J. McKenna - Wanted - Kept Woman

Brian just stared, wondering if his judgment in women was that far off or if Rebecca was being too harsh. “And why is that, do you think?”

“Do you really want to know?”

Brian knew what she meant— Am I going to get in trouble if I speak my mind?

He sighed. “I promise not to be churlish. I hope you know you can talk to me freely. Am I the kind of boss who only wants to hear good news?”

She smiled. Brian could see it light up her eyes. “No, you’re always a very straightforward kind of guy.” She stared at him and when he didn’t say anything further, she plunged ahead. “I’d say it was because you’re…dominant.”

“What?”

“Dominant. Not just in love but in your business as well. Look at what you created here by sheer force of will.” She waved a hand around his office and Brian knew she meant the entire company.

“Well, yeah, but that’s different.”

“I don’t think so.” She smiled and tipped her head. “I can’t believe that this hasn’t occurred to you.”

“What? That I should treat women the same way I tackle business problems?”

“No, that there are women who really like…uh, a strong man.”

“I thought they liked the sensitive type.”

“Some do. And I think that’s what you’ve tried to be, probably because of the way you’ve been brought up. Very respectful toward women.” She paused. “I hope I’m not overstepping my bounds here.”

Brian wanted to reassure her. He was fascinated by her ideas. “No, no. Please. I want to hear this.” She was telling him what he’d been denying himself.

“It’s just that there are some women who like to be…um, controlled, taken.” Now it was her turn to blush. “Maybe it’s the cavewoman in us. Maybe it’s genetics. I don’t know. All I’m saying is that I suspect you’ve been dating the wrong kind of women.”

He leaned back, confused. “So you’re saying I want…what? A little mouse?” That didn’t seem right.

“No. You want a woman who is smart, sexy, good-looking—and submissive.”

Brian sat all the way back, his mouth pursed as he thought that through. He knew what a submissive woman was, of course. He wasn’t naïve. Secretly, he supposed he had been looking for a woman like that, although he had never put that label on it. He had simply hoped he might find a woman who wouldn’t challenge him at every turn. Still…

“I’m not sure I want a doormat, Rebecca.”

“Oh, you can have a submissive woman and not have her be a doormat. There are nuances. In fact, for many it’s a game they play. Not all submissives do it twenty-four/seven.”

“You seem to know a lot about this.”

She blushed again. “Uh, well.” She waved her hands.

Brian sat up. “Hey… You’re telling me you’re a submissive?”

“Not in the workplace,” she responded at once. “But at home, John and I have been known to act out things on occasion.”

Brian stared at her. He’d never known that side of her before. She seemed so accomplished, so professional. He didn’t know exactly what went on behind closed doors at the Detwiler home, but he suspected that’s why she had been so happily married for all these years.

“Does he tie you up and spank you or something?” He blurted the question before he could stop himself.

“I’m not telling.” She smiled enigmatically. “That’s between me and John.”

“Uh, sorry. Didn’t mean to pry.” He paused. “Do you attribute the success of your marriage to this?”

“Yes, I’d have to say so.”

Brian sat back again, and put his hands behind his head. He found himself strangely excited by the thought. “Wow… If that’s the kind of woman I need, how can I go about finding her? What techniques must I apply?”

“Ahhh,” she raised up a delicate finger to the ceiling, “because you’re so successful, you think all of your problems can be solved by applying logic. As you’ve said so yourself many times, women aren’t logical.”

“Yeah, why is that, anyway? Why can’t women be more logical?”

She flashed him an enigmatic smile. “Like Henry Higgins, ‘Why can’t a woman be more like a man’, right?”

He laughed. “Okay. So I want to be in control, and I want to find a woman who…um, enjoys having a man who’s in control.” He rolled his eyes. “So what would you do, if you were me?”

“If I were you, I’d take out a personal ad.”

He stared at her for a second and burst out laughing. “That’s it? That’s your idea?”

“Unless you have something better.”

“Um, no, but it’s not a very original idea.”

“Well, that may be true. I mean, the ad by itself. I suggest you have a follow-up questionnaire that asks certain questions to determine how they view relationships. Then you could sort them out a little better.”

Brian sat back in his chair. “Wow. You think they’d fill out a questionnaire like that?”

“A submissive woman probably would.”

“Huh.” Brian felt the thrill of the possibilities course through him. “What do you think the ad should say?”

“I think, for you, it should be straightforward, like your personality.” She leaned forward. “I could help you with that, if you’d like.”

Now it was his turn to smile. “I was hoping you’d say that.” In his mind, he couldn’t shake the image of Rebecca being spanked by her husband, whether it was true or not.

Shortly after noon, Suzanne Montgomery drove to a mall just off San Francisco’s Union Square and went inside to a small restaurant where she knew she’d be left alone. She wasn’t in the mood to share her lunch hour with co-workers. Not today. She felt selfish and cranky.

Passing the entrance, she saw the latest issue of the local free tabloid. The blaring headline warned of skullduggery at City Hall but that didn’t interest Suzanne. She liked to amuse herself by reading the Personals, much like someone who never takes vacations might like to read the travel section.

She sat at a table near the back, away from the other diners. The waitress took her order and left. Now Suzanne had a few glorious minutes to herself. She opened the paper and began reading, hoping, someday she might find a decent guy there in twenty-five words or less.

Yeah, right , she thought.

She was naturally suspicious of anyone who would take out an ad—even though she’d toyed with the idea herself a time or two. Of course, she wouldn’t be like the lonely people she read about. She would be different. More refined, more desirable. But she never could bring herself to actually place the ad. Besides, she didn’t know how to word it in a way that didn’t make her sound desperate.

I’m only thirty-two , she told herself. I’ll find someone special. I’m neat, smart, pretty— Okay, so I’ve gained a few pounds since my horrible divorce, who hasn’t? Where are all the good men? Why don’t they ask me out?

Twice, she actually answered ads, to her own surprise. The men had sounded intelligent and mysterious. Each time, she had imagined him to be tall, dark and handsome—although short, blond and ordinary would be okay as long as they weren’t jerks—and they would be smitten by an earnest brunette with a winning smile and a shy but good-natured personality. The first time, she never heard back a peep. The second time, he called and they met for coffee. He hadn’t exactly been what she looked for in a man—shorter than she expected and starting to go bald—but he had certainly been nice to her. It had seemed to go well, but he never called her again.

Was it something I said? Wasn’t I thin enough for him?