On her wall, there was a poster of Virginia Woolf, who Alex wouldn’t have recognized—though he had read one of her books—except her name and the dates of her life were printed underneath. A red blanket lay over her bed with a precious mound of pillow at the top. Kimberly moved in front of a dresser, lifted from among every day dresser items—brushes, make-up containers, and a mirror—a black leather paddle. She held it up with the wide end facing him. “If you misbehave at my place, you won’t get a kinky hand-spanking. You’ll feel this.”
“I’ll behave.”
“Go ahead and touch it.”
Alex reached out and felt the business end of her paddle between his finger and thumb. It was firm and thick, and Alex knew it would be truly painful. He lowered his eyes then lifted them to hers. “Kimberly,” he said
