1949: the trouble with dames

23Jan11

He had chewed the cigarette down to mush and he still hadn’t bothered to light it. It had been three weeks now since he had tried to give them up. Oh what the hell, he thought and lit what was left of the soggy stump. It was going to be a tough week or two.

The match illuminated his chiselled features as he lit-up and took his first satisfying drag in a while. The only bright spot in an otherwise grim day, he thought, the pun escaping him as most poetic smulch usually did.

Two hundred bucks and another 200 when the job was done, that plus 50 bucks a day for as long as it took. Good money, enough to keep him in soggy cigarettes for a while. The downside was the dame.

Not that he had anything against dames in general, in fact he was going to invest a good chunk of change in a dame or two once the job was over, but this broad was a society chick with connections. Both meant trouble.

The match fell to the ground and was snuffed out in a puddle on the sidewalk plunging him back into the shadows. Snuffed out was what he would be if he didn’t start with the smarts.

*

Marion Van Horn was furious. The maid had been at her perfume again and the vase was totally wrong for the room.

“Betsy I distinctly told you to put the Charles Noir in the other room, if you spent more time listening instead of stealing my perfume, then you might get it right for once.”

“Who’s this Charlie fellow you talkin’ about, I ain’t let no man in here?” The maid spat back. She knew perfectly well that Charles Noir was a range of highbrow porcelain, but she didn’t care much for Marion’s airs. “I ain’t stole no perfume, what would I want with that harlot water anyways.”

She had been a maid for the Van Horn’s since before Marion was born and it hadn’t been so long since the girl had been across her knee. Nevertheless she was loyal, she had even gone with the girl when she had eloped with that fool David St John.

“Betsy you are impossible, as if I didn’t have enough to do what with the wedding and all.”

The wedding, she smiled to think of it and drifted off into a simpering dream that left her with a goofy expression on her face.

“Mrs David St John,” she spoke, trying the name out for size. Only she pronounced St John as Sinjon, so refined she thought.

“He ain’t nothing but a gold digger if you ask me,” Betsy mumbled.

“Well I didn’t ask you,” Marion snapped, “now go pack my bag, David will be here in an hour.”

*

Marion was too excited to wonder why David hadn’t come to the door, but his car was outside and she didn’t wait. She looked a sensation in her powder blue pencil skirt with matching jacket and she knew it. She paused in the doorway, calculated to frame her to perfection as she smoothed her hands over her hourglass figure, turning a little so that the back lighting picked out the prominent curve of her behind in profile. Then she blew the waiting car a kiss and gave a little salute to her pillbox hat before gracefully gliding to the car.

Still David didn’t get out to open the door for her and a small frown crossed her face.

Instead of David a rather rugged looking guy squeezed from the driver side and looked at her with something less than deference. She didn’t like the look of him at all.

“Hey lady, Saint John sent me to pick you up, he is eh… tied up for the moment.”

“Saint… oh you mean David,” Marion was uncertain, “will he be at the airport?”

“Airport? Oh sure, yeah I bet I he will be at lots of airports.” The man lumbered round towards her as if he was trying to contain himself against the world and grabbed her bags. “Get in the car.”

“I beg your pardon.”

“Lady will you get in the car, we’re gonna be late.” He barked the order at her.

“What kind of driver are you?” She asked imperiously.

“The kind that doesn’t like to be late.” He hurled the luggage in unceremoniously in the trunk of the car.

“Would you be careful, that’s my trousseau,” she gasped.

“Your what? Oh yeah, trousseau, I get it,” he wasn’t sure he did and muttered under his breath, “dames.”

She waited for a full minute before realising that he wasn’t going to open the door for her and then it took another few moments for her to remember how to do it for herself.

She was barely in the car before he took off at high speed.

“Will you slow down,” she said angrily.

“Yeah, I’ll slow down, once we get where we’re going lady.”

“There is plenty of time before take off, slow down.”

“Shut up. We ain’t going to no airport see, your old man hired me to take you back to New York and I don’t like to fly. Besides I doubt I could get you on the plane without some joker sticking his nose in.”

