Big Spankable Asses (12 page)

Melinda debated about it, feeling kind of stupid and embarrassed about the whole thing. She couldn’t believe she’d actually agreed to the scheme in the first place. “Well, one of those crazy loons I call friends—I can’t even remember which one—came up with this scheme for all of us, since none of us are getting any, to put ourselves out there, find a real man and get some action.”

“Right. Tell me, does this scheme involve you approaching Nick at all? Say, to jump his bones or anything like that?”

“Nope,” Melinda said, unconcerned. “Not at all.”

“Even though you can’t get the man off your mind?”

“Even though,” Melinda said in mild agreement, and took a sip of her soup. “It would be easier for me to go out with a stranger than it would for me to go out with Dr. Pantino. Does that make sense?”

“Not to me,” Cally said crisply with a shrug. “But I’m sure it does in that twisted mind of yours.”

Melinda gave her a stern look. “Do you want to hear about the plan or not?”

“Okay, sorry. I’m ready when you are.”

Melinda began her story. “So the idea is a crazy one, and I agreed to it because I’m crazy, too. The gist of it is, we each place an ad entitled ‘BSA,’ which stands for Big Spankable Asses. In our ads, we’ll each say that if a man can guess what BSA stands for, then he can have a date with the woman who placed the ad…”

Nicholas rose from his desk, deciding that he wanted a cup of coffee. He left the doctors’ office and walked down the hall to the kitchen. Inches away from the entryway, he heard Melinda say “big spankable ass” and stopped in his tracks. What the hell? He turned to leave, thinking that the way she said it—all conspiratorial-like—probably meant that this was something she would prefer no one else hear. Then he heard her say something about placing an ad and decided to stay. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, and with no shame at all, listened to the conversation.

C
ally wiped tears of hilarity from her eyes. “Wait, wait,” she said between wheezing breaths. “BSA? Big Spankable Asses? I love it! That’s hysterical and just the thing you need. You’re not going to back out, are you?”

“No, of course not. I would never do that, no matter how much ‘sane Melinda’ is telling me that I need to run like I just stole something.” She stopped to look at Cally, who was laughing so hard that she looked in danger of falling out of her chair.

Wiping more tears of laughter from her eyes, Cally said, “You’re that desperate, huh?”

“No, not really desperate, just sort of weirded out about it. I’ve never placed an ad to find a date before, and of course, you know that I haven’t been on the actual dating scene in years. The last time I dated was before I married Edmund and that was six years ago. The landscape has changed a hell of a lot since then and I’m just nervous about it, to be honest.”

“Well, it’s only normal that you would be,” Cally said. “But just go ahead and do it. You might surprise yourself and actually find someone.”

“Right. A lot of freaks, nasties and strange folks. How could I not with an ad titled ‘BSA’?”

“Probably, but you could also find someone to have a little fun with.”

“I know, and at least there’s a safeguard. I’m pretty sure there aren’t going to be many people who’ll be able to figure out what the phrase means.”

“Exactly,” Cally agreed. “And besides, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. Things can only go as far as you let them. Have you decided where you’re going to place the ad?”

Mel shook her head. “No, not yet, but Simone called me on my cell this morning to tell me about a local online dating site. I’m going to check it out when I get home.”

“Did she mean the site was locally owned or that it’s for Chicago locals?”

“It’s for people who live in the Chicago area, I believe. It would certainly narrow things down for me, if it is. Anyway, the site is called ChicagoLuhvin.com. Ever heard of it?”

“It doesn’t sound familiar, no.”

“Well, according to Simone, it’s supposed to be a lot easier to register with than other sites, and you don’t have to commit to any long subscriptions.”

“Cool. That should make things simple for you,” Cally said. “Are you considering posting on the site?”

“Yeah. I’ll either put the ad there or in one of the newspapers, probably the
Reader.
I haven’t decided yet. I need to check out the site first.”

Cally pushed her chair back and stood to dump her empty container in the trash. “Will you at least consider asking Nick out, Mel? I mean, the whole BSA thing may not even be necessary.”

“No, I don’t want to ask Dr. Pantino out.” She pushed her own chair back and stood to rinse her bowl in the sink. “Like I said, it would be easier for me to go out with a perfect stranger than it would to go out with him. I just don’t think I’m ready to take him on.”

Nicholas took the sound of the second chair scraping back as a sign that it was time for him to leave. Scowling, he walked unhurriedly back to his office. He couldn’t believe she was actually going to place an ad about getting spanked. His frown turned angry at the thought of other men putting their hands on her. “The only man who’s going to touch that ass of hers is me,” he said in a low voice.

