Taming and Tanning Libby

by Carl Hamlin

  Spanking threat or not, she found that he was indeed one good-looking guy. And after she was done eating and had resumed trying to work, her train of thought kept turning to the fact that he had made reference to a part of her body that she had always found responsive and sensitive to a man’s touch. However, that had always been in terms of a soft caress, not the harsh impact of an open hand. While she was still mortified and insulted by the thought, she was becoming more and more angry with herself as the prospect became less and less distasteful.

  She did not like it one little bit that the visual image of herself in her bikini, stretched across the lap of the insufferable Clay Harris while his hand landed painfully and repeatedly upon her barely covered backside resulted in sensations of arousal. The more she tried to dispel the thoughts and concentrate on her design sketch, the more vivid her visualizations became. Finally, in resignation and frustration she closed the pad and slammed it onto a small shelf next to her. That was when she looked up to see Clay sitting down in the swivel chair next to her.

  She knew that her face was turning red, but she tried to be cordial but unemotional as he spoke. “Libby… I didn’t intend to upset you this morning.”

  Once again, the young woman, who was never at a loss for words, found it difficult to speak. “I just didn’t… I mean I didn’t want…” She leaned closer to him and began to whisper, “If you do not recall, I believe you threatened to give me a spanking.”

  Clay shrugged and displayed a nonchalant expression. “Yes… I did, didn’t I?”

  Dismayed at how casually he treated the subject, Libby gasped. “You… you… actually meant that?”

  Clay simply pursed his lips, looked down at the petite redhead and nodded. Libby felt as if the blood were draining from her face, but rushing to other parts of her.

  Clay leaned forward and spoke softly. “I wish you could see the look on your own face right now.”

  Libby remained silent for a moment. “You seem to think that you are quite smart. So what is the look on my face telling you? Is it telling you that I find you to be boorish and condescending?”

  Clay put his hand to his chin as if considering his answer. “I suppose so. But I think it’s also telling me that you realize it just might be good for you.”

  Libby tried to talk but began to stutter. “How…how…how could such a thing be good for me?”

  Clay once again leaned closer. “Because I think it would make you stop and think the next time you’re tempted to shoot off your mouth at somebody.”

  Against her will, Libby felt her demeanor softening. “And you think that you would have the right to give me a spanking?”

  Clay shook his head. “No… I’m not saying that I would have the right to spank you.”

  To her dismay, Libby found herself laughing. “Well, if you’re not saying you would have the right to spank me, just what are you saying?”

  Clay leaned even closer and gently took hold of her hands. “I’m saying that I would certainly have the ability to do it, whether I have the right to or not.” A mischievous grin appeared on his face. “And I guess it’s up to you to decide whether you want to take the chance.”

  Libby took a deep breath, and gulped so loudly that Clay began to laugh at her reaction. “So you think that I’m going to obey you out of fear that you might really spank me. Is that right?”

  “I guess that sort of sums it up. So the next time you decide to act up, just think of that scene from that old Clint Eastwood movie, and ask yourself if you’re feeling lucky that day.”

  Libby leaned back and managed to smile. “You not only think that you are smart… you think that you’re funny too.”

  Clay winked at her. “It’s all up to you to decide if you want to take the risk. Maybe you’ll just get chewed out… maybe that lovely fanny you were flashing around the pool this morning will get paddled good and red.”

  Libby knew that her face was once again flushing. It suddenly dawned on her that her skimpy bikini had indeed allowed Clay to see most of what he was threatening to paddle. “And you think that it’s polite to discuss a young lady’s bottom?”

  Clay withdrew his hands and folded them and rested his chin on his knuckles. “I think so… when that bottom is so doggone cute and well sculpted.”

  “I don’t know whether I should be flattered or embarrassed.”

  “Perhaps both. But admit it, Libby… you weren’t trying to hide it.”

  Libby looked down with a meek smile. “Touché.”

  Clay looked around to ensure that no one was within hearing range. “Perhaps you and I can start over. I don’t want to just dwell upon your temper. Actually, Libby, everybody tells me that most of the time you’re a very nice and warm person.”

  Libby managed to actually smile at him. “I just tend to be rather driven when it comes to work. I don’t like to see anyone letting us down or getting in our way.” She tilted her head and smiled. “Really, Clay… I do try to be nice to people. I guess that sometimes another side of me comes out when something doesn’t go as planned.”

  Clay smiled in return and took her hand in his. “I think I understand. I just hope that you understand where I’m coming from.”

  Libby nodded. “I’ll try to keep a civil tongue… especially when you’re around to hear me.”

  Both went silent for a moment before Clay spoke. “So Libby, where did you grow up?”

  The question made her smile as she thought of her home and family. “A small town about a hundred miles west of St. Louis. My dad has a hardware store there, and my mother is his bookkeeper. I miss them a lot, and my brother and sister too. They are both older, and they live over in Illinois. I miss all of them, but once I got out of college, I had to admit to myself that our hometown just didn’t have that many opportunities. But the people there are wonderful. It’s kind of an old-fashioned place. People are simple and have strong values. My folks came to one of the concerts soon after I got the job. My mom was not at all pleased with a pair of shorts I was wearing. That’s just how they are.” She smiled at the memory.

