Grading Garnet: The Red Petticoat Saloon Page 2

  “You know what to do,” he scolded just a bit. “Give me your wrists, darlin’ Peridot.”

  Gloria was surprised when the woman hesitated, holding her hands away from him instead. “Please, Se—sir, no! Please don’t spank me. You know how much I hate it!”

  Still, he didn’t fly into a rage or even sound in the least angry at her vehement protests. Instead, he said almost regretfully, “Little girl, you know that the longer you delay obeying me, the worse it’s going to be for you.”

  Gloria found herself mimicking the girl’s deep inhale and then giving a rather exaggerated, resigned sigh as she exhaled. What sort of name was Peridot anyway? Tossing that inconsequential question aside, Gloria watched as Peridot did finally lay her own wrists across the small of her back, watching as the man’s hand easily engulfed both of them at once to hold them there, saying encouragingly, “That’s it. But I’m afraid I’m going to have to give you extra hard swats at the end, on top of what you were already due, honey.”

  That pronouncement prompted a loud, heartfelt wail of pure remorse from the young woman.

  “Ten for taking so long to obey me about your hands, and twenty for fibbing.”

  “What? When did I fib to you?” Gloria heard her ask, much more forcefully than Gloria would have in that vulnerable position, laid across the giant’s lap like that.

  “You most certainly did, just a few seconds ago, when you said you hated being spanked. We both know how far from the truth that is.” His tone lowered considerably, although Gloria was still able to hear him threaten huskily, “And I shall make you lick the undeniable evidence of how your own body concurs with me from two of my fingers once I’ve finished thrashing your bottom, my naughty Dottie.”

  Then he raised his huge hand and brought it down onto the poor girl’s bare behind in a move so lightning quick and forceful that the contact of a hard, male palm to a soft female cheek sounded horribly loud and painful. So much so that it startled Gloria into yelping just slightly after the girl did.

  Just enough to call the big man’s attention, although not the girl’s, to the fact that someone was watching what they were doing.

  And Gloria was so startled by what she’d done that, before she could duck down, she was mortified to find his eyes lock onto hers.

  Then she watched a truly evil, terribly intimate smile spread over the handsome man’s face, as if he knew exactly what she was doing and why she was doing it.

  He even had the audacity to reach up the very hand he’d just delivered the first swat with and make the motion of tipping a hat he wasn’t wearing to her, then, with an audacious wink, he returned to his task.

  Gloria collapsed onto the floor, her muscles entirely unable to support her any longer through what she’d seen and then, humiliatingly, been discovered watching. And she’d been so shocked to have been caught that, at first, she couldn’t even get herself to move away from the window! She’d just sat there and watched him mock her!

  What was worse was that, even now, in the midst of the purest mortification she’d ever experienced in her life, she could hear that the spanking was still in progress, only now it didn’t seem quite as titillating as it had before. So she forced herself to sit up, making sure that no part of her was showing above the window sill as she did so, and reach for the sash.

  Unfortunately for her, whoever had built this hotel, didn’t manage to get the windows quite square. It took an inordinate amount of time, as well as all her strength, such that she ended up having to hang her whole weight off the sash, exposing herself to him again with her efforts to get it closed.

  And she could hear his deep, rich laugh throughout the entire process as she stood next to the window, again avoiding any possible exposure beyond just her arm, and pulled the curtains closed. Not that they were going to be much help, being made of lace. Still, she dropped to crawl beneath the window so as not to be seen to get to the other side to do the same, all while his low chortling rang in her ears.

  When she finally got back to bed, sleep eluded her entirely. Having closed the window did nothing to abate the sounds, not that she tried very hard to do so, of what proved to be an eye opening spanking. That incessant crack! crack! crack! never let up or paused in any way. It seemed to go on forever, as well as the noisy, but nowhere near as unpleasant as she would have preferred them to be, sounds of what she surmised to be their lovemaking afterwards.

  At least she couldn’t hear him proving to her the reality of just how she felt about him spanking her—which was apparently very close to how Gloria felt about the mere idea of him doing that to her!

  But even when they were finally quiet, Gloria was still flaming with such embarrassment that she could find no solace in Morpheus’ arms.

  Almost without thinking, her hands went to the hem of her nightgown with at least as much reluctance as that painted lady had displayed when she’d placed herself over that enormous man’s lap. But her body knew what she wanted, what she needed, better than she did, and with much less guilt. Her delicate fingers continued to gather material until the split crotch of her bloomers was exposed—but going no further.

  Slowly, as her mind warred with her lustful needs and lost, as usual, they made their way to the opening of the split that was positioned just above the thatch of soft yellow hair, pulling them and her legs apart with them, so that the two halves lay well open before they sought the space between the plump, throbbing lips she’d just exposed.

  Cheeks now flaming for another reason other than having been caught looking, Gloria’s eyes drifted shut as she used the fingers of one hand to spread herself open even further, while she found the source of her own slickness with the others, dipping them delicately into that shamefully flowing liquid to move them back up to slip easily over the barest tip of that hidden, throbbing button of flesh with a barely stifled moan of forbidden pleasure.

