Blushing at Both Ends by Philip Kemp Page B

‘Just what are you suggesting, Louise?’
    She plunged on recklessly. ‘Well, Héloise was Abelard’s best pupil, wasn’t she? Brighter than all the rest. But, when she was lazy, he didn’t hesitate to – to chastise her.’
    Abel laughed. ‘True, so he did. But you’re overlooking a couple of things. First, what was quite OK in twelfth-century Paris would get me sacked, and probably jailed, these days. Then, as you’ve obviously read Abelard’s letters, you know those beatings were just a pretext. “Sometimes I went so far as to strike her,”’ he quoted, ‘“not in anger but in love, not from hate but from affection, and the blows were sweeter than any balm. Under pretext of discipline, we abandoned ourselves entirely to love.’’ Is that what you’re angling for, Louise – an erotic spanking? If so, I’m sure Jake would be happy to oblige.’
    He spoke flippantly, but he was covertly aware of a stirring in his loins. The idea of putting this lovely errant girl across his knee was irresistibly tempting. It was precisely what she deserved – for indolence, for lying to him and, above all, for letting herself down. And she certainly had the ideal physique for it: that bottom so enticingly bared in the punt yesterday had revealed itself as full, flawless and beautifully spankable. Oh, the motivation was there, all right – on both sides. But he would have to play this one very carefully.
    Louise grimaced. ‘Oh, I’m sure you’re right. I’d have no trouble getting Jake to spank me. But he won’t, because he’s got no right to – no authority over me. But you have, Abel. You’re my tutor, which means you’re
in loco parentis
. It says so in the college statutes. And I know damn well what my dad would do, if he knew I was fooling around in punts instead of getting on with my work.’
    â€˜Namely?’
    â€˜Namely – put me across his knee and tan the living daylights out of me.’ Inwardly, Louise gasped at her own audacity. The idea of Dr Richard Gray, that most mild and tolerant of men, whaling away at his eighteen-year-old daughter’s bottom like some irate Victorian paterfamilias was so outlandish as to be farcical. Luckily Abel was most unlikely to meet him, since he was away on a two-year sabbatical in Auckland.
    â€˜Evidently a man of old-fashioned principles,’ Abel observed. ‘And I’m not saying you wouldn’t deserve it. But I think you’ll find, whatever the college founders may have intended, that these days the phrase
in loco parentis
scarcely covers physical chastisement. Especially not of a female undergraduate by a male tutor. Assault, gross indecency, sexual harassment and several other unpleasant terms are much more likely descriptions.’
    â€˜Only if I complain to someone,’ Louise countered. ‘And I shan’t. You know I shan’t. I mean, why should I? It’s what I need to help me work, I’m sure of it. You
did
say you’d help me in any way you could. Well, this is the help I need.
Please
, Abel.’
    She gazed at him imploringly, her dark-brown eyes full of entreaty. As if uneasy under the intensity of her regard, Abel got up and stared thoughtfully out of the window. Finally, he turned and looked at her.
    â€˜All right,’ he said, ‘I’ll do what you want, though I strongly suspect I’m being several kinds of fool. But you needn’t look so smug, young lady. There are conditions.
    â€˜First, if I find you’ve told anybody –
anybody
at all – about this, I’ll immediately resign as your tutor on grounds of overload, and have you reassigned to Professor Mulvey.’
    He permitted himself a brief grin at her expression of dismay. Angus Mulvey was notorious for giving the most stultifyingly dull and intellectually vapid lectures in the entire History Faculty.