“But it was years before Hugo got my sister as a girlfriend. She was very hard won. Now he seems interested in marrying her.”
“All the more reason to sew a few more wild oats first?” Thalia asked.
“Couldn’t hurt,” said Susan.
I felt compelled to relate the conversation I’d had with Hugo earlier, about how he wanted to stay focused on Laura and how peeved he had seemed at my throwing my nineteen-year-old friend in his path.
Thalia thought it cute that an inveterate slut like Hugo should suddenly become so romantic and go out of his way to avoid free teenaged pussy. Susan said it was proof he had evolved.
Thalia wanted to know if either Laura or I would be disturbed if she, Thalia made a successful play for him and got him to fuck her. Susan said that Laura would be in Boston all day and over night so she’d never know unless Hugo told her and he probably wouldn’t. I assured her that I regarded Hugo as more of a glamorous legend than a blood relation and that I had no emotions invested in his sex life. Personally, I don’t think she’ll get anywhere at this point, but maybe I’m not giving her enough credit.
December 5th, Evening
I’ve definitely not been giving Thalia enough credit. She managed to accomplish her goal within an hour of arriving at Michael’s bar. She had her outfit and makeup on perfectly when we arrived so she didn’t have to go in the back like I did and fuss with anything. When I came out, properly dressed as well, Hugo was setting up lights and Michael picking out a bottle of expensive champagne to use as a prop for the photoset. Thalia was sitting on the bar swinging her shapely legs, punctuated by high heeled ankle strap closed toe, shiny black patent leather shoes. I noticed her staring at Hugo and now and then, he’d look up at her because he was lighting that area first. Then, rather unbelievably, I saw Thalia make an ok sign with the thumb and forefinger of her left hand and repeatedly begin to insert the index finger of her right hand into the circle it made while continuing to fix an intense gaze on Hugo’s face. I looked at him and saw him blink in disbelief then shake his head at her with a grin. Thalia looked deadly serious as she tapped the dial of her watch, held up five fingers and then jerked her thumb towards the back of the bar, apparently confident that he’d understand what she wanted, when and where. He looked at her for a few seconds more, still shaking his head. Then he seemed to change his mind and shrugged quite casually before continuing to tinker with his c-stand for exactly five more minutes. At this point he straightened up and strolled towards the back rooms behind the bar. I looked up and saw Thalia was already gone.
I went to engage Michael in a conversation to distract him.
“How lucky for us you were available this morning,” I told him.
“For me, you mean,” he replied graciously.
“I hope we don’t really have to drink that,” I motioned to the bottle of Mum. “It’s a bit early in the day.”
“I wasn’t going to open this, it’s just for the set up. I was about to go find an empty bottle and fill it with ginger ale,” he said helpfully. But that would mean him going in the back!
“Thalia loves champagne. And maybe it would loosen her up a little.”
“But I’ll bet you’re both too young to drink, aren’t you?”
Before I could think of any reason to prevent him from going to look for the empty Mum bottle, Hugo reappeared in the big room and went back to tinkering with his lights. Thalia followed a few seconds later, flushed like a peach and smoothing down her dress all around. When she caught my eye she gave me the thumbs up sign with a complete lack of self-consciousness.
As before, Hugo refused to take any bare bottom photos of me getting spanked, but encouraged Michael to get Thalia’s panties down as soon as ever he liked. Thalia seemed a lot more sensitive to spanking than I am, or has a much lower pain tolerance because it seemed as thought the lightest swats of Michael’s very large hand inspired the highest kicks I’ve ever seen. At one point it seemed as though she would start to cry at any moment and I expected Hugo to intervene and advise Michael to go a little lighter on the young bar patroness, who in the context of the photo set who could not manage to pay for the expensive champagne she had ordered and drunk a few glasses of very quickly. But Hugo simply appeared to be enjoying the performance and eventually, Thalia did start to cry. Without scruple, Hugo moved in for an extreme close up of her face, bedewed with real tears. I heard him whisper, “Poor baby,” in the most blatantly insincere tone. But I saw him brush her face gently with his hand and make her smile as he added, “That’s what you get for being so bad.” She lifted her chin as much as to say, “I get what I want and damn the consequences!”
As soon as we were alone I asked her if she was furious at being spanked hard enough to make her cry the first time out. She told me it was fine as she was getting some extra hundreds of dollars for her discomfort and that on one level the entire experience was extremely arousing. Michael’s cook arrived just as we were finishing up the shoot and we all had lunch before the bar opened. Then Hugo had to go and open his own shop so he dropped us off at the beach behind the woods at the end of Shadow Lane and told us to call him when we wanted to be taken back to the Cliff house.
As soon as we started walking on the beach Thalia told me how she and Hugo had achieved union in the powder room, with her bent over the sink and staring into both their faces in the mirror above. The entire operation had taken five minutes. “It was just right,” Thalia confided, “I knew instinctively I wouldn’t have to give him head. “And he talked all the while about how he was going to enjoy watching me get spanked really hard by the ex-cop,” she added. “He also said if I wanted to get hired again I’d better cry real tears for him.”
I should have been shocked and appalled but since it was Thalia, I wasn’t. Still I had to ask, “But that was okay by you?”
“It was fucking hot,” she replied.
I told her I wasn’t surprised. He is a Scorpio.
Tuesday, December 8th
All of this reckless promiscuity may be beginning to back fire on me. I may be fooling around with too many men. And at the moment, half of them appear to be ...upset with me. Yesterday afternoon I ran into Ronnie at the library. He was working behind the reserve desk and I needed some books. He took my slip without even a smile so I knew something was wrong. When he brought back the books and stamped them I asked him what was up. It turned out he had just found out about me and Tommy and me and Castor and wanted to know if I was going for some kind of Wigglesworth record as sluttiest slut in the entire hall. I’m afraid I became rather rude and informed him in a low tone but as forcibly as possible that he was an asshole. Then I deliberately sat in the next room and read over my assignments right there where I could see him and see when his shift was over. As it turned out, he was off in fifteen. I jumped up and followed him out of the building into the cold, windy quad at dusk. A wet snow was falling and it was most unpleasant out.
“You have no right to be mad at me,” I charged.
“I know,” he countered, looking at me sternly as snowflakes fell on his beautiful, long eye lashes.
“I never said I’d be yours exclusively.”
“That’s so,” he agreed, looking at me hard.
“Apologize for that remark!” I said, stamping my foot at him.
“I will not. What I said was true.”
“Maybe it is, but the way that you said it was perfectly hateful!”
After saying this I impulsively scooped up a snowball of wet slush and crammed it into his sanctimonious face. He became furious and chased me through the quad, the both of us slipping and sliding. I skidded onto a bench and he fell onto the seat next to me. He pulled me over his lap and slapped me hard through my cords five or six times. He’s got one hell of a hard hand, but maybe that was because he had so much (in his