“You… you what! Stop this car at once.”

The car screamed to a halt and she was tipped forward over the passenger seat of the car so that her Grecian bottom was upended along with her dignity. She let out a stream curses that were muffled by the leather of the seat that pressed into her face.

“Listen lady. Let us get one thing straight. I give the orders and you jump, capiche?”

“How dare you… you… wait until I get my hands on you… you…” she spluttered in impotent rage.

He drove on at speed leaving unable to rise and struggling to do much else but hold on.

*

She had eventually settled on tumbling forward and sitting upright in the forward passenger seat. The car was going too fast to do anything, so she had just sat glowering at him for an hour. Eventually curiosity got the better of her.

“What’s your name?”

“Eddie Knight.” He didn’t take his eyes of the road and it annoyed her that he paid her so little mind.

“Are you some kind of detective?”

“Me a cop?” he spat and then smiled for the first time, “hah I ain’t no private dick.”

“So what are you then?”

“I’m the guy who is getting you back to your old man.”

“David has connections, I mean real tough types, they’ll kill you, you b…”

“Now, now, I don’t like dames who curse,” he smiled again and she found she liked his smile despite herself. “I know all about St John and his ‘connections’, that’s why we’re skipping the party. But he didn’t seem too tough to me when I got the drop on him.”

“What did you do? Is David…?”

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch, St John’s okay, least he was when I left him. I ain’t no bagman. I am just being paid to get you home.”

“I hope he kills you when he catches up with us,” Marion said bitterly and a little sulkily, he thought.

“You do huh? What a swell dame you are, your old man is welcome to you and St John for that matter. Once I get my dough I don’t care what you do.”

*

It was a long drive and Marion’s anger could not compete with the road and she fell asleep. When she awoke the car had stopped at a gas station somewhere in the desert. A quick look around revealed that Eddie had left her, not before taking the keys she noticed ruefully.

It was morning but not yet hot. Theirs was the only car and the highway wasn’t exactly Times Square. Not being sure how far he had gone she opened the car door gently and crept across the asphalt. There was a phone.

“Operator I need to make a collect call to…” she tapped the phone, nothing.

Then she noticed the out of order sign.

“What kind of shmuck do you take me for? I already scoped that out lady. Now you can get back in the car or join me for some breakfast, this place has a diner,” old chiselled-features having stepped from nowhere, regarded her with a lop-sided grin.

“You know I hate you,” she scowled.

“Yeah, yeah, you and the rest of the world, get in line,” he shrugged then spat, “dames.”

“I need the bathroom.”

“Is that a candy-ass way of saying you want the john?”

She didn’t answer, why did he have to be so crude?

“It’s that way, the diner is on the other side, don’t make me come looking.”

The bathroom facilities were unspeakable, but at least they had a mirror. She was just adjusting her makeup when she heard a truck outside.

The window was a squeeze, but it was her only option if she didn’t want to be seen.

The truck driver looked kindly, a little fat and over 50. She decided she could handle him.

“Hey mister, do you want to make a 100 bucks?”

“Sure sister, what’s the catch?”

“I just need a ride to the nearest town.”

“Sure, but I don’t need no 100 bucks for that, what’s the catch?”

“I need to go now, right now.” She looked around anxiously.

“What no breakfast?”

“Two hundred, but we have to go now.”

“Sister, you have a deal.”

*

The truck had been driving for a good half hour.

“How far is the next town?”

“A ways yet, maybe two hours.” The truck driver began to expertly roll a cigarette with one hand as he held the wheel with the other. “Say there is a fellah up behind in a mighty big hurry.”

Marion looked back. It was Knight.

“Look it’s this guy I got to get away from him, please step on it.”

“Look sister this is a truck not a race car, besides I ain’t seen the colour of your money yet.”

“You’ll get it once we get to… say what is the next town anyway?”

The car slid in front of them easily, St John always had great cars, she noted with irritation. Knight slowed, blocking the way and signalled for the driver to stop.

