Page 128 of The Cajun Doctor

He groaned, then sat up on the side of the bed. “What did you buy?”

“Well, I don’t want to disclose all my secrets at once.”

“God forbid you should do that!”

“I will show you these, though.” She lifted out a pair of velvet handcuffs and waved them in the air.

He laughed. “Are those for you or for me?”

“Me at first. I have this fantasy, see. You’re the sheik, and I’m the slave girl you’ve just added to your harem. I’m fighting my captivity, so you cuff me to a tent pole, and—”

“You’ve really thought this fantasy through, haven’t you?”

“Oh, yeah. Anyhow, the sheik . . . you . . . are torturing me with . . . things.”

“What things?”

“Oh, some of the tools I have in my bag.”

“Tools now?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Samantha, this is all cool and everything, but I’m really pissed at you, and until I resolve—”

“Did I tell you I have nipple rings?” she interjected quickly, not wanting to have that particular talk. Later, after they made love a time or three. In case he hadn’t heard her, she flashed him a nipple.

He stood so quickly he almost knocked over the glass of wine. “I thought I was good at fantasies, but I can see I’m way out of my league.”

“Not really. If I stand here much longer, I’m going to lose my nerve.”

He reached out and grabbed the cuffs from her. Before she knew it, she was backed up against one of the bedposts, her hands restrained behind her back on the other side of the tent pole/bedpost, her breasts thrust out, making her appear bigger than she was.

He noticed. “I think it’s time I took over this fantasy . . . before you lose your nerve, or I lose . . .” He glanced down at the bulge in his boxers.

“Whatever you say, master.”

“Isn’t that a little demeaning for a woman?”

“Not if you refer to me as Mistress in later fantasies.”

“Later fantasies? Better and better,” he muttered. “And what is your name, slave girl?”

“Salome.”

“Of course it is. Okay, Sal baby, let’s see what you have in your magic bag.”

She groaned. “We should probably be drunk before you do that.”

“That good, huh?”

“Or bad.” She groaned again. “I am going to be so embarrassed.”

“Why should I be the only one embarrassed? I bared my soul with all my secret fantasies.”

“You weren’t embarrassed at all.”

“You’re right.”