Groomed

by Bethany Leigh

  Are you Charlotte Agar by the way?

  Ben

  Charlotte gulped. How the hell did he know her full name? At least she wrote under her own surname, not Connor's, so Ben couldn't trace her to where they lived. She wandered over to the door, opened it. The television blared; Connor must be safely in the lounge room. Her stomach rumbled and she wondered why the pizza was taking so long to deliver. Never mind; at least she could continue the conversation for a while.

  From: Miss Scarlet

  To: Ben Dover

  Yes I am. How do you know that?

  From: Ben Dover

  To: Miss Scarlet

  You mentioned that you're a sports journalist, and I came across your by-line and photograph when I picked up a copy of 21st Century Sportswoman at the dentist the other day. I wondered if it was you. You're very pretty, if you don't mind me saying so.

  Charlotte glowed. No, she didn't mind him saying so; not at all.

  Eighteen

  February, 2000

  Thread: Favourite clothes for spanking

  Anna35: What are your favourite clothes for spanking? Because we practise DD, I might be wearing an old pair of jeans or a tracksuit when I'm punished because that's what I'm wearing when I misbehave. But I really, really get off on the spankings when I'm wearing a party dress and stockings. It feels so much sexier. What do you all think?

  His Precious Gem: Being over Mark's knee when I'm wearing a power suit for court makes me go weak at the knees.

  Panda: It doesn't matter what I'm wearing! Hayden soon has my bottom bared anyway!

  Anna35: >>>It doesn't matter what I'm wearing! Hayden soon has my bottom bared anyway!>>>

  LOL, Panda! Seriously, though, is there anything you or Hayden prefer?

  Pete says spanking is easier when he just has to pull me over his knee and toss up my skirt, rather than having to fiddle around with buttons and zips if I'm wearing trousers.

  Helen: >>>rather than having to fiddle around with buttons and zips if I'm wearing trousers>>>

  John doesn't allow me to wear trousers or shorts. He says it's not feminine. But maybe he has another reason for not liking trousers, SMILE!

  His Precious Gem: >>>John doesn't allow me to wear trousers or shorts.>>>

  Are you for real? It's the twenty-first century, Helen, you wear what you want.

  Of course Mark loves to see me dressed up, wearing beautiful lingerie. Just like I like seeing him in his suit for work. But most of time we're wearing old, dare I say daggy clothes around the house, because we're doing household chores or relaxing. Mark would never dictate what I wear. He loves what's inside the clothes, not the clothes themselves.

  Panda: Oh, yes, we have our preferences. It's sexier if I'm wearing matching bra and knickers, if I'm wearing a beautiful dress and stockings, if he's wearing one of his expensive suits. But like Gemma just said, it's not always practical to dress like this. Especially in Singapore's heat! First thing Hayden does when he gets home is remove his 'noose' (AKA tie, lol) and change into T-shirt and shorts. I'm usually in a sundress or maybe a sarong. But spanking is such an integral part of our lives that I don't really think about what I'm wearing.

  Anna35: What about preferred nightwear for spanking, ladies? Lacy nightie? PJs? Teddy?

  Big Hand Bruce: Is it me or is it getting hot around here? Strewth!

  Helen: Everyone here is so judgemental. I don't know why I bother posting.

  Oh, God, had she ever been so nervous about anything? Her first job interview, perhaps? Charlotte's throat was dry, and her palms were sweaty despite the air conditioning she'd cranked up in her car. She weaved through the streets towards the highway, all the time wondering if she was doing the right thing.

  It's just a meeting in a café. Stop stressing.

  Who was she kidding? It was way much more than that.

  Charlotte switched on the radio for a distraction and accelerated down the highway, singing along to Alanis Morissette.

  The traffic was light so she made good time. The café they'd chosen was in Warrandyte, a touristy bush suburb surprisingly close to the inner city. It was conveniently close to the ring road that Ben said he'd be taking on his drive from central Victoria. Charlotte knew the main street café well. She and Connor had had coffee there a few times after walking in the nearby national park. Maybe she and Ben could go for a walk in the park after lunch. There were some isolated spots with picnic benches that they could make use of easily midweek without being disturbed.

