My fantasies kept getting less and less tame. I didn’t understand why they turned me on so much and it felt so wrong to have these thoughts, but I couldn’t seem to help it. They got to the point that my work was suffering. I’d end up sitting in my office, completely zoned out, lost in my own head and the naughty thoughts inside of it. I wanted him to humiliate me in front of a group of startled onlookers. I wanted him to take me out to a fancy dinner, both of us dressed in our best attire, and look around at the people eating their meals peacefully in the candlelight—the type of place you would expect to see only the rich or famous. Then, out of nowhere, Rob would stand up. He would walk halfway around the table to me and grab the tablecloth. He’d lift it up, throwing everything onto the ground and leaving the table bare. I’d look at him, confused. Everyone else would look at him and stop eating, obviously concerned by his behavior.
