“Your turn, Maggie.” Julia’s eyes sparkled with devilment.
“Already?” Yikes. Maggie Drummond grabbed her margarita off the table and took a fortifying sip. The tart, icy liquid did nothing to quell her jitters.
It was time—Tell a Secret to the gang from work. The Tight Five, they called themselves, the name taken from a rugby term where five players bound in a tight formation to face the opposition team. They were like that. Five friends who worked together at an accountancy firm and who maintained the friendship away from the job. The good and the bad—they knew each other well.
Julia—a sexy and adventurous blonde—had spilled the beans about her latest boyfriend on a night much like this over margaritas. A blow-by-blow description of the seduction. The red crotchless panties. The blue pubic hair. Soon their love of gossip grew into a weekly ritual at the Cock and Bull, a “You tell me yours, I’ll tell you mine” kind of thing.
The crowded pub rocked with music and erotic promise. Maggie squirmed, avoiding the gazes of her three friends. She never had anything worth telling.
Until today.
Fidgeting with her drink, scratching at an imaginary zit, clearing her throat a dozen times wasn’t helping. She was losing her nerve and losing it fast.
“C’mon, Maggie. Tell us your secret,” Julia shouted.
Maggie slouched in her seat as several heads turned her way, giving her the once-over. Why did Julia have to yell? Okay, so the men sitting at the next table wouldn’t hear her over the pounding throb of guitars, saxophone and the male vocalist headlining in the packed bar.
She hoped.
Susan and Christina bobbed their heads with enthusiasm, grinning, their focus on her. Susan—brown-haired, girl-next-door—and Christina—with her glasses and sexy gypsy-girl attitude—wore glee and tipsiness like badges. Maggie hated the limelight, always had since a childhood filled with her mother’s antics and histrionics. The big event that had sent her scurrying north to hide in Auckland had helped cement Maggie’s resolution to stay away from the glare of publicity. Sighing, she forced her thoughts from the past and wondered if this was a good idea. It wasn’t too late to stop, yet gut instinct forced her on, insisting she was an adult. Free to make choices and deal with the consequences. She wasn’t her mother, despite her father and stepmother’s harsh words.
The fine tremor of nerves slipping down her arm confirmed her disquiet. The slushy ice in her margarita tinkled against the edges of the glass, jogged by the quiver of her hands. She set her drink on the table and sucked in a deep breath, steeling herself to blurt out her secret. Not a feeble confession. Today she had a real secret.
Get it out.
She opened her mouth and closed it again. She couldn’t. Sure, it was a game they played when there were a few drinks involved—margaritas usually. But this time was different. It was her innermost desire she was about to reveal. The others had taken their turns and giggled like schoolgirls instead of employees of the staid Barker & Johnson, one of Auckland’s premier accounting firms. They’d released their inhibitions—a side effect of Friday night drinks and the promise of a long holiday weekend.
Now the floor belonged to her.
She licked her bottom lip, stress bubbling in the pit of her stomach. Time to produce her secret.
“What are you waiting for, Maggie?” Susan asked in a sing-song voice. “We’ve told you ours.”
“Secret. Secret. Secret.” Christina banged her palms on the edge of the table. Julia and Susan joined in the beat, their eyes gleaming with challenge in the dim light of the booth.
Maggie picked up her margarita and gulped to moisten her dry mouth. “Okay. Okay.”
Placing her glass on a coaster, she scanned the bar. No doubt about it. People were staring. Time to spill her secret before things turned ugly. After another deep breath, she dropped her gaze to her clasped hands. “I’ve started a website called BigBadAss.com.” She spoke so quickly the words ran together. Once finished, she scrutinized each of her friends, anxious now for their reactions.
“Big bad ass?” Christina’s watchful eyes held curiosity while her lips curved in an approving smile. She pushed her frameless glasses up her nose with a manicured copper fingernail. “Isn’t that racy for you?”
“What’s the big deal?” Julia scoffed and tossed her head before Maggie could answer. Her blonde hair stirred and settled in sexy curls around her almost bare shoulders. Shoestring straps held her low-cut black top in place. “It’s just a website.”
“Who’s a bad ass?” Susan smirked. “Don’t say Greg has found some balls?”
“Bother, I have a smear.” Christina rifled through her handbag for a tissue to clean her glasses. “Anyway, I want to hear more about this website.”
Questions. Maggie had expected them, but the comments and queries didn’t put her at ease. Her stomach vibrated like one of her younger brother’s toys—over-wound and about to fly apart. She wiped sweaty palms on her sensible navy skirt, swallowed and said, “It’s more of a blog.”
