“Jeffrey you have to do something! This can’t be happening!”

The calm voice of my lawyer came through the phone lines. “Marta listen to me. Unfortunately Stephen’s argument is good. He says that the ideas for your books came during your marriage, therefore he is entitled to a large portion of your earnings.”

“But he didn’t write the damn books, I did. And I did it while he was out screwing around with 20-year-old bimbos. Please tell me this isn’t real.”

“Marta calm down. This isn’t helping anything. You did write the books. But the first two were published while you were still married to him. Stephen is now claiming that he gave you ideas and helped you with plots. If a judge believes him that means he could be awarded a good portion of the money you’ve made from sales.”

“That bastard! I could just kill him. I gave him money when we divorced and I got nothing. NOTHING. Not even the damn dog. Is there anyway to fight this?”

Jonathan sighed. “First off don’t say you’re going to kill him to anyone else, please. Secondly you need to go through and find all your notes on the start of the series. All your plot outlines, character sketches, research notes. I’m sure they’ll be subpoenaed before this is all over.”

A wave of relief came over me. Thank goodness my agent had convinced me to keep all my papers for future reference.

I felt the first ray of hope seep into my heart. “And if nothing has his handwriting on it does that mean I’m in the clear?”

Jonathan cleared his throat. “Probably not, but it will be a good start. Don’t worry Marta we’ll get through this together. You’ll probably have to give him some money but I’ll try to hold it down. The books really didn’t take off until after the marriage was over so that’s one for our column. Take care and find those notes. And oh, before I forget, happy birthday.”

The phone went dead and I stared out the window at the San Francisco Bay. Happy birthday indeed. What a way to end a conversation. Of course I guess he couldn’t have said it when the conversation started. Happy birthday Marta. Oh and by the way, you’re being sued by your scummy ex.

Forty years old, divorced, childless and being sued by your ex-husband for money he didn’t deserve. I slammed myself onto the couch, tears threatening to spill over.

Stephen had made my life hell for the last three years of our six-year marriage. Now he wanted me to give him money because I had thrived after the divorce and he hadn’t. He was divorcing Shelia, the bimbo he’d left me for and he needed money.

An image of his handsome face filled my mind. I wish I’d taped the conversation we’d had when he’d packed and moved out.

“You’re just no fun anymore Marta. All you do is work on those stupid books. The first two were flops so why do you bother?”

“They weren’t flops,” I’d retorted. “They’ve made a small amount of money. It just takes a while to build up an audience. My publisher is convinced that the series is going to be successful. The second received some good reviews and sales picked up. If you’d just read them.”

But Stephen had just shaken his head. “I don’t want to read them. I don’t want to have anything to do with them. But I’m not going to sit around and make all the money while you do nothing but type all day long.”

His words sang in my brain. “I don’t want to have anything to do with them.” He’d sure changed his tune. And I’d been right. Four months after Stephen left me the third book in the Montgomery series was a bestseller. In turn sales of the first and second book picked up and I received a large advance for four more books featuring my journalist/sleuth. I’d gone from living in our one-room apartment to a three-story town-house with a view of the bay. I even had a convertible.

A year after walking out Stephen had tried to come back. I’d rejected his offer of a reconciliation and been forced to give him money for the divorce to go through. And now, four years after the divorce he was divorcing again and obviously needed money.

I wondered if this lawsuit was his idea, or a scheme his lawyer had dreamed up after the last newspaper article about my book advance had appeared.

I watched a sailboat float down the water. At least Stephen had dated. And remarried. I hadn’t done more than go out for dinner with men my friend Erica had set me up with for the last four years. But I hadn’t let any of them in. I’d hid from everything and everyone, afraid that I would be hurt once more.

But last week I had done the inevitable. I had told my best friend Erica that I wanted, needed, to get laid. I asked her to fix me up with one of her husband Simon’s friends. I laughed as I remembered the conversation. The laughter in Erica’s voice as she said, “it’s about time.”

At least I had Erica and Simon. They were good friends. I looked at my watch. The two of them would be here in an hour to pick me up for a birthday dinner at the wharf.

I dialed the phone and smiled as a voice came on at the other end. “Parker residence. Mark speaking.” Erica and Simon had trained their children well. I felt a lump in my throat at the idea of what I would never have. Then I took a deep breath.

“Mark sweetie it’s Aunt Marta. Can I talk to your mom?”

There was silence and then Erica’s voice came on the line. “You’re not canceling. Dress casually and we’ve changed our minds. Come to the house in an hour. We’ll leave from here.”

The phone went dead and I hit the off switch. Casual it was. I wondered who Erica had selected as my potential bed mate. I needed human contact tonight. I just hoped that I didn’t back out at the last minute.

