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Emi does a photo shoot with beautiful Asian girl.

Her obsession, she thought, had probably been a side-effect of the heat. Of course, she wasn't going to be spanked - Tom was still married, after all, and her fantasy would remain just that - something imagined, now gone, all finished. But if anything, her fantasies strengthened. Knowing he was there, in the same village, that sooner or later she would have to see him, seemed to set her loins on fire with a desire so strong that it weakened her knees.

Eventually, when she could bear it no longer, she phoned him. Yes, she was back, she told him, she would like to buy him a pint and catch up. They arranged to meet at the pub the next evening. Nicki, confused and frightened by her dark desire, spent hours getting ready, choosing underwear, skirt, blouse and shoes. She kept on telling herself that she was silly: nothing was going to happen. Why was she making such a big thing about seeing a friend? She knew that Tom would be his usual urbane, charming self. They would have a drink, he would walk her home. There would be the usual peck on the cheek, and then he would return to his wife and family. She hoped nothing would happen, and feared that nothing would happen. She was dizzy with a mixture of lust and frenzied expectation.

Entering the pub, Nicki saw Tom sitting at a table in the corner of the snug - a nice quiet, private part of the pub, devoid of TV screen, jukebox and slot-machine. He stood up to greet her, kissed her on the cheek, and walked over to the bar to get her a pint of cider, Nicki's favourite tipple. He was already a third of the way through his pint of real ale. They sat down and talked, the way they usually did, and Nicki was relieved that they still seemed to have a lot in common. Tom didn't mention their Facebook conversation. He was the perfect gentleman, asking her about her time in Malaysia, and filling her in on the local gossip.

As the evening wore on, Nicki become more and more desperate to broach the subject of their conversation about spanking. Perhaps, if she could talk about it to him, they might laugh it off and put an end to the unseemly sexual fantasies she was having. Even now, just looking at Tom's hands and face brought such strong images to mind that her panties were becoming moist at the crotch. She blushed, imagining that people nearby could see her naked desire, but that only reinforced the feelings that were flooding her sex. Last orders were called. Tom stood up and said her would walk her home. He lived further on, up the hill from Nicki's flat.

They left the pub together, Nicki in a desperate state of mind. What could she do? Tom asked her if she was alright. She seemed, he said, to be preoccupied. Nicki told him she was fine, but her turmoil was becoming more apparent. They reached her door. Tom pecked her on the cheek and said goodnight. He turned to go.

"Wait", Nicki said, "please wait. What about the...."

"About the... what?" Tom asked.

"That thing", Nicki said. "That thing that we..."

She blushed from the roots of her hair right down to to tops of her breasts.

"That thing, that spanking thing..." her voice petered off, lamely.

Tom stared at her.

"Nicki", he said, "if you want something, you have to ask for it properly. What is it you want?"

"The spanking thing", she blurted, "the thing we talked about. Can we do it?"

"If you want to be spanked Nicki, you have to ask me properly."

Tom didn't seem phased by her statement, he just looked at her patiently.

"Ask me properly."

"Please Tom, I want you to spank me. Please spank me, sir."

Nicki did not know where the 'sir' had come from, but it sounded right. She heard her own voice, scarcely believing what she was saying.

"Please sir, I need to be punished."

Tom took her hand and led her into her living room, plonked her down on the settee and took the chair by the window.

"OK", he said.

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