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western saddle that rested on a specially constructed mount in her bedroom. That saddle had been the first thing she’d learned to grip tight with her thighs–the beginning of a long career of excitement and pleasure. Now she used it only for special occasions. Special men who had balance and dexterity. Men who knew how to ride as well as she did. The man’s voice brought her back to the moment.
    “Mona, fun’s fun, but I have to get back to the hospital. I go on call at midnight.”
    “It’s only six.” She leaned over and took his nipple between her teeth, applying just enough pressure to make him gasp. Tied the way he was, he was completely helpless. Totally at her mercy. And he hardly knew her. It always amazed her that men were so willing to put themselves in a powerless position with a woman they knew not at all. But of course, they never believed they were powerless. Until it was too late. “I’ll be back in plenty of time to finish our little game.”
    “Mona, really, I’d feel a lot better if you let me loose. I’ll wait here for you to come back.”
    Selecting a small whip from the quiver that hung from the big brass bed, Mona turned to the man. The room was illuminated by three dozen big candles, the light catching in the tangle of her brown hair, turning it into a pale nimbus. Her image was reflected in mirrors on the walls and ceiling. With the drapes hanging from the bed, it was a scene of decadence, of dark pleasures. The man who lay supine on the bed was darkly handsome, strong, virile, a perfect male specimen. A burgundy sheet was draped across his torso, and he was spread-eagled to the four sturdy posts of the bed, tied tightly with bonds of braided leather. The bedposts had been reinforced to her specifications by a very willing welder she’d had a few encounters with.
    Taking the tip of the whip, Mona touched the inside of his knee. With the lightest touch, she moved the whip up his thigh, inch by inch, creeping beneath the sheet with a feather-light touch. When she saw his response, she smiled. “I know you’ll wait on me, Dr. Marino. I know many things about you.” She leaned forward so that her bound breasts pressed close to his lips. “But the one thing I know for certain is that you will be here when I return. You have no choice.” She turned away, picked up her turtleneck shirt from the floor, pulled it over her head, and bent to unbuckle the spurs she wore on her boots. She wanted to wear them, but the silver rowels jangled too loudly when she walked across the brick floor at the restaurant. She felt the young doctor’s gaze on her as she worked the leather buckles. Turning, she held them over the bed.
    “Mona, I’d be a lot more comfortable with our relationship if you’d, uh, let me up. I’m beginning to feel a little anxious about this. What if I have to go to the bathroom?”
    “Just remember, doctor. If you foul my sheets, I’ll punish you severely when I return.” She brought the whip down on his stomach. Not enough to hurt, just enough to sting.
    “Mona!” He yelped.
    “Don’t bother trying to call for help.” She picked up her purse. It was time for her writer’s meeting. It was something of a pity to leave the handsome young doctor, but he’d be more than eager to see her when she returned. And she would be more than ready, her creativity stimulated by the other members of the group. “The room is sound-proofed, so if screaming helps, go ahead. Remember, though, it won’t do any good, and it’ll just tire you. I’d prefer to find you rested and ready when I return.”
    “Mona,” he pleaded. “Don’t leave me tied like this.”
    “Oh, doctor, I love it when you beg. Save it for later. I’ll be back in three hours. Or maybe four. But you can’t see your watch, so what difference does it make. I have to run now, I can’t be late.”

Chapter Four
    Mona rearranged the collar of her turtleneck as she saw Andromeda Ripley’s thick, black curls