*****

“I told Erica you wouldn’t like this, but she said you can’t turn 40 without having a big party.”

I stared at Simon. He was right, I didn’t like birthday parties. Especially surprise birthday parties. How Erica had managed to pull the wool over my eyes for this I’ll never know. More than 20 friends of mine were standing under a banner that screamed “Lordy, Lordy, Marta’s 40!”

I squared my shoulders and smiled at Simon.

“I appreciate everything y’all went through,” I said. “But don’t you think this is a bit over the top.”

“Nonsense, just a barbeque among friends with some birthday cake thrown in.” He turned to the grill and began adding meat to cook. “Besides you know Erica. She can never do anything half-hearted.”

I tried not to smile. Since my divorce Erica had appointed herself my mother, sister, guardian and guru. She was always trying to give me advice on life, love and the pursuit of happiness.

Last week she’d said the words that had pushed me over the edge. “You’ve been divorced four years. That mean’s it’s been at least five years since you’ve been laid. It’s time for you to move on. Spread those legs. Enjoy being a woman. You deserve it. I have several nice men I’d like you to meet. You can choose from there. And I won’t take no for an answer.”

When I’d agreed she’d been shocked. Now I looked at the picnic table were several nice men were sitting at the picnic tables, drinking a beer, perusing the size of my breasts. I’d pulled my long red hair back into a braid and worn a beautiful sundress.

I gave Erica a look and she smiled.

“You have to decide, but I’m pretty sure I know which one it will be. Now give me your keys,” Erica’s voice was firm and I handed them to her. In exchange she pushed a full margarita glass in my hand. “Plenty more where that came from so drink up. We fed the kids and then sent them to my mom’s house so this is an adults only party.”

I stifled a laugh as she pulled me toward the table where several of our friends were already partaking of margaritas and beer.

I was surprised to find my agent and editor sitting at the table talking to Paul, Jeff, George, and Drake. All four men Marta had tried to set me up with, all four failed dates.

Paul moved over and I sat down. There were several people I didn’t recognize and I smiled as I was introduced to them all. I sipped my margarita and sighed. Questions were fired at me from all sides.

“Yes today was my 40th birthday.”

“Yes I’d lived in San Francisco all my life.”

“Yes I was divorced and no I didn’t have any children.”

“Yes I was a mystery writer.”

“No I didn’t kill people to research books.” Although after my conversation with my lawyer today the idea had seeped into my brain.

At this last question I looked at Erica who was looming nearby, her ears trained on the conversation. She shrugged and gave me a sheepish look.

She left her group and came to give me a shoulder hug.

“So they’re not rocket scientists,” she whispered in my ear, “deal with it.”

I drained my glass and stood, refusing offers to get me a refill. “I can do it,” I said, glad to get away from the grilling.

We walked toward the house and Simon called Erica over to discuss the menu. As I opened the kitchen door I could hear them arguing over how well the burgers should be cooked. True to Erica’s word a large pitcher of frozen margaritas sat on a shelf in the freezer.

I reached for it and then gasped as a large male hand clasped over mine. “Here, let me get that for you.” His voice was soft in my ear and it made me shiver. I tried to turn my head but he pushed his close to mine and I couldn’t turn to see who he was.

He turned us as one and sat the pitcher on the counter. Then he lifted my glass and ran the rim along the salt ring sitting on the counter. He took my hand and we lifted the pitcher together, filling my glass until it was almost overflowing.

“Can’t have the birthday girl waiting on herself,” he said softly, his breathe on my neck caused me to forget about things like margaritas and birthdays, and about awful Stephen. I could feel him pressed against my backside and he felt warm and hard. It had been so long since I’d felt a man’s body that the contact sent tingles rippling through my stomach.

“Have we met?”

“I think we have now.” The humor was evident in his voice. “I’m Cameron Barnes.”

I wiggled in an effort to move myself away from where I was edged between the table and his body and he groaned.

“Keep doing that and we’ll do more than meet.”

I felt myself sway in his arms and he chuckled.

“Let me go, please. I don’t appreciate you holding me this close.” My low tones belied my words. He was turning me on something fierce.

“Erica tells me you’ve been a bad girl.” He pressed himself closer and I groaned. “She’s been trying to fix you up for a while now and you’ve ignored each one of her efforts. But now she tells me you’ve changed your mind.”

“That’s why you’re here then? Well get in line.”

He laughed, his hand reaching up to cup my breast. I gasped and tried to bat it away even as a soft moan escaped my lips. He squeezed gently and my nipple popped out to seek more contact. His other hand ran under my skirt and the word “please” came out on a whiff. Behind me Cameron Barnes laughed.

“I’m at the front of the line Marta. Remember that.”

