Free French Lessons by Georgia Harries Page B

yesterday?
Goodness knows you owe him one!”
     
     
    Eleanor
blushed again and looked to her father for a reaction. Harry beamed, delighted
that at last his wonderful wife and daughter seemed reconciled.
    “Yes!
Splendid idea. I’ll talk to Fabien and organise langoustines.   Eleanor, I think it only right that you
pay a personal visit to The Grand as soon as possible, don’t you?”
    His
daughter squirmed, reminded that apologies had to be made all round.
    “Yes
Daddy. I’ll do that. And should I – see if Char –   if whatsisface is available to join us?”
    The
Walkers smiled and held hands.
    “Go
for it, Eleanor,” Tamara winked at her again. Getting up from the table,
Eleanor rushed to her father’s side. This time he accepted her in his arms for
the biggest, warmest hug they’d shared in years.
    “I’m
sorry, Daddy,” Eleanor whispered against her father’s strong, broad chest.
    “I
know, my darling,” he held her tight. “And I’m sorry that I had to spank you.
But I’m not at all sorry I did it. So let’s make sure young lady, that it’s the
last time, eh?” He looked down at her smiling. Eleanor nodded, feeling at peace
at last.
    The
last twenty–four hours had all been so exhausting Eleanor ruminated, as
she worked her way through her little cabin wardrobe. She wondered which of her
many evening outfits she should choose for dinner, especially with the
possibility of Charlie being there. She couldn’t help but rehearse the next
scene with him in her head. What if he didn’t really like her, after all?
Having had time to think about her behaviour and what she had put him through,
maybe she would be the very last person he wanted to see. But he was so very
handsome. And she could not forget the thrill of feeling his sturdy arm lift
her out from the water. He was so tall, so strong. And he’d done all his
studying abroad so he must be clever, too. Eleanor decided to make a real
effort. She’d spend the day getting ready, and see if Tamara’s ointment might not
help with the more immediate problem of her red–hot bottom. Then she
could head up to The Grand as the day wound down.
     
    She
lay face down on her bunk bed. Gingerly, she slid down the sailing shorts and
knickers. She rubbed her bottom once again, feeling the roughness where the
shoe had done its very worst in Daddy’s hand. Unscrewing the stylish little pot
of cream, she took in the sharp, clean aroma of real peppermint. Carefully, she
dipped her hand and then as best she could, applied some of the lotion behind
her to her right cheek. At first touch, it was deliciously cold and numbing. It
felt so soft as she rubbed and rubbed, letting it ease some of the awful hot
soreness. Even the smell of the peppermint was a pleasing comfort.
    Eleanor
stood and stepped out of her shorts. With her back to the wardrobe mirror, she
examined her bottom once more. It was still badly marked, and she felt woefully
childish again as she remembered exactly how it had got that way. Then using
both hands dipped in the minty lotion, she began to massage herself deeply. She
closed her eyes as the powerful substance worked its way into her skin. Around
and between her two cheeks, Eleanor explored and grew confident. Her fingers
felt easy and playful. The peppermint was working, almost freezing a lot of the
nasty, sore heat away. She thought about Charlie. How he had touched her and
held her hand, the alarming terror of hitting the water only to see his
concerned face as she soon as she surfaced, and feel his strength and courage
as he reached for her.
    Lying
back down, Eleanor thought how very much she longed to kiss a man properly. She
loved spending long hours in the cinema and had seen countless passionate love
scenes. Rock Hudson, James Dean, and Clark Gable – such magnificent heroes,
so powerful and chivalrous! She wanted to feel the kind of long kisses they
gave their women on the screen. Would Charlie ever kiss her? Like that,