“A blog about what?” Julia asked, rolling her eyes. “Desperados? Bandits? What’s a bad ass?”
Maggie closed her eyes to summon courage. This next part was worse. Her teeth clacked as she closed her mouth. The longer her hesitation, the worse the mental strain would linger. Big bad ass, she wasn’t. More like a marshmallow, burnt on the outside with a gooey interior.
“I explore…um…my adventures in spanking,” Maggie said, forcing a smile. “Does anyone want another drink?”
“Spanking,” Susan cried out as the band ended their song and the haunting notes of a sax faded. Everyone in the vicinity heard her shocked shriek. Heads turned, customers surveying them with distinct interest. Two men at a nearby table leered. Their dark suits suggested they worked at the lawyer’s office next door, but their toothy smirks told Maggie their minds crawled in the gutter, armed with floggers and paddles.
“Shush,” she muttered, aware of the two plum-sized patches heating her cheeks. “It’s a secret. I don’t want everyone to know.”
Christina picked up her drink, golden bracelets jingling with musical grace. “Since when were you interested in spanking, Maggie?”
“Yeah,” Julia demanded. “How long has this been going on?”
Susan lifted her brows, her gaze darting from Christina to Julia and back to Maggie. “Does Greg spank you?”
“Um…” Oh, heck. She’d guessed they’d have questions. Greg was her boyfriend. Solid, dependable and boring. How was she going to tell him? True, she was a spanking novice, but Maggie refused to chicken out. She would explore spanking. It wouldn’t be like the fad diets she tried and failed.
Her spanking interest—or sickness, depending on how a girl looked at the subject—began with a book and some in-depth soul-searching along with a bottle of wine. She’d hauled her drunken self off to bed and, after reading more of the erotic romance, she’d had the best orgasm ever. Yeah, if she could scale those heights by herself, a real extravaganza lay ahead with a male lover. Right there, she decided to explore her wild side and the naughty spike of pleasure that jolted her right to the core every time she considered a swat on the ass. The fiery heat…
She could see the curiosity filling Susan’s blue eyes, the nosy interest mirrored in Christina and Julia’s faces. “You asked for one secret. I’ve given you one and you have to promise not to tell anyone.” Maggie had no idea where she’d dredged up this new courage. It reminded her of her teenage years, and she liked its return. The inner Maggie cheered, enjoying the nonplussed expressions on her friends’ faces.
“What about Connor? We can tell him, right?” Julia toyed with her straw, cocking her head to the side as she studied Maggie. “He would’ve been here if his rugby coach hadn’t called an extra training session.”
“No!” More heat climbed into Maggie’s cheeks. “Not unless you tell him your secrets too.” A glower through narrowed eyes served as a warning, an attempt to enforce her will.
She cringed inside. Her recent behavior would appall her father and stepmother who still reeled over the scandal of Penisgate. More gossip about their daughter would send them over the edge. What had come over her lately? Maybe a vitamin deficiency or something. In addition to thinking about spanking and researching kink, her fantasies had sprung into full sexy Technicolor. They featured Connor, and it wasn’t his cooking skills that grabbed her attention.
It was wrong.
“You can’t tell Connor.” Her friends would kill her if they learned about her fascination with Connor, especially since they’d agreed over a year ago he was off limits. His friendship and insight into the male mind was more valuable than momentary pleasure. Not one of them had experienced male friendship on this level before. Besides, the inevitable breakup would tear the Tight Five apart. None of Connor’s relationships lasted long.
Her crush on him was wrong on so many levels because she was still involved with Greg. But a bad girl struggled beneath her skin, trying to kick her way out in a bid for freedom. Her pointy boots were like sharp weapons, pricking at Maggie’s conscience.
“You can’t spill a delicious secret like this and not give us details. Please, I’m begging you,” Christina said. “I’ll give you a free makeover in exchange for details.”
“And I’ll contribute to the cost of the makeover.” Julia lifted her glass and toasted Christina. “Your fledgling business can’t take the entire cost of a freebie.”
“I’ll add cash too. See? That’s how bad we need the juicy facts.” Susan lifted her glass, empty except for one ice cube. Frowning, she tipped the ice into her mouth and crunched it loudly. She swallowed without removing her attention from Maggie. “We need more drinks. Wait right there, Maggie, and don’t say another word until I get back.”
