Three friends meet strict discipline. Another story from the archives.
by Kenny Walters
A crow screeched a warning message from somewhere up in the treetops, temporarily drowning out the crunching of Amy’s feet on the gravel drive as she approached the large forbidding Victorian house. Certainly the bird’s message was meant for its compatriots, but for the slim blond haired girl a shiver down her spine made it seem as though the crow was shouting its warning at her.
Amy hurried on, feeling only marginally safer once she’d reached the heavy dark blue painted front door. She searched the frame for a doorbell push button, failed to see one, then made her presence known by rapping on a large heavy brass door knocker in the centre of the door.
“Hi Amy. Come in.”
Amy passed through the doorway and looked around the large hallway, finely decorated in a mix of blue and cream that suited the Victorian origins of the house and at the same time appeared bright and modern.
“Hi Sammi. This is all rather wonderful.”
“Yes, I suppose so.” Samantha Wilkinson ran a hand through her wavy medium brown hair that was still wet from a recently taken shower. “Come through to the kitchen. Nikki’s making coffee.”
Amy looked at her watch. It was five minutes past eleven. “Have you just got up?”
“About half an hour ago.” Samantha, dressed in low cut blue jeans and a white T-shirt, led the way along a passageway to the left of a wide stairway. “We did have rather a late night, as you know all too well!”
“Well, we had to celebrate the beginning of term, didn’t we?” Amy sat down as Nikki placed three mugs of coffee on the old pine kitchen table. Amy was grateful for the tiny scar on Sammi’s forehead, the result of a childhood accident, which enabled her to tell the two twins apart. “How do you like St. Catherine’s?”
“It’s fine.” Sammi answered. “A lot less strict than our school in Nigeria, although the weather’s not as nice!”
“So what made your parents decide to send you to school in England then?”
“Oh, they thought we’d have a better chance at getting good universities. That and the unsettled political climate.”
“And who is it you’re staying with?”
“Our uncle. Uncle Bob.”
“And you’re settling in okay?”
“Pretty well.” Nikki spoke briefly as she sipped her coffee. “Uncle Bob’s okay, although he’s more in tune with our school in Nigeria than the enlightened ways of St. Catherine’s. Anyway, it can’t have been easy for a staid old bachelor like Uncle Bob to suddenly have twin eighteen year old sisters dumped on him.”
“We weren’t dumped!” Sammi protested. “He offered.”
“Yes, but it still must have come as a bit of a shock to have his orderly existence interfered with.”
The three girls chatted as they sipped their hot coffee, then Amy suggested: “How about a game of tennis? The local courts should be pretty quiet at the moment.”
Sammi and Nikki quickly exchanged nervous glances.
“Ah, we’re not exactly free until later.” Sammi answered. “We have to, sort of, see our uncle at 12.30. Maybe this afternoon?”
“Sammi!” Nikki nudged her twin sister.
“Can’t it wait?” Amy responded. “I was thinking we might go shopping later, perhaps get a bite to eat in town?”
“I’m not sure we’ll be fit for either this afternoon.” Nikki said.
“Yes we will, Nikki.” Sammi argued. “It won’t be that bad. Uncle Bob’s an old softy at heart.”
“Don’t be so sure.” Nikki cautioned.
“What are you two talking about?” Amy asked, completely baffled by the conversation between the two twins.
“It’s nothing!” Nikki spoke before Sammi had a chance to say anything. “Look, we’ll meet you at the tennis courts at 2.30, okay? Uncle Bob’s due home soon. It might be best if you weren’t here. Okay?”
“Oh, yes, okay.” Amy was quite perplexed by Nikki’s strangely unfriendly attitude. “Two-thirty at the tennis courts then.”
* * *
Surrounded by high hedges, the local tennis courts were secluded and quietly welcoming, and Amy sat on the steps to the timber built pavilion and changing rooms as she waited for Sammi and Nikki. Soon the twins appeared, both wearing track-suits and carrying their tennis racquets in soft cases. Only when they were near enough for Amy to spot the small scar on Sammi’s forehead was she able to tell Sammi was wearing a pale blue track-suit and Nikki a similarly styled black one with two white stripes down the side.
“Hi’ girls!” Amy greeted them cheerfully.
“Hi’ Amy.” The twins answered together, rather more subdued.
“Right.” Amy got to her feet. “Shall we get changed?”
“Oh, we’ll play in our track-suits, Amy.” Nikki answered. “You go ahead, though. We’ll wait for you.”
“Won’t you be too hot?”
“No, we’re used to the heat. Africa, and all that.”
Thinking nothing more about it, Amy went into the chalet style pavilion, found an empty changing room and quickly stripped off her jeans and white T-shirt. Her pink bra and matching thong-style knickers soon followed. Slipping on a white sports bra and matching knickers, Amy stepped into her white tennis dress styled with a plain bodice and pleated skirt, pulled it up and fastened the zip at the back. She removed her tennis racket from its case, pulled a box of tennis balls from her sports bag and rejoined Nikki and Sammi on the steps outside.
“There’s a nice quiet court round here.” Amy led the twins along a shrub lined path to the end court of a row of four.
Amy played a game with each of the twins, then the two sisters played each other while Amy took a rest on one of the seats at the side of the court. Amy had won both her games quite easily, being noticeably more mobile and covering much more of the court in each rally.
As Amy watched, the twins played each other rather lethargically as though their minds were not really on their game, until Nikki hit a couple of hard shots that had Sammi ducking to avoid being hit. Sammi retaliated in the next rally by hitting the ball first to one side of the court and then to the other side, making Nikki run and stretch to return the shots. Unfortunately, Nikki slipped as she was running at full pelt on the red tar macadam playing surface and went sprawling to the ground.
“Nikki! Are you okay?” Amy sprang to her feet as soon as it became clear Nikki was hurt and not able to immediately get to her feet. Sammi, too, came round from her side of the court to see what the problem was with her sister.
“I’m okay, I just grazed my side, that’s all.” Nikki said painfully as she rubbed her thigh and began to get to her knees.
“Better pull your trousers up, then!” Amy joked as she neared the fallen girl and noted the sprawling tumble had caused Nikki’s loose fitting black track-suit trousers to slip off her hips and expose large portions of bare bottom framed by a skimpy red thong. “Grief! You’ve really bruised your bottom, Nikki!”
“It wasn’t the fall that did that!” Sammi remarked testily as she looked down at her injured twin sister.
“Wasn’t the fall?” Amy queried as she helped Nikki stand up.
“Sammi!” Nikki snapped, in an attempt to silence her sister.