  It was a sin. She was quite sure of that, not that she’d ever admitted to anyone that she’d done it. It had to be. It felt too unbelievably good not to be!

  But the feelings were too new to her. She didn’t have the experience, or even the will, to be able to extend the experience. Her flesh was too eager to find the fulfillment she sought, and soon she was writhing and moaning to the tune that her own fingers called until that torturously building ecstasy finally burst within her, and she had to turn her head to scream into her own pillow, lest she give the man across the street an earful of her own secret bliss.

  Seconds later, almost before she pulled her gown down and rolled onto her side, she had slipped into the deep, dreamless sleep that had previously eluded her.

  Chapter Two

  Since she had given herself a day before she had to report officially to the head of the school board, one Seth McIntyre, Gloria thought she’d spend the day familiarizing herself with the town and its inhabitants. Having donned a plain, serviceable brown dress, her hair pulled back into the bun Teddy so hated, she could hear the censure in his voice in her head as she did it. She took a perverse pleasure in the fact that the one extravagance of her outfit were the sturdy, if blah brown, but hideously expensive kid boots that no one would ever see.

  Once she’d made her way downstairs, she realized that her stomach was rumbling as soon as the smell of pancakes hit her nose. Apparently the hotel offered breakfast, too, and, although she knew she couldn’t afford such extravagances on a regular basis, she decided to treat herself this morning.

  Riley, the son of the man who owned the place, was not only the desk clerk, he also served as the waiter. He brought her small order of flapjacks and coffee in a very timely fashion despite the fact that he apparently had to exit the hotel to do so.

  She wondered out loud as he set the plate down in front of her if the kitchen was outside, but the young man just laughed. “No, it’s not. We have an agreement with The Red Petticoat; their cook also cooks for us.”

  Her fork poised over her delicious looking meal, Gloria looked up at him. “Do you
mean to tell me that I’m about to consume a meal that was prepared by someone who works in a—a bawdy house?”

  Not to be intimidated easily, Riley replied, “Yes, ma’am, and Miss Nettie is probably the best cook in town.”

  Anxious to avoid even the slightest hint of impropriety, Gloria staunchly ignored the impolite noises her tummy was making and stood without touching a bite, leaving the money for her meal as well as a small remuneration for the waiter on the table. She departed the establishment, thinking that she might spend her day trying to find somewhere more suitable to spend her last night before she assumed her duties than a place that was so close to a house of ill repute—to say nothing of one that shared a cook with one.

  Unfortunately, there didn’t seem to be anything available at the Bentley Inn boarding house. Someone had struck gold nearby, and it was all full up. She hadn’t understood when she arrived how lucky she had been to get the room she’d gotten.

  After tomorrow, though, she’d board around. The families of the community would provide her with room and board on a rotating basis, which had the dual purpose of making sure that she got to know the parents of the children she taught.

  She knew that not many of her pupils’ families would have much more than shacks to offer. Some of her accommodations would be considered “rough board”—as in not a lot different from how some people took care of their horses—the bare acceptable minimum—but that was fine. She’d had the best growing up and it hadn’t really meant that much to her… well, not too much, anyway. All she really wanted to do was teach.

  Gloria spent time poking around, surprised to realize that the place was nowhere near big enough to spend an entire day exploring. She’d seen the sheriff’s office, the doctor’s office, the blacksmith, and had taken a turn around the mercantile. She’d bought a thoroughly unappealing cold, hard biscuit and some preserves to eat in her room to quell the way her stomach was growling at having been denied those luscious looking pancakes.

  As she perused the few books for sale, she saw several women enter the establishment. All of them were attired in perfectly normal clothing but when she spotted the face of the same woman she’d had the pleasure of seeing much, much more of last night, she knew that despite their prim dresses, they were soiled doves.

  They all seemed to get along famously, laughing with and gently teasing one another, under the watchful eye of both a large black woman with her hair up in a kerchief and yet another huge man. Did this place grow them exclusively that way, she wondered? Luckily for her, though, he was not the man from last night or she might well have died on the spot.

  It was bad enough that she actually recognized—what had he called her? —Dottie and knew exactly what her green gown was meant to cover! The unwanted thoughts flitted through her head wondering if the other woman was having a hard time sitting today, and if her bottom was still bright red and hot—the condition she thought he’d probably left it in, based on the sounds she’d overheard.

  Trying, with only a modicum of success to drag her mind out of the gutter, Gloria was just thankful that it was the girl in the equation, and not the man. She couldn’t imagine the horror of actually setting eyes again on the man who had acted so bold and vulgar towards her, a complete stranger.

  She had been looking at several books, but, having been made exceedingly uncomfortable, Gloria decided not to get them and slunk out of the store, not drawing a deep breath until she’d made it outside.

  Suddenly deciding to forgo any further sightseeing, she made her way back to her room, keeping her eyes on the ground beneath her feet the entire way rather than risking the possibility of coming face to face with… him.

