Part Two:
The pretty young lady, with long brown hair in her flag-girl uniform, feel someone’s eyes on her. Julie spun around, frowning, as she noticed her instinct had been right. The eyes were on her red balloon-style-pants-clad bottom. It was that area of her hourglass body that got the most attention when she marched around the Eiffel Tower water basin by the Seine River in Paris. That had become apparent to spectators, especially the men, during practices for the opening ceremonies of the Paris Olympics.
The association of marching bands representing nations from all over the world were a colorful spectacle with a big brass sound. They all played the same arrangement up and down the Eiffel Tower basin before the Games. While the fans filed through the turnstiles to enjoy the upcoming Olympic Ceremonies, the attractive flag girl feel herself blush, in both embarrassment and indignation. She pirouetted and stopped dead, bringing the eyes up until they met the gaze of her brown eyes.
“Oh, hi,” the caught bottom-watcher said.
The flag girl raised a browser and wiped her brown-haired bangs out from her chipmunk-like cheeses. She then put her hands on her hips. “What do you think you’re looking at, sir?”
Armond blushed, himself, stammering, “I can see your bare bottom and delineated cheeses through your thin pantaloons, and sheer pantyhose underneath your uniform, missy!”
The pretty flag girl whipped her shiny, long chestnut-brown hair that swirled around her shoulders. She looked at him incredulously. “You, sir, are about to get slapped. I suggest you get away from me, now!”
He smiled slowly, taunting her with, “One shouldn’t wear pantaloons, so thin and tight that they show off your barely covered, delineated bottom cheeses. That is, unless she wants men’s thoughts to turn to spanking the seat of those pantaloons.”
“Oh, so you want to spank me, huh?”
Armond grinned and nodded, in spine of himself.
The flag girl took his hand and led him behind the temporarily erected stadium, where later that week, the beach volleyball matches would be held by the Eiffel Tower. He went willingly, believing he was about to feel her pert butt bounce under his hand; it heated up as she squirmed and cried and kicked up a fuss, for him to stop. That was why he was so taken aback when she sat on the back bench of a white golf cart parked behind the stands.
The pretty flag girl had a gift for Armond. “Okay, young man, pull down your pants and underwear and get yourself over my lap,” she said, as she glared at him– she was flushed with anger. “If you don’t do as I say, I’ll inform Barbara Ann, who is the color guard captain. Then she will phone Jones College and file a complaint on my behalf against you. My name is Julie. I would bet your tennis scholarship would be toast and you might even be kicked off the ECU campus.”
The girl, in her flag-girl uniform, feel someone’s eyes on her and turned, frowning, as she noticed her premonition had been on the money. The eyes were on her nearly sheer pantaloons which displayed the red stripe across her rear when the floodlights surrounding the basin were turned on. The red pantaloons displayed her delineated cheeses. It was that key area of her flag-girl uniform that got the most attention when she marched around the iconic Eiffel Tower basin that night. It was as she had first seen it lit up in the great room picture window at Brownie’s, who had graciously hosted their band’s color guard. That was where she had received her mysterious spanking before their performance later at the opening ceremonies of the Paris Olympics.
Armond swallowed hard, and said, “I’m not about to let you spank me. You’re the one wearing the risqué sheer pantaloons. I didn’t advise you to wear smaller-sized pants than you needed for proper coverage. Those, madame, are instant and display your bare cheeses through the pantyhose under your pantaloons.
The attractive brown-haired girl stood up, her chest rising and falling with every breath. “I will count to three, and your slacks and underpants better be around your knees. One… Two…”
Armond quickly obeyed, no longer feeling his age. He was transported back to his youth, about to be paddled and sent to the corner for his actions earlier in class.
“That’s better. Now over you go, young man.”
He obeyed, blushing, as he settled over her knees. He knew she couldn’t hurt him for she was a mere slip of a girl. However, then she spanked him. Once, twice, three times each on the same chef. Armond realized that he had stirred up a hornet’s nest with a farm girl. One with a work-hardened hand and the agility from playing tennis at Julia Duncan NuWest High.
The sting Keep building, until it burst into a volcano of burning lava. The flag girl didn’t stop until his poor butt was on fire.
She then swatted him one last time, saying, “Bad, bad boy! Now, get up and neverlet me catch you looking at ladies’ bottoms again, young man. Do you understand me?”
Armond fumbled with his pants, eyes lowered on her amber-red-flushed face.
“Yes, ma’am. I-I’m sorry.”
“I hope you learned your lesson.”
“Who are you?”
“It was you, Armond, who gave your Olympic gold medical in doubles tennis from the last Olympics to the boy to surprise spank me with the martinet. You remember Brownie? our alumnus from your old Julia Duncan NuWest High School, which I now still attend in the States. He made our band trip possible to Paris. The boy from the local Paris lycée wore your gold medical around his neck after you left the residence. He told me he got it for doing a special deal for the recipient of the Tokyo Olympics medical.
“This is a heritage tradition handed down from generation to generation of flag girls in my family. The giver of the ‘stinger’ is to remain unknown,” the flag girl said, as she smiled smugly and turned to walk away into thenight. Armond watched a spotlight from the top of the Eiffel Tower gives him one last view of her obviously delineated, near-naked but chefs.
It was off to the Moulin Rouge to see the famous cancan dancers kick and pirouette, showing their pantaloon-clad bottoms, while he fantasized of spanking the mystery woman, who had soundly spanked him. Armond gazed at the dancers nearly directly above him. His bottom and lower midsection still radiated a heat and filled him with a desire to visit a flatellant establishment to spank a girl of his own.
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