Free The Secret Sex Life of a Single Mom by Delaine Moore Page A

the message:
    I certainly enjoyed your profile. Please review mine and if it intrigues you, instead of making you run away screaming, please contact me . . .
    The Duke
    The Duke? PU-leeze. I clicked on his profile:
    I’m a Dominant alpha male with two basic kinks (and a zillion small ones). First, I am very attracted to strong, confident, Dominant women—the “alpha females”—and I like them to be sexually submissive to me. I like a lioness that desires the intimate company of a lion.

    The second thing is even kinkier. I like helping to create “monsters”—powerful, take-no-shit, demanding women who want to rule submissive or beta males for sport. I’ve been involved with a number of women whom I helped find and express their full alpha-femaleness through exerting their power over men . . . and I found it very satisfying.
    So if you are a top-shelf alpha female not afraid of the work needed to be a woman like that, or the responsibilities in that (it’s a sin for a nimrod male to take advantage of an alpha female), and you are looking for a partner/mentor to support you in pursuing your alpha dreams, then let me know. (If you are bi, that would also be very nice.)
    Besides the company of confident, fun women, other interests include art, classic movies, and investing.
    Wow . I reread his profile. Wow again.
    I didn’t really understand what he meant by Dominant/submissive. But for some reason, I was drawn to his words. He seemed confident and strong and, well . . . experienced . I wondered what it would be like to hang out with someone like him—inside and outside the bedroom.
    Suddenly, my inner voice shrieked: Are you crazy? He’s probably some freak who’s into leather and whips! Visions of a skinhead wearing a studded collar and a sinister grin flashed through my mind.
    “Oh relax,” I grumbled and rolled my eyes. Seriously, if I took an objective, nonhysterical look at his profile, his writing suggested a man who was well educated and who possessed a strong respect for women. In fact, it sounded like he wanted to empower women.
    My eyes moved to his photo at the side of the page. His head was cropped off, but I could tell that he was a large, heavily built
man. My “headless” admirer stood with his hands on his waist, wearing jeans and a pastel green shirt with big white flowers on it. Okay, obviously not the best dresser , I grinned. And those bright-white running shoes should only be worn at the gym. Still, I felt intrigued. He had big hands, big arms, a thick waist; even his stance was strong, like a man who commanded attention.
    I continued scouring his profile for other clues. It listed him as forty-eight years old; hmmm . . . a bit out of my age bracket . . . Ah, he’s six foot three —I was right, he is a big man . . . Jeepers, he lives in New York—that’s kind of far . . . His work is apparently “Internet-related,” which is kind of cool, because my business (which I’ve neglected terribly) is e-based. His annual income? More than one million USD. His net worth? Five to ten million USD.
    I’m certainly not at all what one would call a “gold digger.” Money alone isn’t enough to interest me; I see it as more of a bonus. In fact, this past summer during my serial dating rampage, I’d met and rejected a few millionaires.
    But still, my imagination wandered. At this point in my life, I wanted to experience new things. And the idea of being treated like a queen by a successful, powerful man appealed to me. Yes, I grinned, I could enjoy being swept away on a few exotic trips . But more than that, I would enjoy having an intense mental connection with such a man. I envisioned myself waking up in a king-size bed in a penthouse somewhere, 600-thread-count Egyptian cotton caressing my skin, a sexy, ultra-intelligent man lying beside me. Oh my god, could I get any more cliché! I thought . But a woman’s allowed to have her daydreams—stay-at-home moms too! So what if I wasn’t a