The Bottom Line (16 page)

“Was Connor okay with us having a girl’s night?” she asked, guilt nipping at her heels. She shoved it away with an ease that made her blink when she realized what she’d done. During the last month, she’d changed, lying without a qualm to suit herself.

“It wasn’t Connor.” Julia handed over a white box bearing courier labels. “Besides, I get the feeling he’s seeing someone. I haven’t seen as much of him recently. I think it’s serious, because he hasn’t mentioned her.”

“Connor serious,” Christina said with a roll of her eyes. “As much as I like Connor he treats women like a buffet, taking whatever appeals to him at the time.”

“Christina, that’s not very nice,” Maggie said, indignant on Connor’s behalf. She placed the box on the countertop. “He has a real gift for ending romantic relationships and remaining friends.” And that was the problem. Her crush had deepened into more. If it weren’t for the spanking thing and Connor’s lack of enthusiasm, she’d never want to say goodbye. He was fun in bed and a giving lover who went out of his way to make sure she enjoyed herself. If only she were blonde.

“You’re right,” Christina said. “I’m tired and cranky after working hard on the special assignment today. And jealous. My sex life is non-existent.”

“What’s in the box?” Susan asked.

“I’ve no idea.” Maggie poured the champagne and handed each of her friends a flute of the bubbly wine.

She grabbed a plate of bread and two of the dips, heading for her small lounge area. After plunking them on the coffee table, she returned for the cheese and a third dip. The women took seats and eased off shoes while she made a final trip to the kitchen to grab the package and her champagne.

In the lounge, she dropped into an empty chair, took a sip of champagne before attacking the tape on the package. “I’m not expecting anything,” she said. “Any guesses?”

“Nope,” Susan said. “I vote for something boring.”

Maggie seconded the guess for something mundane. “It’s probably from my stepmother. She’s learned how to knit this year. Last time I talked to her, she mentioned scarves.” She ripped off the tape and opened the box.

“It’s not a scarf,” Christina said.

“Oh,” said Maggie. “It’s beautiful.” She lifted the black satin and lace confection from the delicate gold tissue paper.

“A corset,” Julia said. “And matching panties.”

Susan leaned closer. “Is there a card?”

It was gorgeous. Beautiful. And her size, she saw when she checked the swing tag. She rifled inside the box and found a small white envelope. A sealed envelope. She glanced up at her friends and saw them watching her with avid curiosity. Swallowing, she looked down at her trembling hands. “I’ll read the card later,” she said, replacing both the corset and the card back into the box. Instinct told her either Connor or Kevin had sent her this gift. Her instincts leaned toward Connor, which meant she couldn’t read the card now. She’d have to wait until later when she was alone.

“You can’t do that,” Susan said in a sharp voice.

“I’ll put this in my bedroom,” she said hurriedly.

“I agree with Susan,” Christina said. “You can’t leave us hanging like this.”

“It’s…um…private.” Maggie jumped to her feet and hurried from the room, her heart pounding in alarm. Although she was certain her friends wouldn’t stoop to search her room, she removed the card from the box and slipped it into her bra. The cool surface of the envelope sent prickles across her skin, and a flush of shame seeped from her cheeks down her neck.

Maybe it wasn’t from Connor.

She sighed and walked back to join her friends, bracing herself for questions.

“Are you seeing a married man?” Susan asked. “I’ve been meaning to ask about the lover you mention in your blog. Is he married?”

“No! No, of course not,” Maggie said, the color in her cheeks intensifying. How could they think that?

“Oh, God, Maggie. You should see your face,” Julia said.

“Susan’s right. You’ve talked about a lover in a couple of your posts.” Christina peered at her closely. “Who is it?”

“I’m not seeing anyone apart from Kevin. We’ve had dinner once. That’s all.”

“The more you deny it, the worse you’re making it,” Susan said. “You might as well fess up and tell us the truth.”

“Stop picking on me.” Maggie grabbed her champagne and took a slug. The bubbles tickled her nose, and she sneezed. Champagne splashed over the rim of her glass and onto her jeans. “Damn.” She brushed the bottom of her glass with her fingertips to stop further drips. “I am not sleeping with a married man.”

“Too late,” Christina said. “We’re on to you. You know we’re going to worm the info out of you, so you might as well tell us now.”