He released me suddenly and moved toward the door. Before he went outside he stopped and we locked eyes. He was not classically handsome but he was very easy on the eyes. More than six feet tall, dark closely cropped hair and green eyes. The grin he gave me was wicked and I felt my knees go weaker than they already were.

Where had Erica been hiding him, I wondered. A few more minutes of that look and I’d be flat on my back. He shook his head with a smile and went outside and I followed like an obedient puppy, running back to pick up my full glass.

And he was right. He had definitely moved to the front of the line.

*****

By 8 o’clock I had drank three full margaritas and was feeling no pain. All of the single men danced attendance on me. Except for Cameron Barnes. He smiled from a distance laughed as the other men tried to gather my attentions. Finally I couldn’t stand it anymore and when the burgers were done I made sure to sit across from him. He smiled at me as he sipped from a soda can.

“What do you do for a living?” My question was met with a smile and a shake of his head.

“I’m a lawyer,” he answered. “I’m one of the good guys. I’m a prosecutor, an ADA.”

“Really. I could use you for information for one of my books,” I said. And then I thought of my conversation with my lawyer this afternoon. The thought flew back out on a cloud of alcohol.

He grinned. “You can use me for more than that. But we won’t talk about that in front of all these nice people. But here, let me give you one of my cards.”

He stood up and my eyes were drawn to the large bulge in the front of his jeans. And then I looked to the left. My key chain was hanging from the front of his pocket.

“Are those my keys? Where did you get them?”

“I’m the designated driver tonight,” he answered. “Surely you’ve noticed that I’m not drinking.”

“You’re assuming a great deal. I haven’t made my choice yet.”

I gulped down the rest of my margarita, trying to stop the shaking that had started in my hands.

“Yes you have.” He grinned at me. “Erica asked me to drive you home later and I agreed. It’s as simple as that.”

“And how are you going to get home?”

He smiled at me and I felt as if I would melt on the spot.

“I’ll catch a cab in the morning.”

We locked eyes. The table had cleared as people had finished eating.

“If you don’t want it just say so. I won’t force myself on you.”

I stayed silent just long enough for him to smirk. “That’s what I thought. Simon and I have been friends for years. He told me you needed a firm hand. And I’ve got two of them.”

His words made me flush.

“A firm hand? Are you going to met out punishment or fuck me?”

I couldn’t believe I’d been so blunt. Several margaritas and five years without sex were clouding my brain.

“Both.”

The world stopped around me, the only thing spinning was my head.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m going to spank you, and then I’m going to fuck you. I think you need both of those activities. And both of them need to be long and hard.”

My mind rebelled at his words. At the same time the V between my legs screamed out “do it now, now!” My mouth stayed closed and I felt as if the bottom had dropped out of my stomach.

Cameron continued to stare at me as I took a drink and looked around the yard. Then I puffed out my chest.

“What makes you think I’ll allow something like that?”

He stood and put our empty plates together. Then he leaned across the table and kissed me, hard.

“You’ll allow it and you’ll love it. Trust me. And don’t drink anymore. I don’t want you to use the excuse, ‘but I was drunk.’ I want you sober.”

And then he picked up the plates and left.

*****

“He’s planning on spanking me.” My words came out rushed and Erica laughed.

“I figured he might. And you’re in for a treat. Simon spanks me. Have you really never been spanked?”

I shook my head furiously. “I’m not into pain. I don’t want to be spanked. I just want to be fucked.”

“Spanking’s not about pain,” Erica said softly, pulling me toward a quiet corner of the lawn. “If done right it’s highly erotic. I can guarantee you that if Cameron spanks you tonight you’ll have an orgasm to beat all orgasms. That is if he knows how to do it right, and I’m sure that he does.”

I felt as if the lawn was moving toward my face. I’d had way too much to drink and the idea of being spanking by Cameron Barnes was causing feelings that I didn’t know how to deal with.

“Does Simon really spank you?”

Erica shrugged her shoulders. “The first time it was a joke. But I liked it so much that I asked for it again. Then we started reading up on BDSM and domestic discipline.”

I shook my head and she laughed. “Most of the time he spanks me for fun. Sometimes he spanks me when I’ve done something wrong. I love it when he disciplines me. One night while the kids were out he pulled down my pants and spanked me with a wooden spoon right in the middle of the kitchen. I came so hard we bought a wooden spoon to keep in the bedroom.”

The look of disbelief on my face caused Erica to laugh. “Don’t knock it until you try it. I didn’t plan on Cameron spanking you, just fucking you. But since he’s offered you need to take him up on it. You need to get laid Marta. I guarantee you’ll love it. Talk to him about it first. He’s a lawyer, he loves to talk.”

I drank from the soda I’d grabbed from a cooler. Why was I talking orders from Cameron Barnes? What I needed was another margarita.

