There was my secretary.
I placed an ad. We got to know one another. She taught me about submission. Not actively, as a teacher might, but through the gift of infinite compliance.
Life for her was hard. She went to prison. For a while. And I haven’t seen or heard from her since. (She was ultimately released, got married, and seemingly disappeared.)
I don’t, really, want to be in touch with her. She activated dangerous feelings in me. I cared too much about her, wanted to help her, to protect her. In ways that weren’t good, that weren’t healthy
But, occasionally, her memory resurfaces, like a smell memory, activated by some amorphous atmospheric occurrence, powerfully, overwhelmingly.