The girl raced down the lane seemingly doing 150 on her gleaming silver Japanese motorbike forcing Liam Brady to side-step onto the grass verge. Okay, he thought she was probably only doing 40, but in the narrow country road it was just too fast.

Like you never went speeding anywhere, he berated himself. Maybe you are just getting too old, he thought.

Liam looked up the lane at the retreating girl, her skin-tight leather encased bottom thrust back at him, leaving no doubt to her sex. A blonde too, he noted, catching sight of the cascade of hair spilling carelessly from under her helmet. Then she was gone.

“Bloody kids,” said a man with a dog just coming out of the field.

My unworthy thoughts exactly, Liam realised, but he nodded conspiratorially as if in agreement and hurried on.

Gibbet Hill rose steeply ahead of him and he wanted to get to the top and the old drovers’ way before lunch. Not exactly a heroic endeavour, but he liked to do something to earn his pie and a pint at the pub.

Although spring had definitely sprung, April showers had definitely taken its tool of the ground and the grass was soggy and hard going under his feet. Still he had good boots and his chunky Arran jumper kept out most of the late spring breeze.

In his youth, he laughed at the phrase, it was all of 20 years ago; in his youth, he had walked this was with his wife. But back then he had dismissed the climb as an easy walk. Well, 48 was exactly old, he snorted derisorily as he ran his fingers through his short thick greying hair. Then turning his attention to the climb he let other memories run through his mind.

It took almost an hour to reach the top, far too long in his opinion and he wondered if he should cut his losses and head for the pub. Then he saw it; long straight and ancient, a drover’s way that had crossed the ridge for centuries.

England is mine, he thought melodramatically, with a sense of satisfaction at his achievement.

Then from behind him came a roar of an engine and a motorbike dramatically crested the far ridge. As it hurtled past him he saw it was the same girl on a motorbike that had almost knocked him down in the lane.

“Hey,” he yelled, “This is closed for motor vehicles.”

Liam stood impotently as the bike sped off cutting up the ancient turf.

“What the hell?” he sighed dejectedly as he wrestled manfully with his temper.

He was about to chalk it up as just one of those things and head down to the pub when instead of dying away the engine noise got louder again and the bike headed back towards him.

This time he moved into the centre of the narrow ridge path and faced the bike down in a game from his youth called chicken. The bike revved at him intimidatingly and seemed to speed up.

Oh well, I have had good life; if spoken his tone would have been matter-of-fact. Then just as the bike closed the rider pulled the brakes and attempted to swerve landing the bike in the ditch.

As the rider sprawled, Liam felt a little sick and shaking himself from his shock he ran forward to help.

“What do you think you are doing?” the woman spluttered as she got to her feet, disentangling her helmet from her long blonde hair.

“What do I think I am doing,” he bellowed with rage, “You nearly killed me. What in hell’s name are you doing up here on that contraption?”

“I wasn’t doing any harm,” she said angrily.

“No harm, look at the path, it took centuries of drovers feet to cut it through this hill and you have done the work of a million sheep in minutes. Look how cut up it is,” he gesticulated.

“Sheep? What are you on about sheep for you idiot?” she said with deliberate added rudeness.

“Don’t you ‘you idiot’ me young lady, I have a good mind to put you across my knee,” Liam was scarcely aware of what he said. “This is an ancient track way. It is protected.”

“What are you going to do, spank me? I would like to see you try,” she said half-humorously. Then she pulled the hair from her face and frowned at him, added more thoughtfully, “Ancient track you say?”

He could see now that far from being a kid, she was at least 35 and she had the clearest deep blue eyes he had ever seen.

Unfazed, he stuck to his guns. “Yes it is,” he said, “And yes I should. At your age, you ought to know better.”

“Whoops,” she giggled, “I mean… how dare you? You and who’s army?”

Her eyes twinkled challengingly and her words seemed contrived.

“Don’t test me, I don’t need an army to deal with you,” Liam said sharply, but he sensed an underlying game now.

She put her hands on hips and affected a sneer.

“You look old enough to be my father, but I am not sure you are up to the job,” she said defiantly, but again there was a hint of humour in her words.

“Is that a fact?” he drawled folding his arms and sizing her up.

Their eyes met and they tested one another for a long moment and then he unfolded his arms and took a step forward.

“You wouldn’t,” she said nervously and ducked away.

Unfortunately for her she was standing in a ditch and had nowhere to run. So catching her easily he sat down on the bank and pulled her easily across his lap after only a token struggle from her.

She squealed and yipped in embarrassment as he slapped at her leather-clad bottom with the flat of his hand, conscious that through her biking leathers he was making little impact.

“Okay, okay I get it Daddy cool, me bad,” she gasped as if in real discomfort.

“I’m not that easily fooled,” he growled, doing his best to spank harder to make an impression.

“I’m sorry ‘kay, enough already,” she wailed.

As much as he was enjoying himself, Liam decided to quit while he was ahead and brought the spanking to an end.

“Ooh, quite the he-man,” she said with a wince as she got to her feet clutching at her bum.

“Are you taking the piss?” He scowled at her.

“Oh, no way, I’m sorry okay,” she said genuinely enough, even taking a nervous pace backwards.

“If you promise not to ride it, I’ll help get your bike out of the ditch,” Liam said satisfied.

