The clock was ticking like the counterweight would break free of its housing and spill onto the floor. It was getting on her nerves at any rate. Then every 15 minutes it made another racket with bells and chimes all screaming at her that the appointed time was getting nearer.

All the while the sun which had started the day so nicely, with soft yellow light in a window-shaped puddle on the floor, had grown. It had turned an angry red as the afternoon progressed and was now even visible below the top of the glass as a great red fearsome eye accusing her of her sins.

In the hours that had passed the toilet down the hall had been graced by her presence far too often and not just for the usual. Twice she had been almost sick, the butterflies clawing at her tummy.

I am too old for this, she asserted impotently to herself, I am over 30 now and when he gets home I’ll tell him. That’s it, she decided.

She swallowed the lie and sat heavily on the settee while she still could.

She longed for his arms and folded her own around herself like a safety blanket and rocked back and forth for the scant comfort.

Why don’t I learn? Why didn’t I…? On and on around her head she cursed her folly. If only I could have one more chance…

“I won’t do it again Daddy,” she rehearsed over in her mind.

Daddy? Why did she call him that? He wasn’t her father. Who called their husbands daddy?

The thought was unworthy and she felt sick again. It was like a denial of Christ, she chided herself. Just because it was their secret didn’t mean… She didn’t know and rocked back and forth on the settee to think of a way out of it.

What was she afraid of? Didn’t he always take care of things? Hadn’t he always? Well he would fix this alright, the same way as he always did, but that was no comfort now. Her bottom itched as she thought on how he would resolve the matter.

How did she come to let him spank her in the first place? When had it even started?

Let him? She managed a smile. No one let Daddy do anything. He was a force of nature.

That first time, that first day so long ago…

He had been a grown up and had ordered a cognac on their first date. She felt like a waif or numpty girl next to him. She had been so shy.

“You were late,” he had said.

She was always late. All the boys knew that. All the boys waited for her.

“I’m so sorry,” she had stuttered.

Now why had she said that?

“Don’t be late again or I will spank you for it,” he had said sternly and as easily as he had ordered the cognac.

The waiter even heard him, she was sure of it. And the woman at the next table, but she only smiled. Was that envy in her eyes?

She should have slapped his face right then, but instead she shushed him and blushed.

“Don’t think I am joking young lady,” he had said in a cross voice, “I can always spank you here and now, in front of everyone right on your bare bottom.”

She had gaped and then shrunk back into her seat. Why didn’t she leave? She had thought then.

Instead she had blurted, “Not here.”

That day she would have done anything to take that back. It was an admission of surrender. She could have died.

“Alright,” he had conceded somewhat mollified, “There is a bench in the car park behind the restaurant. That will serve until I get you home.”

You cannot die of embarrassment. She knew that for a fact. If it were at all possible she would have died then and there.

The waiter had smirked and several people at tables had abandoned all pretence of not listening and had laughed openly.

Part of her had hoped Daddy had been joking, not that she called him that then. Part of her had prayed that he was not, but that was a mystery to her then. She was so embarrassed.

The cognac finished and the bill paid they had departed as any other couple. Their exit via the car park was not unusual nor was the slow approach to the bench at the far side. But her heart pounded all the way to it.

Sure enough once there he had tumbled her easily over his lap and drawn up her skirts.

“Please,” she had squealed, but even to her own ears it might have been ambiguous.

It had been a warm night and the swish of cool silk on her thighs as he drew down her scanties had been sensuous.

She was bare-bottomed across the knee of man she hardly knew in semi-public. Why hadn’t she protested more?

A glance at the roof garden of the restaurant across the way confirmed that the waiter had heard. He must have been on tip-toes to watch them. Her face had melted.

The spanking had been hard and sharp. She never knew how many car owners had seen and heard her.

“You won’t be late for Daddy again will you?” he had scolded her.

“No Daddy,” she had promised as he stung her bottom.

That had been the first time.

She had broken that promise many times since and he had spanked her every time.

Now what she had done was far worse. She glanced at the clock. He would be here soon.

But she promised, after today, she would never be naughty again. This would be her last spanking.