  Her mischievous mind immediately wandered back into dangerous territory, trying to remember whether she’d heard Dottie call him anything other than sir. She couldn’t recall that she had, although she could, of course, recall every detail of the sounds of both the swats he landed on her poor rear as well as her squeals and moans and the pitiful way she had begged him not to spank her any more.

  Pleas that had gone completely unanswered. He’d been merciless, quickly reducing the young lady to sobbing that only increased as the punishment continued.

  Gloria spent the rest of the day, until dinner, with her nose buried in one of the books she’d brought with her, all of which she’d read a million times at least. She wished she’d been brave enough to buy at least one of the new ones she’d found at the market so she had something to relieve her mind of the relentless boredom.

  By the time six o’clock rolled around, the few bites she’d taken of that awful stale biscuit had left her famished. She decided to venture out again, passing through the dining room of the hotel, as one had to. Her senses were accosted by the sights and smells of what seemed to be truly wonderful meals, especially if the way nearly the entire room was quiet, silenced by everyone’s mouth being occupied by food rather than running their mouths, was anything to go by.

  It was quite a compliment to the chef even if she did work at a brothel.

  Still, she had already decided to stick to her guns and err on the side of caution, so she went in search of a meal, ending up at the tiny dining room of a café and eating food that was no doubt completely inferior to the one she had sailed by. It was barely warm and so homogenous that it was hard to tell the tasteless rubbery chicken from the equally tasteless mushy vegetables.

  From there, she wandered through the town, which was quite a bit livelier than it had been this afternoon, dodging mud puddles and miners with equal dexterity and frequency, until she’d found her way back to her room. She discovered that the mercantile didn’t stay open past six in the evening, and realized that she was facing a night of the same mind numbing boredom she’d just lived through this afternoon.

  For a moment, though, she paused outside the hotel and allowed her gaze to land on the Red Petticoat Saloon. Unlike most of the establishments she’d passed by, it seemed that everyone there was happy. From the outside, it appeared to be a scrupulously well kept establishment, which she thought spoke well of its owner, whoever he may be. There were the roaring cheers of what had to be people winning at games, and wonderful piano music drifting out into the night air, as well as the smell of good food and what she had long since come to recognize—given her Father’s propensity—as good, quality cigar and pipe smoke.

  The sounds of everybody having so much fun were almost enough to encourage her to eschew her scruples and concerns about the place to take a step in that direction, and perhaps more, until she brought herself up short. She couldn’t afford to do such a thing. What if a parent of one of her students saw her? What if someone on the Board saw her?

  No, she’d wanted this job and worked for it and towards it for too long to risk it just because she had a curious mind and kind of wanted to see the inside of such an interesting, if highly inappropriate, place. It wasn’t worth the possible loss of her livelihood, especially not here in the wilderness.

  She never wanted to find herself in the situation of having to crawl back to her father.

  That thought was more than enough to induce a full body shudder, so, with a firmer grasp on her more adventurous side, she forced herself to find her small, lonely room.

  And, as much as she didn’t want to admit that that was what she was doing, she found herself standing deliberately just close enough to the window as she undressed that evening that she was able to discern that the room that had been so lively last night was dark this evening, so there wouldn’t even be the dubious relief of guilt ridden, second hand pleasures tonight.

  Not even those brought about by her own hand, she vowed, consigning herself to tossing and turning for much of the night. She was plagued by nerves and an unreasonable sense of foreboding until at last, not long before dawn, she finally found sleep.

  ***

  Because she’d gotten to sleep so late, when she opened one eye the next morning, the sun was already high in the sky.

  Alarmi
ngly so, considering that she was supposed to meet with the Board at ten. A quick glance at her watch revealed that she had all of ten minutes to dress and arrive there fresh as a daisy and prepared to dazzle them.

  Unfortunately, given that everything she attempted went horribly wrong along the way, reducing her to a teary eyed, snarling, cursing mess that tore down the stairs and out through the door like a whirling dervish. She was still pushing the pins through her small straw hat and into her hair to anchor it while trying to run in boots that were largely unbuttoned and thus provided no support, allowing her to twist her ankle painfully on the way down the front stairs.

  At least she already knew where to go, thanks to her early bird tendencies. A block or so before the schoolhouse, where they were to meet, she stepped into an alley and adjusted everything that was askew, she hoped, fastening her shoes while ignoring the run she’d put in her stockings with her big toe while trying to cram her foot into it in great haste. She tucked her blouse more neatly into the waistband of her skirt, which she realized was on backwards because she lacked a maid to dress her and she’d pulled the buttons around to the front for ease of fastening them.

  At least she had remembered to bring the small, wire rimmed reading glasses that had been her mother’s. They perched on the end of her nose, doing her absolutely no good since she didn’t need them, but she thought they made her look more mature and serious.

  Wishing desperately that she had a mirror, and sure that her hair looked like a rat’s nest, she knew there was no hope for it and that she’d just have to do the best she could. She was here, she was qualified and she was eager to start. It was doubtful that they were going to reject her outright, even if she did look like the wreck of the Hesperus.