"To be kidnapped," Jenna Marks whispered to her friend. She glanced about to make sure no one in the coffee shop had heard her confession. There was no one nearby but a gorgeous guy looking at his computer and sipping a latte, but he had in his headphones so she was sure he hadn't heard.

"Kidnapped? That's your secret fantasy?" Mira asked. "Seems kinda..."

"And, you know," Jenna interrupted. "Um, forced."

"Raped?"

"No! God, no. I mean, well, geez...it's a fantasy. In the fantasy, he'd make sure that I wanted him and I got off. But you know. It's that helpless to a stranger fantasy. Loads of women have it."

"Loads?"

"Just because you haven't doesn't mean it's not true," Jenna retorted, feeling a bit self-conscious. Idly, she toyed with a strand of the auburn hair that had fallen over her collarbone. She looked over at the guy again to be sure he wasn't listening. Under the brim of his red baseball cap, his green eyes stared intently on his PC. The hat, covering short dark hair, seemed in opposition to his button-down white shirt, but appeared in perfect unison to the muscles the cotton barely contained. Thankfully, he seemed wholly oblivious to the conversation beside him.

Lord, what had possessed her to be truthful when Mira had asked about her secret fantasy? She hadn't played truth or dare as a teenager, and this grown up version at twenty-eight was making her queasy. Wishing she'd kept her mouth shut, she stirred a packet-worth of Splenda into her otherwise black coffee. Her stomach rolled at the idea of another coffee, and she thought perhaps she should have something to eat instead, but she didn't have time to get real food--the coffee shop only had pastries.

She sighed and took a sip of the steaming drink. Mira shouldn't be shocked by her confession. The girl indulged in one outlandish escapade after another. Still, Jenna realized now, she should have told her to mind her own business.

"Don't you have some sort of secret wish?" Jenna asked, hoping to shift attention from herself.

Mira's cheeks colored.

Mira blushing? She must have one doozy of a fantasy.

"Spill it," Jenna urged.

Her friend shook her head. "I've, uh, done everything I might fantasize about. Nothing like getting kidnapped." She glanced at her watch. "Oops! Gotta go or I'm gonna be late. Thursday night. So much to do. I'll call you tomorrow and give you all the steamy details of Craig and his big...truck?"

"Yeah, sure."

It was just like Mira to weasel out of telling her fantasy. Jenna shook her head. Didn't matter. Mira would forget this in three point two seconds, and Jenna would go home to her battery-operated marauder and pretend he was a masked stranger making her come.

Rob Colvin forced himself not to stare open-mouthed at the beautiful woman at the table next to his. He'd seen her in here before, and every time, she mesmerized him with her cascade of dark auburn hair and wickedly sparkling blue eyes. She was a little too thin for his tastes, but that could be remedied with some pizza and cheesecake.

Whenever he saw her, his cock went into overdrive. She was hardly the Barbie doll clone many men looked for, but she was the epitome of his dreams. And to hear the secret fantasy she'd just laid out for her friend... Oh man.

As owner of a local alternative lifestyle club, The Dungeon, he rarely approached women. When he did, they either falsely simpered all over him or ran in terror. So many of the females he encountered were either scared of his way of life or enamored with a brief walk on the wild side. That wouldn't do. He didn't want a lifestyle slave, just someone who would be submissive to him when he started a scene--someone who would always be his slave in the bedroom.

His cock thrust against the fly of his jeans, and he shifted in his chair, hoping to adjust some of the pressure. Hearing Little Miss Wet Dream reveal her fantasy sent his imagination and his need for her racing wild.

If she wanted that fantasy, he was exactly the man to deliver it. But would she like the rest of what he'd introduce her to? Leaning back in his seat, he watched as she rose from her table. Her skinny hips swayed as she moved to dispose of her cup then left the building. From his club, he knew women, and this one definitely needed another fifteen to twenty pounds on her.