*Charley
On my last night on the island, which, sadly, was one night before Harry’s last night, he took me for dinner to a restaurant where there was a large dance floor. At what must have been a prearranged signal from him to the DJ, they started playing Don’t Stand So Close to Me. Harry had a mischievous look on his face when he insisted we dance.
“I have a little surprise planned,” he whispered, holding me close as we swayed to the music.
“I love surprises.”
“I don’t honestly know whether you’ll love this one,” he said, his blue eyes gleaming wickedly.
When we got back to his hotel room, he’d no sooner shouldered open the door before his hands were all over me. “So, I have to go back to work soon, and I need to do a little research.”
“What sort of research? Are you finally going to tell me what kind of work you do?”
“I will tell you, yes. After the research. Don’t know about you, hon, but to me there’s something irresistible about the forbidden schoolgirl fantasy.”
I laughed. “Well, from my perspective it’s the forbidden teacher fantasy, but, yes, I agree.”
He took a large cardboard box off the table and handed it to me. “Go into the bathroom and put this stuff on for me.”
Lingerie? Sexy undies? I pulled the top off the box and separated the tissue paper. I lifted out a navy blue garment that puzzled me for a moment. A short pleated shirt? There was a white blouse and something that looked like a feminine necktie and blue knee socks. A uniform? A schoolgirl’s uniform?
I didn’t see any undergarments.
“What exactly are we researching, Harry? Please don’t tell me you’re a porno movie producer.”
But as soon as I said that, I thought, shit, what if that is what he does? “I mean, it’s fine…I don’t care what you do for a living. Porn entertains a lot of people, so it wouldn’t be a problem—”
I glanced quickly around the room, looking for a camera. Thank goodness I didn’t see one!
Harry was laughing at me now. “No, I don’t make pornos. Go put that on.”
I shook out the clothes. “Where on earth did you get this?”
“In some of the schools here on the island, they wear uniforms in the old British style. Not designed for mature figures, but I think it’ll fit you. I picked out a shop-girl who was about your size and made her try one on.”
“I’ll bet you did,” I laughed.
“There’s even a hair ribbon so you can tie your hair back in one of those cute ponytails.”
“Okay, but what about you? You don’t exactly look like a British schoolmaster in your shorts and T-shirt.”
“Go change, little lady, and when you come out, you’ll be properly disciplined for that remark.” He opened a dresser drawer and withdrew one of those wooden rulers. He slapped it into the palm of his hand and quirked his eyebrows at me. “This is an old-fashioned establishment. Not at all like a public high school. We have rules. Pupils do not talk back to the schoolmaster. If they do, they suffer the consequences on their lovely round bottoms.”
Oh dear. Bad Prince Harry was back after all these years. I swept up the box and headed for the bathroom. What a devil. I was totally turned on.
Harry
Charley looked scorching hot when she came back. I’d never actually seen a schoolgirl in a uniform, having attended and taught in public schools, but this was a sensual dress-up thing, and I was grateful that Charley was willing to have fun with our sex life.
I was definitely thinking of it as “ours” these days, which was quite a change in my worldview, and entirely due to her. Thinking back on it, I couldn’t believe I’d spent as long as I had with Portia, my ex, who had hardly ever cracked a smile. Charley could be serious, but she also had a playful spirit that I adored. It was if she’d carried a little beam of sunlight with her wherever she went.
She had a huge irrepressible smile that reminded me of the young Julia Roberts. When that grin materialized on her face, it filled me with joy.
I didn’t actually have a costume, so I’d just slung a tie loosely around my neck and torn off all my clothes.
“That’s not very school-masterly, she teased when she sashayed out of the bathroom in her outfit.
“This is the school-masterly part,” I said, brandishing my ruler. “Come here and spread your bottom on the bed, you naughty girl. I’m going to wallop your ass for not doing your homework.”
“No way! I always did my homework. I was such a good girl.” She paused, grinning, “And you were such a wicked, Harley-riding boy. Bad Prince Harry. I still think of you that way.”
“Yeah? Better bow down to your high and mighty royal lord, then, babe.”
She held the pleats of her ridiculous skirt out to the side and curtseyed. She did it quite elegantly. Then she strolled to the bed and stretched herself out on it. She was lying on her tummy. My cock throbbed with anticipation.
I went to the side of the bed and flipped up the back of her shirt. No underwear. I loved her rounded ass. I’ve always been something of an ass man.
But it would be hard to find any part of Charley that I didn’t love.
