ON THE SET

"THE LONGEST DAY"
(part One of Three)

Alan didn’t quite know what had pushed him to accept the task in the first place. He didn’t even remember what arguments Emma’s teachers were using in order to convince him, nor, most of all, why. All he knew is that they had succeeded, and now he was to spend an entire morning in the Tate Gallery. Oh, absolutely beautiful, yes, breathtaking actually... but not when you are one of the three accompanying parents of a 21-units classroom, and not when those units are thirteen-year-olds who couldn’t care less about art. Such "educational" trips were plain cruelty to kids and parents as well!

To teachers too, to be honest. Emma Rickman, Sammie Turtledove, Melissa Weston and the others’ Art teacher was attempting to lecture on a certain painting, while most of the kids were either snickering at the nude statues, or making random comments on the weirdest pictures, or just talking amongst themselves. Emma was one of those involved in deep chatting with Sammie, of course, who else?, and their discussion had nothing to do with Art, instead it was about the latest movie they had seen and when they could go see it together again.

While trying to get interested in the teacher’s explanation, Alan knew his task there was just to look after kids and make sure they didn’t wander off in the huge museum and stayed packed, and possibly attentive to the lectures. After reprimanding a couple of boys trying to stick chewing gum on a statue, he approached Emma and whispered in her ear.

"Are you gonna quieten down any time soon, Em?"

Emma blushed a little as she looked back at him. "Well, it’s really boring," she whispered.

"Yeah, totally," Sammie added, handing Emma a candy bar.

"Also your constant chatter is," he remarked, casting a side look at Sammie too. "C’mon, at least pretend it’s interesting... and that stuff will ruin your lunch, you know?" he pointed at the candy.

"Nah, I eat everything," Emma answered truthfully.

Sammie nodded in agreement. "Yeah, we already had corn chips and split a pop." Emma rolled her eyes, giving Sammie a look that said: girl, you talk way too much!

"Oh you did, didn’t you?" Alan said, looking quite reprovingly at Emma, who knew all too well she wasn’t supposed to eat out-of-meals. "Come on, pay attention and quit talking so much."

"Is the little baby getting in twouble with her Daddy?" Melissa sneered as they caught up with the group. Despite everything, she just couldn’t miss a chance to tease Emma about the fact that she was spanked at home.

"Bite me," Emma hissed back.

"Oh, Miss Foster! Emma said a terrible word to me!" the girl said, rushing to the teacher and pulling on her sleeve.

Emma’s jaw dropped open, but at least she remembered to poke Sammie in the ribs to keep her enthusiastic friend from kicking the class snob – the least thing they needed now was to get in a fight. Though he couldn’t hear what they where saying, Alan witnessed the girls ‘skirmish’ and shook his head, casting that Melissa-someone a nasty look, though he could tell she really wouldn’t care less about him.

"Bad word, Emma?" he said, approaching the group. "Oh I’m sure she didn’t, miss Foster, she knows better. Can’t you make up more creative stories, Melissa?" he snapped, heavily ironical.

"Look, just because you’re famous doesn’t give you the right to be a shit-head," Melissa hissed at Alan. Emma growled and the entire can of Cherry Coke that Sammie had just handed her all over Melissa’s head.

"Take that!" she exclaimed.

Alan just couldn’t believe the trash coming out of that girl’s mouth... and even less, he could believe what Emma did, surely with Sammie’s not-too-secret approval.

"Girls, that’s enough!" miss Foster cut in with a loud snap, shoving the three girls away from one another before it could get any worse.

"It sure is," Alan confirmed. While everyone was too busy around Melissa, he grabbed Emma’s wrist and led her away from the group. "Are you out of your mind??"

"Ow, and of course not, she’s a brat!" she giggled as Sammie gave her a thumbs up.

"Yes she’s a major brat and if only I could I would teach her not to be one," he hissed, while casting a bad look at Sammie for being so enthusiastic. "But this is no justification, you don’t do things like that!"

"Yeah, well, then she needs to leave you alone," Emma said with a frown. "Hey, they are leaving..." she pointed out as the group headed away to find a restroom for Melissa, who was putting up a royal fit.

"I appreciate that you defended me, Emmy," he said, sincerely, "but you know better than to do things like that! Good thing they are leaving, this leaves us some time to deal with it."

