Free Driven Wild by Jaye Peaches Page B

had educated him: women at home, taking care of their husbands, meekly and obediently. In his father’s presence, Rick had kept his mouth shut about his own mother’s absence. Fortunately for Rick’s father, the army served as a more than adequate replacement for his missing wife.
    Rick and Leah were only lovers though and not husband and wife. Rick couldn’t force or demand Leah to be obedient to him. He spanked her in the hope she would see her own way there. Now he had come to enjoy the intimate act, other emotions had come into play, and he was fighting hard to understand and control them.
    Clubs were her weakness. Those private establishments—away from the workmen’s pubs where the dockers frowned upon women—were her nemesis. She had become hooked on the music, the bright strobe lights, and the ridiculous drinks, which were designed to entice the younger generation rather than encourage them to savour a quality drink. It gave Rick an idea.
    Friends were not his forte, but those he did foster were mutually beneficial. Easily liked by most people, he had one such friend he could call upon for a favour. It would have to be Saturday morning; before then his plan would not be feasible. However, Leah had to know he hadn’t let her raucous evening and subsequent lingering in bed slip him by.
    He told her in the car on the way home after her day’s work.
    “I haven’t forgotten about last night. Your sordid behaviour in the bar: vulgar and unladylike. Nor will I ignore you lying in bed this morning, having told me you would be good about getting to work on time. But you will have to wait until Saturday before I can deal with these issues, Miss Leah.” He added the formality. There in the car, she may be the client, but he saw a different role for himself—her protector.
    Her face in the mirror surprised him. He had expected her to look petulant or disagreeable; instead she almost smiled and then, as if to truly digest his words, she gave a tiny nod of agreement.
     
    * * *
     
    Driving into the city early Saturday morning, Leah had no clue of their destination. Rick had asked her to dress in a mini-skirt and she had put on long boots to keep her legs warm and a fluffy scarf about her neck, plus a woolly bobble hat. The morning dew shimmered on the grass verges and the daffodils added a spark of bright yellow to the dull morning.
    She had asked, but Rick had told her to wait and see. It gave her butterflies in the stomach; she knew it was the promised consequence that awaited her.
    The car pulled up on a side street, alongside a row of shops. Opposite, on the corner of the street was a solitary door with a sign about the entrance. It was to this establishment that Rick led her, gripping her hand tightly.
    “It won’t be open,” she said, scampering along next to him.
    “It will be for us. I know the head barman,” said Rick, ringing the bell.
    A middle-aged man appeared, wiping his hands on a tea towel and led them into the nightclub. It wasn’t one Leah had patronised before now. The balding man greeted Rick and handed him the keys. “Just finished cleaning up last night’s mess. It’s all yours, mate, lock up and post the keys back through the letter box. I’ve a spare set. Have fun.” With a chuckle, the man disappeared through a side door.
    “I don’t understand,” muttered Leah. All about her were tables and chairs, laid out clean and tidy, ready for the evening’s extravaganza. At one end of the dimly lit room was a small stage for live bands to perform on, at the other a long bar with high stools. It was to one wall that Rick headed. Leaning over the jukebox, he scanned the listing. “Some of your favourites here.”
    “Are we going to dance?” asked Leah optimistically.
    Rick ignored her request. “Every night this place fills up with punters. My mate, Denis, keeps the place ticking over. He watches from his bar as people have a good time. Most people. Some don’t.” Rick came and