Susan grabbed a tray from under the table, stacked the empties on it and pushed through the throng of customers to get to the bar. Julia and Christina stared at Maggie in fascination. They gawked for so long she raised her hand to check for an extra nose.
“Stop staring at me. I feel like a specimen on a microscope slide.” Maggie shot to her feet. “I’ll go help Susan with the drinks. It’s my turn to buy, anyway.”
“You’re not going anywhere until you answer our questions.” Julia grabbed her arm, her brows scrunched together. “Where’s Greg tonight?”
“He’s at rugby training with Connor,” Maggie said, sitting back down. “They’re on the same team, remember?”
“Does he know about the spanking? Heck, I can’t imagine him with a flogger or a paddle—” Christina broke off, her eyes widening. “Does that mean you’re—” Part of a chortle escaped before she slapped a hand over her mouth to block the rest.
“You’re not spanking Greg, are you?” Julia asked, finishing her friend’s sentence.
“No one’s spanking anyone yet,” Maggie snapped, wriggling on her seat as arousal sped through her body. The merest thought of a perfectly placed thwack brought a rush of excitement. Not with Greg, though. Imagining Greg and spanking in the same sentence made her head ache. A big time problem, since he was her boyfriend. How did a girl broach the subject with her guy? Honey, I want you to spank me. Nope, it wasn’t something that came up in everyday conversation.
Susan arrived back with the tray of drinks in time to overhear Maggie’s reply. “Why not?” Her friend shunted a margarita across the pitted wooden tabletop and tossed two bags of peanuts and a bag of crisps at them. “Tell us why, Maggie, and don’t leave out a thing.”
Her friends’ expressions told Maggie she had no chance of escape until they received an explanation. She dragged in more air, which did nothing to still her skittish nerves. Best to spit it out so they could move on in conversation.
“When I flew to Wellington to visit my father and stepmother two weeks ago, I forgot to take my e-reader with me. I was running late and grabbed the first book I saw with an interesting cover.” She grinned, remembering the hunky guy on the book jacket. “I didn’t realize I’d purchased an erotic romance until I boarded the plane.”
“You read romances in a public place?” Julia demanded, shocked. “Why didn’t you read on your phone?”
Maggie shrugged. “The cover wasn’t graphic. Quite tasteful with a naked back and a sexy tattoo. Besides, I don’t care what anyone thinks about my reading material. I’m not apologizing for enjoying genre fiction.”
Not even to Greg, she finished silently. His snide remarks irked her. These days she kept her erotic books out of Greg’s sight. It was easier than listening to a lecture about literary fiction.
“Don’t forget we know you,” Christina said, wagging a bejeweled finger in Maggie’s direction. “You don’t like talking to strangers, and shoving your nose in a book is a way to ignore people.”
“So I’m shy. Shoot me.” The truth was strangers who paid her attention scared her. There was always the chance it was a reporter who recognized her and wanted to dissect the past. Heck, recollections of Penisgate still gave her nightmares. Only when she came to know people did the wariness fade to manageable portions.
“Don’t change the subject.” Susan licked the salt off the rim of her glass, her long, straight hair falling forward to cover her cheek. Impatiently, she brushed it back, tucking the annoying strand behind her ear. “Get back to the spanking.” The foil packaging of the peanut packet rustled as she ripped it open. “Carry on.”
Maggie’s nose wrinkled in acknowledgment. Seemed prevarication wouldn’t do the trick. Her friends knew her too well.
“The romance novel was about a couple who used spanking as part of their sex lives. It…” She moistened her lips again, the resulting soreness telling her it was time to quit with the licking. “It turned me on,” she finished on a rush, her gaze dropping to her drink. Her quick sip gave her friends a convenient pause to slip in questions. They didn’t take advantage, remaining silent, waiting for her to speak again. Bother.
“It…ah, made me curious,” Maggie continued. “So I did research and decided spanking sounded interesting, something I wanted to try.” And she still couldn’t believe she’d ignored her past experience and done something that might attract attention from others. She scanned her friend’s faces, waiting for them to say something, anything. “I suppose you think I’m a freak.”
Susan’s hand covered Maggie’s. “We don’t, sweetie. It’s what you think that’s important. What does Greg say?”
“I…I haven’t mentioned it to him yet. I thought I’d do it tonight or some time during the weekend.”
“Bigbadass dot com,” Christina mused. “What sort of things do you write about?”