No way was that ever going to happen. Maggie could imagine what her friends would say if they learned she and Connor were sleeping together. With a trembling hand, she picked up the plate of bread and one of the dips. She offered it to Susan. “Have something to eat.”

“Maggie, honey, I know it’s none of our business, but we love you. Do you think you should do this? I mean, a married man. Does he have kids?” Christina placed a hand on her arm and lightly squeezed. “Have you thought about that? It’s not just you involved here. If the man is married that means there are other people who can be hurt by your actions.”

A tight sensation gripped her chest. They really thought she’d come between a husband and wife? “I refuse to discuss this anymore. Can we change the subject?”

Uncomfortable silence filled the room. Maggie opened her mouth to say something. Anything. Her mind froze and she snapped her mouth shut. Damn, how had she managed to get herself in this position? She snorted inwardly. Simple.

Desire and lust.

Weak will.

Connor had asked, and she’d caved. Yep, no willpower.

She glanced up and caught the tail end of the silent messages flying between her friends.
They didn’t believe her
.

And the more she argued, the guiltier she appeared. Maggie lifted her glass and offered a toast. “To friends,” she said.

They stared, slow to react to her gesture of friendship. Despite the guilt buffeting her in waves, she maintained a confident smile and met their gazes. She was in too deep now. There was no way she could admit the truth and tell them she’d broken her promise about not becoming involved with Connor.

“I guess you know what you’re doing,” Julia said, raising her glass. “To friends.”

“To friends.” Christina heaved a sigh, the inherent disappointment guaranteed to raise Maggie’s guilt. “Julia’s right. You’re an adult, and this is none of our business.”

Maggie stomped on her words of explanation, her need to babble excuses. “Thanks.” It was all she allowed herself to say in fear her conscience would have her adding unwanted details to raise more questions. Her fault, she thought. Her father would have started muttering about bad genes and foolishness. And he’d probably refer to Penisgate and reporters. Maggie fought horrid, embarrassing memories of the past, shoving them from her mind.

“I’m sorry,” Susan said. “The others are right. We’re your friends and we shouldn’t judge you. But you know we’re here if you need to talk, right?” She lifted her glass and smiled.

Maggie suspected Susan forced her smile, but shoved aside her misgivings and pretended everything was okay between them. Her friend tended to see things in black and white rather than gray, one of her least endearing qualities. “Anyone for more champagne?”

When she reached for the bottle, she felt the envelope tucked inside her bra like a ticking time bomb. She wondered how long her friends intended to stay, how long it would be before she learned who had sent her the sexy and decadent corset.

Julia followed Susan and Christina from Maggie’s apartment. None of them spoke until they reached the street outside.

A cat yowled from the tiny balcony garden above their heads as they walked to Susan’s car. She unlocked the white Mazda, and they all climbed inside.

“I didn’t even realize Maggie was seeing anyone,” Christina said.

“She mentioned it in a couple of her blog posts,” Julia answered.

“I can’t believe she’s sleeping with a married man,” Susan said, starting the car and merging into the traffic. “No matter what the temptation, someone always gets hurt. The only person who wins in a relationship like that is the man. And they might make promises about leaving their wives, but never do.”

Julia reached into her bag and pulled out a lipstick. Using a small portable mirror, she reapplied the deep pink color adorning her mouth. Once finished, she said, “That sounds like the voice of experience. Personally, I’ve always steered clear of married men. More trouble than they’re worth.”

“And sometimes they lie,” Susan said with a trace of bitterness. “Sometimes the first time the women hears the news is when she’s mentioned in divorce proceedings as the other woman.”

“Ouch,” Christina said. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I didn’t realize you’d been through something like that.”

“Yeah, it was a few years ago now, before I moved to Auckland.” Susan pulled up at a red traffic light. “It’s made me wary and very picky, which is probably why I don’t have a steady man in my life. The one experience has turned me into a cynic.”

“So, what are we going to do about Maggie?” Christina asked.

“I’m concerned,” Julia said, “but we’re her friends, not her keepers. She needs to learn from her own mistakes.” Her mouth firmed as she thought about the empty apartment waiting for her. Alone again. Who was she to talk, because her mistakes weren’t teaching her much. “I think we should forget about it and be there for her if she needs us.”

