The Lighthouse Keeper - an erotic spanking romance work in progress

Delighted to be a part of WIP it up Wednesday. My work in progress is The Lighthouse Keeper.

This is a title that has been simmering away for weeks. I really must knuckle down and finish it! Perhaps I need the motivation of chocolate, or a spanking ...

Anyway, the story is a about a holiday romance between Katrina and Ben, the sexy as hell lighthouse keeper. Here's the opener. I hope you like it. And I hope I get round to finishing it!

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Ben headed towards the lighthouse, skirting the brimming rock pools, to walk along the sweep of damp golden sand, leaving a trail of damp footprints in his wake. The beach was strewn with shells, a myriad of pebbles, curling strands of green weed and other debris left by the outgoing tide. Most of the tourists had fled when the heavens opened, and now the beach was practically deserted except for those few who didn't care about getting wet and wind-blown.

The raucous cry of seagulls was carried on the breeze as they soared through the sky then glided slowly downward to skim the surface of the sea, some of them bobbing comically on the eddying waves. In addition to observing the antics of the gulls, Ben's keen eyes saw a figure crouching in the shallows. He paused, staring. Even at this distance he could see it was a woman, her sodden tendrils of long blonde hair twisting and fluttering as the wind caught them. He shrugged, then carried on, but when he next turned his head, he found it odd that she remained in exactly the same position.

She appeared to be hugging herself, frantically rubbing her arms as though she were cold. He fleetingly wondered how long she had been standing there in the water and why the hell she didn't just move out of it. The August afternoon had been bright and sunny prior to the rain, but the sun had now disappeared behind low grey clouds, and the wind was gusting keenly from the sea. Thinking that maybe she was in some sort of trouble, he changed direction and headed for the water's edge.

His instinct was right, for as he drew closer, he could see how pale and strained her face was, and he could hear her teeth chattering.

"Hi. Everything ok?"

Her long hair was plastered to her skull, escaped tendrils whipping her face, the ends floating around her shivering form. She was wearing a white bikini top, and he couldn't but help notice the outline of her nipples through the flimsy fabric that barely covered a pair of well rounded, nicely full breasts.

"Y-y-yes – I'm f-f-fine."

“Yeah? You don't look fine to me. Your lips are turning blue! Get yourself out of the water before you get hypothermia.”

“I-I'm just p-p-paddling,” she stuttered. “I'll be g-g-going soon.”

“Paddling? I don't think so.” He stepped forward and extended his hand. “Come on, lady, out you come.”

She made a small movement as though she were about to reach out and take his hand, but then held back, shaking her head. "I c-can't. I can't come out of the w-w-water," she said, giving him a distressed look, her shoulders shaking with cold as she hugged her wet arms over her chest.

"Why not?"

"Um... well … b-b-b-because..."

"Because?"

"It's gone,” she wailed. I'm going to have to tell him.

“What has?” Geez, this woman is hard work.

“M-my bikini bottom."

Ben's reaction was instant. He guffawed loudly, a big booming laugh that exposed a row of gleaming teeth and crinkled the corners of his eyes. The woman glared at him, the faintest tinge of pink blushing her cheeks.

“Hah,” Ben spluttered. “Sorry, Miss Mermaid. I didn't mean to laugh at your... predicament.” His face broke into another grin as he mischievously darted a covert glance down into the murky water below her waist. Then the gentlemanly side of him kicked in. He shrugged off his battered leather jacket and held it out. “Here. Put this on. It's long enough to cover your, um … well, it's quite big,” he said lamely. “And it doesn't matter if you get it wet.”

She reached for it with shaking fingers and slid her frozen arms into the sleeves. “T-turn around while I f-fasten it.”

“Sure.” He obliged, listening to the lap of the waves as her cold fingers struggled with the zip.

“Need any help?”

"No," she snapped.

When he heard the zipper slide up, he turned. She waded towards him, sea water sloshing around her. Her blue-grey eyes were the colour of the sea, and there was an angry glint in them.

“Thank you very much-”

“Think nothing of it,” he interrupted. “Glad I could help.”

“I hadn't finished.” She glowered at him, her eyes reminiscent of leaden rain clouds. “Thank you very much for laughing at me, you toad.”

“What? Me – a toad?! That's not a very polite thing to say to the guy who rescued you.”

“It wasn't exactly a rescue,” she said dismissively. She was already barging past him, walking quickly over the sand. She paused in her tracks and turned to face him.” He was admiring her nice long legs. The jacket came to her mid-thighs... such delectable thighs they were too. “And anyway, I saw you peeking! That wasn't very polite either.”

