Darby

 

Darby was 15. She was also precocious, audacious, and a tease. Had she been 12 years old, she would have qualified for a Lolita, but as a teen, she was quite aware of her behavior.

Three years ago I was shooting a video for a major tour company on a three-week trek through Europe. My job was to document what a wonderful time trip participants had on tour. Easily two-thirds of the group were women traveling with other women. A few husbands made up the other third. Darby was the exception. She was the niece and traveling companion of a gentle, timid woman of about 60 years. Auntie paid the way and Darby would play.

Our tour leader, John, was top-notch, a fifty-something British gentleman with impeccable credentials who spoke six languages. He made every day an adventure and every city and site exciting. But not even John could keep Darby in line.

Almost everywhere we went, Darby found her way into mischief. More often than not, she would wander off either teasing local boys or searching for gelato, or plunging into the nearest fountain getting completely wet revealing her knickers, and sometimes, her braless little breasts through her summer clothes.

Among the group was an enjoyable lesbian couple that I befriended early on. On a warm afternoon over an aperitif in Paris, I confided in them my bisexuality. They weren’t surprised saying their gaydar sensed this already. We were giggling about this when we realized Darby had been eavesdropping on us.

Darby decided knowing I was bi was something she could use to bug, bother and tease me about. Visiting both the Jardin du Luxembourg and the Fontaine des Mers, on two different days, she took her usual fountain plunges, emerging like a wet t-shirt contestant, parading in front of me, asking me if she’s pretty if I liked what I saw. She taunted me at meals with quips about girls, girls kissing girls, and would flirt pointlessly. And, she began to parade about the hotel halls and breakfast rooms in just to tops to her pajamas. This went on in Paris, Lyon, and Aix en Provence. She was getting to me and was beginning to spoil the tour for me.

On the train from Aix-en-Provence to Nice, I told John that I had pretty much had it with Darby. He let me know he had already talked to Auntie to no avail. He suggested I try to avoid Darby while he again talked to Auntie. I agreed. I had no status on the tour except as a participant, so I couldn’t do anything but complain.

In Nice, there is a playful water fountain in the Promenade du Paillon named Miroir d’Eau consisting of row upon row of water jets squirting from the ground. It’s a great place to cool off in the summer. Children have no trouble getting soaked darting from jet to jet. Of course, Darby, wearing a light little sundress, joined the children. Her dress was so thin, once wet, it became nearly transparent. Our group was accustomed to that. But today, Darby was wearing nothing, absolutely nothing underneath. She approached me, grinning, taunting me with “like what you see, Sparks,” twirling and teasing.

John moved in to help me, but I was pissed off. Before he could intervene, I grabbed Darby by the arm – with a vice-like grip – and dragged her to a nearby bench, flung her over my knee, and got about three hard whacks in before she tried to squirm away. I pulled her arm back keeping her pinned. With my other hand, I flipped her dress up exposing her teen ass for all of Nice to see. I added a dozen more hard slaps before letting her go.

She turned around and faced me, quivering, not quite in tears, but close. The tour group, by now gathered around us, jointly gasped as if they had all been holding their breath. A moment of awkward silence passed before the lesbian couple began to applaud. The others joined in, all smiles.

Darby ran to her Auntie, who stopped her at arm's length. With all eyes on them, Auntie said, “You earned that young lady. Now go put something decent on.”

Darby was much better behaved the rest of the tour and mostly kept to herself. At the Rome airport where everyone shared hugs and warm good-byes, Darby caught me alone just before boarding her plane. I thought she might apologize for her behavior. But no. She smiled the sweetest smile and said, “The spanking was the best part of the trip.”