“What do you mean, it wasn’t the fall?” Amy stared at the crimson red bruising that covered more or less the entire soft round curves of Nikki’s bare bottom. Amy had been about to cover her friend’s nakedness by pulling the black track-suit trousers back up for her, but now she gaped in awe at the obvious soreness of the soft bottom flesh as she held the elastic waistband.
“Do you mind!” Nikki seized the stretchy material from Amy and covered herself up.
“Oh, sorry!” Amy sniggered as she realised she’d left her friend exposed to the stares of anyone who happened to be passing. She looked around. They were thankfully alone. “How did you come to hurt your bottom like that, though?”
“She got what she deserved.” Sammi commented unsympathetically.
“Sammi!” Amy chided. “Nikki’s bottom is really very sore!”
“Mine’s the same, actually.”
“What! How?” Amy looked at first one twin and then the other, desperately seeking some explanation that would make sense of it all.
“We might as well tell her – now you’ve opened your big mouth!” Nikki snapped at her sister.
“You tell her!” Sammi snapped back, although she did offer a helping hand as Amy helped Nikki to her feet.
“Tell me what?” Amy enquired, handing Nikki her tennis racket.
“Let’s sit over there on that bench.” Nikki suggested, nodding in the direction of a wooden park bench just outside the confines of the tennis court.
“Look, what’s this all about?” Amy asked as she sat down between the two sisters, Nikki on her left and Sammi on her right.
“Well, as you know Sammi and I were both back quite late last night.”
“Yes, me too.” Amy acknowledged. “So?”
“So, we tried to creep in very quietly but, well, we were rather merry and I guess we weren’t as quiet as we intended.”
“So, we woke Uncle Bob who was not best pleased at his two nieces coming home after two o’clock in the morning having consumed a considerable amount of alcohol.”
“Well, yes, my parents weren’t exactly ecstatic about me doing much the same. But what’s that got to do with the marks on your bottom?”
“Oh, Amy!” Nikki blushed. “Use your imagination!”
Amy thought for a moment. “No, I still don’t get it.”
Nikki didn’t explain. Instead, she merely sat looking coyly at her friend.
“We got the strap.” Sammi decided to put Amy out of her misery.
“The strap?” Amy appeared none the wiser.
“A good hiding.” Sammi offered. “Both of us!”
“A good hiding? You mean…?”
“Good grief! This is the 21st century for goodness sakes!”
“So eighteen year old girls don’t get whacked any more!”
“They do where we come from.”
“Sammi! You really ought to report this.”
“Oh, I don’t know. The police, or the school, or something.”
“Hold on, Amy.” Nikki interrupted. “We had been told to be home by midnight and we’d given our word to Uncle Bob we wouldn’t be any later than that. We were over two hours late. And we’d promised not to get drunk. And we’d promised not to wake Uncle Bob.”
“Yes, but even so he had no right to use corporal punishment on you.”
“He did, actually. Our parents gave their consent as part of the deal that meant we could stay with Uncle Bob.”
“And what would the alternative have been? He might have grounded us for a couple of weeks or goodness knows what else. At least we’ve got our punishments over with.”
“Well, I just don’t think it’s right, that’s all.” Amy concluded the conversation.
* * *
“Oh God! My parents are going to kill me!” Amy clasped her head in her hands, tears of despair welling up in her eyes.
“I daresay Uncle Bob isn’t going to be too pleased either.” Sammi suggested.
“You can say that again!” Nikki confirmed.
“How could we have been so stupid?” Amy wiped a tear away from her pretty cheek.
“The point is, we were that stupid.” Sammi remained calmer. “What matters now is how we deal with it.”
“Or how the police deal with it.” Amy added, then wailed despondently: “Oh God! What if they…?” Her words were interrupted by the door of the office opening and the young blond-haired manageress entering with the middle-aged stocky woman that had stopped them leaving the store.
“So! You say you’d been drinking at the Red Lion?” The manageress sat down in the large swivelling chair behind her desk and glared at the three eighteen year olds sitting in front of it. “How many drinks did it take to work up enough Dutch courage to steal from my jewellery counter?”
“That’s not how it was!” Amy protested. “We just went to the Red Lion for a sandwich.”
“There’s plenty of sandwich bars in the town.” The older, rather butch looking, security woman stated as she stood behind the three girls. “But they don’t serve alcohol, of course.”
“We just had a couple of glasses of wine with our lunch!” Nikki stated. “That’s all.”
“I think it might have been three, actually.” Nikki added, immediately incurring the wrath of her twin sister.
“And then you decided to go shopping?” The manageress asked.
“Yes, that’s really why we were in the town centre.” Nikki continued. “To do some shopping.”
“And you fancied some jewellery?”
“That was me.” Amy offered. “I wanted a new neck-chain.”
“So why were you looking at watches?”
“I saw a watch in the display cabinet that I fancied.” Nikki said. “I asked to see it while Amy was looking at the neck-chains.”
“And the tie-pins?”
“I thought I might buy one for our Uncle Bob.” Sammi answered. “He’s into that sort of thing.”
“So you had quite a number of items on the counter you were each inspecting.” The security woman spoke. “How was it some of them found their way into your pockets?”
Suddenly all three eighteen year olds were silent. Eventually Sammi shrugged and said: “We don’t know.”
After a few moments silence, the store manageress offered her opinion. “You see, from where I’m sitting it looks remarkably like you three had a few drinks to work up some courage and then deliberately set out to cause confusion in the jewellery shop so that you could pocket a few valuable items.”
“No! No, that’s not true!” All three girls protested their innocence.
“It’s how it looks to me.” The young blond woman answered quietly but firmly. “For the moment, I’m going to suggest we search each one of you to establish whether you have any other stolen items on you.”
”Oh God!” Amy said under her breath.
“Shouldn’t the police do that?” Sammi asked.
“Yes.” The young manageress replied thoughtfully. “That’s if we’re going to involve the police, of course.”
“Is there any other option?” Sammi, again.
“There are always options.” The bulky security woman answered before the manageress had a chance to respond.
“I suggest it would be easier if you stripped to your underwear.” The manageress continued as though everyone had already discounted the alternative of calling the police. “Who wants to go first?”
Amy and Nikki exchanged glances, then both looked towards Sammi.
“So, you’re not calling the police, then?” Sammi asked.
“Not at this stage, no.” The manageress replied. “We can still call them later if we have to.”
“I’ll lock the door, Sandra.” The security woman spoke. “We don’t want anyone getting a cheap thrill, do we?” As the three girls turned and watched the middle-aged woman slide a bolt across to secure the door, they each noticed an evil smile spread across the woman’s face.
