By Harry Lime

He was quietly sipping his scotch and soda at Wakefield's bar on the Upper East Side when he felt her presence. She was like a tornado, lots of noise and commotion. She pushed her way to the bar, ordering Larry to "Move over!"

He looked at her quietly, not moving.

"Get ******."

She stopped. Glared at him with intense blue eyes framed by alabaster-white skin with freckles, set off with flaming red hair. "Who the hell do you think you are?"

He paused a beat. Putting his drink down on the bar, he leaned toward her, stopping just inches from her face. He could smell her lipstick. Speaking barely above a whisper, he responded, "I know exactly who I am. And I know that you are a naughty girl who needs to be spanked."

His words arrested her. She stepped back half a step, ready to slap him. Or not. He could see the wheels turning inside the turmoil of her mind. It was a long 5 seconds. Then she turned and stalked away.

Larry Peebles was a semi-retired circus clown but he didn't look any different from the up-tone crowd here at Wakefield's. His years in the circus had educated him in how to read people. When you're doing your act in front of adults and children of every emotional state, you had to be on your game. And even though he was over 50, he was definitely still on his game. But his game was so subtle, it was barely visible to the untrained eye.

Little Miss Redhead had a trained eye. She knew he was a player. Maybe she didn't even know that she knew. But she knew.

His approach with women was not by sidling up to them and asking, "Live around here?" He was so low-key, he didn't even have an approach.

Except that he did.

After a few minutes, he felt the closeness of a woman with long hair on his right side. It was her. He had a sense of her hair caressing his face, smelled the light aroma of her perfume.

Either she was back for more fight or ---

"Can I buy you a drink?" she asked. It was a little girl seeking the favor of her father. There was an implicit plea.

He was going to play her. He looked straight ahead. "What do you want this time?" he asked.

She looked at him demurely. "I just want to make up. I was out of line."

"And you want to be spanked?" he asked.

Her face reddened. Redheads were so easy to read. The rush of blood to her fair skin was immediately visible.

"You just never stop, do you? You don't know me. Why would you ask something like that?

"Buy me a drink and we'll talk about it."

It didn't take long to get to her place. It was at 91st and Lexington, 15 blocks north of Wakefield's. He insisted that they take a bus. She hesitated, apparently more accustomed to being feted with limousines stocked with champagne.

The bus was crowded, even though it was 8 at night. The M15 only came every 20 minutes at this time of day. He sat on one of the side-facing seats, asking her to stand in front of him. "Arch your back and push your ***** toward my face," he whispered.

That was another thing about redheads. Their skin seemed to be thinner. Delicate aromas wafted from them more readily. He could smell the musk of her femininity.

Her skirt was full enough that it nearly covered his face. He slipped his hand up her leg, feeling her female moistness mid-thigh that had oozed down. He extended a finger and swiped a sample of ***** juice on it, slipping it inside his mouth. "Nice," he said, looking up at her.

He moved his hand higher, discovering -- to no surprise -- that she was not wearing panties. He pushed his thumb inside her as she bounced along with the roughness of the bus. He pushed his thumb down hard, feeling her rectum through her vaginal wall.

He looked up at her face, eyes closed, lost in the moment. She shuddered.

Ah! One ****** and not even at her place yet.

She found it difficult to give up control. After cuming on the bus, she had him remove his hand and she stepped back. Some of the people around them knew what was going on. But it didn't matter. They didn't know them and would never see them again.

As soon as they stepped inside her studio apartment, she took off her coat and started the process of welcoming her guest. "What would you like to drink?" she started to ask. But he stopped her. Grasping her face in his hands like a vise, he kissed her directly on the mouth, moving his lips only slightly and barely caressing her bottom lip with his tongue. He held it for several long seconds, then he released her.

She stepped back, dizzy and disoriented from the sudden attack. "What was that?!" she gasped. She nearly toppled over.

"Turn around and bend over the back of the couch," he ordered quietly but firmly.

"I don't like you coming in here and ---"

"Look, you can cut the crap. We both know why we're here. Back at the bar, as soon as I mentioned spanking you, it's been all you could think about. Now bend over!"

With that, he spun her around, leaned her over the back of the couch and pulled up her skirt, exposing her bare bottom. It was beautiful and white.

He spanked her 5 times with his bare hand. Hard. The five "whacks" echoed off the walls. He could see red marks on her skin.

Her face reflected the warm glow she was experiencing from the spanking.

Afterward, he pushed lightly to her back, keeping her bent over. "Now do we understand each other?" he asked.

"Yes," she said quietly.

"Yes sir!" he corrected.

"Yes sir!" she said.
harrylime69 harrylime69
46-50, M
1 Response Jan 23, 2013

Hot damn. Red heads are awesome.