“Thanks,” the girl said sheepishly. “Oh, Catherine Wells.”

She extended a hand.

“Liam Brady,” Liam said, taking her hand and shaking it.

It took a while for them both to wrestle the machine out of the trench, but once Catherine was assured that no harm had come to it, they both pushed it down the track and back to the road.

“I don’t suppose you know anywhere I could stay around here do you?” she asked. “I am on a biking holiday, but I have rather got away from my itinerary. I am bit impulsive like that.”

“So I noticed,” Liam agreed. “Well actually, I hesitate to say this, but I am staying at the Fox at the bottom of the hill. I think they have a few rooms this time of year. It’s not much, but it is inexpensive.”

“Sick of me already huh?” she grinned, “I don’t blame you I suppose. I thought you were one of those stuck-up killjoy types. I was told that there was some off-road biking around here. I must have taken the wrong turn. Sorry.”

“Apology accepted young lady, I hope you have learned your lesson,” Liam said with deliberate pomposity.

She laughed and then he joined in.

“Come on, I’ll stand you lunch,” Liam said expansively.

“I should be buying you lunch,” Catherine said ruefully.

Liam frowned and then said in a scolding tone, “I do hope you are not going to be difficult again young lady.”

“No Sir,” she said in jokey exaggerated respectful tone, but she blushed a little all the same.

Lunch was a charming affair and they both laughed off the manner of their meeting easily.

Catherine admitted that her long-time marriage had ended over a year before and that the motorbike was a kind of symbol of change.

“Why can’t women have mid-life crises as well as men?” she said half-seriously over a glass of Chablis.

“You don’t exactly look old enough for a mid-life crisis,” Liam laughed, “I mean, I haven’t pencilled in mine for another two or three years yet.”

“Isn’t 60 rather late for that?” she said silkily, but her tongue pressed gently on the inside of her cheek.

“Do you want to go over my knee again?” he challenged her.

“Oh, not just at the moment thanks,” she pulled a face and patted her tail, “Besides, I don’t think you could manage to penetrate the leather so easily again.”

There was something about the way she said ‘penetrate’ that gave him a rise.

“I could always take your leathers down young lady,” he said with mock severity, “Your knickers too if it came to it.”

Her jaw dropped for a moment before she closed her mouth with a smirk.

“You are a dangerous man,” she said enigmatically.

*

Liam flicked through the channels on the TV searching in vain for anything to hold his interest. But it was only a small country inn and hadn’t invested in a full package, so he was left looking at BBC magazine shows, soaps or repeats of Top Gear and David Attenborough on cheap cable channels.

At the back of his mind he considered going down to the bar in the hopes of meeting Catherine, but she had declined dinner and had insisted on an early night.

Oh well, he thought, she was right, he wasn’t far off being old enough to be her father.

The knock at the door did nothing to break his mood. It had entirely escaped his notice that there was no room service and that in any case he hadn’t ordered any.

“Come in,” he said absently, flicking over to yet another channel.

Catherine slid through the half open door and closed it behind her. Without her leathers, she looked cool and sophisticated, not say much more relaxed.

“You give up much too easily Daddy Cool,” she cooed.

“Is that a fact?” he drawled, flicking off the TV.

“When a girl like me declines dinner, you are supposed to insist. I mean, I could hardly accept lunch and dinner from you without some protest on so short acquaintance.”

“I’ll try to remember that, but I don’t as a rule like playing such childish games. Although in your case I could an exception.” He was vaguely irritated, an offer was an offer, why say no if you mean yes?

“Oh, have I been naughty again Daddy Cool?” she said demurely.

“It seems you have,” Liam said gruffly.

“Then you will have to teach me to play nice won’t you?” she said huskily.

“You aren’t wearing your leathers this time, so maybe it won’t end so well for you,” he said evenly, but inside he was wondering where this was going. He didn’t approve of easy girls.

“I am sure it won’t, but I suppose I deserve it,” she whispered.

If she hadn’t blushed he might have sent her packing, but something in her eyes said ‘help,’ and she added, “Like you said, we don’t have time for games.’”

She leaned down to him and he kissed her, but she hung back, help changing to panic or desperation dancing behind her eyes.

Liam took the hint and pulled her unresisting across his lap. Her short loose skirts pulled up easily and it seemed a natural step to slide her cotton briefs down her firm biker thighs to expose her tight well-defined bare bottom.

“Oh,” she sighed at her exposure.

He planted a crisp spank on her bottom and watched a red handprint develop.

“Stings,” she whispered, but she wagged her tail like a dog.

He spanked her again hard and watched her drink it in with lap dance of her own and then he spanked her again.

“You should punish me Daddy,” she said in a shy voice.

“Oh yes?” he sounded stern.

“I lied about getting lost on my bike, I was following you,” she admitted.

The confession pleased him, but he felt a bit of a fool nonetheless.

“I see,” he growled and spanked her again.

It took four or five more spanks for her bottom to redden entirely, by which time she was panting and squirming over his lap.

“I am in no rush with this,” he said seriously, “So you can cry if you want.”

“Oh God,” she gasped.

“But that’s what you need isn’t it you naughty girl?” he continued.

“Yes Daddy,” she said in a strained voice. “Then I can show you how sorry I am.”

“Later,” he growled as he begun another volley of spanking, “Much later.”

“Yes Sir,” she said with a little shriek.

The End