“Thank you, Ruth.” The young blond manageress ran a hand through her shoulder length hair, then looked at each girl in turn. “Girls?”
Amy and Nikki hesitated, leaving Sammi to get to her feet. She slipped off her green jacket and found the security woman she now knew to be Ruth holding her hand out. While the jacket was carefully searched, Sammi peeled off her white T-shirt revealing a red bra and then the T-shirt was taken from her and searched.
It was only when Sammi’s hands went to the fastenings of her blue low-slung jeans that she showed any sign of hesitation.
“Come along!” Ruth, the security woman, encouraged. “We’re all girls together!”
“Huh!” Sammi muttered under breath, as the butch security woman hovered, eyes targeting the front of the younger girls’ jeans. Nonetheless, Sammi unfastened the jeans and pushed them down her slender legs. If Sammi felt embarrassed about bending over in just her red bra and matching thong while she struggled to untangle the jeans from her ankles, she certainly didn’t show it. She did, though, manage a certain look of disgust as she handed the jeans over to be searched.
“Take a seat.” Ruth instructed as she roughly folded Sammi’s clothes and placed them on the manageress’s desk. “Who wants to go next?”
Amy and Nikki both made unenthusiastic moves to get up from their chairs, Nikki being just a fraction faster. As she stood before the sturdily built security woman, Sammi sat down in just her underwear.
“Come along, you know what to do!” Ruth Peterson, the security officer was again displaying that evil smirk on her face.
With a sigh, Nikki took off her pale blue jacket and handed it over.
“Keep going!” Ruth encouraged as she searched the girl’s jacket.
Nikki unbuttoned her smooth white blouse and held it out for the security woman. “Careful, that’s expensive.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll look after it. Keep going.” Nikki felt the security woman’s eyes on her firm young breasts cupped in a revealing black bra. She turned quickly and stood with her back to Ruth Peterson as she fumbled with the zip on her tight white jeans. In a few moments they had been pushed down and extracted from her feet.
“Thank you, I’ll take those.”
Nikki half turned and found Ruth Peterson holding her hand out for the white jeans. She handed them over, suddenly feeling quite vulnerable as she stood in just her black bra and pink lacy thong.
“Take a seat.” Sandra Davenport, the shop manageress told her, and Nikki sat down again. “Okay, your turn.” The young blond woman turned her attention to Amy.
Instantly Amy blushed as she felt herself becoming the focus of attention. Feeling decidedly uncomfortable, the slim blond girl forced herself to peel off her blue denim jacket and pass it to Ruth Peterson. Even though Amy wanted to get this embarrassing ordeal over with as quickly as possible, she found herself struggling to get the buttons undone on her pale blue blouse. The task finally accomplished, she slipped the flimsy garment off and handed it over.
A quick glance around confirmed that Sammi and Nikki and the shop manageress, Sandra Davenport, were all studying every move of her undressing. Then, with her blouse suitably searched, Amy noted that Ruth Peterson had added her attention to the eighteen year old’s disrobing. Feeling hot and flushed, Amy forced her fingers to unzip her pale beige trousers, release the fastening at the waist, and push them down her long shapely legs until they plopped in a heap around her ankles. Her back to Sammi and Nikki, and standing sideways on to Ruth Peterson to her left and Sandra Davenport to her right, Amy bent down and unhooked her trousers from her feet. When she stood upright again in just her white bra and white brief panties with blue polka dots, Amy handed her trousers over to Ruth Peterson to be searched.
“Sit down again, please Amy.” Sandra Davenport told her.
“Nothing.” Ruth Peterson confirmed she had uncovered no further items of stolen property as she added Amy’s pale beige trousers to the pile of clothing on the shop manageress’s desk.
Sandra Davenport nodded. “Should we…?” She looked enquiringly at the security woman.
Ruth Peterson looked leeringly at the three seated girls. “I don’t think the two twins could possibly be hiding anything in their skimpy knickers!” As all three felt a slight sense of relief, the sturdily built woman focused on Amy. “Perhaps the blond girl. Amy, isn’t it?”
“What?” Amy asked, a sudden anxiety apparent in her voice.
“Stand up, please Amy.” The shop manageress requested.
Amy stood up.
“Lean over the desk.”
“What?” Amy’s heart began pounding against her chest. “Why?”
“Just do it!” Ruth Peterson gave Amy a push towards the desk. Amy leaned over, her face coming uncomfortably close to Sandra Davenport’s attractive features.
“Hey!” Amy shouted in horror as she felt her brief white and blue polka dot knickers being suddenly pulled down.
“No, she’s not hiding anything.” Ruth Peterson declared, giving Amy a sharp pat on her naked bottom. “Okay, pull your knickers up and sit down.”
Amy did as she was told, giving her bottom a rub where the smack had caused a stinging sensation.
“Okay.” Sandra Davenport turned to Sammi and Nikki. “I’ve telephoned your uncle who you say you’re staying with while you’re in this country, and…” The shop manageress looked towards Amy. “I’ve also telephoned your mother. They are both on their way here now.”
“Was that really necessary?” Amy asked. “We’re all over eighteen.”
“I felt it best.” Sandra Davenport replied. “That is, if we are to avoid the police being involved.”
Amy couldn’t understand the logic of the answer, but decided that having to face her mother was infinitely better than having to face the police.
Within moments, the telephone on Sandra Davenport’s desk rang. The attractive blond woman lifted the receiver.
“Yes? Yes, okay. Send them in.”
“Do you mind if we get dressed?” Nikki asked, in something of a panic.
Nikki’s question was quickly followed by Ruth Peterson unbolting the door and holding it open.
Amy looked up, and for the first time saw the tall grey haired gentleman that was Sammi and Nikki’s uncle following her own mother into the office.
“Ah, Mrs Saunders and Mr Wilkinson. Thank you for coming so promptly.” Sandra Davenport shook hands with both new arrivals. A lack of additional chairs meant the three eighteen year old girls all stood up so that Amy’s mother and Sammi and Nikki’s uncle could sit down. Even though Amy’s brief white and blue polka dot panties were less revealing than the sisters’ things, she still felt quite awkward standing in front of the others.
“What on earth is this all about?” Alison Saunders, Amy’s mother, demanded.
“Perhaps the girls would like to explain.” The shop manageress looked towards the three girls.
Sammi and Nikki remained quite silent, leaving Amy to answer her mother.
“I’m afraid we got a little, er, merry at lunchtime and, um, well we’ve found ourselves with several items of jewellery in our possession that we shouldn’t have had.”
“Merry?” Mrs Saunders queried. “What exactly do you mean?”
“We, er, had a couple of drinks with our lunch and, well, with the warm weather and all that we acted a bit stupidly when we came to this shop.”