“Stuff,” Maggie said, keeping her answer vague. Was it hot in here or what? She slid the top button of her cream shirt open and picked up a cardboard coaster to fan her face. She couldn’t help but smile. Her blog stats would rise. It didn’t take a genius to realize her friends would check out her guilty secret.
“You know we’re gonna look,” Julia said.
“That’s okay,” Maggie replied. Liar. Liar. Pants on fire. “But if any of you tell anyone I’m Big Bad Ass, I’ll…I’ll smother you with my breasts.” Raised brows and a broad grin signaled her triumph. She bounced on the padded seat, making her generous breasts jiggle. “It won’t be a pleasant way to go. And don’t think I couldn’t hold you down, because I could. I’ve been going to the gym with Connor.” A flex of her right arm showed off her new muscle tone.
“Ooh,” Susan cooed. “Armed and dangerous.”
“Yeah. And don’t forget it,” Maggie said, firm and sure of herself.
Julia giggled. “Connor said he’d dragged you off to the gym, but I didn’t believe him.”
“He felt sorry for me because Greg was so busy with his clients,” Maggie said. “He caught me crying one day, and before I knew it, he had me sweating my way through a boxing class.”
“You’re still going to the gym?” Christina asked.
Maggie nodded. “I whined a lot during the first visit, and I still complain for form’s sake, but I enjoy it. Don’t tell Connor. I’ll deny everything.”
She’d die if the gang knew her other secret. Watching Connor work out at the gym. A sigh whistled past her teeth. He looked mighty fine with the sheen of sweat coating his skin. They didn’t do the same work out, since, as a newbie, she couldn’t keep up with him, but they arrived and left together.
Maggie valued the time spent with Connor. They laughed and talked about things—lots of stuff that had nothing to do with work or the weather. It had been so easy to let him slip into her fantasies. The bad girl inside Maggie had put up little fight, happy to daydream about Connor and lots of delicious kink at the same time.
Another change to make in her future. Connor had a girlfriend, one of many in a long line of leggy blondes. She had Greg, and there was her agreement with Julia, Christina and Susan, not that Connor would be sexually interested in her voluptuous curves.
“Are you sure we can’t tell Connor?” Julia asked with a faint pleading tone.
“Not unless you want me to tell him about your blue pubic hair,” Maggie retorted. The others laughed, albeit a trifle uneasily. Their secrets were hers to tell as well.
“I did it for a dare,” Julia snapped.
Maggie’s brows rose. “Doesn’t matter. A juicy secret is a juicy secret.”
“Oh, all right.” Julia’s shoulders slumped in defeat. “I won’t tell. Mine is a girls’ only secret.”
“Your current lover will know,” Christina said with a chuckle. “What does he think about the blue heart?”
“He likes it,” Julia retorted, unfazed by their laughter. “He thinks I’m adventurous.” Her grin brought a host of giggles.
Maggie glanced at her watch. After ten. Time to head home. “I should go, otherwise Greg will arrive at the apartment before me.”
She stood and lurched to the side. Problem. On the second attempt, her legs trembled, her balance not the best. A tight grasp of the tabletop prevented an embarrassing fall on her butt. Bother, the last drink had been a mistake. She should have eaten some peanuts. Diets and cocktails weren’t a good mix.
“Greg doesn’t need you to hold his hand,” Susan said.
Julia winked. “Maggie might want to discuss spanking with him.”
“Not tonight,” Maggie said in a wry tone. “I’ll need my wits about me when I start that discussion.”
Besides, her stomach hurt each time the topic of Greg and spanking combined in the same thought. Call her a pessimist, but her present anxiety didn’t bode well for the future.
The cabbie dropped Maggie at her door. She paid the driver, then stumbled from the cab and up the three steps leading to her apartment building. She took the lift to the second floor and pulled out her keys. A curse squeezed past her tight lips when the keyhole moved from side to side. Muttering another string of naughty words under her breath, she aimed her key at the lock. Without warning, the door opened. She lurched forward, her nose colliding with a masculine chest. Oops.
“Hey, G-G-Greg!” A wave of alcoholic fumes exited with her warble. It must’ve been worse than she thought, because Greg took a step back and held open the door. He smiled, except it didn’t reach his eyes. Even in her relaxed state, his chilly attitude registered, and her stomach plunged with apprehension. Great. The last thing she wanted was a fight.
“You’re drunk.”
“They kept forcing margaritas on me.” Maggie grimaced, admitting to herself her friends hadn’t twisted her arm.
“Those girls are a bad influence.” Disdain shone in his eyes. “I don’t know why you hang out with them.”