Emma sighed. "I’ll apologise to her and Miss Foster, but she really did deserve it, dad! And besides, if I hadn’t done that, Sammie might have jumped her and bite her throat or something!" she told him, and she was darn serious: Sammie had the tendency to be much more physically aggressive than Emma, who was the more steadying force in their friendship, the voice of reason; that thought usually scared Alan, his child being the voice of reason!

He sighed too. "Yes I know how Sammie tends to be, and had she done that, it would be her right across my lap right now, and not you," he said, hoping that was subtle-enough a hint that Emma was going to get a spanking.

Upon hearing that, Emma froze and had to think for a moment. "What?" she squeaked. "Like right now? Daddy, you can’t do that!"

"Like right now, exactly," he mimicked, but in quite a stern voice. "There’s a closed exposition room nearby, we won’t be disturbed. And I’m telling you again, Emma: your intentions were good, but in no way what you did is justifiable, you get that clear young lady?"

Emma whimpered. "Yes sir but please, not here, please, I’ll do anything!"

He took hold of her wrist again, and started walking toward the closed room. "I’m sorry, Em, it’s way too late for that. You did enough already." He made sure no-one in her class saw them, then pushed Emma into the room and closed the door. Emma’s hands went back to protect her bottom, out of the newly-acquired instinct since knowing Alan.

"Daddy, you can’t do this, please, what if somebody comes?" she wailed.

"I told you, this place is closed," he repeated. He eyed a bench in the farthest corner of the room, right under a painting portraying a man looking down with a very severe expression – something which, ironically, fit very much – and he walked to the bench, dragging her along. "Here, no-one’s going to see from the corridor; and don’t make too much fuss, or they’re going to hear."

Tears of humiliation gathered in Emma’s eyes and spilled over, making long trails down her cute face. "Daddy, please don’t," she whispered as she shuffled towards him. It never did do any good to beg, but that never stopped her from doing it anyways. "Don’t embarrass me like this!..."

Alan kept dragging her along to the bench and sat down, and without another word had her lie across his lap, wanting to hurry things as much as possible. "You brought this upon yourself, Em, you embarrassed yourself with your behaviour," and with that he lowered her bright blue sport cotton pants to just below her bottom.

Feeling her panties exposed and feeling totally out-of-place and breathless, Emma whimpered some more, clutching his leg tight: "Don’t bare me daddy, not this time, pretty pretty please!"

He heard her pleas, and noticing she was wearing very thin cotton knickers, he thought that maybe it was unnecessary to bare her bottom after. But he still pulled her panties into her crack, wedging them all the way up, and started slapping her bare cheeks. The young girl groaned as he moved her panties that way, it was so uncomfortable, but the sting of the first swat moved that thought from her mind. She bit her lip; there was no way she would be loud during this one spanking and draw everyone’s attention!!

Alan knew he couldn’t and shouldn’t put up much of a show either, but he still smacked Emma’s bottom with firmness, making sure she got the message. whack! whack! whack! He spanked her hard and fast, wishing to get it over with quite fast. Emma kicked her legs, and whimpered, the only sound that could escape from her lips due to her teeth sinking into them. Tears rolled down her face as she squirmed and bucked from the swats.

"No more fussing from now on... whack! whack!... and pay attention... whack! whack!... even if it’s boring... whack! whack!... and uninteresting... whack! whack! whack! whack!... Am I making myself clear, Emma Charlotte?" whack! whack! whack! He kept up for no less than thirty smacks.

At long last Emma couldn’t hold it any longer and burst into sobs, burying her face in his leg to keep from making too much noise, still clinging tight to his pant leg. Rather unmoved by her reaction, Alan kept spanking, and when he saw her bum was quite pink and she was starting to get noisy, he stopped, quickly replaced her panties and pants and stood her up to face him.

Emma’s hands flew back to hold her bottom as soon as they could, and she rubbed vigorously. Upon invitation – his arms open – she hugged him and buried her face in his chest, crying out her tears as quietly as she could, her bottom lip swollen, almost bloody from being bitten so hard. He hugged her back like he always did, then noticed the state her lips were on, and shook his head. He wet a soft paper cloth with saliva and rubbed it on Emma’s lower lip, then kissed her forehead and told her she was a good girl...

