Lawrence reached out and wiped a speck from the inside wing of his three-year-old black Jaguar S-Type.

“You could do with a wash old girl,” he said aloud to it, not especially worried about who heard him.

He looked around at the cherry-lined avenue where he lived and then back at his house. It is all paid for, he thought, I am still barely 40.

He caught sight of himself in the wing mirror of his car. I still have hair, well mostly, he grinned rubbing at a persistent grey patch at his temple. He might have gone on to congratulate himself on his relatively flat stomach and his natty taste in smart casualwear, but he wasn’t particular vain. He would much rather admire his wife Cathy. At 34 she was in great shape. Although he might have wished she would stop doing things with her hair.

When they had first got married 10 years before, she had long auburn hair down into the small of her back. It had been thick and straight and the envy of her friends. Then she had cut it. She had decided that at 32 she needed to be more grown-up. The neat bob that had then framed her face had been adorable and had it not been for his gentle grief at the loss of her former noble tresses he might have approved.

Then just last week she had cut it pixie style. He had thrown his arms up and in exasperation.

“What did you do that for?” He had blustered.

“Oh I just fancied a change,” she had said casually, “Anyway, since when have you cared about my hair?”

The last comment had hurt him. He cared about at every little thing she did. Just because he didn’t feel the need to fuss about it, didn’t mean he didn’t.

Just then Cathy caught sight of him from the kitchen window and smiled. He knew she was laughing at him fussing over his car; it was a standing joke between them.

He grinned back at her. Oh well he thought, the hair be damned, it’s just a fad. No, the only real fly in the ointment was Kathy’s 20-year-old niece Chelsea. The daughter of Kathy’s elder sister had dropped out of college and had pitched up at their house while she looked for somewhere to live. That had been six months before. She had been something of a handful ever since.

Lawrence rather suspected that Chelsea’s parents had not approved of her latest stunt, especially after she a wheedled a gap year out of them on condition she went to college in the first place.

“Dinner is up,” Kathy called.

“Coming,” Lawrence called back and then as he entered the house he asked, “Will Chelsea be joining us this evening?”

“Well she is not here and I’m not waiting,” Kathy replied tartly.

“Suits me,” Lawrence threw back casually.

Dinner began quietly enough, but halfway through there was a hammering on the door.

“What the hell…?”

“I’ll go and see,” Kathy said frowning.

“No wait there,” Lawrence said tossing down his napkin and striding towards the front door with Kathy two steps behind him.

As he reached the door, he could already see Chelsea slumped against the glass, sliding slowly down to the floor so that when he opened it she tumbled in at his feet.

“Hello Uncle Larry,” she hiccoughed and then giggled at herself.

“Oh Jesus wept,” he groaned, “Look at the state of you.”

“I’m a tincey-wincey bit drunk,” Chelsea giggled again extending a hand to pinch the air.

“But you said you didn’t have any money,” Kathy gasped.

Lawrence frowned and gave his wife a hard stare. He was missing something here.

“But you helped,” Chelsea slurred as Lawrence helped her to her feet.

“You spent the money I gave you on…” Kathy blushed and fell silent.

“Go on,” Lawrence growled.

“I gave her money for… well she said…” Kathy broke off and turned accusingly on her niece.

They had argued about giving the girl any money and after some valid, not to say forceful arguments, Kathy had promised not to bail Chelsea out any more.

“Oh lighten up,” Chelsea said, trying to sound angry, but then she hiccoughed again and broke into more giggles. “I only had… well just a bit of the money went on…”

“How much have you got left?” Kathy asked desperate not to meet Lawrence’s eyes.

“Oh,” Chelsea blew a raspberry and then fumbled in her pockets. She extracted a crumpled clutch of notes and waved them at Lawrence. “I’ve got loads left, see?”

Lawrence took the two twenties and a five and handed them to Kathy.

“How much did you give her?” He said with a frown so deep that the furrow above his nose closed up so much that his eyebrows almost met up.

Kathy licked her lips and went pale. “Two hundred pounds,” she said huskily.

“That’s impressive,” Lawrence said evenly. “That’s £155 on booze and she is still upright, well… kind of.”

“The club cost 50,” Chelsea volunteered breezily, “And… oh there was a Chinese… no an Indian… or…”

Chelsea clamped her hand over her mouth and went greenish. Breaking away, she headed for the toilet and shortly afterwards they heard her being sick.

“Taxi,” Chelsea called out from the downstairs toilet as an afterthought. “I took a taxi from…”

The rest was lost in another round of drunken chundering.

“You deal with her,” Lawrence growled. “I’ll talk to her in the morning.”

*

It was near noon before Lawrence went to Chelsea’s room. He had cut her some slack, but enough was enough.