“They’re my friends. I like them.” Same old. Same old. Maggie put her hand to her forehead, but the pounding continued. Well-meaning people, including her parents, always told her how to behave. Why did she put up with it?
“Maggie…” Greg began, his tone telling her he had more to say.
“Can we change the subject?” she asked, trying to smile. “We always fight about my friends.”
Maggie flicked on the light. If her unsteady steps made her bump into something, she’d prefer reality over imagination. Objects developed creepy crawly legs in the dark, but that didn’t prepare her for what she saw—Greg sporting a black eye.
“What happened to your eye?”
“It’s nothing,” Greg said, trying to make light of his injury.
“Yes, it is. Who hit you?”
“Connor.”
“What?” Disbelief colored her reply. “Why?”
“He jabbed me in the eye during a maul at rugby practice.”
That revelation put Maggie on the defensive. “I’m sure he didn’t mean to hurt you.” Too late she realized she shouldn’t have stood up for Connor. After all, Greg was her boyfriend. She sighed. Connor loathed Greg and all she managed to worm out of her friend was that it involved a girl.
Maggie shrugged. Boys will be boys. Didn’t everyone have stuff in their pasts they’d rather forget? She sure did.
“It hurts like hell.” He raised his hand to his puffy cheek, and she could see he was in pain. “I’d like to stay, but I’ll head back to my place. I’ll put ice on it when I get home.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, I have an appointment with a big client in the morning. Besides, I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”
“Oh?” She narrowed her eyes. What was with Greg, treating her like a commodity? Her inner bad girl wanted to let rip with a few well-chosen words. Instead she buttoned her lips. She’d hold her tongue until she was in control again. Two deep breaths did the trick. “Thanks for waiting for me. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
Greg smiled and the starch seeped out of her. She always was a sucker for a sexy smile. The flash of his dimples shoved her heart in to a pitter-patter beat. Her breasts prickled. “Are you sure I can’t entice you to stay the night?” Her sultry tone hinted he might receive a reward.
“No.” His decision remained firm. “I’ll see you tomorrow night for dinner.”
The fizz dropped out of her good mood. The abrasive way he spoke to her irritated her. Maybe it wasn’t spanking they needed to discuss, but the future of their relationship. At first, his take-charge manner had charmed her, although the bossy attitude had grown old fast. Why couldn’t he see her side? Compromise a little? Sure, dominance in the bedroom worked for her, except Greg tried to extend the power into all facets of their lives.
Maggie marched to the door, yanked it open and waited, proud of her lurch-free steps. She considered tapping her foot, but didn’t think her balance would stand the challenge. “See you tomorrow.”
He sidled past her, hesitated and stooped to brush a kiss on her cheek. Then, without another word, he left. She closed the door and leaned against it. A hollow sensation dropped into the pit of her stomach. Their relationship—what there was to it—wasn’t working for her anymore, but she wasn’t so sure breaking up with Greg would help.
The idea of having to go on another man-hunt cleared the alcohol-induced fuzziness from her head. Good men were hard to find. With a quiet chubby girl like her, it was practically impossible. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea to throw her fish back into the sea.
Deep in thought she wove a crooked path down the passage to her bedroom and shed her shoes and clothes, leaving them in an untidy pile on the middle of the beige carpet. She thought about picking them up—her conscience made her—then shrugged. Nah, they needed to go into the wash anyway. Naked, she hit the shower, emerging five minutes later, encased in her favorite scruffy blue robe and smelling like a field of lavender. The shower had helped clear her head. She’d decided. Time to move on with her life.
Tomorrow she’d tell Greg they were finished.
She could hardly wait.
Maggie made a cup of instant chai latte and waited for her laptop to power up. The second the distinctive Windows opening tune played, a sense of peace and satisfaction settled over her. Life wasn’t always about making safe choices. Sometimes a person needed to step up and jump into the unknown, despite the haunting specters of the past.
She logged onto her blog and started to write.
Yesterday, the thing that worried me most about my new interest in spanking was telling my boyfriend. I worried he’d consider me weird. Kinky. Well, okay. I’ll admit to the kinky, since this is a blog about spanking, but call me weird, and I’ll deny it strenuously.
Today, I have a new problem. It’s obvious Mr. X and I aren’t suited. I don’t know why I didn’t see it before, or maybe I did and was too stubborn to admit the truth. He wants a quiet woman who will stay in the background and support his career. Dinners with the boss, look after the kids—that sort of thing. I guess my quiet manner fooled him into thinking I was the woman he could mold into the perfect wife.