"... but I let you off easy, just because we’re in public. Any more nonsense out of you and Sammie today, and you’re going to meet the wooden spoon as soon as we get home, ‘s that clear?"

"You’re gonna spank me for what Sammie does??" she squeaked, still crying, but now hugging him instead of rubbing her red cheeks.

"Oh come on Emma, you know what I mean," he said, hugging her back. "But I’m having a word with Sammie too now, and suggest her to watch her attitude as well... or, even better, why don’t you do that yourself, hmm?"

"You gonna spank her too?" Emma asked, sniffling, her face still half buried in his chest: the pool incident from just a week back was still very vivid in her memory, as though it had happened that very same morning. "Don’t spank her, she didn’t do anything... yet..."

"No I’m not going to spank her, though she’d deserve it, but I’m going to warn her, and maybe tell her parents too." He dried Emma’s tears with his shirt, then kissed her cheek. "She can be quite a brat, huh? It’s also up to you to keep her in check, you know?."

"She doesn’t mean to be a brat, she’s just... just... so American," Emma admitted, unable to find a better word to describe Sammie, and thus resorting to her heritage.

Alan raised his eyebrows. "Well, nobody’s perfect, right?" and he winked at Emma.

Emma smiled and nodded. "She’s the greatest, even if she does get me in more trouble then I manage to get myself into... now, if only we could spank Melissa," she gave him her best puppy-dog eyes and pouted, which combined with her tear-streaked, flushed face made an almost irresistible child for Alan to say no to. Almost. But she was kidding, since she quirked an eyebrow, gave a smirk and then winked at him, hugging him tight once more.

"Well, when she gets you in trouble, make sure you tell me, okay? I’m sure I can keep her in line too," he smirked back. Then, thinking about how immensely satisfying it would be to have that true natural-born brat Melissa across his lap, he said: "And as for spanking her: that’s a dream which is not likely to come true, Emmy."

"Too bad, huh?" she sighed. "You know, dad," she gave a little giggle as they stood and walked out of the closed area, "ut’s a good thing Professor Snape doesn’t spank, or no Gryffindor would ever sit again!" Emma looked up at him with a smirk, and playfully stuck out her tongue.

Alan helped himself to a hearty laugh, then playfully patted her bottom. "You Gryffindors are such brats, your hineys should be red as your banner, you know?" He winked back at her, and took her hand as they walked to reach the others.

Emma giggled and hugged him tight once again, then smiled and regained her composure and did her best to put on a happy face as they caught up to the others and waved Sammie over to her. As Sammie came over, Alan whispered in her ear as he walked by: "Pay attention for a second, will you?" then went looking for Melissa.

Hearing that, Sammie nodded but frowned, not sure what was going on. She turned to Emma and asked: "Wow, he... like, really spanked you?"

Emma nodded. "Hurts like heck too. And he says we have to pretend to pay attention or else you and I are gonna get it when you come over after school, and I am *not* friends with that bloody wooden spoon. And put the snacks away," Emma scolded, dumping Sammie’s mass supply into her school bag.

At the mention of the "wooden spoon", Sammie’s eyes went wide... no way he would spank HER with that!... but then again, no way he would spank her in a pool’s locker room either, right?

"Oh come on I’m sure he didn’t mean that... I’m not even his daughter, he can’t, like, spank me again... can he?" she asked in a meek voice, afraid she knew the answer already.

Emma shrugged. "Well, you wouldn’t get the spoon I reckon, but I would. You’re like... sorta a spanking virgin or something I guess, ‘cuz you’ve only got it once, so let’s PLEASE be good, I rather *like* sitting," she said, hugging Sammie tight, which her friend was thankful for. Then their attention was drawn to Alan and who he was talking to...

Melissa was whining to Miss Foster about telling her mother and wanting Emma to get detention or suspended for assault or some such nonsense when Alan tapped on her shoulder and smiled as she turned around. "Happy with the trouble you have caused, or do you wish to cause more, hmm?"

The fourteen-year-old spun around to face him, her eyes narrowing. "Back off, Harry Potter freak," she hissed. "I am *busy* here, hello!"

As soon as he heard such words, Alan felt anger mount inside him: "You little..." but miss Foster intervened again.