He had to admit that it surprised him that she might want to be spanked. He’d have no problem doing it if that was what she really wanted, but proper Melinda getting spanked? It just didn’t compute for him. He supposed, though, that many people would be surprised at some of the things he’d done in the privacy of the bedroom.

“All right, sweetheart, if that’s what you want, then that’s what you’ll get.” Oh, he’d spank it, lick it, bite it—whatever she wanted. He had to laugh. She had a nice-sized butt, and he’d always wanted to get his hands on it. It had always surprised him that someone of her small stature would have a behind that size. It boggled the mind.

He had a feeling that it would fill his hands nicely, and he couldn’t wait to put his theory to the test. He sat down in his chair. He was finally going to get that date. It was about damned time, too. All he had to do now was figure out which ad was hers and they could stop all the playing around.

Nicholas sat at the computer in his home study. He frowned in concentration as he brought up the ChicagoLuhvin site. “Let’s see if she’s finally placed that ad,” he muttered in frustration. He’d been checking every day since he’d eavesdropped, and there had been nothing yet. He’d missed checking yesterday because he’d been on call at the hospital. But he knew she also hadn’t placed anything in the
Reader
newspaper, as he’d yet to find her ad. He’d seen one BSA ad there, but he’d known it wasn’t Melinda’s and had just assumed it was one of her friends. It just hadn’t sounded like anything she’d write.

“You certainly are putting me through my paces, sweetheart,” he said as he logged onto the site. First, he’d had a devil of a time finding the damned site because he’d been spelling it incorrectly—l-o-v-i-n’—the normal way, instead of phonetically. Then he’d had to actually open an account, feeling foolish as he’d done so, but glad that the site gave him the option of registering for as little as two weeks, or as long as an entire year. He’d chosen a monthlong subscription and had actually gotten a couple of responses, even without posting his picture. Of course, he didn’t expect Melinda to post hers, either. That would just be too easy.

He was lucky that the site was extremely searchable; otherwise he’d be going through thousands of postings by the day. Subscribers could search by gender, sexual orientation (including transgender and bisexual), and sexual proclivities (bondage, dominant/submissive, et cetera). Breaking it down even further, one could search by race and ethnicity and then date of registration onto the site. He always went straight for African American women who’d registered in the past two days—two days was the closest he could get in terms of time. He didn’t think he needed to go any further than that. The number of women who were looking for love absolutely astounded him.

“Come on, baby,” he mumbled as he typed in his search parameters. “Be here, today, just
be
here.” Melinda had been driving him crazy at work. More and more lately, just looking at her made him want to do things to her. Shocking things—the kinds of things that could easily get him arrested in several states. Just the other day, she’d been leaning over an opened drawer of a waist-high filing cabinet and the way the material of the white nurse’s uniform had stretched over and cupped her behind had made him have to turn around and go back to his office to hide a sudden hard-on.

He’d actually seen himself walking up behind her. She’d looked over her shoulder at him in surprise, but when it dawned on her what he was thinking about, she’d smiled in anticipation. He’d bent his head and kissed her, pressing his dick into her ass as he slowly bent her over the filing cabinet. She’d dropped the files and held on to the cabinet. He’d lifted up her skirt and pulled down her nylons and panties all in one swoop, palming that perfect butt of hers as he did so. His hand had worked its way to her cleft and she’d moaned, pressing her clit into his hand. She’d been so drenched with need that he’d pulled his pants down and slid his dick into her to the hilt on the first try. She’d pushed back against him in a frenzy of need while he’d pushed forward, and all too soon, he’d exploded into her at the same time that she’d come in a gush of cream. He’d even heard their moans and the banging of her body against the metal cabinet as he’d rammed into her.

In his head, the whole scenario had taken less than a minute. Nicholas frowned. His imagination had gone crazy since he’d met her, and he was becoming a desperate man. Unable to think of anyone but her, he hadn’t even had a date in three months and he hadn’t masturbated so much since he was twelve. Something had to give. Soon.

As it was, he always seemed to be two seconds away from palming her butt in both his hands, worshipping it with desperate squeezes and then giving it a stinging smack. Ever since he’d learned about the possibility of her allowing herself to be spanked, his mind had been filled with images of it.

The computer finally revealed the results of his search, and he quickly sat up in his chair. He skimmed over the results, reading some of them out loud. “Black beauty looking for stud to tame her.” Nope. “Tall and beautiful looking for short and princely.” Ahhh…no. “I’m hot and sexy. Are you?” He had to stop for a minute because he was laughing so hard.

“Well, at least she has confidence,” he said with a disbelieving shake of his head, and went back to scrolling through his results. “There’s our girl,” he said triumphantly a little later when he saw a title that sounded like something she’d write. He clicked on it.