“I don’t like it.” Susan’s voice was grim as she pulled up outside Julia’s apartment. “She’s setting herself up for a fall.”

“We could always follow her,” Christina said. “See where she goes, who she sees?”

“Isn’t that a bit Jane Bondish?” Julia asked. “She’s an adult, and she’s not breaking any laws.”

“Julia’s right,” Susan said. “I think we should leave it alone and let Maggie do things her way. She’ll tell us when she’s ready.”

Chapter Twelve

Maggie let her breath hiss out in weary relief once the girls left. Talk about uncomfortable.

A married man
.

Huh! Maggie winced at the insult all over again. Surely they didn’t think so little of her? She’d never willingly come between a man and wife.
Never
.

She walked into the kitchen and grabbed a bottle of wine from the fridge. With a glass of wine in hand, she dropped into her favorite chair, retrieved the envelope from inside her bra and ripped it open.

Connor
. The corset was from Connor. A slow smile crept across her lips, and yearning twisted like fast-growing ivy around her heart. Maybe things between them weren’t broken. Three days to wait.

She’d missed him during the last few weeks. The long-legged blondes at the pub… Maggie cut off the thought immediately. She could hardly yell at Connor for sleeping with someone else when she’d agreed to the terms, agreed to be his fuck buddy. So why did jealousy eat at her? Why did she feel as if he’d rejected her?

An impatient sigh huffed from her, and she wrinkled her nose with a trace of disgust. She knew why, but didn’t want to rehash the past and her romantic failures. The motor vehicle accident and resulting tempest in the papers when she was eighteen had not only caused pain, it had caused extreme embarrassment for both her and her former boyfriend. It had made her realize that all he’d wanted from her was sex. As he’d so cruelly told her during their last meeting, why should he settle for a chubby nobody when his looks and money left him free to choose any woman he wanted? He’d chosen a beautiful blonde model, a woman who was everything Maggie wasn’t. Was it any wonder she held a prejudice against bubbly blondes with long legs and flashing smiles?

Maggie pushed aside the destructive thoughts and decided to blog. Connor had sent her the corset and wanted her to meet him in a hotel. That didn’t sound like rejection. Besides, the way he’d phrased the note, couching it as an order rather than a request, made her sizzling hot all over, her pussy aching and empty. Roll on Friday evening.

I think about my first spanking often, wondering what it will be like and how it will affect me. I wonder if I’ll hate it and want to forget about spanking for the rest of my life. When I start to wonder, I worry. What if I’ve made a big hullabaloo about nothing?

I’ve mentioned before the amount of reading and research I’ve done. Each couple is different, and I’ve stressed the most important thing between a consenting couple is good communication.

It surprised me to discover a good spanking experience is a learned skill. People in the spanking world say not to expect too much at first. Spanking should be good for both partners. Yes, I know all the theory, but it’s going to be difficult if my lover hates spanking and I love it or vice versa. I don’t believe spanking is the first step into the heavier BDSM scene, because I’ve learned many couples never go any further than spanking. This is enough for them. It’s not even necessary to assume dominant and submissive roles, although I believe I’ll feel happier and derive more pleasure from receiving the spanking. My lover doesn’t seem the submissive sort and that’s fine with me. What I want is the closeness that comes afterward, the freedom to let myself go and give my lover the responsibility for our pleasure.

A first spanking should be free of distractions and take place in a relaxing setting. My upcoming weekend will fulfill these requirements with lots of kisses and tender touches, careful stroking to start. I hope so anyway. I hear practice makes perfect because like anything, a good spanking is learned—much like lovemaking, a couple needs to experiment with positions, scenarios and spanking implements.

For a first spanking, the position should be one that’s comfortable for both parties such as draping over knees or a chair.

Should a spanking hurt? I bet that’s what most of you want to know. Yes, it will hurt, although that’s not the primary aim. Erotic stimulation is the purpose of a spanking—lots of stroking, touching and rubbing. Nakedness isn’t necessary. It’s best to remove clothes or panties gradually, because the sensations vary from clothed to bare skin. The smacks should dance over the buttocks. The flesh should sting, the sensations building to a crescendo. A pretty blush is the aim rather than bruises.

