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Mr Marshall broke into a run but the Fiesta was finally
free and it swept past him.  He caught a closer glimpse of the
fair haired woman driver, but she disregarded his calls to
stop and drove straight past him out of the car park.  He
managed to memorise part of her car’s registration number.  It
was an A reg and ended in FKM.  Then, intensely angry, he
walked up to his car and inspected the damage.

There was a bad dent in the rear end of the car and a
rear light and a reversing light had been smashed.  Mr
Marshall cursed.  Anybody can have an accident, but this woman
must have known what she’d done and she hadn’t stopped, just
driven away.  Before his retirement, the year before, Mr
Marshall had been deputy headmaster of a comprehensive school.
Now he devoutly wished that he was still there and that the
woman driver had been one of his pupils.  He would have made
sure that it was a long time before she felt like sitting
down!

Putting such thoughts aside Mr Marshall drove off.  He
reported what had happened to the police because he supposed
that if he didn’t he would not be able to claim on the
insurance.  The police told him that the woman had committed a
crime by not stopping after the accident and that they would
keep a look out for her.  As he went through his story Mr
Marshall had had an idea in his head that the glimpse he had
had of the woman’s face had been familiar, somehow, but he
could not think how and he said nothing of it.

The following day, driving around the town centre, Mr
Marshall kept his eyes open for an A registration Fiesta with
FKM in the number.  Almost to his surprise he saw one!  There
it was parked outside Boots in the High Street.  He parked
around the corner and walked back to the car.  There was no
doubt about it, he could see the dent in the front bumper and
white paint scraped off his Volvo.  On the off chance Mr
Marshall waited, concealing himself in a nearby telephone box.

After about five minutes he was rewarded by the sight of
an attractive young woman approaching the car.  As she did so
he recognised her.  Vivien Forster!  She had been a pupil at
his school in the old days and, although he had never caned
her, she had had a very narrow escape indeed on one occasion.
He stepped out and confronted her.

As soon as she saw him the 25 year old Vivien knew what
it was about.  She had recognised her former teacher in the
car park the previous day.  But she didn’t admit anything.

“Hello, Mr Marshall,” she said, “fancy meeting you
again!”

“Vivien Forster, isn’t it?  And I think we almost met
yesterday!”

Ignoring the second part of this speech Viv said
brightly, “No, it’s Booth now – I’m married!” and she waved
her wedding ring in front of the ex-teacher’s eyes.

Mr Marshall did not waste any time in telling Vivien why
he had been waiting for her.  He told her that he had informed
the police and that she had committed an offence and been
completely irresponsible.  At the mention of the police Vivien
quietened down considerably.  She tried to explain to Mr
Marshall that they didn’t need to be involved, but he
explained that he’d already given them what he could remember
of her number.

At this point there was a pause.  Vivien and Mr Marshall
were both remembering the last time they had met, ten years
earlier.  Viv and a friend of hers, Shirley Foster, had been
sent to him for the cane.  Shirley had accepted her six
strokes stoically enough, it had by no means been her first
time for the cane, but Viv had made such a fuss, bursting into
tears and absolutely refusing to bend over, that in the end Mr
Marshall had let her off with lines and a detention.

Ever since Vivien had been ashamed of her behaviour on
that occasion.  All her friends had called her a coward and
Shirley had never afterwards been so friendly to her.  Viv had
often wondered since what Mr Marshall’s cane would have felt
like across her bottom but had long since realised, with an
odd mixture of relief and disappointment that she would never
know.  Now she wondered if she could possibly find out and, at
the same time, achieve her objective of keeping the police out
of the matter and retaining her clean driving licence.

And similar thoughts were in Mr Marshall’s mind.  Vivien
had changed considerably from the tearful, scrawny fifteen
year old he remembered.  She still had the same light
reddish-brown hair, but now it was beautifully styled to
delicately encase her softly pretty face.  Her figure was very
attractive and was well shown off by her tight lime green
skirt and top.

Vivien came out with it first.  “I know I’ve been stupid,
Mr Marshall, but couldn’t you punish me yourself.  I bet you
kept that old cane, didn’t you?”

As it happened Mr Marshall had.  But he was not sure how
serious Viv really was.  “Don’t be silly, Vivien.  I remember
when you were sent to me for the cane at school!  You wouldn’t
accept a caning even then, so don’t tell me you would now.
And what about your husband?”

“I know I’m a coward, but I deserve to be punished and
I’d rather have a sore bottom than have to stand up in court.
And I’m sure Andrew won’t have any objections.  He’s often
said I deserve a good spanking, though he’s never done
anything about it yet.”

Mr Marshall was delighted to agree to the suggestion.  He
gave Vivien his address and told her to be there at two
o’clock the following Saturday, when his wife would be away.
He said that she could bring her husband along as a witness if
she wanted to and warned her that it would not just be a
caning.  First he intended to warm up her bottom with a sound
slippering and then give her a full six of the best.  At
school all the girls’ punishments had been over underclothes
and he told her that he would allow her to wear panties to
preserve her modesty, but that he expected them to be small
ones which would not provide excessive protection.  If, in his
view, they were unsuitable he would insist on them coming
down!

Vivien agreed to everything and they parted, Mr Marshall
reminding her that if she didn’t keep the appointment he would
tell the police where to find her.

That Saturday Andrew drove Vivien to Mr Marshall’s
address.  As Viv had expected he was not displeased at the
news that his wife’s former teacher proposed to cane her
bottom.  He loved his wife but he had often thought that a
good smacked bottom would do her a lot of good.  He’d never
understood how she’d managed to get through her time at
Ambrose Street School without ever getting the cane or even
the slipper.  And he was rather annoyed at the thought that he
was going to have to pay for the repairs to the Fiesta
himself, as they could not claim on the insurance.

Viv didn’t say anything to Andrew as they drove along.
She was very worried about what she had let herself in for.
The caning she had wriggled out of ten years earlier would
only have been three strokes and now she was going to get a
full six, and a slippering as well!  As the car drew to a halt
she let out a deep sigh.

“Don’t worry, darling!” said Andrew, hugging her closely.
“It will hurt but it’ll all be over then.  Be brave!”  Vivien
kissed Andrew back and said, “I’m sorry for what I did, love.
I deserve what’s coming to me, and I’ll try to be brave and
not let you down.”

They got out of the car.  As they stood on the pavement
outside Mr Marshall’s house Andrew looked at his wife.
Sometimes he could not believe his good luck in having such a
lovely woman for his wife.