But really both of us played a game. We didn’t know the rules and we didn’t know what there was to win or lose. To a greater degree than I realised at first, our roles were changing. They weren’t especially healthy. Against everything I had ever felt like doing I now encouraged other fantasies. Ah, the taste of them. Power and submission. It dawned on me that she had no boundaries. I, like many, had determined my own. Autodidacts like me worked out some rules for ourselves, a moral position. She had no rules except what she borrowed from me, what she interpreted as my desires. She now possessed a not-unattractive ambiguous quality. Was she auditioning roles? Had she turned herself into a quasi-child whom I could fuck whenever I felt like? What was happening? I didn’t like women who liked that crap! All it did was feed a hunger, something which must be exorcised or satisfied and accommodated. It felt vaguely nasty. We hovered on the edge of a terrible temptation which I knew in my bones would become an addiction to poison my life and very probably hers, too.
