Susan’s hand covered Maggie’s. “Of course 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 purposefully 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 were going to 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.”
“And 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. And 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 exactly work out together, 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 things 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 hadn’t put up much of a fight, happy to daydream about Connor and lots of delicious kink at the same time.
Another change she’d have 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. Definitely 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 all 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 have been worse than she thought, because Greg took a step back, holding the door open. 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 smirked, admitting to herself her friends hadn’t exactly twisted her arm.
“Those girls are a bad influence on you.” 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 voice. “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 him. After all, Greg was her boyfriend, not Connor. She sighed. Connor didn’t like Greg and all she could get out of him 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 some 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 all the starch seeped out of her. She always was a sucker for a sexy smile. The flash of his dimples made her heart go pitter-patter. 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 voice was firm. “I’ll see you tomorrow night for dinner.”
The fizz went out of her good mood. The abrasive way he spoke to her irritated her. Maybe it wasn’t spanking they needed to talk about, 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 walk. 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, leaning 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 hall 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 made her decision. Time to move on with her life.
Tomorrow she would 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’m going 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 starts taking our breakup out on me there. We’ll see.
Meantime, I’m short one boyfriend. I’m going to have 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. I feel 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 plump 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, so my spanking experiment will be delayed. I’ll have to 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 better after writing down her feelings. She smirked. 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 checked out her blog. They must have hot-footed it home to check on her sanity.
They’d made it easy for Maggie to guess who had made each comment, using recognizable nicknames. Along with their smart-ass observations, they’d left some remarks about what they really thought. The crux of their advice was honesty worked best. They thought she should tell Greg exactly what she needed from their relationship.
Maggie didn’t think she’d get that far with him. 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? she thought with a flicker of excitement, moving down the page with her side bar. Someone else had commented as well, telling her to find a new man. This commenter had seen the writing on the wall before Maggie had. 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 had commented on her blog. She was tempted to delete it, thinking it could be a pervert until curiosity made her click on the open link.
Dear Big Bad Ass,
Ditch the man. He’s not good enough for you. 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.