Her title was “Brand New to the Dating Scene” and her ad read…

BSA. Can you tell me what these letters stand for? If you know the answer, I’d like to meet you. Before you start racking your brain in futility, however, I’ll give you a small hint. Okay. I’m going to tell you: the letters BSA…Oh, wait. First, come closer to the screen; you’ll see better that way. There. Ready? Okay, here it goes: the letters BSA don’t stand for anything you would proudly write home to your mama about. Unless you and your mama have a super-close relationship—one where you tell her everything, including about BSA. And if you have that kind of relationship with your own mama, then you should forget you ever read this, because…uh…well, I don’t think I want to meet you.

So how about it? Has the hint helped you figure it out yet, smart guy? If you think you’ve got the answer, e-mail me.

“Yeah, that’s definitely Melinda—quirky sense of humor, sassy attitude, and all,” Nicholas said with satisfaction when he was finished reading. His glance fell on the counter next to the post’s title. It gave the number of people who had responded to the ad. She’d already had twelve responses and as far as he knew, she’d just posted the ad the day before. She hadn’t posted a photo, nor had she given any pertinent details about herself. Hell, she hadn’t even listed her name. But Nicholas knew why the responses had come so fast.

“Damned freaks,” he said lightly. Mildly annoyed that so many thought they were going to get in her pants, he clicked on her e-mail address, which the site had helpfully made into a convenient link. He wasn’t worried that he actually had competition. They didn’t know her like he did. He began to type his response and finished just as his doorbell rang. Reading it over quickly one last time, he sent it off and rose. He looked at his watch. His cousin was early.

He left his office, which he’d located on the third floor of his restored brownstone. He liked to be able to look out onto the tree-lined street as he was working. He stopped in his bedroom on the second floor to put on his White Sox baseball cap. He and his cousin Griffith were going to catch the team in a game against the Detroit Tigers. Since Nick’s house was located in the Bronzeville neighborhood and about fifteen minutes from the ballpark, it was easiest for Griffith to stop by for dinner before they headed to the game.

Making his way down the hardwood stairs, he opened the door to the vestibule and then opened the outer door to let his cousin in.

“Hi, Nick,” Griffith Cantori said as he grabbed his hand and pulled him in for a quick hug. “How are you?”

Nick returned his cousin’s hug with a smile. He and Griffith were more like brothers than first cousins. Their mothers were sisters and they’d grown up right across the street from each other. Griffith was an only child whose father had been a traveling salesman who’d been on the road all the time. Nick, whose entire family had moved in with his grandmother when his father had died, was the oldest of four children and the only boy.

The two boys had bonded out of sheer necessity, just to keep from being overtaken by what at times seemed to be an entire sea of females. Now, at thirty-eight, they were even closer than they’d been as boys and had often been mistaken for brothers, though they really looked nothing alike. They were both tall and dark, but Griffith was big with it. And while Nick was handsome with his dark eyes and olive skin, Griffith was simply gorgeous and had light green eyes.

“I’m good, Griff. What’s new with you?” Nick asked as they walked into the house.

“Nothing much. Work is crazy, and my personal life is even crazier, but other than that, I’m just peachy keen.” The sarcasm was evident as Griffith followed Nick deeper into the house, through the living and dining rooms and back to the kitchen.

Nick looked at Griffith as the other man sat on a stool across the counter from him. “Is everything all right?” His cousin was what was known in the business world as a corporate raider. He bought and sold companies that were in financial trouble, turning them over at blink-and-you-missed-it speed for each acquisition. It was a stressful job that sometimes included threats of bodily harm to Griffith, but Nick’s quietly intense cousin seemed to thrive on it all.

Griffith loosened his tie. “Yeah,” he said with a tired sigh. “The situation is a pain in the ass, but it’s nothing I can’t handle.” He had never been married and liked to trade women almost as often as he liked to raid companies. He was so handsome that he was almost beautiful and had been that way even as a child. He’d started breaking hearts at the age of fourteen, when he’d realized that having a gorgeous face didn’t necessarily make him a sissy and could actually work to his benefit.

“Okay,” Nick said as he removed a dish of his grandmother’s chicken cacciatore from the refrigerator. “Which did you raid? Another company or another man’s bed? Is it an ex-employee who’s gunning for you or an irate husband?” he asked with a straight face. He was not surprised when Griffith took him seriously.

“I don’t sleep with married women anymore, so that should give you your answer,” Griffith said quietly.

“Oh, okay. Wanna talk about it?” Nick put the dish in the microwave.

Griffith looked up impatiently, making Nick laugh. “What are we, married?”