Couldn't even factor the percentage of women I've been with who all have the same fantasy.
Being raped.
Some fantasy.
You and I have discussed this ... I don't know how many times and each time we, or I, have reached the same conclusion; it can't be done. At least not realistically ... you know, like an actual ... rape. My thing is, it just doesn't penetrate my mind; the idea of rape, or rather, your idea of rape. My idea of rape has nothing to do with sex, where as your fantasy and all the other lovers I've had this conversation with, it
always
has a sexual component. That is
the
component ... or nexus of your desire ... but you're wrong
My mind just won't go there ...
----
We've always loved the better hotels when we travel, even though we both agreed spending $400 or $500 a night for a room we only slept and fucked in was kind of silly, we did enjoy all the other amenities that places like this had to offer.
I had arranged a meeting with a collector for 11:00 this morning and you decided some shopping was in order; a polite way of saying my hobby bored the shit out of you ... which is fine, since I don't care much for standing around in a store watching you buy another Fendi purse.
Can't really spend 24 hours a day with each other without homicide charges eventually being part of our relationship, right?
"Meet back in the room about 1:30," I say, "have a late lunch?"
"You didn't wink when you said lunch," you tease, "so I assume you mean food instead of me, right?"
"Yeah, food ... first."
"Uh huh, ... see 'ya."
----
When you opened the door to our suite, you hear noises from the bedroom that you think is me ... but ... it is not. You come through the door, ready to throw the bags from your shopping excursion onto the bed when you stop dead and are as surprised to see two strange men in our room as they are to see you. One is bent over the dresser, digging through our things and the other is trying to open the little safe they provide to guests like ourselves. You all three stand there looking at each other with your mouths open for that moment when reality isn't reality.
"Shit, grab her!"
You are stunned into silence with a scream you know you were producing but that was not making its way out of your body. The guy closest to you heads you off as you turn to run and he tackles you to the floor and 200 pounds of man lands on you, fighting to get his hands over your mouth, knowing you will eventually find your voice.
"Fuck, fuck! ... you asshole, you said they were gone!"
"Shut up! ... shut the fuck up and help me here," a whisper/yell, "what the fuck are we gonna do?"
"Fuck, I don't know ... hit her or something."
"What? What the fuck good is that gonna do?"