“We want to talk to you about something else,” Susan said, her gaze raking Maggie’s face as she went through the motions of making coffee. It was obvious how she’d spent her night. Her mouth looked swollen, her eyes sparkling with life, despite the faint shadows beneath them. She looked beautiful. Happy.
Susan hardened her heart, shoving aside the envy threatening to break through, the wish she could find someone. “We know about you and Connor. We know you’re lovers.”
Maggie paled and swayed before gripping the edge of the kitchen counter to right her balance.
“You broke your promise,” Christina said.
“You lied to us,” Susan said, the past thumping into her like a man wielding a stick. All she could think about was the betrayal, the breaking of promises, the lack of loyalty. Her past bled into the present, and anger hardened her face into a scowl.
“But I—”
“No excuses,” Susan snapped. “We agreed Connor was out of bounds. You’ve changed, Maggie. I don’t know you anymore.”
“I don’t believe it,” Christina said. “You’d risk our friendship for a few weeks of him in your bed? You know what Connor’s like. His relationships don’t last. I can’t believe you’d betray us so you had someone to spank you.”
“This is not about spanking,” Maggie retorted, squaring her shoulders. “It’s not like that.”
“It looks like it to us.” Susan ignored the sheen of tears in Maggie’s eyes because if she stared too hard, the anguish she felt inside would spill out and she’d bawl.
“No, Maggie is right. This isn’t about spanking. It’s about friendship and trust. You made a promise and you broke it,” Christina said. “Now you have to live with the consequences.”
Susan knew Christina had feelings for Connor but had done nothing because of their pact. Susan watched a tear roll down Maggie’s cheek and hardened her heart. Georgina had cried too, said she hadn’t meant to fall in love with Susan’s fiancé and begged forgiveness. Susan swallowed rapidly, the sting of tears and ache in her throat echoing her inner turmoil. Yeah, her luck with men sucked, but she’d thought she’d had a wealth of friends. Just showed what she knew.
“Wait! Let me explain,” Maggie pleaded.
“I’m so angry I can’t talk now,” Christina snapped. “All I can think about is the lies.”
“Come on, Christina,” Susan said. Now wasn’t the time to discuss Maggie and Connor rationally. She needed to regain her equilibrium. “We might as well go.” Christina wasn’t the only one who was angry. Besides, talking to Maggie wouldn’t achieve a thing.
The damage was done.
You won’t last.
The words echoed through Maggie’s head like an audio on a continuous loop during the entire trip to work. Tears leaked from her eyes, and she dabbed at them, ignoring the other commuters on the bus. One hanky became so wet she had to fumble in her purse for another. She came up with a napkin from the pub she and Connor had visited the previous night. That started her off again.
The bus halted, and a teenage girl thrust a packet of travel tissues at her when she exited the bus. “Men are pigs,” she muttered as she stomped down the back steps and strode away.
Embarrassed, Maggie tried to stem her tears. Christina and Susan had said nothing she hadn’t already thought herself. She was nothing like Connor’s usual girlfriends. The fact had always worried her, yet she’d slept with him anyway. They’d had fun, but maybe it was time to end their agreement before she got hurt. Aw, hell. Who was she trying to kid?
She loved him. Walking away, breaking up with him, would feel like a kick in the guts. But she had to do it. In her heart she knew they didn’t have a future together. He’d already cost her friends, and somehow, she didn’t think Susan and Christina were in a forgiving mood. Once they talked to Julia, she’d lose her last remaining friend.
She needed to end things with Connor before she got hurt even worse.
The bus neared her stop, and she gathered her bag, ready to spring to her feet and push her way to the exit. She stared out the window, watching a beautiful blonde woman kiss her lover. Her arms wound around his neck and he, in turn, held her tight, his hands resting on her butt.
They pulled apart and wandered past the bus.
Maggie let out a pained cry of horror.
Connor.
That was Connor. How long had he been seeing her?
The bus left them behind, pulling in at Maggie’s stop. In a daze, she pushed her way down the crowded aisle and exited.
The doubt demons in her mind stood up and shouted at her. It wouldn’t last.
Like an automaton, she made her way into the accounting offices of Barker & Johnson, catching the elevator to her floor. In the privacy of her cubicle, she went through the motions. Answering the phone. Coding bank statements. Analyzing accounts. She worked through her morning tea break, emerging only when her stomach gnawed at her backbone.
In the lunchroom, the first people she saw were Susan and Christina. They saw her and looked away in a measured snub. Her cheeks heated and tears prickled at her eyes. Obviously, they weren’t ready to talk. Swallowing, she paid for her sandwich and left the building, deciding a walk around the Viaduct Basin might help.
People crowded the waterfront, a school group spilling from a bus into the Maritime Museum. The pubs and restaurants overlooking the boats moored at the Viaduct were full with the lunchtime crowd. A raucous seagull perched on a railing, squawking at a rival.
“Maggie, wait!” Connor ran to catch up with her, a brilliant smile lighting his blue eyes.
“Connor,” she said, feeling dead inside.
He frowned. “Are you okay?”