  Holding that faraway smile, she continued, “I wouldn’t want it any other way. And I wouldn’t have wanted to grow up any place else. We were surrounded by farms and horse ranches. I used to ride all the time. It was a wonderful place to grow up, and I must say that college was one big cultural shock to me. I wouldn’t mind at all going back there to live someday. But it’s just not in the cards for now. I’m kind of enjoying the bright lights and sounds and all the glitter.”

  She turned the question back to him. “Where did you come from, Clay?”

  “I grew up on a big grain farm near Wichita. I have three older brothers, and they are all still back home helping my dad. It’s a big enterprise. I thought maybe my family would resent my going to college and moving away, but they wished me well. I can’t tell you how relieved I was by that. Where I grew up was probably not that different from your small town in Missouri. Good, solid people who have their heads screwed on straight, and know what is and is not important in life. And like you, Libby, I miss them very much.”

  She felt her attitude toward Clay softening. “And what is important in life to you?”

  He began to laugh. “Actually, what’s important to me is… love.”

  Libby again felt her face turn warm. “In which respect?”

  “In all respects. Love of life… love of family… love for another special person you hope to find.”

  “Um… yeah. I think you’re right. It sure means a lot more than money.”

  Clay looked at Libby and smiled. “Not that I mind having money, and I understand you have to have some. But I just hope I never find myself driven by that. I never want to put money ahead of people.”

  For the first time since they had met, Libby began to feel interested in finding out more about this man. “I think we should all be that way.”

  “But doesn’t your drive for getting things your way relate to your desire to have m
oney?”

  Libby shrugged. “Maybe I’m just a little control freak.”

  Clay laughed. “I think we’re going to end up getting along okay.”

  Libby managed a coy smile and crooked her finger for him to draw near, then whispered to him, “Does this mean I’m no longer in danger of being spanked?”

  Clay whispered back, “That threat still stands. In fact, after this little conversation, I’m even more convinced that it might be the right thing to do.” He straightened up and winked at the stunned young woman as he walked away.

  * * * * *

  Over the next several days and three more cities, Libby remained flustered each time she could not avoid talking to or just making eye contact with the man who was holding over her head the threat of giving her a spanking. When she could not avoid speaking to him, she invariably stuttered and felt her face blush. There were several times when she was tempted to take him aside and ask him if he had really meant his threat.

  Each time the thought crossed her mind, she failed to summon sufficient courage to ask the question. And she was not certain as to whether she was afraid of what answer he might give her, or whether she was confused as to what she wanted the answer to be. She found the whole quandary maddening to the point it was driving her to distraction.

  When she would turn in at night in yet another darkened but comfortable hotel room, as soon as her eyes closed she saw the face of the enigmatic, arrogant, but unquestionably hunky, Clay Harris. She saw the outline of his arms and shoulders and firm abdomen, but her imagination would always force her to visualize an image of his open hand. Then she would be unable to avoid a vision of that hand landing with force on her bottom. And she could not help it, that the image of that possibility caused her to feel pleasant physical sensations against her will.

  Each evening the visualizations became more detailed, and while the fear of it actually happening had in no way diminished, her unwelcome sensations of arousal exceeded those she had experienced the previous night. A concept that had at first filled her with dread and fury had become the stuff of erotic dreams in the middle of the night.

  * * * * *

  They were headed on the bus to another Iowa city, and Libby was soon at work on a color pencil sketch of outfits that would give Max and the band the aura of cowboys fresh off a dusty trail. When Libby looked up from her costume sketchpad to see Clay walking toward her customary place near the front of the bus, she managed to smile when he sat down in the seat next to her.

  He hesitated to speak at first, and then leaned closer. “When we have some down time… could I take you out for dinner?”

  Libby began to stutter. “Um… I…uh… what did you just ask?”

  He leaned forward and whispered to her, “We should be having some free time coming up. Could I take you to dinner sometime?”

  Libby felt as if an external force was making her head nod slowly up and down. Clay stood up and winked at her again, then made his way to the back of the vehicle to once again speak with Max. Libby sat motionless for a minute, not certain as to why she had so readily agreed. She closed her eyes and looked down at her sketchpad to give the appearance she was at work. In reality, her mind was reeling in confusion mingled with memories of that poolside conversation, her thoughts during lonely nights and a nagging but unrecognized admission to herself as to how attractive Clay was to her.

  * * * * *

  The large auditorium was crammed with a sellout crowd of over fifteen thousand fans from all over Iowa and neighboring states. Max and the band were in country splendor in the new outfits Libby had designed for them. Their persona of attire for that night was of hard-working wranglers out on the range, with cowboy hats and lots of denim as they sang of lost loves, lonely trails and broken hearts.

  Libby took her customary place just off the stage, looking for anything that seemed to be amiss. Several feet away, Clay held a phone to one ear, with a hand cupped over the other so he could hear.

