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Hearing the key in the front door as she came home from school, he shouted his usual "Hello!" but instead of going straight up to her room as she normally did, she turned into the living room. It struck him immediately that something had to be wrong; her face was pale and she was dragging her feet behind her.

"There's something I have to show you," she said in a thin, flat voice and handed him an inconspicuous little book. She had stuck her index finger between two pages to make it open in the right place. Only when he looked inside, he recognized the little message book used for notes between school and parents. At first he only saw the small notes in his own handwriting from the times she had been sick or was to be excused from gym, but then he noticed a message in a different handwriting in the bottom corner. It continued on the next page, but he got the gist of it before he turned the page.

"Cheating!" he said, "You have been caught cheating on a geography test?"

With a timid smile she replied, "I didn't mean to cheat, but I had forgotten to put my notes in my bag, and the teacher assumed I had them on my desk to cheat."

"That was quite careless at best," he said, "but this note indicates you were not the only one?"

She swallowed. "Yes, no, not quite..."

"Someone I know?"

"Yes... Margrete also got caught," she said and blushed.

"Margrete? Didn't you go to study with her the night before?" A nod was all the answer he got. "According to the note this will be on your report card, and you will probably get a D in geography as you couldn't answer any of the questions after the test!"

She blushed even more and replied, "I really could, but I was so nervous because of what had happened that my mind just went blank!"

"And Margrete didn't remember a thing either?"

"I don't know. Not much, I think."

He looked closely at her. "So you had really studied, then? The only reason you were allowed to go to Margrete the night before was because you were going to study for the test!" She nodded and looked even more unhappy. He suddenly thought of something. "But that test wasn't today, it was yesterday!" He looked down to check the date on the note. "Shouldn't you have delivered this note yesterday?" She nodded. He said, "But then Margrete's mother must already know. I think I'll give her a call."

"No, no, don't do it!" she pleaded.

"Why not?"

"Because..."

"Because what?"

"Because..." she hesitated. "We weren't at Margrete's that evening. Margrete got a phone call and then we went out to meet..."

"To meet...?"

"Some boys."

"Well, you didn't study then? Perhaps you didn't really know that much geography, did you?"

Hearing the key in the front door as she came home from school, he shouted his usual "Hello!" but instead of going straight up to her room as she normally did, she turned into the living room. It struck him immediately that something had to be wrong; her face was pale and she was dragging her feet behind her.

"There's something I have to show you," she said in a thin, flat voice and handed him an inconspicuous little book. She had stuck her index finger between two pages to make it open in the right place. Only when he looked inside, he recognized the little message book used for notes between school and parents. At first he only saw the small notes in his own handwriting from the times she had been sick or was to be excused from gym, but then he noticed a message in a different handwriting in the bottom corner. It continued on the next page, but he got the gist of it before he turned the page.

"Cheating!" he said, "You have been caught cheating on a geography test?"

With a timid smile she replied, "I didn't mean to cheat, but I had forgotten to put my notes in my bag, and the teacher assumed I had them on my desk to cheat."

"That was quite careless at best," he said, "but this note indicates you were not the only one?"

She swallowed. "Yes, no, not quite..."

"Someone I know?"

"Yes... Margrete also got caught," she said and blushed.

"Margrete? Didn't you go to study with her the night before?" A nod was all the answer he got. "According to the note this will be on your report card, and you will probably get a D in geography as you couldn't answer any of the questions after the test!"

She blushed even more and replied, "I really could, but I was so nervous because of what had happened that my mind just went blank!"

"And Margrete didn't remember a thing either?"

"I don't know. Not much, I think."

He looked closely at her. "So you had really studied, then? The only reason you were allowed to go to Margrete the night before was because you were going to study for the test!" She nodded and looked even more unhappy. He suddenly thought of something. "But that test wasn't today, it was yesterday!" He looked down to check the date on the note. "Shouldn't you have delivered this note yesterday?" She nodded. He said, "But then Margrete's mother must already know. I think I'll give her a call."

"No, no, don't do it!" she pleaded.

"Why not?"

"Because..."

"Because what?"

"Because..." she hesitated. "We weren't at Margrete's that evening. Margrete got a phone call and then we went out to meet..."

"To meet...?"

"Some boys."

"Well, you didn't study then? Perhaps you didn't really know that much geography, did you?"

1. The Spanking Hotel
"Come on," said Finn brandishing the wooden-backed hairbrush that resided on his bedside table, "lets have some fun!" He looked hopefully across at his wife, Bella, who was laid in bed next to him.

"Noooooo," Bella whined in response. "It's too damn cold!" She snuggled herself deeper down into the duvet, seeking more warmth.

Finn sighed. He knew she was right, especially when his sigh turned the air in front of him cloudy, but he loved to play with his wife and knew how much she enjoyed his attentions too.

They both loved the big old rambling farmhouse that they had owned and lived in for the last five years. It was high up on the Yorkshire moors, the views were stunning, the neighbours were over a mile away and the peace and quiet was priceless. The only real problem was heating the place. The heating system was old and rickety, hardly worked and drank oil as though it were on commission from the government. If it was feeling generous the system would deign to heat some water to somewhere between tepid and warm but if not the water would run as stubbornly cold as it was when it was first dragged up from the well over the hill.

Sensing her loved one's disappointment Bella turned to look at Finn. "Well, you could always light us a nice fire tomorrow afternoon when you get home from work!"

This cheered Finn up no end so he snuggled up close to Bella and they both fell asleep.