  Don't move too fast, you haven't met him yet.

  For the past couple of weeks leading up to their meeting, Ben had been at pains to ensure she really wanted to go through with this.

  From: Ben Dover

  To: Miss Scarlet

  I was thinking it might be best if we exchange mobile numbers just in case you decide you don't want to come. It's a really long drive for me and I don't want to get to the café only to have you not turn up because you've got cold feet.

  From: Miss Scarlet

  To: Ben Dover

  I promise I won't do that. And actually, I don't have a mobile. Connor and I are the last couple in Australia not to have mobiles.

  From: Ben Dover

  To: Miss Scarlet

  Not quite the last couple, but you're definitely an endangered species. Okay, well, as long as you're sure. I understand what a big thing this is for you.

  Charlotte parked outside the café, ten minutes early. Leaving the air-conditioning running, she checked her face in the mirror. Good, her mascara hadn't run. She grabbed a wet wipe from the glove compartment for her sweaty hands. One good thing about being married to a guy who thought takeaway food was a treat was the ready supply of KFC wet wipes in the car. She dried her hands on a paper towel as the news came on the radio.

  "Police have had a breakthrough in their investigation into the disappearance of missing British backpacker Marie Beckham. They say a witness has come forward who remembers seeing Ms Beckham in a café in Woodend, Victoria, on the lunchtime of 22nd September."

  The news story segued to an announcement by the detective heading up the Marie Beckham investigation. "A young lady has spoken to us in connection with a sighting of Ms Beckham on the day she disappeared. The young lady was working in a café that day, but two days later she herself went off on a backpacking trip to Canada. She has only just returned to Australia after working in the ski fields the past few months. So she has only just learned of Ms Beckham's disappearance, when she recognised her in news stories."

  The news reader took up the story. "Police say the witness described a dark-haired man with a fringe, aged maybe in his late 30s or early 40s, having lunch with Ms Beckham at around 1 o'clock in the afternoon of 22nd September. The witness served them lunch and says she doesn't remember exactly what time the pair left the café, but that they had gone before 3 o'clock when she finished her shift. Police are appealing for the man described to come forward as he may be able to help with information about Marie Beckham's movements after she left the café."

  Sounded like Marie Beckham's parents might finally have some closure. It was only a matter of time now, surely, till the cops found her body.

  Charlotte checked the clock on the dashboard. Time to go in.

  She switched off the radio and got out of the car. She locked it, and walked purposely into the café. Thankfully, it was air-conditioned, taking her straight back into coolness. The café was busy, like always at lunchtime—not heaving like at the weekend, but most of the tables were taken, as were the sofas in the windows. Charlotte's mouth was dry again as she scanned the tables, A man wearing a blue shirt waved to her, a little shyly, from a table in the far corner.

  Her breath hitched. He was handsome.

  He had dark hair with a floppy fringe like Hugh Grant's, chiselled cheekbones, and a wide smile that broke out as she approached the table. He stood up to greet her.

  "Charlotte? Great to meet you." His voice was posh, well, posh for an Austral
ian, and his grip when he took her hand was firm.

  "It's good to meet you too." They sat, opposite one another, and he smiled at her.

  "Would you like a glass of water?" he asked.

  "Yes. Please."

  He poured water into two glasses, passed one to her. "So," he said, "did it take you long to get here?"

  "No, only half an hour."

  "Ah, that's good. It took me a fair bit longer, but that's because there was an accident on the freeway, and it held the traffic up. But I got here on time." He smiled again. God, he was gorgeous.

  A waitress appeared at their table. "Would you like to see the menu?"

  "Oh yes, thank you," he said, and she handed two out, first to him, then to Charlotte.

  "The specials are on the board," the waitress said. "Would you like to order any drinks while you look at the menu?"

  "Would you?" Ben asked Charlotte.

