Spanking, Sex and Romance. Eve Howard

the terrace apartments he felt it necessary to seize and firmly kiss her again.

      “You’re a little character,” he said. “In fact, you’re just my type.”

      They reached their dorm. Clarence being an upper classman possessed the larger, grander room. He invited her to visit him there as soon as she had changed into a more accessible costume.

      When she joined him in his third floor corner aerie he had cracked the latticework windows to let in the spicy autumn air. Now clad in a fitted long sleeved dress of olive corduroy and chestnut brown riding boots Lupe pleased Clarence much more and he took her on his lap the right way around to kiss her and squeeze her 23” waist.

      “Much improved,” he commended her, nuzzling her silken throat. But Lupe ached for more spanking, not necking and jumped off his lap. She strode around the room, examining his books and things. There were cobwebs on his computer. She sat down at the keyboard and stroked it on.

      “Can I check my e-mail?” she asked, logging on without waiting for permission but adding earnestly as she saw him bristle, “There was a message from my dad on my machine when I went to change and it said to check my e-mail right away.”

      “By all means,” he replied, meticulously filling a pipe with tobacco.

      “Oh!” she cried, reading her message.

      “What’s the matter?”

      “I have to go home this weekend!” She pressed her small hands to her face.

      “I hope nothing is wrong.”

      “No. Nothing is wrong.”

      “Then why do you look so shaken, dearest?”

      “I have to go home to help my dad,” Lupe announced dramatically.

      “Help your dad do what?”

      “Increase magazine sales!”

      “Increase magazine sales? Is your father in publishing?”

      “Yes. He’s a publisher of men’s magazines. Ron Freeman.”

      “Oh my god, you’re Ron Freeman’s daughter?” Clarence physically recoiled.

      “Of course I am.”

      “How hideous for you.”

      “Why do you say that? Are you porno phobic?”

      “No, but I’ve always found your father’s magazine particularly offensive, as must every person of sensibility. Including yourself, I should hope.”

      “Yes, of course. Anyway, sales have been flat since the spring and Ron won’t be able to meet my college expenses for the next semester unless I come home this weekend and help.”

      “You call your father by his first name? I don’t approve of that. It’s very confusing. And how in the world can you help?”

      “Ron says if I pose for a photo spread in the magazine he can vaunt it on the cover and book lots of expensive alcohol and cigarette ads for the issue.”

      “If you do what?”

      “If he can put on the cover of American Lust: ‘First nude photos of Ron Freeman’s 18 year old daughter’ it will be a big selling point and earn enough advertising revenue to pay for two or three terms here at school.”

      “Lupe you can’t possibly dream of letting your father exploit you in that way!”

      “He’s not exploiting me, Clarence. He’s just suggesting a way to keep me here at school. He’s not a multi-zillionaire tycoon like you’re dad. He’s just a struggling pornographer trying to run his business, pay for his lawsuits and provide his daughter with a refined education.”

      “Lupe! Am I hearing you correctly? You mean to say you actually don’t resent your father’s making such an obscene suggestion to you?”

      “It’s not obscene. It would only be a nude photoset, not an explicit one. Anyway, I always planned to go into the business after graduation.”

      “Going into the business is one thing, though I can’t imagine why a young woman of your character could want any part of that sleazy concern, but performing for it is quite another, young lady. After all, you don’t see Christy Heffner posing nude.”

      “Maybe she’s shy. I’m certainly not,” said Lupe negligently. “My mother is Saturnia X, you know.”

      “The sexual performance artist from the 80’s?” he asked faintly.

      “Yes,” Lupe cheerfully replied, causing Clarence to shudder.

      “I still can’t believe your own father would ask such a thing of you. How I’d love to tell him off!” Clarence paced.

      “That wouldn’t be very nice.”

      “Lupe, tell me the truth, has your father abused you?”

      Lupe laughed and shook her head. “I can understand you despising the tone of his magazine. I do also. That’s why I plan to go into the business, to affect the necessary upgrades.”

      “Well, be that as it may four to six years from now, this minute we’re discussing the ridiculous notion of you posing for American Lust. And I tell you, I won’t permit it.”

      “But Clarence, it’s too late to apply for financial aid for this year. Would you have me take a semester off?”

      “Can’t you get a loan?”

      “For next year, yes.”

      “Damn it, Lupe, I’ll give you the money myself if it will prevent you from taking this horrifying step!”

      “You have that kind of money?”

      “Yes.”

      “Why would you do that for me? You scarcely know me.”

      “I won’t have my girlfriend flashing her charms for American Lust magazine, even if she is the publisher’s daughter.”

      “Your girlfriend?”

      “You heard me.”

      “And what do I have to do in return?”

      “In return for what?”

      “You rescuing me.”

      “If you feel under some slight obligation,” he shrugged mildly, “you could of course be my slave all year.”

      “But where in the world would you get that kind of money?”

      “I have investments,” the multi-millionaire’s son who had almost become a math major modestly revealed.

      “Clarence, I’m so touched. You make me want to cry,” she murmured, laying her head against his chest and hugging him hard.

      “You make me want to make you cry,” he growled, shaking her by the shoulders again. “I’m still stunned that you could even consider such a rash act.”

      “Do you have anything besides tobacco to smoke?”

      “Of course.” He sat down at the desk and pulled out the top drawer. While he was feeling around towards the back for a small tin his gaze fell upon the freshly activated computer monitor with the email from Lupe’s father still up on the screen. Scanning it rapidly, then re-reading the brief note several times, Clarence felt his face redden. Forgetting to look for his weed he slammed the drawer shut and turned on Lupe with sparks in his blue eyes.

      “You made it up.”

      “I beg your pardon?” she politely asked, attempting to repress a smile, for she had certainly noticed him reading the screen.

      “You made up the entire story about posing for American Lust.”

      “Really?”

      “This