“Not really.” Her heart raced while she struggled to find the words to sever their relationship. Insecurity tore at her, robbing her of speech. She couldn’t believe he’d made love to her so sweetly and there’d been someone else. Fool.
“Maggie?” He stopped her and placed his hands on both shoulders, surveying her face.
“I saw you kissing a blonde this morning. You should have told me there was someone else.” Her hands trembled and she clasped them to hide the shake. “I think it’s best if we end our agreement.”
“This morning?” His frown cleared. “Oh, that was my cousin.”
A tight sensation in her throat forced her to swallow before she could answer. “A kissing cousin, I take it?” The intended quip didn’t quite come off.
“She really is my cousin.”
“Since our agreement, this is the s-second blonde. The one in the pub and this c-cousin.” Maggie hiccupped. “I don’t kiss my cousins like that. I can’t talk now. I have stuff to do.” She turned away and started walking. Tears ran down her face, but she ignored them, intent on escape. Please. Please, don’t let him follow me.
She rounded a corner and ducked into a busy pub she’d visited several times with her friends, and headed for the restrooms. For the first time today, luck was with her and she walked into an empty stall, locking the door after her. She grabbed a handful of toilet tissue and dabbed at her damp eyes.
He hadn’t followed her.
The thought dragged a sob from deep in her chest. She knew breaking up with him was the right thing to do. The right thing for her, even if it didn’t feel like it today. The lies and half-truths needed to stop.
Maggie grabbed more tissues and held them to her eyes, willing the tears to stop. At this rate, she’d be late back to work. And the only good thing to be said about that was none of the others worked in the same department as her. She could avoid everyone.
Half an hour later, feeling much calmer, she exited the stall and did a double take at her face. She looked ghastly and had no makeup to fix the damage. She wiped away the raccoon eyes and did the best she could before heading back to work.
She passed a group of the young lawyers from the law office next door and overheard them chatting about her spanking blog. Maybe Susan and Christina were right and her t
rouble started with her blog.
“It’s interesting,” a young woman said. “It makes me want to try it out.”
“I’d spank you anytime,” one of the men said. “Name the date and time.”
“Ew,” the woman said. “I don’t think so.”
Everyone laughed, their hilarity and comments following Maggie into the sanctum of Baker & Johnson.
To her relief, Maggie made her cubicle without running into anyone. Sighing, she picked up her pen and started work. This day couldn’t end soon enough.
Her phone rang around an hour later.
“Maggie, report to my office, please.” Greg hung up before she could reply.
“Great,” she muttered, standing and striding down the corridor to Greg’s office. Things couldn’t get much worse. She’d talk to Greg, accept whatever assignment he wanted to give her and return to her cubicle. One hour at a time.
She tapped on Greg’s door and entered.
“Shut the door behind you and take a seat.” His terse tone made her stare in surprise.
“Is there a problem?”
“The blog that everyone has been talking about for the last couple of weeks.”
Oh, heck. “Yes?” A note of caution entered her voice.
“You are the author.”
“No,” she lied.
“No? ‘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 opera. So shoot me. I like rock and pop. I can even listen to country when the mood takes me. Opera, not so much. It makes my head hurt’.”
He read the paragraph from her blog before he focused on her again.
“Are you sure it doesn’t sound familiar? I could have sworn I’ve lived through a similar experience. Doesn’t it sound like Toto to you?”
Maggie raised her head and glared at him. “I don’t think so. There must be hundreds of restaurants in Auckland.”
“Then what about this part? ‘If I wanted you to look at my breasts, I’d take off my clothes. Give you a good look at them. I’d even supply a tape measure so you could see if they measure up.’ Do you recognize that part?”
Maggie didn’t reply. He knew she’d written the post. She wasn’t about to make things worse by giving him more ammunition.
“You will stop writing your blog. Not only will you stop writing your blog, but you will delete the posts you’ve already written.”
“No.” Maggie was tired people pushing her around today. “You can’t make me delete my blog.”
“Thank you for admitting the blog is yours.”
Bother. She firmed her mouth and said nothing else.
“Maggie, you will delete your blog when you go home tonight. I’ll expect your blog to be history by the time you arrive at work tomorrow.” He picked up his phone and punched in numbers. “That is all. You can go now.”
Chapter Eighteen
If there’s one thing that pisses me off, it’s censorship. People who try to restrict others from offering their opinions are worse than dirt.
My blog is private. Yes, others are free to read it. They’re free to comment on each post. I don’t expect them to agree with me, but I expect sensible comments—something more than “you’re stupid” and “your blog sucks”.
Today, someone I know well informed me I must delete my blog. Sorry. Not gonna happen. I’m not doing anything illegal. I have never mentioned names, and don’t believe I have caused harm to anyone. I’ve never blogged at work or used work computers to read my comments.
My blog has nothing to do with my job.
It’s personal.
That is all I will say on the matter. Tomorrow, it’s back to spanking.
Connor read Maggie’s post with concern. He knew it wasn’t him. Was that why she’d run off without letting him explain?