The person doing the spanking needs to look for subtle signals such as raising hips to meet the blows, a sign the experience is enjoyable. The person receiving the spanking needs to say what they like and don’t like during the experience. Around a dozen strokes are sufficient for a first spanking and definitely end the session with hugs and lovemaking.

Afterwards, it might help to discuss the spanking, what worked and what didn’t.

So, there you have it—suggestions for a successful spanking. All I need to do is put the theory into practice.

How was your first spanking? Were you disappointed? Did you enjoy the experience?

The days passed slowly, and Friday found Maggie fidgety and unable to settle to anything. Fridays really did suck.

“What is wrong with you?” Susan asked. “I asked you to pass the sugar, please.”

A blush suffused her face. Her entire body hummed with arousal from just thinking about the coming night with Connor. “Sorry.”

“Have a hot date tonight?” Connor asked with a grin.

“You’re not meeting
him
again,” Susan said in clear exasperation. “You should stay at home, or better yet, come out to a movie with me.”

“Who are you seeing?” Connor asked.

If she’d sat closer, she would have aimed a kick in his direction. Her pointy shoes would do a bit of damage if she aimed well enough. “None of your business.”

Christina’s brow furrowed in clear disapproval. “But Maggie—”

“Don’t say it,” Maggie said tartly. “I don’t want to argue with you. Just remember that life comes in shades of gray. Let’s change the subject. Do you think the All Blacks will beat the French tomorrow?” To her relief, Connor led the conversation, adroitly steering in the direction she’d sent it. The man would be the death of her.
Who was she seeing tonight?
Huh!

Maggie paid the cabbie and smoothed her coat as the driver pulled out of the hotel forecourt. Nerves danced in the pit of her stomach, cinching it tight and making the thought of food impossible. She intended to tell Connor exactly what she needed tonight, without wimping out or allowing fear to dictate her actions. They were both adults. It was time she acted like one.

Her heels clicked on the marble tiles as she strode past a dramatic arrangement of orange bird of paradise flowers and green foliage to the reception desk. Heat curled between her legs, the firm boning of the corset hugging her breasts and sending messages through her sensitized body.

They said the brain was the biggest and most powerful sexual organ. That was certainly true of her today. She’d thought about sex and Connor so much for the last few days and today in particular, it wouldn’t take much for her to explode.

She waited in the short line and stepped up to the reception desk when it was her turn. “Hi, Connor Grey said he’d leave a room key here for me to collect.”

“Ms. Drummond?” the young man asked.

Maggie refused to let her embarrassment show. Sex outside of marriage wasn’t illegal. “That’s right.”

He smiled. “Room 832. Take the elevators to the eighth floor and follow the signs. Enjoy your stay.”

Maybe she’d overreacted. There was nothing in his expression to suggest he was judging her morals. No, her guilty conscience stemmed from the fact she’d lied to her girlfriends and let them think she was involved with a married man. She hadn’t lied, but she hadn’t exactly told the truth either. Shades of gray. And if they discovered she and Connor were doing the wild thing…

Maggie forced the fear away and smiled at the receptionist, accepting the keycard. Even though she knew she shouldn’t stride boldly across the foyer to catch the elevator to Connor’s room, her legs kept moving. Excitement increased inside, layer upon layer until her stomach churned with both fear and exhilaration. Her fingers clenched around the handle of her leather overnight bag while the hem of her long, beige coat whispered against her stocking clad legs.

Her heart thumped in time with the beat of the canned music floating through the lobby. The elevator dinged its arrival, and she stepped inside. Two men boarded the car with her, and the audacious smiles told her she’d done a good job with her hair and make-up. Feeling confident, she returned their smiles, her alter-ego in sharp, pointy boots coming to the fore.

“Would you like to go out for a drink tonight?” one asked.

“Thanks, but I’m meeting my husband.” Amazed shock froze her smile in place. Those words had come out so naturally. She hadn’t realized her thoughts had headed in that direction. Surely she didn’t love him? Maggie drew a sharp breath. She did.

She loved Connor
.

Shaken by the realization, it took her a few seconds to notice the elevator had stopped on her floor. On trembling legs, she exited, checked the directional signs and turned to the right.

Connor had made it clear permanent wasn’t for him. She nibbled her bottom lip. A sharp nip should have jolted her back to reality but now that she’d acknowledged her love, her mind wouldn’t let go of the thought. Heck, if she were honest, she’d been halfway in love with him before they started their
friends with benefits
deal.

