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would have been able to see a thing. Isabel had become
accustomed to the outside glow acting as a built-in nightlight…and the early
morning sunrise being more reliable than any alarm clock.
    She smiled into the darkness, startled to find she’d been
thinking of her late husband without the usual ache in her chest. She really
had loved him. And now it was time to do as she promised and move on. But not
with their one-time Dom.
    Isabel was a believer in signs. The fact Sam and Stan had
offered her some alternatives to the online dating proved she had been wise to
wait.
    And what about Chris?
    She closed her eyes, but that only sharpened the image of
him looking at her across the bar. If she could capture that expression, throw
him into a pair of tight, black leather pants and put a crop in his hand, she’d
have the perfect masturbatory material. She wouldn’t need the occasional
bondage website. She could bottle him, a dominant version of I Dream of
Jeanie , and have him there when she needed him.
    Tell me what you need.
    It was the sentence that really started all the memories.
    “Damn, damn, damn.” She tossed the covers aside and got out
of bed, unable to stop from brushing her fingers over one hardened nipple. What
she needed was sex. Not some late-night booty call, but something with a
modicum of exclusivity. She ran her hands down her abdomen, stopping at the
waistband of her boy shorts. It wouldn’t take long to bring herself to orgasm.
But that never really relaxed her to the point she fell asleep, not when her
mind was racing like it was at the moment. No, it would only make her more
awake.
    She glanced at the bedside clock and knew, at the oh so
not-late hour of eleven forty-five, she could call Sam and talk. She always
enjoyed his visits to the “big city” as he liked to tease. She’d been tempted
to ask him about his twin brother, if he happened to still be out there on the
open market, but had refrained. Partly because of the age difference, but more
because of the fact the twins were extremely close. The last thing in life she
wanted was to have one of her guy friends find out about her other side. She
doubted they’d understand. Heaven knew, her closest girlfriends didn’t.
    Isabel had shared bits and pieces of her first submissive
experience, hoping for a little support from their corner. They had seemed fine
with the spanking but their looks of shock had escalated into faces of horror
as she elaborated. In the end, they’d taken her hands and told her how sorry
they were that the pervert she’d married had put her through such a thing. And
that she should divorce his fifty-something ass, have the marriage annulled,
and live like a queen the rest of her days. If Isabel remembered correctly,
they were still planning private-chartered trips to Tahiti for the three of
them when she got up and left the restaurant, taking her obvious perversions
with her.
    She meandered through the condo as she made her way to her
desk in the library. She stopped in the kitchen and grabbed a bottled water.
Her purse lay open on the counter and she remembered the stack of cards she had
buried in the pocket. It really was very sweet of Chris, although it was the
last thing she had expected when he’d called her back to the bar area.
    What did you expect, Isabel?
    “Who the hell knows,” she said aloud, taking the cards with
her to the library. It wasn’t him asking for a hug after what apparently was a
one-sided, totally delusionary moment and it wasn’t him attempting to find her
possible dating options. Was he even single? She assumed he was and his comment
about a separate pile for women’s cards suggested that. And that pile was
probably more mountain than molehill. Because, while she always thought him
cute, tonight was enlightening where her attraction to him was concerned.
    She sat down at her computer and turned it on. She’d do some
emails, check on some items she’d been tracking for delivery, maybe