A Slap And A Kiss And A Spanking Threat

the detective and the girl he kisses after making his spanking threat

There’s a scene in Speak Softly To The Dead by Dale Bogard, as appearing in the January 1952 issue of Popular Detective. It’s the classic stuff; she slaps him, he threatens her with a spanking, and then she tries to seduce him:

Suddenly, she jumped off the chair. The noise her hand made when it slapped me across the left cheek was loud enough for the French maid to hear if she was listening and she would be doing that if she was as smart as she looked.

I sent both my hands out and got hold of Miss Lola Broekman’s shoulders. I used enough pressure to hurt, letting my grip slide down her forearms a little so that she couldn’t use her hands again. She stood quite still, her lips parted slightly against her shining teeth and her eyes snapping at me. Then they stopped snapping.

“What are you going to do?” She asked it in a quick throbbing tone.

“I ought to put you over my knee and give you a good old-fashioned spanking,” I told her. Instead, I let my hands drop.

She swayed off from me for a second, then moved close in until her body was against me. I could hear her breathing. It was a little faster than normal.

“I might like that — Dale,” she whispered.

Then her arms were sliding under my jacket and round my back.

“You feel nice under your shirt,” she said.

“I’ll bet you do, too,” I said. I thought my voice sounded a little thick and I hadn’t been drinking.

She tilted her head back fractionally, keeping her eyes wide open. I could feel the rise and fall of her breasts. I couldn’t feel my legs on account of they had gone off somewhere and I didn’t know how to get them back.

“Want to… find out?” She only just said the words.

I let one hand go in under her jacket and stay against the small of her back. I could tell that it would be a beautiful back.

“You can kiss me now,” she breathed, “and then we can forget all about this silly old case…”

I bent and kissed her on the mouth. Only once. It lasted about three and a half minutes. Her mouth was large and warm and melting. There were also other interesting things about it. Then I got my hands back on her shoulders and stood her off me.

“That’s for the slap,” I said. “For that and not for anything else.”

She twisted herself free, walked backward a few steps.

“You — you…”

I grinned wickedly.

“I mean you can’t get me off this case by waving a few curves at me,” I said.

She went on standing there, her hands clenching and unclenching and a lot of emotions criss-crossing her face. I didn’t identify any nice ones.

“Get out!

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