“You mean you actually stole some jewellery? I can’t believe it.” Alison Saunders’s expression confirmed her inability to comprehend her daughter could possibly have been involved in such criminal behaviour.
“We didn’t mean any harm by it, mummy!” Amy sought to reassure her mother. “It was just a bit of fun. That’s all.”
“Since when have you regarded stealing as just a bit of fun, young lady?”
Amy couldn’t think of a suitable answer.
“Nikki. Sammi. Were you involved in this too?” The twin sisters’ Uncle Bob took over the interrogation when Mrs Saunders found herself speechless.
“Yes we were.” Nikki answered truthfully.
“Yes, uncle.” Sammi murmured.
Amy studied the distinguished gentleman’s chiselled features. Aged somewhere between fifty and sixty, she guessed, he had the natural air of authority that had been sadly lacking in her own father, a loud friendly man who quickly made friends with anyone and everyone, especially if they were female and attractive. He’d left them for another woman, a much younger woman than her mother, when Amy was just eight years old. While he looked stern and unhappy at having been summoned to this office, Amy found herself wishing he had been her uncle, or perhaps even her father.
“So, Ms Davenport, isn’t it?” Mr Wilkinson addressed the shop manageress. “Perhaps you’d care to enlighten us as to your intentions regarding these three young ladies? I note the lack of a police presence, so presumably you have something else in mind?”
Sandra Davenport’s emerald green eyes flashed across to Robert Wilkinson, his rapid interpretation of the situation catching her off balance.
Amy was tempted to seize this opportunity of repeating Nikki’s interrupted request that the three girls be allowed to get dressed, but the shop manageress recovered a little too soon.
“Well, with these girls having only one final term left at their schools, and it being a term where they have their ‘A’ level grades to consider, together with the need to get places at good universities…”
“Yes, yes!” Robert Wilkinson interrupted impatiently. “We’re all sure you have the best interests of the girls at heart, Ms Davenport. The important thing is, what are you going to do about this nasty little situation? That’s what we really need to know, isn’t it?”
“Yes, Mr Wilkinson.” Sandra Davenport paused to reflect. “As you seem to have correctly gathered, I do have a solution that has been used on several previous occasions in situations of this nature. My only reason for hesitating is the slightly unusual nature of the proposition.”
Robert Wilkinson coughed, or was it a chuckle, Amy asked herself. She was feeling extremely embarrassed at having to stand half naked while she listened to this discussion, to the point where she was desperate to hear anything that would mean an end to her humiliation.
“I’m sure all of us would welcome any suggestion that would allow these girls to complete their schooling and progress their careers without the encumbrance of a criminal conviction, Ms Davenport. Any suggestion.”
“Very well.” Sandra Davenport took one final hard look at the distinguished gentleman as though needing to satisfy herself the potential solution she had in mind would not cause grave offence. Deciding to risk it, the shop manageress reached down and opened the bottom drawer of her desk, rummaged through the contents and finally placed the item she was seeking on her desk. It was a black leather riding crop, maybe two feet or a little more in length, and barely the thickness of a little finger.
Amy Saunders looked at the riding crop with a mixture of bewilderment and fear. After studying the item for some moments, she looked at Sandra Davenport and asked simply: “Can we get dressed now, please?”
The shop manageress smiled. So, too, did Ruth Peterson and Mr Wilkinson, as Amy noted from the corner of her eye. Only Mrs Saunders and the two twins apparently failed to find any amusement in Amy’s request.
“Perhaps they might be allowed to replace their blouses.” Robert Wilkinson looked up at Amy, and the slim blond girl found gained just a small crumb of comfort from his seemingly sympathetic expression.
“Certainly. Why not?” Sandra Davenport smiled again. “Ruth?”
The robust security woman sorted through the pile of clothes on the desk and isolated the girls’ two blouses and Sammi’s white T-shirt. She held them out and Nikki, Sammi and then Amy each took back their garments and put them on.
Amy didn’t need to look down to know her pale blue blouse was cut much too short to cover up her white and blue polka dot panties. Nikki’s white blouse was equally too short and, although Sammi’s T-shirt was indeed long enough to be pulled down to cover her red thong, for some reason best known to herself Sammi had elected to wrap its hem around her waist and leave her underwear exposed.
“Let me get this clear.” Alison Saunders’ voice drew Amy’s attention away from Sammi’s knickers. “You’re suggesting giving them each a thrashing?”
“I’m merely suggesting it as an option, Mrs Saunders.” Sandra Davenport’s faint smile seemed a little well rehearsed. “It’s up to you and Mr Wilkinson, and the girls of course, to decide whether you feel the idea has any merit.”
“And presumably, seeing that you’ve allowed the girls to put their tops back on but not their trousers, you’re intending to thrash the girls across their backsides?”
“Where else, Mrs Saunders?”
“At my school, Ms Davenport, girls were caned across the palms of their hands, actually.”
“How quaint. They got it across their bottoms at my school. Actually.” The shop manageress smiled condescendingly before adding: “Much more effective, I’ve always found.”
“Me too.” Robert Wilkinson confirmed his support. “I have no doubt Sammi and Nikki would prefer to accept your alternative, Ms Davenport. Wouldn’t you, girls?”
Suddenly, all eyes were on the two twins.
“We might as well.” Sammi confirmed with a sigh.
Nikki nodded, rather excitedly. Amy knew it must have been the eighteen year old’s nervousness, rather than any great enthusiasm for being soundly beaten with the rather lethal looking riding crop.
“Which just leaves Amy, doesn’t it?” Sandra Davenport looked first at the reticent girl standing next to Sammi and Nikki, then at the girl’s mother seated next to Robert Wilkinson.
“I am not a supporter of corporal punishment, Ms Davenport.” Mrs Saunders answered.
“I’ll do it.” Amy answered with a sigh, then rolled her eyes towards the ceiling as she thought to herself: ‘Why did I say that? What on earth have I let myself in for?’
“Amy!” Her mother snapped. “You really don’t have to.”
“Yes I do, mummy.” Amy answered quietly. “Yes, I do.”
Amy was immediately conscious of Sammi and Nikki both looking at her. Where Sammi seemed quite dispassionate, Nikki’s expression demonstrated a mix of concern and curiosity although quite what Nikki was curious about, Amy was none too sure.
“Okay, if we’re all decided, let’s not waste time.” Sandra Davenport almost jumped to her feet and snatched up the wicked looking riding crop. She hastily opened a drawer of her desk and with one wide sweep of her arm managed to scoop up the papers on the top of her desk and deposit them untidily into the drawer. Ruth Peterson assisted by removing the girls’ clothes and placing them on top of a filing cabinet. With the telephone despatched to a side table, the desk top was cleared.