Maggie halted in front of room 832. She fidgeted, shifting her weight from foot to foot. Maybe she should leave and ignore Connor’s note. Even as the thought formed, she trashed it. Her right hand fisted until the leather strap of her overnight bag cut into her palm.

Not gonna happen.

The truth would be good. She could tell Connor she’d fallen for him and didn’t like the terms of their agreement anymore. Maybe he’d change them for her? A half laugh, half sob emerged. She knew Connor pretty well. As much as she liked him, she knew when a woman showed possessiveness or wanted more, he cut her loose.

A film of tears shrouded her vision, and she blinked rapidly to dispel them. The way she saw it, she had two options. She could walk away and pine for impossibilities or she could pull off the best acting of her life.

Aware of her prevarication, she slid her card key into the lock, waited for the small green light to blink and opened the door.

Showtime
.

“You’re late.” Connor turned away from the window and, drink in hand, stalked to the bed. He set down his drink, the glass making a faint clink when it hit the wooden bedside cabinet. “Come here.”

Maggie blinked at the stern note in his voice. “I’m sorry.” To her dismay, her voice broke slightly.

“No excuses.” Connor sat on the end of the bed. “Come here.”

Definitely stern. His dark expression sent a haze of emotions and desires swimming through her, and she struggled with the combination of apprehension and arousal. Slowly, she stepped toward him, her head swirling with doubts.

When she stopped in front of him, he stared at her. For an instant, she thought his face softened, then he spoke coldly. “You have been a very naughty girl.”

One moment she stood in front of him, and the next, she lay over his lap, facing the oatmeal-colored carpet. She let out a surprised shriek so startled by this turn of events, words failed her.

“Do you know what I do with naughty girls, Maggie?”

“N-no.”

“I spank them,” he said, his tone no longer dark or quite as stern but conversational. Matter-of-fact. “I spank their bottoms to give them something to consider the next time they think about misbehaving.”

“Oh, God,” Maggie said.

“He won’t help you.” Connor stroked her bottom, the heat of his hand radiating right through her coat, corset and panties.

Her stomach muscles tensed, and a jolt of pleasure arced right to her pussy. She held herself tense with excitement while curiosity filled her. What would he do next?

“Nothing to say for yourself?”

“No, except I’m sorry. I’ll try not to let it happen again.” Liar. If this was an indication of what happened when she was a few minutes late, she intended to misbehave a lot more.

“You’ll try? Oh, babe. You need to do better than that. Hmm, let me see. Six minutes late. One smack for each minute. Does that sound fair?” He caressed her bottom in a confident manner, and she had no doubt he meant it. She tightened her buttocks and, unable to help herself, lifted into his caress, loving the shimmer of heat that came with each tormenting stroke. Her vagina gave a hungry twitch, clenching on emptiness and she wet her lips. A whimper slipped free.

“Maggie?” An order to respond. “Have you been a naughty girl?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, I’ve been a naughty girl.”

“That’s right.” His hand slipped beneath the hem of her coat. He stroked his fingers along the crease where her buttock met one thigh. A shiver slipped through her, and when his fingers stilled, she knew he’d felt her reaction. He skimmed his fingers down the back of one thigh, pausing when he encountered silky stocking. “Babe, you’ve been very naughty coming across town, wearing nothing but sexy underwear beneath your coat.”

“But you told me to wear the corset.”

He chuckled. “Good try, babe. You’re right. I did tell you to wear the corset. I presumed you’d wear other clothes as well.”

“I wore my coat,” she shot back, emboldened by his playfulness.

Connor removed his hand, and she immediately felt the lack of contact. His thighs flexed beneath her body, and she felt him tense.

Whack!

A startled cry escaped Maggie. The smack hurt, even through the layers of material. Rapidly, she catalogued the sensations. Not too bad. Each of her nerve endings fired to life and astonishment gave way to real excitement. Decadent heat.

“That’s for wearing your underwear and not much else to come to meet me,” Connor said.

The second blow took her equally by surprise, the smack coming from a different angle. Seconds later, Connor lifted her coat, baring the bottom half of her body to him. Her breath caught and she waited, tensing slightly.