I was sodisorientated that I could only sit down on an old box to collapse it. Itwas at least dry but chilly and slowly I got colder and colder and I ...athugging my knees to keep warm. After what seemed ages I could hear athumping noise and the rumble of voices, so I crept up the stairs andtried to discover what was being said, but it was it was all in someforeign language, periodically interrupted by a burst of raucous laughteras though they were exchanging dirty jokes.I sat on the cardboard. He imagined her thighs and hips were tight from being on her feet in her profession. He desired to see more. “Remove your dress.”Again without hesitation, she began to unbutton the buttons on her dress. One by one she threaded each button through the buttonholes, never once breaking eye contact with him. Slowly her pale stomach was being revealed. Her stomach, like her face, was sprinkled with freckles. Once the last button was unfastened, she pushed the dress off her shoulders and it fell to. Or do you want my prick?I will write here her story soon. Titled like "Lena Loses Her Hymen 1: To Adam"I am here at my first profile often, other times as 'Poet-PETER', also an author."Lena and I know that Adam is not my name. An usual abbrivation of Amsterdam in our mother tongue.Loses apostrophe after first A, in colloquial pronounciation: A'dam is a common short when we write it.Later I make my remark at the wall of the person's profile, who uploaded the video waking my memory.Let him know. I wanted to be a dominant. I wanted control. But that inequality was so alien to how I was raised that I felt tremendous guilt about it and never told a soul about my desires. The guilt, however great, never stopped me from fantasizing. If I was going to turn over a new leaf, and try to be open and truly honest with my potential partners, I needed to acknowledge this part of me. Let it out, and learn how to engage it.Suddenly I realized what was so terrifying about being myself. I was petrified.
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