“Mr Wilkinson, could you move those chairs back a little, please?”
“Certainly, Ms Davenport.”
Robert Wilkinson stood up and only just gave Mrs Saunders time to get up out of her chair before she found it moved back towards the wall.
“Girls! If you please.” Sandra Davenport tapped the top of her desk with the tip of the riding crop.
As the three girls looked at each other in some confusion as, without speaking, they tried to sort out who would be going first. Meanwhile, Robert Wilkinson had placed two of the chairs in a position he deemed suitable for providing a first class view of the action and sat down. “Might as well sit down, Mrs Saunders.”
“Thank you, Mr Wilkinson. Please, call me Alison.”
“I think we should have a clear view from here, Alison.” The distinguished gentleman responded. “I’m Bob, by the way.”
“Thank you, Bob.” Alison Saunders answered graciously. “I do hope Ms Davenport won’t be too severe with them. Amy’s never had so much as a spanking before.”
“Perhaps it’s high time she did then, Alison. Believe me, a sore backside won’t do any of them any harm.” Robert Wilkinson smiled reassuringly. “And it might just do them all some good!”
“All of you, please!” Sandra Davenport’s loud voice brought to an end the conversation between Amy’s mother and the twins’ Uncle Bob.
The three girls, who had still not mentally sorted out which of them was to be the first victim of the black leather riding crop, seemed even more doubtful about what was required of them. The shop manageress was soon to enlighten them.
“Amy! You there!” Sandra Davenport reached along the back edge of the desk and tapped a point about two feet in from the end. “You there, Nikki!” She tapped another point in the middle of the desk. “And this is your spot, Sammi!” Finally, the shop manageress tapped a point nearest to where she was standing.
Slowly, the three girls moved into their appointed positions, each still facing the shop manageress, with the desk by their right hips.
“Face the desk, then bend over.” Sandra Davenport’s voice was loud but, rather than being clearly authoritative, the intensity actually betrayed more than a hint of nervousness.
“All of us?” Sammi queried, although all three girls were still appearing confused.
“That is what I said!” The shop manageress snapped.
Sammi shrugged. Being the nearest to Ms Davenport, she reckoned she’d be the first to feel the sting of the crop across her backside anyway. The eighteen year old ran a hand nervously through her wavy brown hair and leaned over.
“Get right down onto the desk, please.”
Sammi hastily shuffled her feet and rested the top half of her body on the cold wooden surface, then bent her knees slightly so her bottom protruded invitingly. Without another word from Sandra Davenport, Sammi pulled her white T-shirt up until even her red bra was exposed.
“Good Heavens!” Alison Saunders exclaimed, leaning towards the ear of Robert Wilkinson. “She’s almost naked!”
“Not to worry!” The twins’ uncle replied as he looked across at Sammi’s essentially naked bottom clothed in just a red thong that matched her red bra. “A good hiding on the bare bottom will do her the world of good. That’s one good thing about these girls’ modern underwear!”
“Come along, girls!” Sandra Davenport encouraged. “Across the desk, please.”
Nikki hesitated for just a second before turning and bending right down across the desk, next to Sammi. She, too, pulled her white blouse up and folded it under, well out of the way of her bottom, before reaching forward and gripping the further edge of the desk.
“Gracious me! You two really did come prepared for a good spanking, didn’t you?” Ruth Peterson mocked. The security woman, who had been keeping a low profile as she watched the proceedings unfold, couldn’t resist moving forward and taking a close look at the twins’ essentially naked bottoms. “Oh, very pretty!” She mocked as she took an extra close look at Nikki’s pink thong.
“What are you waiting for, Amy?” Sandra Davenport ignored her colleague and shouted across to the blond haired girl who stood looking uneasily down at her two friends.
“I’m not! I mean…” Conscious of everyone looking at her, including Sammi and Nikki looking up from their positions bending across the desk, Amy’s heart began to pound furiously as she realised she could not delay any further the surrendering of herself for punishment.
Slowly and carefully, Amy turned to face the desk and leaned forward. Being several inches taller than Sammi and Nikki, she found it quite awkward to flatten herself across the top of the desk and tuck her knees in as the other two had done. Nonetheless, with some shuffling of her feet, the blond haired eighteen year old eventually manoeuvred herself into the required position.
“Adjust your clothing, please Amy!” Sandra Davenport prompted, not that Amy’s white blouse covered much of her white and blue polka dot briefs now that the blouse had ridden up with the blond girl’s bending posture.
“I’m sorry?” Amy looked up in surprise, a comfortable relief from resting her nose on the hard surface of the desk.
“Show us your knickers, girl!” Ruth Peterson added her own, rather more blunt, encouragement. “Get your blouse up out of the way!”
“Surely it won’t make much difference?” Amy queried, then felt an elbow in her ribs.
“Just do it, Amy!” Nikki whispered rather loudly. “For goodness sakes, let’s get this over with!”
Sandra Davenport chuckled. “That’s good advice, Amy!”
Blushing as much in temper as embarrassment, Amy quickly grabbed the hem of her white blouse and pulled it up her back, so well up that it left her white bra uncovered. “There! Will that do?” She retorted.
“These knickers of yours aren’t leaving much bare bottom, are they Amy?” Ruth Peterson stared down at the blond girl’s firm round bottom, neatly clothed in the brief white and blue polka dot panties.
“So?” Amy snapped back irritably.
“What do you think, Mrs Saunders?” The security woman ignored Amy’s response.
“Well, I suppose Amy’s knickers do cover more of her bottom than the other two’s thongs.” Alison Saunders acknowledged. “I suppose you mean she’ll be getting more protection from the crop?”
“Precisely!” Ruth Peterson said gleefully. “Bad luck, girly!”
“What?” Amy queried, wondering how more protection from the thrashing could be deemed bad luck. “Hey!!” She shouted. “Oh no!!”
“Oh yes, I’m afraid so.” Ruth Peterson answered as she completed the task of pulling Amy’s knickers down to her ankles. “There! Now you’re really ready!” Giving Amy a sharp pat on her now totally naked bottom, Ruth went and sat down next to Alison Saunders.
“Okay.” Sandra Davenport’s voice echoed across the room. “We’ll start with six strokes each. First Sammi, then Nikki, then Amy. Then there will be another six, given in similar fashion. After that, we’ll see whether any further punishment is needed. Hold still and take your punishment. Any attempt at getting up, rubbing your bottom, wriggling or in any other way interfering with your punishment will get you extra strokes. Okay?”
