Once, my knee touched his and made a point of pressing against it. His withdrew. So, to punish him and demean him in my mind, I began to think of him naked under his apron, and I liked thinking of him naked. I knew it was wrong, even cruel, but I couldn’t stop myself, I liked looking at his crotch. While nursing these disturbing images, I suddenly caught him staring at me. Had he watched my eyes roaming all over his body when he stood up? Was he going to be upset that I had stared?
