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.