  "No, thank you. The water's fine."

  "I'll come back in a few minutes," said the waitress. She was obviously smitten and Charlotte felt smug.

  "You look very nice," Ben said to Charlotte as he picked up the menu.

  Charlotte blushed. "Thanks. You look…" She hesitated.

  He chuckled. "I look what?"

  "You aren't what I expected," she admitted.

  "Is that good or bad?"

  Charlotte laughed, partly through embarrassment. "Good!"

  He leaned forward, spoke in a low voice. "Would you like to explain that, young lady?" He was smiling, and she could tell he was amused, but his words and tone made her go fluttery inside. Ben was a real spanko. What she'd been missing out on all this time.

  "I suppose I thought a guy who's single and spends his time lurking on internet forums wouldn't be as good-looking as you are," she confessed.

  "That just goes to show you don't really know who you're talking to on the internet," he said. He took a sip of water, laid the glass back down on the table. When he continued, his voice was quiet. "Relationships are actually a lot more difficult than you'd imagine for guys wired like me. Think about if you met someone you liked, someone you really fancied, wanted to spend your life with, and then you had to tell them what you really want to do is spank them. It's impossible to tell how that will go down. You can make a joke of it, gauge something from the woman's reaction. But even then, you're not always right. So that's my story," he said, turning to the menu again. "That's why I'm a saddo hanging out on the internet."

  "Sorry," said Charlotte. "I can tell you're not a saddo. But like you say, the internet can create the wrong impression."

  "Oh, it certainly can," he agreed. "Especially the forums with all those people posting under pseudonyms. Honestly, some of the names! Panda! Her Red Mark!" He rolled his eyes, and Charlotte grinned.

  "His Precious Gem," she contributed. "Big Hand Bruce."

  "Strewth!" said Ben.

  They both laughed. "Yeah, he's such an Aussie stereotype," said Charlotte, enjoying having someone to joke about the forum with. "Who else is there?" She started to recall the other names, searching for a funny one. Anna35. Becca…

  She spilled her water as she realised something she'd overlooked before.

  Becca had been Becca on the forum until her final post on 19 September.

  She hadn't reappeared until Charlotte asked about her, and then she'd been Becca1.

  And she'd stopped writing 'sooo' all the time in her posts.

  And Ben matched the description the police just gave of the man who met Marie Beckham.

  And, oh God, God, God, he came from Central Victoria. Woodend, where Marie was last seen, was in Central Victoria.

  "Oh, careful," said Ben, wiping the spilt water with a napkin.

  "Sorry," she said. Shit, what was she doing here? He COULD be an axe murderer.

  Ben's face crinkled with concern. "Are you okay?"

  "Yes, yes, just a bit nervous. I've never done anything like this before," she said.

  "There's nothing to worry about," he said. "If you don't want to meet up again, we don't have to. It's up to you. Anyway," he continued, "we should perhaps work out what we want to eat, so we're ready when the waitress comes back."

  He was right; the waitress returned within seconds. Charlotte ordered focaccia and latte and he did the same.

  She had to be mistaken. Ben was charming, not rushing her into the arrangement at all. It was ridiculous to think he might be a murderer. Becca could simply have forgotten her password for her old forum account and had to create a new username and password. That was the more likely explanation.

  Lots of men have dark hair and a floppy fringe. Lots of men live in Central Victoria. This is just a coincidence.

  "So how's Connor?" Ben asked when their coffees arrived.

  "He's fine." Charlotte sipped her latte. "He's at work today."

  "Have you told him?"

  "No." Charlotte put her glass down. "I might in time, if we actually start, you know, an arrangement. Right now, though, there's nothing to tell."

  "I suppose not," Ben agreed.

  Their food arrived and they engaged in small talk as they ate. Charlotte relaxed as they discussed the Olympics, whether they agreed with the government's plans to introduce a Goods and Services Tax (neither of them did), what kind of music, movies, books they liked. Ben, like Connor, liked sci-fi and action movies. Charlotte figured it was a bloke thing.

