“Don’t drink too much tonight,” he teased. “I’m warning you, I’ll drag you out of bed tomorrow by your…toes.”
“Um…okay.” Maggie pulled away, aware of the hard muscles of his chest, the rush of blood to her cheeks and the lingering tingle from his touch. She contemplated sleeping in late on purpose. Connor had a free ticket into her bedroom any time. He just didn’t know of his incredibly good fortune yet.
“You’re gonna make her go to the gym on a Sunday?” Susan backed away, hands raised in front of her, horror contorting her face into a comical mask. “I hope this craziness isn’t contagious. No way will you find me anywhere near a gym on the weekend.”
“I’m trying to get fit, Susan,” Maggie said, then turned to the sexy man standing beside her. “Don’t worry. I’ll be there. Have fun tonight, everyone.”
Blowing them a kiss, she turned toward the parking area before temptation zapped from her brain to her limbs. It was too easy to imagine the reaction if she grabbed Connor. The pact between her and her girlfriends stood in dire danger of smashing wide open as temptation played her siren song.
No. No way would she be the one to break the pact.
The second Greg slammed from her apartment, angry and upset, Maggie stomped straight to her laptop. She was still shaking when she put her fingers on the keyboard and logged onto her blog. Without taking a breath, she typed furiously.
My dinner tonight with Mr. X went from bad to worse. I can still feel the embarrassed glow on my cheeks. He blamesmefor what happened. How was I meant to know he’d invited his friends to dinner with us?
When he came to pick me up, I tried to tell him then I didn’t want to go out with him again—that it was over between us. The man refused to let me get a word in and hustled me from my apartment before I could speak. I tried to talk about breaking up in the cab on the way to the restaurant. That’s when he informed me we were dining with his business friend and his wife.
During the last six months I’ve met most of his friends. Some are okay. The particular couple we were dining with wasn’t in theokaygroup. The woman stands in thebitchcamp, while her husband had a different agenda. He belongs to thewandering handsclub. He wandered his hands over my ass and breasts when his wife and Mr. X weren’t watching.
By the time we arrived at the Italian restaurant on Nelson Street, my temper simmered. This particular restaurant specializes in great food, and for entertainment, they have budding opera singers performing several live segments during the evening. Not only did I have to spend time with Mr. X, I had to put up with his friends and the screeching opera. So shoot me. I enjoy rock and pop. I can even listen to country when the mood takes me. Opera, not so much. It makes my head hurt.
I tried to escape into spanking fantasies. It worked until a hand on my upper thigh jerked me from my steamy dreamscape.
All this, combined with several glasses of wine and my irritation, loosened my tongue and lowered my inhibitions. When I couldn’t take the husband staring at my breasts any longer, I stated my opinion. Loud and clear.
“If I wanted you to look at my breasts, I’d take off my clothes. Give you a good look at them. I’d supply a tape measure so you could make sure they measure up,” I added, my tone nasty.
“M!” Mr. X’s aghast expression suggested I’d stepped out of line. “Apologize to R for that remark.”
“Why should I? Are you saying it’s okay for R to perv at my breasts and pinch my ass every chance he gets? You want me to sit here and take his abuse?”
“Eat your dinner,” Mr. X said.
I reached for my wine, but Mr. X slid the glass away before I could grab it.
Do you believe it? He blamed the entire incident on me.
After that, the rest of the night dipped to uncomfortable. The wife glared at her husband. Mr. X glared at me. I can tell you I received more than my fair share of glares. The only reason the husband didn’t glower at me was because he’d land in bigger trouble than he was already.
The minute we were alone in the taxi, Mr. X lectured me, listing my infractions which, according to him, are many.
“You made a laughingstock out of me.”
“I’m sorry,” I said. “But you didn’t give me a chance to talk to you. You see…I don’t want to go out with you again.”
“Don’t be stupid,” Mr. X said, not taking me seriously. “You drank too much wine. Everyone makes mistakes. I won’t hold a little overindulgence against you. I admit I wasn’t happy with your outspoken comments. Next time just ignore the attention. He was only looking. Anyway, you shouldn’t have worn such a low cut top. It encouraged him.”
My fault?Pompous pig.
Fuming, I didn’t answer Mr. X. I was afraid of what I’d say next. I could see the taxi driver watching in his rear vision mirror. He was listening to everything we said. Instead, I bit my tongue and stared out the window at the lights of the city, the glowing red and green Sky Tower, lit for mid-year winter celebrations, and St. Matthews Church. I remained silent as the cab headed up Hobson Street to the motorway. I could’ve sliced the silence with a knife and served it on my grandmother’s heirloom china.
When the cab pulled up outside my apartment, I thrust open the door and climbed out. Mr. X followed me.
“Wait for me,” he told the driver then shouldered his way through the entrance door before I could stop him.
I stomped to my apartment and unlocked the door. Mr. X followed me inside and the instant the door closed behind him, I whirled to confront him. I couldn’t hold it in any longer.
“Will you spank me?”
