My best friend, Eleanor, had set me up on a blind date with one of her coworkers.

“I’d date him myself,” she told me, “but our office has a strict policy against office romance.”

“What’s he like?” I wanted to know.

She started to describe him physically — blue eyes, black hair, athletic build. But I didn’t care about that as much as his personality. I’d dated a whole slew of attractive guys who were looking only for arm candy. I craved substance. Someone I could talk to, tell my fantasies to…

“You’ll like him,” she promised. “He’s your type.”

“What type is that?” I asked.

“The spanking type,” she said without hesitation, a smirk forming on her... Read More