  The performance went well, as did nearly all of them. On this night, Max and the band had introduced two new songs that were going to be featured on their new CD. Further buoying the spirits of the entire crew was news that had come that afternoon telling them that they were being asked to perform live at the next Country Music Awards program. Although they were already at the top of the charts, that would crown the national attention they had been working so hard for.

  Everyone was looking forward to having the following day off. They would be staying overnight at the rather luxurious hotel next to the arena, and would be staying there the following night as well before traveling on the bus to Oklahoma City.

  The show was winding down, and most of the troupe had agreed to meet in the hotel bar right after the concert was over. As the notes of the last song drifted across the endless rows of fans, Libby glanced over to see that she had caught Clay stealing an admiring glance at her. The young redhead knew she looked cute in her Western straw hat, cowgirl shirt and little cotton shorts. He had not yet spoken to her again about the dinner date, but she knew that they would have the next evening free. She decided that it was time for her to let her hair down and have a good time.

  Although Max would not be in the bar that evening, fans who saw the band members filter in began to cheer, and some approached them for autographs. Libby and Veronica joined a couple of the guitar players at one of the tables, and ordered a round of beers. Out in the hallway just outside the bar, Clay was on the phone, likely making arrangements for another show.

  Libby downed her first beer quickly, then wasted no time in ordering another. When she observed how quickly Libby was dispatching the second bottle, Veronica poked her with her elbow and whispered for her to slow down. She knew that Libby did not drink frequently, but had at least on one occasion consumed too much too fast, and ended up in a shouting match with one of the sound technicians. She did not wish to see Libby violate Max’s rule on any crewmembers appearing to be drinking too much in public. Veronica reminded Libby that she had never had much of a capacity for alcohol, due in part to her small stature. Ignoring the words of caution from her older cousin, Libby was soon on her third bottle, and her speech became more rapid and louder in response to the music that was playing in the jukebox. She had finished her fourth beer when one of the bar patrons approached and asked her to dance; Libby was much too loud and demeaning in turning the poor fellow down.

  Clay glanced at the table where Libby and Veronica sat, and Veronica simply shrugged as if imploring him to help her. For their own sake, and keeping in mind the recent words of their boss, the two guitar players excused themselves under the pretense that they intended to play a game of pool.

  Clay sat down at one of the empty chairs and attempted to talk to Libby in a soothing voice, not wishing to come across as scolding her. But there was no question that the last drink had been consumed much too rapidly by the small woman, and Clay found himself resorting to admonishing Libby to quiet down.

  He decided, when Libby began to flirt with him by batting her eyes and placing her hand on his knee beneath the table, that there was no question that she was out of control. Deciding to use her amorous mood to help him remove her from the bar, he leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Want to sneak away with me?”

  She engaged in a round of loud giggling, and answered with a shout of “Why not?” The response was loud enough to make heads turn in their direction throughout the large bar.

  As Clay took Libby by the arm and began to escort her out of the bar, he glanced at Veronica and shook his head with a knowing expression, and she nodded in return although she was also slyly smiling.

  Libby veered away into the ladies room, and a couple of minutes later reemerged, singing one of the new songs Max had introduced that night. They walked out of the hotel through the front lobby door, and as they went down the sidewalk, the giggling Libby nearly shouted, “Where we goin’?”

  Clay put his finger to her lips, and then made a major productio
n of looking around before leaning down to her and whispering, “We’re going to go to Max’s bus." That did nothing more than to produce another round of giggling.

  They walked around to the back of the hotel to where the large home on wheels was safely parked and bathed in security lights. Upon approaching the door, Clay pulled a small slip of paper from his pocket, and then punched numbers into a keypad on the side of the bus; and the lock clicked.

  Clay drew the door open allowing Libby to enter, then followed her inside and secured the door. Although there were no lights on inside the bus, the security lights provided enough of a dim ambience. Making their way to the rear, Libby headed straight for the refrigerator, retrieved another beer and popped it open as she sat down on the leather sofa where Max usually held court. Clay also sat down to simply watch and listen. At least for the moment.

  As she quickly downed the can of beer, she chattered rapidly about how she went about deciding what Max and the band should wear, what props should be on stage and what images should be projected on the background as they performed. But as she continued to entertain the slightly amused Clay, she began to yawn, and eventually fell asleep in mid-sentence.

  Clay saw a heavy blanket on the back of the couch, so he unfolded it and covered Libby. He then sat down in Max’s recliner, and went to sleep as well.

  He was stirred awake hours later by the commotion of Libby rising from the leather sofa and making her way to the bathroom. He glanced at his watch, and saw that it was 5:00 AM. Feeling as amused as angry at her antics, he moved over to the sofa and waited for Libby to return from the bathroom.

  She emerged rubbing her eyes and yawning. She seemed a bit disoriented at first when she saw Clay on the sofa, and she sat down next to him. “What time is it?” Clay held up his watch so that she could see the face glowing in the dark. “Oh… my gosh. I guess I kind of…”

  Clay nodded slowly. “Yes, you did. You drank too much, too fast, and got too loud in the bar. Max would not be pleased.”

  She lowered her head, rubbed her temples and moaned. “Clay… I’m really not this kind of a girl. I’m sorry if I came out here with you, thinking we were going to…”