“Don’t stop I’ll double your money,” Marion was frantic.

“Hey sister, quit telling me my business.” The truck driver pulled to a stop and Eddie got out to confront him.

“Say what goes?” The driver asked.

“The girls a runaway. I’m taking her back to her old man.”

“She’s offered me 400 bucks to take her to town.”

“I got 50 right here, you seen her dough yet?”

“Say no, not now you come to mention it.”

The truck driver opened the cab door and nodded her out.

“Some friend you are,” she said sullenly.

As Knight reached up to take her hand, she felt under the seat and found the starter handle. If the blow had connected, he would be dead, but as it happened, he ducked easily and the length of metal smashed into the side of the truck.

“Why you little…”

Eddie hoisted Marion over his shoulder and hefted her to the car.

“Put me down you bastard,” she screamed.

Eddie dropped her on the road.

“Well, you are a bit of a hellcat aren’t you? Your pappy know you use language like that?” Eddie smiled through his teeth and looked at her as if she might be lunch.

“Let me tell you…” She began enraged.

“No lady let me tell you. I operate a three strikes policy, and you are definitely on four with that latest stunt.”

He picked her up easily and putting one foot on the fender, he tipped her over his knee.

“Put me down you big oaf,” she raged.

He ignored her, instead he slapped her upturned skirt-clad bottom hard extracting a wail.

“You b…”

“Now, now I warned you about that…”

The spanking was hard and fast and after gritting her teeth and growling through her closed mouth for the first few, she let rip with the howling.

The truck driver tooted his horn and gave the a-ok sign as he drove off.

“Ooh, I never been so humiliated in all my life,” she began to cry.

His point made, Eddie set Marion on her feet.

“Am I getting anymore trouble from you?”

“Noo,” she pouted rubbing her behind.

“Then get in the car.”

Sitting was an issue and after two false starts, she opted for kneeling up and facing backwards. He cut her a smirk as they drove away.

*

Eddie wanted to get well clear of the desert before they stopped and when they did it was late afternoon the next day. Marion had spent the previous night curled up on the back seat while he drove. The next morning she sat up and gasped as residual soreness came flooding back to remind her of the previous days events. Out of pride, she forced herself to sit up, albeit gingerly, which brought on his now trademark square-jawed lopsided grin. Considering he had driven all night his fortitude was intimidating. God the man was unstoppable, she grudgingly conceded.

“Hell I’m bushed,” he said at last.

As they parked-up at a small out-of-town motel, Eddie very pointedly took the keys and put them in his pocket. If looks could kill then he would have been shrivelled, but no such luck. She grimaced as the circulation at her seat reasserted itself and eased herself carefully out of the car.

At least her room had a shower and mirror, which she took full advantage of. As she turned this way and that to inspect her rear end, she could see some faint bruises and mild redness on the otherwise perfect smooth white globes of her bottom. She tried to resent her rough handling, but instead felt an unaccustomed thrill. St John would never lay hands on her like that, she thought suppressing a sense of regret.

There was a knock at the door, but before she could ask, it opened and he came in. She grabbed a towel with a squeal and hid what was left of her modesty behind fluffy white cotton.

“Haven’t you any manners?”

“Lady where I come from, manners are too expensive.”

“You could have at least given me some warning,” she blushed backing up.

“Next time I’ll whistle, I know how to do that,” he said through the side of his mouth, damn straight he thought reliving the impromptu show in his head, like a wolf. Then added, “I brought you dinner.”

He placed a tray with a burger and shake on her bed.

“I had mine, I’ll be right next door if you need me.”

“I won’t,” she said indignantly.

After nibbling at the trashy snack she lay down for a minute to consider her next escape attempt, but after just one yawn, the remains of the day drained out of her and the next thing she heard was a knock at the door and a wolf whistle.

“Wakey, wakey, we got to go lady.” Eddie’s curt gravel voice brought back to reality with a bump.

*

The next couple of days passed without incident as they headed northwest and ever nearer New York. Then Eddie ran out of cigarettes.

