She was just a passing attraction, a girl I saw in a tent at an art bazzaar. One who seemed to emanate such dominance and sexual power that my own thoughts turned bazzaar: Long black hair, black leather boots, tiny little red skirt, I could just imagine the power she would have over me if she would only have ordered me onto my knees, right then and there, out in the open. Then I told myself, "Don't be creepy. Maybe I should be punished for my creepy thoughts. Maybe I should let that girl in the tiny little red skirt give me a well deserved paddling for being so undisciplined." Oh crap, there I go again.... We just talked about art work, briefly, before she moved along. Casual vanilla conversation. Respectful and dignified. And that was fine.
Although I never got her name....