He read the post again, none the wiser. He’d tried to call her, but she wasn’t answering her phone, letting the calls go through to voice mail. When he’d tried to confront her at her apartment, there had been no reply. Connor wasn’t sure if she was there or not. Frustration simmered through his gut at his lack of success.
At least he had one way of contacting her.
Dear Bad Ass,
It sounds as if you had a shitty day. You’re right to stick up for yourself and refuse to delete your blog. It’s private and has nothing to do with your job.
If you blog at work or use work time to do your posts, then an employer might have a case against you, but from what you’ve said, your blog is a private one.
How are things going in your spanking world? Has spanking met your expectations or has the reality disappointed you?
Connor hoped she’d give her honest reaction to spanking. Maggie had said she’d enjoyed it, and he thought she’d relished the times he’d smacked her curvy bottom. When he thought about it now, he couldn’t believe how wrong he’d been to hesitate. It was wrong to close himself to new experiences without considering different angles. His encounter with Maggie had shown him that.
He didn’t think he’d ever get into the BDSM scene and didn’t want a true submissive, but having Maggie under his control in the bedroom made him hot. The resulting sex was some of the best he’d ever had, the closeness and intense satisfaction after the event living with him still.
But Maggie thought he’d lied to her about his cousin. She was avoiding him at work. Damn Sylvie and her impish sense of humor. He intended to wring her neck the next time he saw her. He cursed under his breath. Hell, he’d admire the adroit way Maggie shunned him, if it wasn’t so bloody frustrating.
And something was up with the rest of the girls. None of them were talking to each other. Julia was home now. He’d picked her up after work and driven her home. She’d wanted to tell him something, but had stopped at the last moment, bursting into tears instead. He’d done the only thing he could—holding her and murmuring soft words of nonsense until she’d cried herself dry.
Although he’d offered to stay with her, she’d said she wanted time alone. Hell, when had things become so screwed up that none of them were talking to each other? They were best friends. While his mates might rib him for hanging out with chicks, he’d known they were envious of his relationship with the women. At the start, a couple of them had accused him of being gay, but over the years, the parade of girlfriends through his life had set them straight.
Cursing softly, he returned his attention to his email.
I love spanking a woman, hearing her soft cries when I give her a surprise swat. I like seeing the marks I’ve made on her butt. I always thought I’d feel terrible guilt.
The first time, I was horrified and worried I balanced on a slippery slope. I imagined I could turn into a violent man. It hasn’t happened. I love touching and kissing a woman’s bottom. It’s so curvy and plain sexy.
It’s a way of connecting with a woman, one I would have missed if I hadn’t explored and tried new things.
Kinky Lover
Connor reread his email and hit send, watching the email flash off the screen. Damn, he had it bad. He’d never had another woman get to him like Maggie. She wasn’t even his type.
He considered that thought for a moment and smirked. Nah, Maggie was his type. It was the blondes who were cast in the wrong part.
He waited in case Maggie replied, but after ten minutes, he powered down his laptop and had drinks with his flatmates before hitting the sheets.
Maggie slept fitfully, tossing and turning, finally dragging herself out of bed just shy of six. Another Friday. At least she’d have the weekend to regroup. Her top lip curled. Mope. She showered and dressed for work. Ready way too early, she checked her blog and email before going out for breakfast.
She smiled when she noticed an email from Kinky Lover. After reading his ema
il, she composed one of her own.
Dear Kinky Lover,
Thanks for the support. Yesterday was a shitty day, but hopefully today will be a better one.
As you can see, my blog is intact and I’m not caving into demands to delete it. I believe ordering me to delete my blog is an infringement of my rights.
Ever since I read the erotic romance about spanking, I was intrigued. Now that I’ve investigated the real world of spanking and learned more, there’s no way I’m going back to vanilla. I don’t have a partner at the moment. When I do hook up with another man, it will be with openness. I’ll tell him straight up that I’m into spanking. I’m not interested in a relationship that doesn’t include kink. I intend to make my needs clear right from the start.
Having said that, I know it won’t be easy. Finding my first partner was difficult. Ah, but the rewards. Yeah, it hurts, but after a while the pain transports into an euphoria that’s hard to explain. The trust and closeness—I guess you’d call it intimacy—is incredible.
Bottom line (ha-ha, no pun intended) is spanking does it for me, enhances a relationship and makes it special. I’m a true believer.
Big Bad Ass
Half an hour later, Maggie sat in a café near work, watching the ferries come and go on the harbor. She picked up a piece of toast and replaced it on her plate. Eating was the last thing she wanted at present. Instead, she sipped her coffee. People-watched. Most hurried, their coats wrapped around them to ward off the winter chills. Maggie thought they resembled a flock of dull blackbirds or whatever sets blackbirds hung out in together. They had their heads down and none of them appeared happy about going to work. A few school children blended in with dark-colored uniforms, but it was the tourists who stood out with their bulky backpacks and bright T-shirts and coats.
She glanced down at her short black skirt and matching jacket. When she’d changed her wardrobe, she’d gone with a lot of black, since it suited her, but maybe she’d invest in a few colors. A winter’s day in Auckland was gray enough without her adding more black.
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