“I don’t know how you can smoke those things,” she said sourly.

“Lady I don’t smoke ‘em, well not much anyways.”

He really should give up he knew, but he wasn’t having a dame tell him so.

The small town might have had a name but neither of them caught it as they drove through. It looked as many mid western towns were supposed to with white clapboard houses and a church with a steeple. The town also boasted a railroad, just across the street from the drug store where Eddie headed for his smokes. Whitehaven ran the legend over the station door.

As ever he remembered to take the car keys, but this time he overlooked the pay phone at the corner of the street. With Eddie gone she made her move.

She hunkered down on the floor of the booth and made a collect call to St John.

“David darling…” she gushed.

It took her just two minutes to spill everything and although she could not promise to wait, she told him enough to suggest where St John may catch up with them.

Luckily she decided to make a second call to Betsy, lucky because she had hardly finished dialling when Eddie’s shadow fell across her.

“Almost made it,” she lied with a nervous laugh as he took the phone from her and replaced the receiver.

“Cross me would you,” he growled.

No one intervened as he half-led and half-dragged her back to the car.

“It just goes to show that you cut a dame a break and she throws it back in your face every time.”

It turned out that Eddie, feeling sorry for her, had organised rooms at the best hotel in town, not much, but better than the back of the car or a cheap motel.

“Look I’m sorry I was just…”

“Yeah, yeah… me and you are gonna have words,” he said ominously.

“Eddie, come on you can’t I’m sorry, please can’t we talk about this?” She hated her winy voice and the fact that she was begging, not that it did her any good.

As soon as they reached the room Eddie sat on the bed and turned her over his knee.

“Eddie please,” she squealed as his hand slammed down on the seat of her skirt.

This time he meant business and he introduced her to his own private version of a sound spanking. After a string of curses and two dozens swats to her tail she began to splutter tears.

“Don’t turn on the waterworks, you know you have this coming,” he barked and spanked her all the harder.

After a few minutes there was a knock at the door and the manager entered without waiting.

“Is everything alright? There is… eh, some yelling,” he asked pointedly, his eyes straying to Marion’s prominent rear end as Eddie continued to spank it.

“Don’t sweat it Mac, me and my… niece are just thrashing out a few differences.”

“I see. Will you be long, only we do have other guests?”

Marion was mortified and buried her face in the bedclothes.

“I’ll be done in a jiffy,” Eddie said dismissively picking up the pace causing Marion’s head to buck up to let out a fresh wail.

“Will there be anything else?” The hotel manager did his best to hide his amusement.

“Say there is, do you have a hairbrush in case this dame… I mean my niece gets out of line again? Oh and maybe you could bring an ice pack, hey make that two, I have a headache coming on and someone I know is going to be aching in another place.”

“Certainly sir.”

By the time the maid returned with the ice and a hairbrush, Eddie was standing at the window smoking and Marion was lying face down on the bed having a good cry.

“Maybe you should leave us alone sir, this works better on the… eh… bare fanny.” The maid was even more amused than the manager had been.

“Get out,” Marion raged and threw a pillow at her.

“Maybe you had better hand me the hairbrush,” Eddie grinned icily.

“Noo, I’ll behave,” Marion said urgently her hands guarding her bottom.

“See that you do,” he snapped tossing the cigarette butt into the street and making for the door.

Eddie left the ice packs and despite her embarrassment, Marion was glad of both by the time the maid had soothed her bruised bare bottom.

“You are awfully lucky to have an uncle to look out for you like that,” the maid observed seriously as she dabbed at Marion’s bottom.

“Aren’t I just,” Marion replied bitterly.

*

The next day Marion opted for kneeling up on the back seat again. Neither of them had exchanged a word since starting out that morning, which suited her just fine. But nevertheless, every jolt of the road caused her to grimace and occasionally yelp.

She was just looking up from her umpteenth bottom rub when from her vantage point looking back she saw the car. She knew at once that it was David and harboured a secret smile.