A storm of emotions was flowing through my body. Half of me wanted to run, call a cab and go home. The other half of me wanted to go to Cameron and say, “Let’s do it NOW!”

“Marta, you’re my best friend and I love you but you’ve hidden in your house for five years,” Erica said, an exasperated look on her face. “You’ve rejected every man that I placed in front of you. You wouldn’t even let them pick you up at your house. You always met them in the restaurant so you could control when you left. You finally decided to let yourself loose for one night. Enjoy the moment. Don’t over analyze this. Just do it.”

I felt as if the whole world was ganging up on me. First Stephen suing me. Then Erica, my best friend, setting me up for a night of kinky sex when I’d only asked for sex.

My face must have given away my emotions because Erica’s face softened. “Is something going on that you’re not telling me. You can’t say that you’re not attracted to Cameron. The man is gorgeous. I’m not asking you to marry him, just let him take control for one night and enjoy yourself.”

I shook my head. “No, I’m just nervous Erica. I haven’t had sex in five years with something that didn’t require batteries. And I’m not exactly young and pert anymore. Plus I’ve never slept with someone that I’ve been set up with for the sole purpose of having sex. It feels kinda, I don’t know, sleezy.”

“He’s an assistant district attorney, not someone you called on 1-800-SCREW-ME.”

We dissolved in a fit of giggles and for the first time that evening I felt good about life. Erica was right. I needed sex, and the idea of the sexy ADA pounding into me sent shivers up my spine. Of course he also intended to pound on me and that idea made my knees knock.

“Does it hurt?”

Erica wiped tears from her eyes and smiled. “Trust me. You’ll love it.”

*****

“I stopped drinking quite a while ago. I can drive.” Cameron used my keys to unlock the passenger side door. He opened it and stood by the curb, staring at me with those beautiful sea-green eyes. When it became clear that he was not going to change his mind I slid into the seat and fastened my seat belt.

“I live by the bay,” I whispered. “Just go over the bridge and…”

The car turned left when it should have turned right.

“Where are we going?”

“My house. It’s closer. Plus Erica told me that you didn’t allow your dates in your home. I’m just honoring that request.”

I smiled at him even as I twisted my hands in my lap. My nerves were on edge. Cameron was so calm that I wondered if he had sex with strange women every day.

A few blocks down he pulled the car over at a small neighborhood park. “Let’s sit and talk for a while.”

“But I thought you wanted to, you know.”

He laughed. A rich deep laugh that filled the car. Without answering he got out of the car and then helped me from my seat.

A full moon lit the night sky, surrounded by beautiful stars. Cameron led me to a picnic table where he sat down, stopping me before I could do the same.

“Take off your panties.”

My stomach did flip-flops. “Excuse me?”

“All people on trial in my courtroom are panty-less.”

I laughed. “I’m on trial?”

“Do as you’re told.”

I looked around to make sure we were alone. Then I reached under my skirt and pulled my panties down, wiggling out of them. A delicious feeling of wantonness filled me. It had been so long and here was this gorgeous man wanting to take me. And I was going to let him.

“Raise your right hand. Do you swear to take the spanking I’m going to give you with the intentions that it will be given, in the spirit of fun and hot sex.”

“If it pleases the court...”

My sentence was cut off. “Oh it will please the court. Very much.”

“If you’ll let me finish.”

He cocked his head at me and I shivered. The cool night air felt wonderful against my skin, especially as it wafted up my skirt and met the wetness that was seeping out of me.

“If it would please the court the uh, defendant?”

He nodded and I continued.

“The defendant would like to define the parameters of the spanking.” The composed words belied my queasy stomach.

“That’s why we’re here right now, in a neutral place. I wanted to give you a chance to talk with me, get to know me a little. I didn’t want you afraid. That’s not what this is about.”

“Then what is this about, um, your honor?”

A smirk spread across his face. “Let me pose this question. Has it really been five years since you’ve had sex?”

I moved my eyes away from his and nodded. He hooked his fingers under my chin and pulled my face toward his.

I could feel his breath on my lips, his eyes boring into mine. His muscular body was giving off heat and I thought I would come right on the spot.

“This court sentences the defendant to a spanking. A spanking that will continue until she shudders in ecstasy.”

He kissed me lightly, his tongue running over my lips.

“What if I don’t like it, your honor?”

Even as the words slipped out I knew that I wouldn’t like it. I knew I was going to love it.

“Then all you have to do is say ‘objection your honor.’ And the objection will be sustained.”

He pulled me into his arms and kissed me again. Then he raised my skirt and slapped me soundly on the butt several times. The sharp slaps sent feelings of warmth through my body and I moaned.

“And the sentence is to be carried out forthwith in the judge’s chambers. So let’s move it.”

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