"Come, come... let’s all quieten down. Mr. Rickman, I take it you deal with Emma the way you see fit, and I’m glad you do," she said, giving him the nod of one who knows, or imagines, what was going on between them. "As for you, Weston, you can expect a formal note written to your parents, and I want to talk to your father in my office tomorrow morning, is that clear enough, or do I have to add yet another suspension to your list?" she said sternly, much to Alan’s satisfaction – he was inches away from dragging the girl away and spank her so soundly she wouldn’t sit for a year.

Totally not believing her ears, Melissa scowled at the teacher, but nodded; even she knew better than to argue with a pissed-off Miss Foster, and the field trip continued without further incidents.

* * *

Later that day, after taking the girls home and having fixed lunch, Alan was sitting in his study enjoying a bit of the so-longed peace he usually cherished while the dynamic duo Emmy and Sammie were upstairs together. But all of a sudden, like a thunderstorm appearing in the clear sky, Sam bounced into Alan’s office with a bright smile, not even knocking.

The five-foot-six redhead placed her elbows on his desk and made the cutest face she could muster: "Have I said how nice you are today?" she asked, in a feeble attempt to butter him up.

Sitting in his armchair behind the desk, Alan raised his eyes from the computer screen and looked straight at her. He had rarely seen anyone sounding so excessively flattering, but he still smiled. "Why, thank you Samantha... is anything the matter?"

"Well, er, kinda...." she sat down, wriggling a little. "Two things, if you have time, and must you call me Samantha? It is so... so... Bewitched" she announced.

Not having the faintest idea of what Bewitched was, Alan still nodded. "Alright, I’ll stick to ‘Sam’ or ‘Sammie’, if that makes you feel any better," he said, as though he was making a huge concession. "So, what are these two things? I sure have time."

Sammie looked around quickly. "Well, Emma is washing her hair, so like, I thought this was a cool time. Anyways... you wouldn’t spank me with a spoon would you? Oh my god, that is like *so* wrong, on *so* many levels!" she exclaimed rather suddenly. Though she would never admit it, Sammie was rather frightened of Alan in his ‘spanking mode’

Alan knew where she was going, and stood up, placing his glasses on the desk and sitting on it on the other side, in front of Sammie. "No, I would not spank you with the wooden spoon, you are not used to get spanked with implements... but Emma would indeed, because she knows it is what she can expect when she’s exceptionally ‘naughty’, so to speak," he explained in calm, deep voice. "And why is that wrong, in your opinion?"

Gulping, Sammie shrugged. "Wow, look at my nails, maybe I should go paint them..." she said quietly, starting to stand up.

"No no no no, wait a second," he quickly said. "Sit back down, girl. I asked you a question. And weren’t there two things you needed to ask, hmm?"

Sammie instantly dropped back into the chair, sitting straight. "Um... um.... um...." she stuttered for a moment. "Well, just ‘cuz it like, is," she mumbled.

"Go ahead, I won’t bite," he said, giving her a wee smile – though he wasn’t sure himself he wouldn’t bite, perhaps!

"‘Cuz it’s scary!" she blurted out.

Alan leant over so he was eye-level with her. "Does it have to do with your spanking, Sam?"

Sammie gulped and nodded slowly.

"I understand." He took the other armchair and sat down, close to her. "Come on, speak up," he said, in much of a softer tone now.

Again, her nails became oh-so-interesting. "It’s just, like, uber... weird, scary," she repeated, again whispering, as though she was afraid of the sound of her own voice.

"Well, if you trust me for a minute," he said, "scary things become less scary the more you talk about them, you know?"

"Maybe....."

"I won’t push you," he said, and outstretched a hand to pat her knee. "If you want to tell me, then you may."

"Like, it’s like, uber weird. My parents don’t, like, hit me and we all love each other; but you hit Emma, and she loves you the same way. It... it hurts... and it makes you......" her voice trailed off with a heavy sigh.

"Sammie, every parent chooses the way they see fit," he explained, "provided there are not laws about it, and we don’t have those here. I’m sure your folks love you a lot and have their methods to help you grow up. With Emma, spanking is that method, we’ve found out. But go ahead, please..."

The girl seemed to gather some courage from that. "Well, it just... it makes you kinda scary to me when you’re in that spanking mode," Sammie blurted out finally. "Damn, I’m so stupid, never mind me." She slapped her own forehead, looking upset with herself.