“Hey, I stopped to help, didn't I? Gave you my best jacket.”

“Best jacket? This old stinky thing?” she retorted.

“Huh. My jacket does not stink. If you don't want it, hand it over.” He held out his hand. That's got her. She's run out of smart-assed remarks now.

“I'm keeping it.” Off she went again. He soon caught her up on his unfairly long legs.

“I didn't say you could keep it.”

“My need is greater than yours.” She stumbled and would have fallen if he hadn't caught hold of her arm. “Oh damn and blast! Bloody pebbles!”

“Where are your shoes, woman?”

“I had a pair of flip-flops but the damn things were washed out to sea.”

“Don't look at me like that. I'm not giving you mine.”

“I never asked for them. Anyway, you have feet like an elephant.”

Ben's eyes sparked and his palm began to itch. “First I'm a toad, then I'm accused of peeking and having a stinky jacket – which you appear to have stolen – and now I have feet like an elephant. Don't you have a good word to say about me?”

“No.” She strode on, cursing as the shale bit into her bare feet.

“Not even a thank you?” Miss Mermaid opened her mouth to retort … no doubt it would have been something rude... when she stumbled again and crashed into Ben. “Oh I've had enough of this,” said Ben. He grabbed her and hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. “And now I'm a taxi service. You'll be getting a bill for my trouble.”

“Ohhhhh!” she shrieked. “Put me down! At once!”

“And let you cut those pretty little feet on the rocks? No, I don't think so.” He strode on, a smirk on his face as he held her tightly as she wriggled and kicked. “I'd be careful if I were you,” he warned, “it's not polite doing all that kicking when you haven't got any pants on.”

“Ohhhh!” she repeated, her face flaming with embarrassment. But she stopped kicking and kept her legs firmly together. “You insufferable man,” she muttered.

“If you say so,” he said cheerfully.

Miss Mermaid tried to maintain what shred of dignity she had left by keeping quiet for a minute or two. Though it was very hard to act dignified without any knickers on, and being jolted and bounced and generally tossed around over someone's shoulders. When she did speak it was to say, “Head towards the lighthouse.”

“I already am.” He shifted his burden slightly and began the ascent up a narrow path that led up to the cliff top.

She frowned at this. “Have you been spying on me?”

“No. Why should I do that?”

“Because you're heading towards the lighthouse, and that's where I'm staying.”

“Yes I know.” He soldiered on. Miss Mermaid seemed to grow heavier and heavier with every step he took up the incline. Was this a woman he had tossed over his shoulder or a small hippopotamus?

“What? You know? How the hell do you know that? See – you have been spying on me! I knew it.”

“Stop talking tripe.”

There was a silence. Then he felt her body shake. Poor thing. She must be freezing. “It's ok. We're almost there.” He struggled onwards and upwards, feeling the perspiration trickle from his brow. Was it really a woman he had hoisted over his shoulder, or a small hippopotamus? She seemed to be growing heavier by the minute. Then, to his surprise, the silence was broken by giggles. “Hey – are you actually laughing, Miss Mermaid?” She nodded her head and continued giggling. He rather liked the sound of her laughter. It was infectious. He found himself smiling in addition to sweating. Reaching the little path that led to the lighthouse cottage he set her down. “Ok. Share the joke. I want to know.”

“It's what you said. 'Don't talk tripe' – what on earth is that supposed to mean?” She looked at him, a smile on her face. He liked it, not only her smile, but her face, her legs, the windswept blonde hair and sea-blue eyes... everything about her.

“Beats me. It's something my Granddad used to say.” He grinned back at her. “I reckon it means something like stop saying silly things.”

“You northerners and your funny expressions.” She gave him a quizzical look, which changed to one of horror.

“What is it?”

“My key! Oh no – I left it on top of my flip flops. Shit!” she said crossly.

“Tsk, tsk, more bad language.”

“But you don't understand. I'm staying here for two weeks and I've lost my key.”

“Oh well, we'd best use mine then.” He delved into the back pocket of his jeans and produced it with a flourish. Miss Mermaid stared at it. Then she stared at Ben.

“I don't understand. How come you have a key to the lighthouse cottage?”

“I'm the lighthouse keeper – or was, it's all automated now but I still check in from time to time and do a bit of maintenance if needed. Come on, let's get you inside so you can change into some dry clothes, then I'll explain.”