We’re going to dinner tomorrow night, and I’ve made my decision: I intend to end our relationship. Hopefully, I won’t hurt his pride. We work in the same firm, and it’s gonna be hell if he takes our breakup out on me there. We’ll see.
Meantime, I’m short one boyfriend. I will need to go through the entire getting-to-know-you phase all over again with strangers before I can even casually mention my interest in spanking. It’s like I’m playing Monopoly and have gone straight to jail without collecting two hundred. I’m no beauty queen, but my friends say I look cute when I smile. Evidently, I’ve got the whole girl-next-door thing going on, complete with freckles. I have long, dark brown hair. It’s straight because I didn’t eat my crusts as a kid. That’s my mother’s story—her hair is beautiful with a distinct curl. Normally I wear it in a braid, because it keeps my hair out of the way.
I have plain brown eyes to match my freckles, a straight nose and good lips. I like my lips. They’re kinda plump and pouty. All this set in a chubby face. My breasts are on the large side. Let’s just say it’s not comfortable to exercise or attempt to jog without a restraining bra. I’m tall and solid looking. My mother used to say I take after my father’s side of the family. Considering she’s five-foot two, and I tower over her, I’d agree.
The point of all this description? It’s not gonna be easy to find a replacement, and it will delay my spanking experiment. I must find my kicks online. If any of you have suggestions about the best places to find a new boyfriend, please let me know. Oh, and I guess I should continue to collect tips about how to tell a boyfriend I’d like him to spank me. Keeping positive might bring me some good karma.
Maggie proofed her post and hit the publish button. Her post went live, and she felt lighter after spilling her inner thoughts. She giggled. Cheap therapy. Who knew?
Next, she checked the comments on yesterday’s post. Her hands flew over the keyboard, bringing up the right page. A chuckle escaped, her wide grin stretching from one side of her face to the other. As she’d suspected, her friends had visited her blog. They must have hot-footed it home to check on her sanity.
They’d made it easy for Maggie to guess their identities, using recognizable nicknames. Along with their smart-ass observations, they’d left remarks about their true feelings. The crux of their advice was honesty worked best. They thought she should tell Greg what she needed from their relationship.
Maggie didn’t think she’d get that far. She wasn’t about to make herself vulnerable with the truth when their differences were more basic—a simple divergence of philosophies.
What was this? A flicker of excitement had her moving down the page with her side bar. Someone else had commented, telling her to find a new man. This commenter had seen the writing on the wall before Maggie admitted the truth to herself. They always said it was easier to see the solution to someone else’s problems.
A yawn slipped free, telling her to leave the computer and climb into bed. Email first. She logged on and found a message from the same person who’d commented on her blog. Curiosity made her click on the open button.
Dear Big Bad Ass,
Ditch the man. He’s not good enough. He sounds conservative and not right for an adventuress like you. Stretch your wings and search for a new lover. Look for interests outside of the bedroom as well as inside, because despite what most men say, sex isn’t everything. Momentary passion won’t fill a life of loneliness. You need both passion and friendship.
Tell me what you like to do during your free time. I bet we have more in common than you think.
Kinky Lover
Maggie trembled and it wasn’t with fear. She couldn’t help but wonder what Kinky Lover looked like. Tall, handsome? She started to hit reply, then changed her mind. No. He was probably old and bald with a pot stomach and a desire to turn back the clock by fucking a nubile female.
Pursing her lips, her imagination working overtime, a giggle erupted at the thought. Kinky Lover had a point. Any man she hooked up with should share her interests. They needed compatibility both in and out of the bedroom. Something she and Greg lacked, which was why their relationship had run into problems.
Jeez, who was she kidding? The chances of finding a man were bad enough without adding to the equation. Affix kink to her list of necessary traits and she’d end up alone for a long, long time.
Which brought her back to Kinky Lover. He hinted he shared her interests. Did that include spanking?
She wrote a reply and deleted it. No, what did she know about him? He could be a rapist or serial killer.
But what if he was the answer to her spanking dreams?
Before she could change her mind, she wrote him a short email, asking him what he meant about their common interest, added a few basic details, and pressed send before she could change her mind. With her pulse still racing, she powered down her computer and went to bed, but she couldn’t sleep. She couldn’t stop thinking about Kinky Lover.
Would he answer her email?
And if he did, what would she do? Meet him for a spanking session?
Just thinking about it made her wet. Very wet.