“I’m getting the feeling Ms Davenport’s done this sort of thing before.” Alison Saunders whispered into Robert Wilkinson’s ear.
“I do believe you’re right.” The distinguished gentleman replied.
Ruth Peterson smiled knowingly.
“Ouch!!” Sammi exclaimed as the riding crop whipped across her virtually naked backside.
“Keep still!” Sandra Davenport’s voice barked as Sammi squirmed against the fiery pain that cut across her firm young bottom.
“Oooouuch!!” Sammi cried even louder as the second stroke lashed her creamy white backside.
Amy turned her head towards Nikki and saw that Nikki too was cautiously peering round to watch the punishment being inflicted on her twin sister.
By lifting her head slightly, Amy could see the vigorous effort Sandra Davenport was applying to each stroke.
Amy panicked. The shop manageress was clearly not a believer in allowing any respite between each stroke. Soon these exertions would be applied to her own backside.
Amy pressed her cheek back onto the hard surface of the desk. Ms Davenport had finished Sammi’s first six strokes and was leaving the first twin to sob quietly while she moved round to deal with Nikki.
For a brief moment, Nikki and Amy looked briefly into each other’s eyes and then Nikki looked away towards the front as she anticipated the arrival of her first stroke. Amy, too, wanted to look away, but she found the temptation to watch Sandra Davenport holding the black leather riding crop and taking aim at Nikki’s virtually naked bottom too much to resist.
Nikki’s whole body jerked as she felt the riding crop’s sting across her bottom.
Nikki gasped loudly as the riding crop sliced across the firm young mounds of her effectively naked backside for a second time.
Amy looked anxiously at her friend’s face, feeling perhaps some eye to eye contact might establish a mutual bond and help make the pain just a little more bearable. Nikki, though, kept looking towards some point on the back wall of the office, apparently oblivious to her friend lying next to her. A tear trickled down from the corner of her eye, and that too went seemingly unnoticed.
As the riding crop cut into the firm round curves of Nikki’s bottom, lower down than the previous two strokes, Alison Saunders watched intently as a thin reddish brown line began to form, marking the impact of this latest assault on the formerly unblemished pale flesh. For the moment, Sandra Davenport’s body prevented her from seeing the results of the thrashing on Sammi’s equally attractive bottom.
With the fourth reddish brown line forming, Mrs Saunders turned her attention to her daughter lying alongside Nikki. How would she, eighteen years old and never having been even been spanked before, cope with such a severe hiding? At least Amy had the good sense to keep her legs clasped tightly together.
Amy was really starting to panic now. As Nikki grimaced yet again against the sharp infliction of the riding crop across her virtually naked and sore bottom, Amy knew her friend had only one more stroke to take and then it would be her turn.
Amy gripped the further edge of the desk for all she was worth. Her heart pounded and she closed her eyes as though that might take her away from the reality of the situation. But she knew it would not. She knew too that Ms Davenport hadn’t wasted any time in applying the riding crop to the backsides of her two friends, and that meant that at any moment…
“Aaaah – aaaaahhh!!”
Suddenly, the most intense pain the blond haired girl had ever experienced scorched across her naked bottom; sharp, stinging and so dreadfully severe, the blond haired girl dug her nails into the hard, unforgiving edge of the desk. She so desperately didn’t want to cry out or react in any way other than the stoically brave manner in which her two friends had taken their punishment, yet the temptation to jump up from the desk, clutch her smarting bottom and dash for the door was also extremely enticing.
Before Amy had even begun to cope with the first dose of intense pain, another stroke from the black leather riding crop swept cruelly into her naked backside and she immediately arched herself up from the desktop, one hand coming away from the edge and instinctively reaching back to caress and soothe her damaged buttocks.
“Touch your bottom and it will mean extra strokes, Amy!” Sandra Davenport’s stern voice cautioned.
In fact, Amy’s own self-discipline had already stopped her hand less than a third of the way short of the reach backwards to where her bottom ached and throbbed unmercifully. Some innate instinct had already told the girl that soothing her bottom in the middle of her punishment was wrong. She forced the hand back to the edge of the desk.
If Amy’s intentions were to remain as resigned to her punishment as her two friends, the tears forming in her eyes and threatening to trickle down the cheeks of her pretty face were going to let her down. However hard she tried, Amy just couldn’t stop them; indeed, the best she could do was to rub her eyes with the back of her hand and sweep the moisture away at least temporarily.
Alison Saunders felt extremely uncomfortable sitting hunched forward as she studied every move of her daughter’s punishment. The four angry reddish brown lines that now crossed Amy’s otherwise flawless backside bore testament to the effectiveness of the punishment. Yet some maternal instinct prevented the mother simply witnessing the punishment her daughter had agreed to accept, unlike the hiding inflicted on the two twins where Alison Saunders could at least comfort herself in the knowledge their well-being was in no way her responsibility.
As Amy’s mother saw yet another swinging stroke swipe mercilessly across Amy’s bottom, and heard her daughter’s instinctive cry of anguish as the burning pain spread across her entire backside, she sensed a strange pang of guilt that she, Amy’s mother, was simply sitting and watching another woman carry out the justice her daughter richly deserved. Such was Mrs Saunders’ feeling of responsibility she felt tempted to jump up, take the riding crop from Sandra Davenport and continue thrashing her daughter’s bottom for herself. But Alison Saunders didn’t really believe in corporal punishment, she told herself.
Amy, completely divorced from her mother’s pangs of conscience, could only concern herself with that thin whippy riding crop crashing across her naked bottom yet again. She felt sure this was the hardest and worse stroke by far that she had received, and the pain had an intensity that lingered longer and more devastatingly than any of the previous strokes. Indeed, Amy’s one consolation was that she knew that had been her sixth stroke and she was now due the respite her two friends had enjoyed while she had been receiving her punishment.
Sandra Davenport stood back and surveyed her handiwork. Each of the three eighteen year olds now had their attractive bottoms marked with six vivid red weals, a fitting testimony to the effectiveness of the punishment meted out, or so the shop manageress considered.
“That completes the first part of your punishment.” The attractive young shop manageress spoke loudly and clearly, now completely in control of her own emotions.
Sandra Davenport glanced briefly across at the twins’ uncle and Amy’s mother, but they both simply looked back at her, quietly waiting for the next part of the proceedings to begin. The shop manageress returned to the three girls.
“As you know, you have another six strokes to take. I’m guessing your bottoms are feeling pretty sore right now. Is that correct?”
“Yes, miss.” Nikki was the first to respond.
“Mine certainly is.” Sammi agreed.