He stayed silent for a while, looking at the floor, wondering if spanking Sammie (and involving her in that all) had been a good idea after all. But he knew it was, deep down, he just felt it. Not that he was a fanatic of corporal punishment in general, no way, he hadn’t even been raised that way, but somehow he knew it was the right thing for Emma, specifically, and perhaps for Sam too.

"Sam, are you saying you’re afraid of me?"

She went rather stiff for a moment, biting her lower lip then nodded, while looking at her feet. "Sometimes," she sighed.

Alan sighed. "I don’t want you to be, you know that I would never hurt you."

Springing up her head, Sammie promptly nodded: "Oh yes of course! I’m just stupid, ignore me. And now I can’t remember what the other thing was, damnit..."

"Hey," he said, and raised her chin so she would look at him. "First of all, mind your language. Second: Sammie, you’re Emma’s best friend, you practically live here most days. I know your parents don’t spank, and that’s fine, but they are quite open-minded about it all, I know, and when you are here, I expect you to follow my basic rules. Not doing it will get you spanked too, hon. And I’m not going to ignore you, so you’d better remember that other thing," he added, smiling.

Sammie nodded quickly. "My parents let me say that word, but not the others," she whispered.

"Oh, alright then. Sorry," Alan apologised. "Still, try and not to say it while with me."

"Okay... and I know I almost live here, that’s the plan, I’m taking over bub," she tried to joke. "It’s... just... uber weird, I dunno. And spoons are scary-ness."

Again, Alan nodded and looked straight at her. "Sammie, are you trying to say that you, sort of, feel compelled to follow my rules here but don’t feel comfortable with the spanking part? And how would you feel if I had to spank you again? Please be sincere, hon."

Sammie nodded, because he had hit the nail on the head. That mood of him was so reassuring, though... "I dunno how I’d feel. It’s coolies that you like me, but strange too , ya know? I wouldn’t sock ya one or anything." she sighed. "It’s just... new."

"I understand. Well, I just hope you see that I did it because I cared," he explained, "and that I would do it again only if needed, and only if you truly deserved it. You would understand in that case the reason why, right?" He talked soft and soothingly through it all.

"I’m not *that* stupid you know. Oh, I remember the other thing!" Sammie exclaimed suddenly. "My parents want, like, a night to be all yucky and romantic, so very gross, can I spend the night?"

Alan smiled, and playfully tousled her hair. "I know you’re not stupid, silly. And what you call ‘yucky and romantic’ is probably the only time off they allow themselves in many years, so... oh wellll, never mind. Of course you can spend the night. But... you know." He stood and smiled.

Sammie scowled. "Yo, yo, but not the hair dude!" she announced, hands on her hips.

"Dude?" he repeated. "Do I look like I’m thirteen that you call me ‘dude’, huh?" he said, half-joking.

"Oops!" Sammie squeaked. "Sowwy. Am I in trouble??"

Alan laughed. "No you’re not! Come on, go help Emma, I’m sure you’ll like to do all your girly talk as you comb her hair or something of the like," he said, grimacing. She grinned and turned away to leave, but he called her back at the last minute. "Sammie?"

She popped her head back into the room. "What?"

"I meant all I said anyway. And don’t ever let me catch you say you’re stupid, understood? Ask Emma how I don’t like girls who have a low opinion of themselves," he said, all serious, but then he added a small smile for good measure.

Sammie nodded, smiling back sweetly, when Emma suddenly yelled. "DAD!!!!!"

Alan jumped up from the desk and rushed to the study door. "What’s up??" he yelled back.

"You are NEVER gonna guess who is coming over here!!" There was something positively giddy with mischief in Emma’s voice.

"That Melissa snot is coming over, her parents are making her!!!" Emma yelled.

"Sweeeeeet!!" Sammie yelled back as Emma slid down the banister of the stairs, her hair still wet and messy.

Alan raised an eyebrow and just couldn’t suppress the laugh that was spurting out from the bottom of his heart. "Oh thank you Lord," he muttered.

The girls ran around like crazy people, getting ready for their nemesis to come over; they had to look their best of course. It was going to be the most memorable day of their lives!

click here for pictures of Emma and Alan