“Looks like you got the drop on me yesterday after all,” Eddie said dryly, “as we seem to have a tail. Looks like St John and a couple of goons.”

“Yeah, well he’s going to fix you,” Marion laughed openly now.

“Maybes, maybes not,” Eddie said darkly. “If I have to plug a couple of guys over this, then it’s on your head you stupid dame.”

A shadow crossed Marion’s face, she was suddenly afraid that someone might get killed. She was sick at the idea that David might be hurt, but when she pictured it, it was Eddie’s face she saw with dead staring eyes. She shook herself.

“You don’t have to try any rough stuff, just let me out, you tried your best, daddy will understand.”

“Listen honey, I ain’t even got going yet, but if anyone starts any rough stuff, it won’t be me.”

Without warning the shot took out their tyre and the car began to skid.

“See what I mean, hold on.”

It was all Eddie could do not turn the car over and they took out a row of fence posts before they came to a stop. The other car pulled up along side and the three men got out.

“David,” Marion exclaimed and ran to her fiancé’s arms.

“Hush it’s all over now,” he soothed.

“Take me home,” she hugged into him.

“Not before I take care of this joker.”

“Oh darling, he’s just working for my father, he’s nothing, let him go.”

“No deal, things just don’t work that way. Go and wait in the car. McIntyre, go with her, take the car up the road apiece.”

“Sure thing boss.”

Marion was frantic as the car drove her away, surely David wouldn’t do anything too drastic, just beat Eddie up a little maybe, she hoped. Did she? Even that was not what she wanted.

“I’ve got to stop this,” she said to no one in particular and jumped out of the car.

The car had only driven half a mile, but running back seemed to take forever. At last she rounded the corner and saw Eddie standing with his back to David and his henchman. Henchman? Where had she got that word from, she wondered. A henchman was not something she used to associate with David St John.

As she drew near, she could see that David held a gun and she could overhear them talk.

“So you figured you could get one over on me did you,” David was saying. “Well once I’ve plugged you I can marry that stupid dame and finally get some real leverage over that old man of hers.”

“Sure, sure, but you can leave me out of it can’t you?” Eddie was talking fast, but he didn’t seem scared at all. It was more like the words were a reaction, a cover for what he was really thinking.

The premonition that Eddie was about to make a move made her smile, and this despite what she had overheard. She realised then that she had known all along that St John was no good. The whole thing had been to get back at her father. She sprang.

St John was taken by surprise and staggered forward with the dame on his back. The other man turned and began to laugh, amused that his boss was in a catfight. Eddie dropped him with one punch.

Marion was hurled to the floor as St John pulled a pistol, that was the last thing she saw as she rolled over, but she heard plenty. There was a curse, a man’s curse not a word she would have used and then a shot. She looked up to see both men squaring up to one another pistols in hand. St John was nodding slowly, a half-smile played about his lips as he took one step forward. Marion stifled a scream.

“Eddie!” It was a heartfelt wail.

Then St John toppled forward and crashed to the ground.

“Alright you, get your friend and take St John back to LA,” Eddie spat angrily.

“He’s dead,” the man swallowed.

“No kidding. So you better bury him then before some country sheriff takes an interest.”

“Sure, sure, no hard feelings,” the man still wasn’t sure if he was next or not.

After St John’s body was bundled into the back of a car, Marion sank sobbing into Eddie’s arms. Then they both watched as the car drove away.

“Will they come back?” Marion asked once she had pulled herself together.

“No. Not before I get you home anyways. Then it will be your old man’s problem. I pretty sure he’s big enough to handle it.” There was certainty in Eddie’s voice, a certainty she had never known and for once in her life, she felt completely safe.

*

It didn’t take long to fix the wheel and they drove for a day and a night before stopping at a hotel.

Eddie let her use the phone to call her father. It was all so easy. She messed up and daddy picks up the pieces as usual. Even the shower didn’t make her fell better, she still felt dirty and used.

The knock at the door gave her a start. The negligee was see through, but she figured Eddie and her had been through enough for it not to matter, so she held just a towel up before inviting Eddie in.