Amy remained silent, feeling the twins had answered as well as could be expected in the circumstances. Sandra Davenport wasn’t accepting that, though.
“Obviously Amy doesn’t agree, girls.” A smile drifted onto the young woman’s face as she flexed the black leather riding crop. “So, we’ll make that six for you two and eight for Amy!”
“What?” Amy exclaimed in horror. “Yes, my bottom is quite sore enough, thank you. I just thought Nikki and Sammi had answered sufficiently, that’s all!”
“Too late, girl!” Sandra Davenport bellowed. “Perhaps if you had been a little less casual earlier today, you might not be where you are now. Is that not right?”
“Yes, miss.” Amy moaned.
“Right! Is everyone ready?”
“Yes, miss!” Three young female voices hastened to reply.
“Good! Sammi, you’re first again. Okay?”
“Yes, miss.” Sammi gripped the edge of the desk and awaited the first of the second dose of her punishment.
As the riding crop swished down, Sammi’s Uncle Bob watched with something akin to professional fascination. In fact, Sandra Davenport wasn’t using a great deal of force to wield the riding crop. Yet Sammi’s, and indeed all three girls’, reactions had been to suggest quite a sharp impact with their naked backsides. And the reddish stripes that now marked each of their bottoms were certainly vivid enough to confirm the effectiveness of the punishments.
It had occurred to Uncle Bob that further punishment when he got the twins home might well be something to consider. But now, looking at the redoubtable Ms Davenport going about her task, the twins’ uncle was having second thoughts.
No, Uncle Bob was certain Sammi’s voluble responses to each of her second batch of strokes were entirely genuine. He would leave the entire punishment in Ms Davenport’s capable hands.
Alison Saunders, Amy’s mother, was in no doubt that the punishments, particularly with the addition of this second thrashing, was quite sufficient. Indeed, she was becoming quite concerned about how Sammi and the other two would cope.
“Oooooooohhhh!!! Jeeeeez, that smarts!!”
As Sammi gasped her expression of anguish, Alison Saunders looked towards the bare bottom next to her, that of her sister Nikki. Nikki already seemed to be fidgeting, trying to get herself into position where the riding crop would cause least damage to her already well marked bottom. And then there was Amy, with two extra strokes to take!
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaahh – aaaaaaaaaaaahhh!!”
“Thank you, Sammi.” Sandra Davenport looked down at the results of her endeavours and admired the female bottom that was still held ready to receive further punishment, if that was what her chastiser chose. “I think you can get up now.”
Surprised, Sammi suspiciously looked behind her, still bending across the desk. Realising this was no trick, and she was indeed being released, the dark haired girl slowly eased herself up from the desk and began gently rubbing her very sore bottom.
“Thank you, miss.” Sammi murmured.
“Your jacket and jeans are on the filing cabinet, Sammi.” Then as the girl sorely and painfully went across to retrieve her clothing, the shop manageress turned to her twin sister.
“Right, Nikki. Are you ready?”
“Yes, miss.” Nikki answered. She was as ready as she was ever going to be, and further delay wasn’t going to make the situation any better. She braced herself.
Ruth Peterson sat next to Robert Wilkinson and Alison Saunders with barely a sign on her face to suggest what she was really thinking about the scene ahead of her. In fact, she had been here a number of times before. No, these were a some way from being the first girls to find themselves bending across that desk.
As yet another reddish brown stripe mingled with the others criss-crossing Nikki’s near naked bottom, the security woman recalled how shoplifting had once been a major problem to the shop, a problem that quickly dwindled once Sandra Davenport had taken over as manager.
When Nikki arched her back against the latest cutting stroke, Ruth Peterson merely concentrated on the shapely contours of the girl’s bottom, a bottom that had a little earlier looked fine and unblemished but now appeared sore and painful. The security woman doubted they’d be seeing these three girls back for a second dose.
There was no doubt in Sandra Davenport’s mind that Nikki was feeling the effects of the thrashing perhaps a little more than her twin sister, Sammi. But, twelve strokes had been awarded and twelve strokes would be administered. That was her way.
As Nikki arched her back yet again against the stinging pain of the riding crop, the shop manageress looked down and saw the angry red marks that crossed virtually the entire width of the girl’s neat round bottom. Yes, this had indeed been a most effective punishment and there was just one stroke to go.
“Aaaaaaaaaaarrrrrgh!! Oh my God!!!”
When Sandra Davenport delivered the final stroke, she made sure it was the hardest of the lot, as was again her way. Not that Nikki appreciated the shop manageress’s endeavours for she practically fell off the edge of the desk as she squirmed and writhed against the burning soreness that the riding crop imparted across her bare buttocks.
“Yes, thank you, Nikki. You are through.”
“Oh God! Oh God! Thank you, miss.” Nikki managed to say even though she felt all the breath had been knocked from her. With legs that trembled and struggled to support her the small girl, her wavy brown hair now in something of a tangled mess, somehow found the strength to stand vaguely upright.
“Go and get dressed, Nikki.”
“Yes, miss. Thank you, miss.”
On another occasion Nikki would have felt her words most odd, appearing so submissive to this woman. But now was not the time to worry about that. Now all Nikki wanted to do was get her clothes back on, soothe her aching bottom and get out of there. Only as she met her sister waiting by the filing cabinet did Nikki spare a glance back towards Amy, still bending across the desk and looking quite afraid.
“So, Amy!” Sandra Davenport stood over the hapless eighteen year old and very gently caressed the girl’s naked bottom. “Another eight strokes, eh?”
“Yes, miss.” Amy answered so quietly only the shop manageress heard.
“Not going to be a pleasant experience for you, I imagine Amy. Not with that sore bottom of yours.”
“No, miss.” Amy replied a shade more loudly, wondering against hope there might be some reprieve reserved for her that the twins had not been so fortunate to receive.
“Shall we get started then?”
Amy’s heart sank. “Yes, miss.”
By now, both Sammi and Nikki were dressed and standing looking across at Amy and the conversation she was having with Sandra Davenport. Their expressions remained sombre as they saw the shop manageress raise the riding crop.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhh!! Oh no!!”
“Amy, I suggest you try and remain a little more stoical in both your vocal expression and your position across the desk.” The shop manageress paused to allow Amy to stop fidgeting and lay back across the desk. “We have another seven strokes to go and we shall be here half the night at this rate!”
“Sorry, miss. But it hurts!”
“It is intended to, Amy. Now hold still!”
The tall blond girl gripped the further edge of the desk, having once more subjugated herself once more for the application of the riding crop to her naked backside.
From Sammi and Nikki’s vantage point, they could see their friend’s cry of anguish was quite genuine. They both wondered whether Sandra Davenport would feel the same with just Amy’s sore bottom to focus on.
