What happens at dinner?

Julia spanks herself

"How effective do you suppose that thing is?" you ask.

"Well, there's only one way to find out," comes the unexpected reply. Julia stands up and turns to the side, pulling up her skirt to give you a glimpse of her stocking-top, lacy black knickers and smooth, creamy right buttock. Raising the slight paddle, she briskly smacks the side of her cheek. The first four swats are fairly firm, but the fifth seems aborted, barely brushing her reddening flesh.

"Ow!" Your colleague laughs gently, pressing her palm to the sore and burning region. "That actually stings quite a lot." She tries again on the same spot, but this time it only takes three blows before she gives up. "Yes, really quite a lot!"

She lowers her skirt and returns to her seat, rubbing her cheek under the table.

"Stop that," you order and she immediately complies, with a slight jump, putting both her hands on top of the table.

"Sorry. It's actually not too bad. The sting's already fading and unlike this thing," Julia indicates her cane, "it's not being replaced by a lasting burn. I bet a waitress could get half a dozen spankings and still be able to sit down by the end of the night."

"What do you bet?"

Julia giggles girlishly. "My parents always told me that girls who gamble end up with sore bottoms—sorer bottoms—and I don't have anything to wager that I wouldn't willingly give you if you asked, anyway. Besides, it wouldn't be fair to give her half a dozen spankings, just to test my theory. One would probably be okay, though!"