“Oh Uncle Larry,” Chelsea said sheepishly. “I…”

Her hair, a mass of chestnut brown, could not decide which direction to go in and Lawrence thought she was looking a bit pasty this morning. He folded his arms and waited for her to continue.

“Sorry,” she said in her little girl voice, so that it came out ‘sowee’ and in the same accents she continued. “Are you mad with me?”

The voice was her usual gambit to get out of trouble and it nearly always worked. Even now Lawrence found it difficult not to smile with her.

Instead he growled, “What did I say when you first came here?”

Chelsea frowned as if trying to remember.

“What did I say about being responsible and not acting like a kid anymore?”

Chelsea screwed up her face and peered up at him with her big brown eyes. “I did say I was sorry,” she said, somewhat sullenly now he thought.

“You were sorry last time and the time before that,” Lawrence raised his voice a little. “What did I say the first time and the last time? What do I say every time you screw up?”

“Oh that. That’s silly,” Chelsea blushed, remembering his strict uncle act that always left her a little bit squirmy.

“Silly is it?” He growled. “Maybe I am the silly one? Do you think so? I mean every time we have this discussion you promise to be good and then you let me down. This time I gather, you even conned some money out of your Aunt Kathy.”

“I’m sorry,” Chelsea said, looking it this time.

She slumped where she sat on the bed and blushed, completely unable to meet his eyes.

“What am I to do with you?” He sighed.

“Well that is just it, you never do anything. We always seem to go around in circles,” she said with a pout.

“We what,” he bellowed, “And just whose fault is that?”

“Well you… you and your idle threats. It is silly,” she said, her pout growing and this time she risked a sad-eyed glance at him.

“What?” Lawrence was flabbergasted. “Come here,” he growled.

In a moment Chelsea found herself hauled across her uncle’s lap and after a quick fire round of slaps to her behind, he extend the area of flesh where her pyjama’s had slipped down to expose her crack, by pulling the cotton bottoms right down.

“Uncle Larry,” she squealed in surprise.

Nevertheless there was certain challenge to her voice and her body language was one of submission.

Lawrence looked down on her small tight bottom and then remembering she had thrown his clemency in his face, brought his hand down again hard across her now bared bottom.

“Yeowch,” Chelsea yelped, but she made no true show of resistance.

Then he gave her hard sharp spanking that left her bottom bright red and hot to the touch and then he pushed her away so that she slumped to the floor.

“I am sorry Uncle Larry,” she sniffed, making no attempt to cover herself as she rubbed at her behind.

“You are grounded until I say otherwise, do you hear?” He snapped at her, not knowing what else to say.

“Yes Uncle,” she pouted.

Kathy was waiting in the hall.

“You didn’t?” She was agog.

“I did and I should have done it ages ago,” He snorted as he pushed passed his wife.

“But she’s too old, I mean… oh my.” Kathy blushed and looked at him as if seeing him for the first time.

Lawrence paused and looked her up and down. As she puzzled over the look on his face, he cocked one eyebrow and tilted his head.

“Oh now look, you wouldn’t dare,” Kathy said wildly, as she backed away towards their bedroom.

He took a step towards her causing her to back away still further until they matched each other step for step as they headed for the bedroom.

“I think I said, don’t give her any money,” he growled. “I think I said, stop indulging the girl, didn’t I?”

“Yes but…”

Lawrence didn’t wait. Seizing his wife he upended her over his knee while she shrieked out in protest.

“Chelsea will hear, you can’t do this, I’m sorry.” It was a stream of consciousness as her pink cotton lounge suit bottoms went south.

Kathy’s bottom was large and better defined than his niece’s; so much more womanly he thought. There had been a grim satisfaction in taking his brat of niece down a peg, but this was something else.

His hand descended without holding back with a clean sharp splat that left a firm red mark.

“Bastard, I’ll divorce you,” she spluttered, but it wasn’t a very convincing threat.

The volley of spanks that followed made her kick her legs.

“Please Lawrence, please, I’ll be good,” she sounded like Chelsea now.

“I am going to give you the spanking you deserve,” he barked.

“Please I’m sorry,” she wailed.

“You will be,” he said spanking her hard over and over. “And another thing, you are not to cut your hair unless I say so from now on.”

“Yes Lawrence, I mean no Lawrence, I mean…” Kathy moaned, “Please… don’t… stop…”

This spanking was harder and longer than Chelsea’s and even after 10 minutes he had no intention of stopping. At intervals Kathy looked back with her tear-filled eyes, which seemed to urge him on despite her pleas to the contrary.

“There are going to be some changes around here,” Lawrence said, but his voice was soft even as his hand was hard.

“Yes Lawrence,” Kathy groaned.

“Yes Lawrence,” Lawrence repeated with emphasis

Ends