Big Spankable Asses (14 page)

She grabbed her things and hurried around the desk and through the security door, avoiding Nick’s eyes and his touch the entire time.

“Talk to me, Melinda.”

She heard the quiet words, but she did her level best to ignore them. Of course, that didn’t sit well with him, and he grabbed her arm as she tried to rush past him.

“Are you going to explain?”

Still refusing to look at him, Mel felt his frustration and heard his confusion. She finally looked up and winced at the look in his eyes. There
was
frustration and confusion, but there was also concern. “I’m sorry, Nicholas,” she said, and tried to explain something she barely understood herself. In the end, she mumbled, “I felt…you made me…that is…I’ve never…” The frustration on top of the embarrassment was too much and she said, “Oh,
come on
, Nicholas. You have to know what I’m trying to say.”

After a moment of simply staring at her in silence, Nick suddenly looked like he was having what Oprah called an Aha! moment. But instead of the moment being something as socially important as “Aha! I think I’ve found another solution to global poverty!” she was sure his was, “Well, I’ll be damned. This woman has never had an orgasm!”

Leaving him to digest his sudden revelation, she slipped out of his loosened grip and escaped through the front door. He didn’t follow her outside, and she gratefully slid into her car to scurry home in embarrassment.

M
elinda lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Conveniently, she had the next two days off after her episode with Nicholas, and now, on the morning after it had happened, she was still kind of reeling from the experience. She’d guessed correctly that what she’d been on the verge of experiencing had been an orgasm, and from the way it had felt, it would have been an explosive one. But how was she to know when she’d never in her life experienced one before?

“Damn it,” she said, and rolled over to her side. She couldn’t believe she’d reacted that way. She moaned in embarrassment when she thought about what Nicholas must have thought of her. “He probably thinks you’re a sexually repressed lunatic, Mel. What the hell else can he think when you freaked out like a virgin who’d been drop-kicked into a prison yard full of hard-up convicts?”

Sighing dejectedly, she sat up in bed. “Yeah, you have your precious control, you idiot, but can it bring you to the brink of orgasm like Nick’s tongue? I think not.” She went into the bathroom to perform her morning hygiene. In the middle of brushing her teeth, she decided that she’d worried over the situation long enough. She tried to push it out of her mind. It was hard because she couldn’t help but feel that she’d messed up something with Nick that had the potential to be spectacular, something that went beyond sex. She left the bathroom for her home office. It was time to check the responses to her ad.

She logged on to her computer and tried to get comfortable in her desk chair. She really needed a new one. She’d gotten the current one at a discount furniture store and realized now why it had been so cheap. The seat was made of a rough, knobby material that scraped against the skin. When she was logged onto the Internet, she went straight to the ChicagoLuhvin site. “Eight new messages! Good Lord, these people are desperate for some companionship!”

On the fifth e-mail, her face formed a thoughtful frown as she read what the author thought BSA stood for. He’d written that he thought it stood for: “Bring your Silly Ass on, bitch.” And then he’d written “LOL.”

“All I can say is whatever floats your boat,” Mel murmured, and continued to read the rest of his message. The writer went on to say that he liked to dominate his women at all times—before, during and after sex—and if he was correct in his assumption of what BSA meant to her, then she obviously liked to be dominated. He left his phone number for her to call him.

Mel’s response was a simple “No, thank you,” before she closed out of and then deleted the e-mail.

The next two were also incorrect and Mel sighed, resigned to the fact that no one would probably answer it correctly. The subject line of the last one said “From Smart Guy.”

“Let’s just see how smart you are.” She clicked to open it. Her mouth dropped wide open before she’d even finished reading the first sentence. “Oh. My. God,” she whispered in shock.

Smart Guy had written:

Do you really want it
Spanked,
or are you just teasing me? And just how
Big
do you think your
Ass
is? Okay, Brand New, I’m not going to lie and say that the size of it doesn’t matter to me, because I like a nice-sized booty just as much as the next man. But, as long as it’s got even a little bit of heft to it, I can spank it good. Real good. And as the song goes, I can even slap it, flip it, rub it down…Whatever you want me to do to it, I can.

