Pleasure Bound

“So, you’re sticking with your story that your ex wasn’t a stinker? Because I’m all ears if you want to diss him. It’ll help get it out of your system.”

“No, Eric was just the wrong guy for me.”

Not that it hadn’t hurt to find he no longer loved her. Or really, that he had never loved her. They’d dated since high school and only believed they’d been in love. But neither of them had wanted the marriage to fail—to admit they had failed—so it had taken ten years for them to finally realize that divorce was the only answer. Because they simply weren’t happy together.

Aimee pursed her lips. “Okay then. Moving on.”

She leaned toward Sandra and her lips turned up in a crooked smile. Sandra could tell Aimee had had a little too much to drink. And Sandra probably had, too. Champagne tended to affect her a little too much.

Aimee sipped her glass, then giggled. “I have an idea. Let’s make a list.”

She opened her purse and pulled out a pen, then grabbed one of the small square cocktail napkins the waitress had left on the table with the appetizer platter. Aimee wrote down the numeral 1 followed by a period.

“Okay, I want you to think about,”—she giggled—“you know … men … and what you’d really like.”

“What I’d like? I guess I’d like a guy who’s really sensitive, with a good sense of humor and … well, a sense of adventure.”

Aimee pointed at her and winked. “That’s what I’m talking about. Adventure.” She sipped her drink again, then set down her glass. “Forget that Mr. Sensitive stuff. Think about Mr. Muscle-Bound-Hunk meets Mr. Sexy-Bad-Boy and how he,”—she winked—“or, better yet, they could make your dreams come true.”

Sandra knew exactly what Aimee was talking about. Sandra had made the mistake of telling Aimee about one of her ultra sexy dreams, which had been a frequent occurrence over the past few months. Fantasies brought to life in steamy erotic detail in the middle of the night, leaving her hot and frustrated in the morning.

“I don’t see the point in making a list.” Sandra really didn’t want her fantasies written out in black and white. That seemed too … sordid.

“Ah, come on. If you can dream about them, you can talk about them.”

Sandra’s cheeks flushed. “I don’t think so.”

Aimee patted Sandra’s hand. “Honey, there’s nothing wrong with having fantasies. And it’s good to examine them. It’ll help you know what really turns you on. Which is good since you’re going to start dating again. Look, I’ll get us started. You told me about that one where you were captured by pirates and carried off to their ship, so.…”

Sandra watched as Aimee wrote Be held captive beside the numeral 1.

“Now you,” Aimee said, pen poised.

Sandra shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t think of anything.”

“What about that book you were reading a couple of weeks ago? It had bondage, didn’t it?”

“Um … Dominance and submission, actually.”

Aimee smiled. “You’d like to try that?”

Sandra shrugged again. Aimee nudged her shoulder.

“Come on. Get into the spirit of it. I’m just trying to help.”

Sandra took a sip of her champagne and gazed at Aimee’s deep blue eyes. She

did want to help. Sandra sighed.

“Okay. Well, I’m not sure about the bondage and domination stuff. I’d have to know the guy pretty well.”

“Well, yeah.” Aimee nibbled on one of the chicken wings, then picked up the pen again. “Okay, let’s leave that one a little open.”

She wrote down item number two as Experiment with bondage.

“What else? Think about some fantasy that has really intrigued you that you know you’ll never try, but wish you could.” She grinned. “And don’t be shy.”

One fantasy immediately popped into Sandra’s head. She’d caught part of a show on sexual fantasies and she’d been intrigued by one woman’s fantasy about being with a stranger. To her surprise, that had turned Sandra on immensely. Which was just crazy, especially since the only man she’d ever been with was her ex-husband, Eric.