Rita was paying no attention whatsoever out the rearview mirror. The first clue that the other driver was even out there was the sickening crunch of metal as her mammoth SUV lurched to a halt.

"Fuck!" she screamed into her cell phone at her boss at the real estate office. "Frank, I gotta call you back. I just hit somebody."

Her heart slammed in her chest as she threw open the door and slid down off the seat, high heels clicking on the parking lot black top. "Oh, god," she exclaimed taking in the sight of the man and his ruined sports car all at once. "I'm so sorry. I didn't have any idea you were there."

"So I gathered," he said, showing remarkable equanimity.

Rita took a moment from her general panic to admire him. Expensive loafers, button down shirt, nice jeans and a blazer. The look oozed casual, confident money.

So did the car, a late model European sports car that must have gone for fifty g's if it went for a nickel.

I am so fucked, she thought. The second accident in as many months and this time it's going to cost more to fix than I can earn in commissions in six months.

There had to be a way out...

She was blonde and she had her looks, maybe not the knockout figure from her twenties or early thirties, but still serviceable, assuming the guy wasn't a refugee from Brokeback Mountain.

"Are you all right?" he wanted to know, showing little apparent concern for the giant dent that used to be his car.

"I'm fine," she managed a weak smile. "I feel pretty foolish, though."

"These things happen," he soothed. "The important thing is you're not injured."

"That's true," she pushed out her chest subtly, thankful she'd worn the pale blue dress that tended to show her assets to best effect. "I do hope you're okay, too?"

"Nothing a little money won't fix," he winked. The gesture brought out little crow's feet, which Rita had always found sexy in a man. Especially a potentially a rich one with chiseled features and silver gray hair.

"Yes ... about the money," she bit her full lip, making it protrude just a little. "I wonder, sir, if it would be all right, that is to say..."

"You don't want me to call the cops or the insurance, is that it?" he saved her from her misery.

Rita gasped. "Yes, that's it exactly. How did you know?"

"Intuition."

She hung on his next words. "So ... you'll help me then?"

He smiled coyly. "Buy me a drink," he said. "And we can work something out."

She heaved a huge sigh. "Oh, thank you, Sir, if you only knew. My insurance is a mess already, my husband would kill me. I could just kiss you."

"Careful," he laughed. "I doubt your husband would like that anymore than an insurance hike."

"No, he wouldn't," she agreed, wondering how he was going to manage to get his car hauled out of here without the police coming along and spoiling the whole thing by writing her a ticket.

Her answer came a moment later when a squad car rolled up. Her newfound denim clad hero went immediately to the driver's side to talk. The officer nodded his head a few times and then shook the man's hand. With that he was walking back towards her.

"All set," he said.

"Just like that?" she marveled.

"Just like that," he said. "Now how about that drink? There's a sports bar down at the end of this strip mall."

"That would be fine." She took one last look at their vehicles, the huge crunch in his door in comparison to the almost invisible scratches on her back bumper. "God, I feel so bad about this."

He put his hand against her back, palm pressing. "You think too much. I told you, it's no big deal."

It was a big deal if you considered Rita's next problem which was that she didn't have the money to fix this man's car in the first place, not without insurance help and she'd just eliminated that possibility all together.

That was a bridge she'd cross later. For now, she needed to know what to do with her vehicle.

"Just pull forward again," he advised. "Back into the spot. By the time we come out my car will be towed and no one will be the wiser."

"You really are awesome," she thanked him. "I don't know what I'd have done if you were some kind of dick."

He smiled slantedly. "You don't know me all that well yet, maybe you'll change your mind."

Rita decided he was kidding and laughed. Reparking her SUV, she walked with him over to the bar in question. It was virtually empty inside. He took her down a half flight of stairs to an open lower floor. The leather-covered tables were completely unoccupied. There were televisions on either end of the paneled wall showing two different sports networks.

"Two gin and tonics," the man told the tall waitress in the short black skirt as soon as they were seated.

Rita was a little surprised to have him order for her, but she wasn't about to complain about anything.

"Do you like gin?" he asked.

"Yes," she smiled politely.

His lips slid to a sharp angle. "You're quite a woman," he studied her. "Aren't you? Or should I say quite a girl."

The way he said "girl" sent butterflies through her tummy. It was intimate, possessive ... and very powerful. "I'll answer to either," she replied.

He laughed. "Very diplomatic, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't say that," she answered honestly.

"No?" He raised a brow. She tried to guess his age. He could pass for forty-five but he was probably in his fifties. Certainly she felt young in comparison. He could be her father. "What would you say, then ... oh, dear, I haven't even asked your name."

"I'm Rita," she said softly. "Rita Monroe."

It didn't occur to her lie. It just wouldn't have felt right.

"Pleased to know you. I'm Conrad."

She waited for his last name, but he moved on to something else.

"Rita, I want you to know that I have no interest in your money. I have plenty of it and frankly it bores me."

"Oh." She tried to contain her enthusiasm. Dear god, she might actually come out of this unscathed.

"What I do care about," he took a sip of his drink, "is justice."

Her heartbeat quickened a little. "Conrad, if you mean the police, I--"

"No," he cut her off. "I don't mean them. They don't really have the capability to rectify this kind of situation."

"Exactly what kind of situation is that?" she asked, a little wary now.

"The sort of a situation involving a girl who's been naughty."

Rita's mouth went dry. "I'm not following you."

"I think you are. You, Rita, are the naughty girl. And you need to be punished."

Rita rose to her feet. Her legs were shaking. Ordinarily she had an answer for everything, but this Conrad was putting her completely off balance. "I think I should be going."

"I wouldn't do that," he said, his tone dead calm, "if I were you. You'd be making things quite a bit worse on yourself, wouldn't you? Now that you've fled the scene of the accident."

Her mouth hung open. "Fled?! But you invited me here."

Conrad enjoyed another sip of gin. "So you say. But you're not exactly the victim of this crime are you?"

Rita sat back down. "What is it you want?"

"For starters, you may show me the respect I am due. From this moment forward you will address me as Sir."

Rita's voice trembled. "What is it you want, Sir."

"I told you, justice. The appropriate punishment. Were you a man, I would give you a good thrashing, but since you are merely a female I intend to give you something you can better understand. A spanking."

"A ... what?" she asked, not believing her ears.

"A spanking," he said, most pleased with himself. "On your bare behind."

She shook her head. "This must be some kind of joke. Am I on one of those TV shows?"

"It's not a joke," he shook his head. "And there are no cameras. This is reality. Your reality. And don't even think about trying to back out because I promise you I am capable of making your life a living hell."

Rita's eyes began to water. "I have a husband ... Sir, please, don't do this to me."

"You weren't too concerned about him a while ago, were you? When you were flashing those tits of yours in my face? Tell me, are they real?"

She lowered her eyes. "Yes. They're real."

"Do you cheat on your husband?" he wanted to know. "And don't lie to me, I'll only find out later when you are over my knee."

Rita clenched her fists. She felt so very helpless and yet at the same time ... she was aroused. "I've never cheated, Sir."

"Lucky for you," he approved. "I might have punished you for that as well, now finish your drink and we'll get out of here."

She picked up the glass with trembling hands. "Yes, Sir," she mumbled, shocked by her own passivity.