Amazingly, Melinda found herself giggling at this last part. She used to love that old song from the 1990s. “Slap it, flip it, rub it down, ohhhh noooo!” she sang happily with a big grin on her face.

She continued to read:

Let’s get serious, Brand New. I’d love to get together with you. You’ve got a crazy sense of humor, but it’s just the kind I like. Your wit and intellect draw me in, too. The fact that you have a sense of the daring is obvious because of your post. So, how about it? Want to meet me? E-mail me back, I’ll give you more details about myself and we’ll set things up. Before I go, I should mention that you don’t even have to let me spank your
Big Spankable Ass
if you don’t want to.

He’d also signed off with “Smart Guy.” Melinda had to squint her eyes and get closer to the screen to read what he’d typed under his signature.

Fine Print: The last sentence of the last paragraph applies to the first date only. And failure to read the fine print does not, I repeat, DOES NOT, excuse you from future spankings.

She couldn’t help it: she burst out laughing. “Oh, more than just a smart guy, he’s a very clever boy,” she said with a smile before she hit reply and started typing her message to him.

Hi, Smart Guy, or should I call you “Clever Boy?” I really enjoyed your message and you were correct: BSA does stand for Big Spankable Ass. And so far, you’re the only person to actually figure it out. How did you do it?

At this point, her fingers hesitated over the keys as she thought about Nicholas. She realized now that she’d been hoping she hadn’t scared him away and that maybe they could start again. After all, he’d been after her for months for a date. She sighed again. “At any rate, whatever he wants, I have to at least see the game through,” she murmured, and finished typing her reply.

Actually, I didn’t think that anyone would ever figure it out, but now that you have, let’s do meet.

Now she figured she’d just plunge right in. If she didn’t, she knew herself well enough to know that she wouldn’t do it at all. “In for a penny, in for a pound.”

Shall we meet for coffee or something? Tell me your name and describe what you look like—maybe you could send a photo—so I’ll know who I’m meeting. Does that work for you? Let me know when you’re available.

P.S. Thank you for your compliments. I like your sense of humor as well. But know this, Smart Guy: I read your fine print. Twice. I’m on to you big time. Don’t be so sure that there will even be anything more than a first date.

“Take that, Smart Guy,” she muttered, and pressed send. She tried once again to get comfortable in the chair, and deciding she didn’t have anything better to do for a little while but wait for a response, she began reading the news headlines on the Web site.

Nick laughed out loud as he finished reading her e-mail. He, too, was at home for the day. It had taken all of his willpower not to call her after what had happened in the clinic. But he kept recalling the panic he’d heard in her voice and that had been enough to keep him from calling. She needed some space, and he didn’t want to scare her any more than he already had, the poor baby. He’d been somewhat surprised to learn that a sexy, vibrant woman like her had never had an orgasm, but when he’d thought about it, he realized that it wasn’t all that surprising, given how much she liked to be in control. He’d let her go because she’d looked so devastated, but he’d planned to call her and then had decided not to, sure that she wouldn’t talk to him. He decided to wait and see if she answered his e-mail.

He began furiously typing his reply, hoping she’d get it before she logged off the computer. He wanted to get things rolling as soon as possible.

Hello, Melinda. Yes, I do know your name, and before you panic and write me off as a stalker, just finish reading the e-mail and you’ll know exactly how I know it. I’m going to answer your e-mail from the bottom and work my way up.

Of course there’s going to be more than a first date, dear heart. Make no mistake about it. I’m happy you read the fine print twice. I’d expect nothing less from you. I’m even happier that you’re on to me; that way there can be no confusion later on.

As for meeting for “coffee or something” I’d prefer the “or something.” But I won’t tell you what that is right now.

In your e-mail, you ask for my name. It’s Nicholas. Yes, it’s me, the Nicholas you work with at Living Well. As for what happened yesterday, I don’t want you to worry about it; I’m not. We’ll fix it, and if you’re agreeable, before our first date is over, I’ll show you that orgasms can be your friends.