No, the shop manageress felt convinced the girl was putting on something of a show to try and secure for herself a lighter punishment, and Sandra Davenport was having none of that!
“Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeessshh!!! Oh my God!!”
“For goodness sakes, girl! Keep still and take your punishment!”
“I’m trying, miss.” Amy sobbed. “I’m trying!”
The two twins exchanged anxious looks, and Ms Davenport raised the riding crop.
As yet another stinging, smarting stroke lashed across her naked backside, Amy clung on to the desk as tightly as she could. Her bottom had been sore from the earlier thrashing and these added strokes were extremely painful, more painful than anything she could remember.
“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrgh!! Oh no! Pleeeeeease!”
“You may have a pause for a moment or two, Amy.” The shop manageress spoke calmly, much calmer than the appearance of Amy’s naked backside which now had a total of twelve angry red lines running across it. “Had you been a little more interested in taking your just punishment earlier, you would be getting dressed right now. As it is, I’m afraid you have another two strokes to take.”
“Oh, please miss!” Amy wailed between her tears. “I really am sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused. Really I am. Please, miss. My bottom is just so sore!”
“I’m sure it is, Amy.” The shop manageress smiled menacingly. “Very well, if you prefer you may take the final two strokes on your hand. It’s up to you. Hand or bottom, you say.”
Amy’s immediate reaction was to burst into a fresh flood of tears. After a couple of minutes, though, she recovered sufficiently to announce her preference. “I… I think I’d prefer to take them on my hand, miss.”
“Very well, Amy.” The wicked smile continued on the shop manageress’s face. “Stand up and turn round. Oh, you’d better pull your knickers up before you turn round!” Sandra Davenport cast a glance toward the twins’ Uncle Bob.
“Thank you, miss.” Amy wailed as she painfully eased herself up from the desk and doubtfully risked a brief rub at her sore bottom.
“Quickly now, Amy.” The shop manageress encouraged. “Let’s get this over with.”
With some considerable difficulty, Amy bent down and retrieved her white and blue polka dot knickers from around her ankles, being especially cautious when it came to easing the garment around her hips and bottom. The tall blond girl finally turned to face Sandra Davenport.
“Stand sideways on to me, Amy, with your back to the desk.”
As Amy complied, Sammi and Nikki both looked across at the seat of Amy’s knickers and silently gasped as they saw the patchwork of marks peeping out from their friend’s underwear.
“Now, hold your hand out, Amy!”
Amy slowly elevated her right arm, holding it at about waist height.
“I think just a little higher, please Amy.”
Amy raised her arm another six inches.
“That’s fine. Flatten your palm, please.”
Amy complied yet again.
Suddenly, a pain that seemed even worse than any of the strokes she had received whilst bent across the desk slashed across her outstretched palm. She grasped her poor aching palm and tried without success to in some way ease the sheer burning agony.
“Very painful, isn’t it Amy?”
“Yes, miss.” Amy responded, still clutching her poor right hand.
“Okay, hold it out again and then we’re through.”
Reluctantly, Amy let go of her palm and offered her arm out again, palm outstretched, so it could be struck once more by that evilly thin whippy riding crop.
For a second time, Amy grabbed her poor hurting palm and bent double as she tried to ease the pain. All previous thought of her sore bottom had now waned into something approaching insignificance as she experienced the sheer torture of that second stroke across her hand.
“Thank you, Amy. That completes your punishment.”
Sandra Davenport immediately wheeled away and went to talk in muffled tones with Mrs Saunders and Mr Wilkinson, leaving Amy to fend for herself. After a few more moments of trying to work some feeling other than sheer agony into her right palm, Amy began to shuffle round the desk towards her clothes on top of the filing cabinet. She could see Sammi and Nikki looking awkwardly at her, but for the present she diverted round them and reached for her pale beige trousers. It was torture, but she got dressed as quickly as she could.
* * *
The incident in the shop had occurred on a Saturday and, with little more formality, the twins had been taken home by their Uncle Bob leaving Amy to endure a silent journey home in the back seat of her mother’s car. The atmosphere inside the car had been almost as uncomfortable as the car seat was on Amy’s bottom.
Amy thought it better not to try and see the twins on the Sunday, feeling she’d have a better chance of getting back in her mother’s good books by keeping a low profile and not attempting anything that might be considered the least bit controversial. Thus it was not until lunchtime on Monday, back at St Catherine’s Sixth Form, that Amy finally got to speak to Nikki and Sammi. They found a quiet table together in the lunch hall.
“How are you feeling today?” Nikki asked gently of Amy.
“Sore!” Amy tried to make light of her answer with a smile, but somehow it didn’t quite work.
“Yeah! Us too! Isn’t that right, Sammi?”
Sammi nodded her agreement as she prodded a prawn salad with her fork.
“Sitting down in the car wasn’t a lot of fun.” Nikki commented. “How did you find it, Amy?”
“The same. Sore!” The tall blond girl tried another smile. “Perhaps that shop wasn’t the best choice to go shoplifting in.”
“Yes it was!” Sammi felt the need to defend herself. “At least we knew the security cameras weren’t working there.”
“We still got caught, Sammi!” Her sister reminded her.
“That security woman, Ruth Peterson, usually takes a late lunch. How was I to know she’d altered her schedule that one day?”
“Hold on!” Amy was puzzled. “How do you know so much about the security arrangements in that shop, Sammi?”
Sammi shrugged. “Uncle Bob’s one of the directors there. He’s the one that chose Sandra Davenport as the manager. I’m not sure I see the attraction.”
Amy looked. “I think I can see why your Uncle Bob chose her actually, Sammi. Anyway, what does it matter now? It’s all over and done with.”
“Ah.” Nikki responded. “There is just one little problem, Amy.”
Nikki glanced meaningfully at her twin sister. “Uncle Bob found out why we went shoplifting. You know, why we needed the extra money.”
“He knows?” Amy was dumbfounded. “He knows we needed it to buy more hash? You’re joking! What if he tells my mother?”
“I’m afraid he already has, Amy.”
“What?” Amy pictured herself facing her mother having got into more trouble so soon after the last affair. “I don’t believe this. My mother will really kill me this time.”
“Actually no.” Nikki took a deep breath. “It’s been arranged for you to come to our house on Wednesday evening, Amy.”
“Why am I getting the idea that won’t be just a social event, Nikki?”
“It will, sort of. Your mother will be there too.”
“Yes, Amy.” Nikki paused for another breath. “And Uncle Bob will have his strap.”
“I’m afraid so, Amy!”
© Kenny Walters 2009