  "So," said Ben, when the table had been cleared and they were sipping second coffees. "How do you feel about meeting up again?"

  Charlotte's stomach fluttered. "Yes. Yes, okay."

  "Great. So, another lunch? When is good for you?"

  "I don't get another day in lieu till next month," she said. "But I'm free all weekend the one after this one."

  He nodded. "Okay, a Saturday lunch then, or Sunday lunch?"

  "I don't mind," she said. "Whatever works for you. You have a longer drive."

  "Okay, Saturday then. This café again? Or a different one?"

  Shit, he really did mean lunch. Charlotte felt a twinge of disappointment. She'd completely warmed to him during their conversation, no longer believed he was connected with the disappearance of Marie Beckham. He was handsome, engaging, intelligent—what more could she ask for other than to be put across his knee? "When shall we…" She cleared her throat. "You know."

  He reached out, covered her hand with his large one. She looked down at it, and swallowed as her stomach twisted, imagining that big hand landing on her backside.

  "Let's take it slowly, Charlotte," he said gently. "There's no need to rush into anything, is there? It takes time to build total trust."

  He was definitely no murderer. How could he be, when he was willing to wait for so long to be by himself with her?

  "You're right," she said. "It's just like I feel I've been waiting forever for this."

  "Then a few more weeks won't kill you." He removed his hand, downed the rest of his coffee. "Are you ready to go? I need to drop in on a client on my way home."

  "Sure." Charlotte knocked back her coffee too, reached for her handbag.

  He waved a hand. "Oh, no," he said. "On me."

  "Are you sure?" When he nodded, she added, "Well, I'll get them next time."

  "Absolutely not." He took out his wallet. "One thing I'm a stickler for is paying the bill." He smiled. "I'm an old-fashioned guy in every sense of the word."

  Charlotte watched him stride over to the counter, wallet in hand. She compared him to Connor, who kept tabs on whose turn it was to pay when they went out. Maybe, just maybe her relationship with Ben might develop into something more…

  Steady on, Charlotte, she chided herself. You hardly know this man.

  But she wanted to know him. Oh, yes.

  He held the door open for her as they exited the café. She turned to him as they stood on the pavement. "That was lovely. Thank you very much."

  "My pleasure. Where's your car?"

  Charlotte pointed.

  "Then
we'll say goodbye here." He held out his hand. "It was really good to meet you."

  She blushed as they shook hands. "You too."

  "I'll email you, confirm a time for the 27th February."

  "Where's your car?" she asked him.

  "Oh, I'm parked just down the road, near that little bookshop."

  Charlotte nodded. They said goodbye again, and she walked to her car. He waved as he crossed the road. Charlotte watched him in the rear-view mirror as she started the engine and the cooling kicked in.

  She'd been an idiot thinking he could be a murderer.

  Without a doubt, that had been the best date she'd ever had.

  Nineteen

  Charlotte drove through the main street, and turned left at the roundabout. Never mind being over the moon, she was somewhere near Jupiter. She'd met Ben! They liked each other! She was going to wind up over the knee of the most delectable man she'd seen outside the movies! She drove along the tree-lined road, past a garden centre. The road narrowed as she turned a corner, and passed an entrance to the national park.

  She'd only gone a couple of hundred metres further when a woman started waving frantically at her from a layby. An overweight, middle-aged woman, with short brown hair, and wearing shorts and T-shirts. Her car was parked on the layby, the engine open. Charlotte pulled in, though there was no way she could help with any kind of car trouble. She could use a petrol pump and that was the extent of her mechanical skills.

  "Oh, thanks for stopping," said the woman as Charlotte got out of the car. "The last car didn't. My car's broken down and I'm stuck… You don't happen to have a mobile phone I could use, do you, by any chance?"

  "I don't. Sorry." Charlotte had been thinking she should get one, but she didn't really need it for her job yet. As for Connor, he'd never buy one. He thought them a waste of money, plus he didn't want Demanding Deborah having constant access to him.