For example, when he was thirteen, on his paper route, he had a fantasy about one of his customers. She was the mother of a couple of toddlers in an apartment complex, a woman of Indian ancestry with golden brown skin covering gently sloping curves of ass and breasts. She had lustrous dark hair down to her waist, kept bound by one simple band of richly patterned dark green brocade. This nod towards her heritage only added to her exoticism in his eyes, in spite of the jeans and sweatshirts that she always wore when he came to collect payment for her subscription. Her eyes were a gentle almond shape the color of dark coffee that seemed to gaze right through Brian’s young stammering self. He didn’t see the children clinging to her, or the barely-livable conditions of the tenement she lived in. Her hair, skin, and eyes ignited his imagination, fueled by a lifetime of fantasy books and just starting to take on a decidedly adolescent twist. His fantasy really gained focus, however, when he discovered references to a piece of literature known as the Kama Sutra, an Indian text of secret and exotic sexual delights which he didn’t dare actually track down for fear that his parents would find out about his shameful burgeoning sexuality.