She pressed herself up on her elbows and shook her head. The pony tail whipped back and forth. She wriggled her ass for me. “I dare you, Mr. Schoolmaster. I’ve always wondered what if would feel like to be spanked with a ruler.”
“Wonder no more,” I said and gave her what probably didn’t amount to more than a light tap. Charley liked it kinky, as did I, but I didn’t want to hurt her.
I smacked her again. She squirmed in a very appealing manner. “Hmm. I think I can get into this impact toy thing, Mr. Schoolmaster. Maybe we can order a flogger when we get home. Do it again.”
I did it harder, which made my cock happy. I wasn’t sure about the ruler, though, so after using it a few more times, I tossed it on the bedside table and spanked her with my hand instead. After about a minute of this, my hand was sore and her bottom was red. Her moans and her squirms had escalated, as had my arousal. When I slipped my finger in between her legs, her pussy was drenched.
She rolled over onto her side and grinned up at me. “I’m beginning to see why so many schools banned this corporal punishment thing. I could feel every single blow in my clit. I think I might be able to get off with erotic spanking alone.”
I fell on the bed beside her. “You’re a lovely little discipline freak, aren’t you?”
She giggled, stroking my hard and heavy dick. “And I knew you were bad to the boner.”
“Don’t make me laugh,” I protested, chortling. “It’s a good thing I never got my hands on you when you and I were student and teacher, or your mom would have had a much better reason to fire me.” I kissed her mouth and felt her slide her tongue against mine. We rolled on the mattress, her legs widening to let me rub my pelvis against hers. She already felt so dear and so familiar to me, after the past few days of frequent lovemaking. My dick always seemed to be stiff around her, my whole body ready to claim her, establish and re-establish possession.
Which I did, to the mutual satisfaction of us both.
*
“So?” she prompted me a little later.
I was feeling relaxed and mellow. “So what?”
“So if we’re going to keep on seeing each other back in Boston, don’t you think it’s time you told me what you’re doing these days? You’re not still teaching?”
“Ah, right. You might not believe me when I tell you, though. Hell, I don’t believe it myself half the time.”
“Try me?”
“You promise you won’t laugh?”
She promptly laughed. I pretended to be offended and delivered another spank to her bare ass. She wriggled, grinned and then made an effort to look serious. “Okay. I promise.”
“It’ll be the ruler again for you if you break your promise. Okay. Here goes: I don’t know if anyone knew it when you were in high school, but I had all these typical English teacher dreams about writing the great American novel. I used to go home after class and work on it. Poetry, too. I wrote atrocious poetry.”
“I knew about the poetry. You ran a poetry slam once, remember. 1950s beatnik style. It was one of the things that made all us girls drool over you.”
“Shit, I’d forgotten that. Very Allen Ginsberg? Yeah, I was young…what can I say? I had literary aspirations.”
“And?” She prodded when I fell silent for a while.
“And after being unemployed for a few weeks with no hope getting another teaching job at that time of year, if ever, I began having pay-the-rent and buy-food aspirations. Self-publishing was in its infancy and indie authors were making bank. So I picked a really popular type of story and started writing.”
“Like—” She was clearly trying to figure out what type of popular fiction a guy like me would be inclined to write “—science fiction? Murder mysteries?”
“More popular.”
“Thrillers?”
“Nope. What’s the bestselling genre in publishing?”
“I don’t know. Fantasy?”
“You’re a chick and you don’t know this? Romance. As a genre, romance outsells everything else.”
“Wait. Bad Prince Harry is a romance novelist?”
I could tell she was desperately trying to keep her promise not to laugh. I readied my ruler, just in case.
“Hey, people buy it. It’s gotten super high profile over the past few years. As in, my books have been bestsellers, and not just in the U.S. I am making a very nice living, especially when I compare it to my teacher’s salary.”
She had gone past laughing—she was gaping at me. “You’re a bestselling novelist? How come I didn’t know that? I read a lot.” She reached over to the bedside table and grabbed her phone. What was she doing—calling her mother?
“Who’re you calling?”
“I want to check online to see if I’ve read any of your books. I’m looking up Harry MacCallum on Amazon. Or—” she smirked at me. “Do you call yourself Harriet?”
“Harry MacCallum will probably always be a shitty wannabe poet,” I growled. “But Charlotte Charles is a New York Times bestselling romance novelist.”
“Charlotte Charles?! I’ve heard of Charlotte Charles. I’ve even read a couple of her books. Wait.” Her face changed as the significance of my pen name sank in. “Charlotte Charles?”
“Yep. It was you who got me fired and thus launched on my new career. So I named her after you.”
The ruler did get used, after all.
But it was Charley who used it on me.