---oOo---
Bella giggled with delight as she twirled round to enable Finn to remove her clothes. The room was toasty warm, the fire was glowing brightly and their two Ragdoll cats, Bill and Ben, were sprawled on top of the piano snoring gently.

Now quite naked, Bella stood near the fire, enjoying the warmth on her skin. Finn watched her with admiration. Bella was twenty-five, six years younger than he, and athletically built with strong limbs and a toned tummy. Her bottom was Finn's favourite part of her - well, after her lovely face with the sparkling green eyes and the auburn hair that framed her features - it was beautifully sculpted, shapely and toned but with a wobble that delighted Finn.

Finn sat in the middle of their four-seater sofa and beckoned his wife over to him. Bella sashayed playfully over and with no embarrassment at all threw herself over Finn's lap. She landed with her feet up on the sofa at one end, her head resting on a cushion at the other and her bottom at the highest point, nicely positioned across Finn's knees.

Finn smiled at her enthusiasm, lifting his right knee a little higher to perfect her position and then raising his hand he started to smack her bottom, one cheek then the other, lightly to start with, gradually building up the sting.

A Judicial Caning for Mother and Daughter
The mind can recount historical events in great detail, even after many years. This account is so vivid it could have been yesterday.

I was celebrating my upcoming big '40' birthday accompanied by my daughter who was having a gap year before starting university. On an extended holiday, we had planned a short stopover on one of the smaller Emirate States to top up our suntan before moving on to the Maldives, where my husband was to join us for a blissful month of self indulgence.

I so remember the moment a sniffer dog took an interest in the hand luggage being carried by my daughter when we disembarked from the aircraft at the small airport. We were escorted to a room where a search of the bag revealed a small quantity of cannabis. I knew my daughter didn't do drugs. It was probably a combination of Western arrogance and the impetuosity of youth, but we both ended up being charged with offences. Of course we totally denied any wrongdoing and could only presume that the illicit drugs had been planted. Our passports were confiscated and we were bailed pending court appearances. We consulted a local lawyer who agreed to act for us. It was two weeks before the formal court hearing. We were surprised at the formality and efficiency of the proceedings, which although conducted in Arabic, provided a simultaneous English translation via headphones. A jury of eight local residents made up of six men and two women were to decide whether or not to believe our rebuttal of the charges.

At the conclusion of prosecution and defence arguments, the judge summarised the case to the jury and they were sent out to deliberate. In fairness the proceedings appeared to be conducted with absolute integrity and we could not fault anything. We were confident that we would soon be on our way to the Maldives, albeit ten days later than planned.

The jury returned and confirmed to the court that they had reached verdicts on the two charges we each faced. We were then asked to stand in the dock.

The clerk of the court asked the appointed chairman of the jury how they found against me, Amanda Binchy, to the charge of narcotic possession.

"Guilty," came the verdict. And to the charge of perverting the course of justice I was also found guilty.

When asked about the similar charges against my daughter, Scarlet Binchy, the jury spokesman revealed she was also found to be guilty.

The judge then addressed us. "Amanda and Scarlet Binchy, you have both been found guilty of serious charges. I will hear pleas of mitigation from you or your legal advisor before passing sentence in one week's time. However I must advise you that a custodial sentence is likely, so I am remanding you both into custody pending sentence. Take them down."

With this we were taken to separate holding cells within the court building.

Prudence Wilson poked her head out of the open window of the Pullman car and looked down the length of the track. The conductor had finally announced her destination and she could now see the station approaching. Her heart was racing with excitement. It had been a long journey to this prairie town in the Oklahoma Territory. She had come all the way from Brisbane, in Queensland, Australia ... half way around the world!

Shielding her eyes, she tried to pick out her uncle and his family on the approaching platform. Her efforts were frustrated by a firm male hand which gripped her by the shoulder and pulled her back into her seat.

"I believe your father would be quite perturbed with me if I returned you to him with a telegraph pole embedded in your forehead, Prudence," the man said.

"We're almost there, Mr. Turner. Isn't it incredible?" she exclaimed, ignoring the scolding. "I can't believe we've traveled halfway around the globe."

Cyrus Turner removed his wire-framed spectacles and began wiping the lenses with a large white handkerchief. He was a business partner and close personal friend of her father, William Wilson. He had business to attend to in New York City and had agreed to chaperone Prudence to her destination before continuing on his way to New York.

"It's 1890, Prudence," he said. "The world gets to be a smaller place every year. Soon it will be a new century. Who knows what wonders it might hold?"

Prudence felt her pulse quicken with each turn of the locomotive's drive wheels. She thought she must be the luckiest girl alive to be having such an incredible adventure.

It was the beginning of her eighteenth summer and she had blossomed into a very attractive, young woman. She was tall as girls went, nearly five-foot-seven the last time her father had made the pencil mark on her bedroom door and checked it with a measuring tape. Blessed from birth with her mother's thick chestnut brown hair and her father's blue eyes, she had more recently developed the curvaceous figure of a young woman. It was a great relief to her after spending her adolescence as a thin, gangly, uncommonly tall girl.

She had secretly taken great pleasure in the appreciative glances she had noticed from several young men during her long journey. Of course, Mr. Turner had glowered at them and they had all hastily retreated.

The whole wondrous odyssey had come about as a sort of graduation present from her parents. She had long begged them for the chance to go visit her American relations. Her father had finally agreed to finance the venture upon satisfactory completion of her schooling.

Her Uncle John was her father's younger brother. Both men had been born in England but had gone abroad to seek their fortunes, her own father to Australia and his brother John to the ever expanding America. She looked forward to meeting them finally.