“By this time tomorrow you’ll be home,” he said, there was kindness in his voice.

“I know,” she said quietly with a hint of unspoken regret.

“I figured we had one more piece of unfinished business.”

Her head shook as if remembering something that wouldn’t quite come to mind. Then he pulled the hairbrush out of his pocket.

“Oh come on…” she swallowed, “you don’t mean to…”

“You saying you ain’t got it coming?”

Her heart was racing but no words would come.

He pulled her easily and unresisting across his lap as he took a seat in the easy chair.

“But I’m… naked.”

She was, he observed, the ancient sap rising. Pity she was just a job, he thought with regret.

It didn’t stop him lifting the final veil and addressing himself to her completely bared bottom.

“Oh,” she groaned as the first of a very great many spanks landed painfully on her bottom.

The deep red oval stood out even over the mottled mauve of his previous endeavours and another soon joined it until both her bottom and her face were an angry hue.

Then she began to cry in earnest.

“Feeling better?” His words were a final unveiling of her heart.

“I will be when you’re done,” she sobbed and hugged into him.

“That might take a while,” he said kindly as he spanked her again hard.

“Ow, I know… oh god… ouch… that… ooow, I know,” her tears came fast, honest tears not the angry tears of before. Tears like a flood that washed her clean.

Not that he was in any hurry; he aimed to spank her well past her own needs. She almost got him killed after all. Dames, they were always so much trouble.

Ends.



14 Responses to “1949: the trouble with dames”

  1. 1 allie

    Loved it!! Thanks for posting such a wonderful story. ;0

  2. That is not the end.
    Does he leave her at her father’s?
    Do they kiss lots and lots?
    I have only read this four times. Please make some tea and bring it in quietly so that I may read another four times.
    I LOVE that you wrote this. It is wonderful!
    Xx

  3. DJ, great story very well written.
    But will her Daddy let them become an item?
    Thanks.

  4. Nicely done, DJ. Very Raymond Chandler. 😉

  5. 5 opsimath

    Very well done, Damien – very true to the genre. You can almost see the sweetheart necklines, hear the rustle of real nylons and smell the aroma of Ligget and Myer’s finest products!

    Amazing detail – thank you!

    ps Is there anything associated with CP that you can’t write 😉 ?

  6. 6 Lauren B

    I especially like this bit:

    “Next time I’ll whistle, I know how to do that,”

    I taught him that – I am glad he remembered.

    But does he get the girl in the end?

    LB

    • 7 DJ

      It seems this story has gone down well and everyone wants to know how it ends.

      Well I was going to end it with him walking away – but decided to let the reader fill in their own blanks.

      maybe Eddie Knight (AKA Bogey) will make a return. 🙂

      Would you have got the Bogart reference without the pic I wonder?

      DJ

  7. I would have got the reference.

    But why can’t you tell us the end? As any Top would say, the end is the best bit.

    I need to know. She has a forceful Daddy. I can’t see him letting his little girl be with a man like that.

    If her Daddy will not let her be with him then I will very kindly step in to help. I like to help.

    I do adore this story. I am so happy that you wrote it.

    • 9 DJ

      You would have realised it was HB? Interesting. Good. or did you mean the ‘I know how to whistle’ line?

      I had the story for a while as a film noir in my head – it only came together when I decided to cast Bogart.

      Perhaps if this ‘movie’ is good box office then there will be a sequel.

      DJ

  8. Reminds me of the detective stories and the movies of the 40’s and of the 50’s.

    Howard

  9. Love this story, DJ, Really enjoyed it. And congratulations on this excellent post being Chrossed. Very well deserved.

  10. 12 Lorraine

    This is fantastic! Really excellent. I could almost hear the 40s music. Great fun, thx.

  11. 13 DJ

    Hi All

    I am glad you liked it.

    Most response I have had for a while. 🙂

    DJ


  1. 1 chross.blogt.ch - Chross Guide To The Spanking Internet

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