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The first Monday of the last week in October, Caroline is on her fifteen-minute walk to work. There is an autumn chill in the air, a hint of a change in the season. She thinks of shopping for new boots, and maybe a pair of smart pants like the gorgeous blonde girl wears — the tall one who often passes through the square where in fine weather Caroline and Dorothy sit to eat their lunch.In town, a bus discharges its crush of passengers across her path: office workers, students, shop girls. One girl who draws her eye. Only a fleeting glance of her face. At first, Caroline is not sure, and then she is definitely sure — almost. Her red hair is a fabulous shout of colour, wayward curls and ringlets gathered and restrained to leave a ponytail swinging wildly behind her as she briskly ups her pace.Looking as young as her portrait, she is fleet on her feet as she weaves between the others. She has the same boyish frame, the same always startled eyes. She wears jeans that cut tight into the narrowest of hips, tightly binding shapely legs, both moving with lithe urgency as they propel her on her way.Caroline is sure it’s Harriet, though she only snatched a glimpse of her face. She calls out, “Harriet!” But her shout is not a shout, just a half-hearted plea of uncertainty. Suddenly she feels foolish and does not dare call the name again as she watches the girl is lost in the crush other alighting passengers.Caroline’s thoughts return to Penny Dammartin’s portrait of the person she called Harriet. Why does a glimpse of this one strange girl fill Caroline with foreboding, a suspicion there are secrets kept from her? It is not as if she finds Harriet attractive — far from it, the girl holds no physical allure. She Beşevler escort bayan appears too fragile for any of that. Or is that impression due only to Penny’s rendering of the girl’s state of mind after her visit to Dammartin, constructed to please her father, done just for effect. She is determined to speak to Harriet if she ever sees her in town. How she would love to talk to one of their “girls”, compare notes on the Dammartins.Saturday after work, Dorothy and Caroline are going to a gig in the Polytechnic Student Union bar. Pub rockers Dr Feelgood are touring. Last week Caroline saw the band on the telly and loved the guitarist’s frantic back and forth strut across the stage, his guitar as a Bren Gun, fingers firing idiot-riff after idiot-riff. She tells Dorothy she just has to see them, wants to say she was there when they came to town. She tells a lie, says she has no one else to ask, though there half a dozen people she could go with.Getting ready for her date with Dorothy, she chooses her knee-length velvet dress of blue darkness, the one Joe so likes to see her wearing. It’s her favourite too. It has long tight sleeves and is low-cut at the chest, shows her cleavage at its best. Under the dress, matching black undies and barely black tights. It will be the first time out for her still boxed new heels, their expense her only indulgence courtesy of Dammartin money, the rest deposited in her Abbey National account for when she starts her full-time teaching course.She spends time on her makeup, more than in the early days with Joe, and an hour coercing her long, straight hair into Looby loo ringlets. She’ll risk jewellery tonight, even though it is Escort Çankaya a live gig: large loop earrings, a string of pearls around her neck, and silver bracelets for each wrist. Dorothy will plainly see the effort she’s made.She has arranged to meet Dorothy at seven-thirty outside C one like Joe took of her to use in their small-ad. Dorothy on the sofa, head propped by cushions, her legs raised and wide apart.This is so intimate, Caroline thinks. To see another female’s hidden part so revealed affects her as she never expected it could. She looks at the girl’s pussy without shame or embarrassment, and the sight fills her with an overwhelming need to touch and taste her in that place. But once the shot is done, Caroline is unable to proceed with what only seconds before she so desired to do. Now she just stares and stares.”You okay, Caz?” Dorothy asks.”Just that I can’t get over how beautiful you are.””It’s made me so horny being photographed like this, and how you look at me like you do.””Look how wet you are.””Where?” Dorothy says quickly casting her eyes over her body.””You know! Your pussy.”Dorothy touches herself between the legs, rubs two fingers together as if to gauge the viscosity of her own cunt. “Oh, god! How embarrassing.””It’s not embarrassing, it’s such a turn on to know I’m responsible.””You and that camera. Can I see the photos now?” Dorothy asks.Caroline is busy with the camera, says “They take ages to develop; fifteen minutes, at least.” She puts the camera down on the table and looks at Dorothy, still uncertain about what the girl expects.It is Dorothy who breaks the silence that has settled between them:”Did it hurt when he spanked you?””Yes. Cebeci escort It hurt a lot,” Caroline says, remembering how much. “They say some people enjoy it.””Did you?””Enjoy it?””Yes. But not at first.””I can’t imagine how anyone could get to enjoy pain,” Dorothy says.”Neither could I before it happened.””And then you did?””Sort of.””Would you show me, you know, spank me like he did you?””Don’t be silly, Dorothy. It really hurt.””You could be gentle to start with. I want to see if I could be brave too —as brave as you.”Dorothy’s nakedness continues to entrance Caroline, and she runs pictures through her mind of the girl spread out across her knees, just like she had been for Lord Dammartin, and later his wife.”If you really want to, I could show you how Lady Dammartin did it. It wasn’t half as bad with her — until she took a brush to me, that is.” Caroline goes and sits in the armchair opposite the telly and pats her knee, “Come to me, wench,” she orders Dorothy theatrically.”‘Straight away m’lady,” Dorothy says while performing a cute little curtsy.Both girls burst into hysterical laughter.”Shhh.” hushes Caroline, a single finger to her lips. Don’t spoil it.””You started it,” Dorothy says.Now as she anticipates spanking Dorothy’s bare behind, a thrill of cruel intent is seeded in Caroline’s mind. Spiteful images heat her blood: Dorothy’s flesh made red-raw, and the cries of pain she imagines her hand will elicit. But she catches her train of thoughts, puts an end to that momentary reverie, feels almost ashamed by allowing it. Dorothy is so sweet, is her friend. How could she ever even consider seeing her suffer even a little? And yet…Caroline takes a breath, lowers her voice to a masculine tone and resumes the charade. “Come to me, Wench. Cease your dilly-dallying at once.”Dorothy steps forward again, her demeanour now fitting enough for a spanking from an actual Dammartin, “What is m’lord’s pleasure?” she asks.Caroline once again pats her knee. “Do you need me to draw you a picture, Wench?