Party Lines Read Online Free PDF Page B

her
shoulder she took a ragged breath as she raised her skirt and lowered her
panties. Her bottom was still red and when she looked closely she could see the
faint imprints left by Ron Sharp’s hand.
    With
a cry of anguish she hurriedly pulled her panties up and dropped her skirt,
whirling to face herself in the mirror. For a minute she stood there and stared
at her reflection, feeling a torrent of rage well within her.
    “How
could you?” she screamed at herself. “How could you?” Turning she fixed her
eyes on the bedside table and with one swipe of her arm sent everything on it –lamps,
books, clock – flying against the wall.
    Lindsay
threw herself on the bed and began to sob, not from the hurt of the spanking or
anger at Ron Sharp but from confusion. For while the spanking had shocked an
angered her, she’d not felt the kind of indignation she’d expected. If anything
she’d felt disappointment that the first spanking – the spanking she’d
always known she’d really wanted – had been delivered without just cause.
    Ron
Sharp had been right when he’d said she shouldn’t have injected his personal
life into the campaign, but he’d done it first. Why? She felt conflicted,
confused, because if it had just been her then he would have had every right to
spank her. And it was with a great deal of shame that Lindsay now faced
completely the horrifying truth: he’d given her exactly what she’d always
wanted, only under imperfect circumstances.
    And
even worse: he knew. She could hear it in his voice as he followed her out of
the building. That was why she’d not turned back. If she had, Ron Sharp would
have known in an instant that she felt nothing unnatural in his assault on her
backside.
    But
then again, maybe he already knew. She’d not run straight to the police as any Worth Feminist would do. If she were truly
indignant the police would be cuffing him at this moment and taking him to the
station, where she’d be waiting to bear angry witness to his humiliating
ordeal. A revelation like that would ruin everything for him and become the kind
of scandal that would destroy not only his career, but bring Bradford Hopkins
along for the ride. With news of the assault on the front page of every major
newspaper – and probably the Drudge Report to boot – Clara
Faircloth would be a virtual shoo-in.
    Lindsay
rolled over, painfully aware of the still throbbing bum and threw her arm
across her face. Never, ever before had she felt so miserable, so conflicted.
She had a loyalty to Clara. But she had a larger loyalty to herself and
wondered whether her deep down need had telegraphed some vulnerability to Ron
Sharp. Why else would he take a chance on doing something so ridiculously
reckless?
    From
the other room she could hear her phone ringing and the sound of her own voice
as the message kicked in. “You’ve reached the home of Lindsay Martin. I can’t
come to the phone right now, but if you leave a message I’ll call you back.
Thanks, and have a nice day!”
    She
heard the shrill beep and was just wiping away more tears when she sat bolt
upright at the sound of a man’s voice. It couldn’t be. It just couldn’t.
    “Lindsay.
It’s Ron Sharp. Listen. I need to talk to you.”
    Lindsay
looked over to the phone on the opposite table – the one she’d not
cleared in a rage – and started at it as if it were a snake, as if Ron
Sharp were going to emerge from it.
    “Listen.
I know you’re there. I got a taxi right after you left and…well, I found out
where you live and I want to come see you.”
    Lindsay’s
eyes widened and with a trembling hand she picked up the phone.
    “You
can’t be serious,” she said, suddenly aware of how hoarse her voice sounded.
Holding the phone away she cleared her throat and took a sip of water from a
cup on the nightstand.
    “I
am serious,” Ron said. Then a pause. “I’m always
serious.”
    “If
you’re worried that I’m going to call the police on you