Now, back to the “or something” I referred to earlier. I want to cook dinner for you. If you’ll trust me enough, I’d like for you to come to my house for dinner—tonight, if you’re available. Nothing sexual has to happen if you don’t want it to. Or a whole lot can happen if you want it to. It’s completely up to you. I’m sure you already know just how much I want you, Lindy. I’ve made no secret of it. But you have control, and I’ll follow your lead. If you’ll let me, I’ll teach you how to enjoy your sexuality and your body. I can pick you up for dinner at seven.

I think you’ve probably already figured out just how I knew what BSA stands for, but just in case you haven’t, I’ll tell you. I eavesdropped on your conversation with Cally. I want you, Melinda. I took my time over the past couple of months, playing our little sexy word games, letting you lead the chase while I tried to catch you. Quite frankly, I was already tired of waiting by the time I overheard your conversation. I had planned to make my move anyway, so when I heard you talking about BSA, I took my opportunity where I found it.

Let’s go back to the confusion that I mentioned earlier. To further eliminate even the possibility of there being any, I’m going to make my intentions very clear right now. I want to do more than spank that firm ass of yours. I want to taste it and your clit. I want to watch you while you touch yourself and me. I want to lick your pussy, suck your nipples, and feel your opening squeezing my dick until it’s squeezed it of every drop it has. And after that, I want to start again. I want to do it all, Melinda. Will you let me?

May I have your address?

Mouth wide open, Mel read Nick’s e-mail again; just to be sure she’d read it correctly the first time—and the second. She ignored the little voice that said she was only reading it again because it turned her on. Her breathing was fast, choppy and loud in the quiet room as she finished reading the last paragraph for the third time. She felt hot, even though the air conditioning was on. The sleeveless short nightgown she wore was too much and its satiny material seemed to chafe against her suddenly too-sensitive skin. She felt an urgent need to peel it off her body, and before she realized it, her fingers were at the bottom of the gown, preparing to lift it over her head. At the last minute, she stopped herself.

She sat in the chair, a confused mass of longing. Her breasts bobbed in time with her breathing, her nipples beading and turning hard as she read the last paragraph again. And again.
I want to taste your clit. I want to lick your pussy.
She imagined Nicholas saying those words to her in his rumbling, sexy baritone and she cried out as the heat twisted and grew in her stomach. She smelled her own arousal in the air and moaned. The intense ache she felt was spreading and demanding to be appeased.

Her thighs fell open of their own accord, as if telling her that she knew what she needed to do.

Eyes wide and nervous now, Mel squeezed her legs back together, trying to concentrate on what she should do about Nicholas. Her hand wanted to wander down between her legs, but she restrained herself.
I can’t
, she told herself. She closed her eyes, counting and picturing equations in her head until the urgent need to touch herself had passed. A few minutes later, she opened her eyes and sighed, realizing what she’d done.

“You always were a chicken, Mel,” she murmured. “This can’t be a healthy attitude.”

Nicholas had tricked her. She couldn’t believe it. She had to admit, though, that she was glad he was the one who’d answered the ad correctly. Especially after what had happened at the clinic the night before. He’d known all along about the ad but hadn’t said anything. She didn’t know if she should feel embarrassed or pleased. He certainly deserved some sort of comeuppance for being so damned sneaky. She sighed. He was solely responsible for all these new feelings she was having—for her newly awakened body.

She clicked on reply, briefly typed her answer to his e-mail, and quickly sent it off into cyberspace before she could change her mind. “Persistence pays off,” she murmured. She was more nervous than she’d ever been. In fact, it was bordering on fear. But she knew that this step was long overdue for her. She
needed
to take it. She wanted Nicholas.

Nick heard the ding from the computer that signified he had new mail and impatiently clicked out of the Microsoft Excel document he was working in and back to his e-mail account.

“It certainly took her long enough,” he said as he opened Mel’s response. Reading it quickly, he chuckled to himself.

She’d typed three lines:

I now think I prefer the term “sneaky bastard” to “clever boy.” I’d rather drive my own car to your house. Send me your address and I’ll see you at seven.

He typed his own answer. After giving her his address, he typed:

This sneaky bastard will see you promptly at seven, sweetheart.