Before there was “Secretary”

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.

wicked wednesday


  1. Even relationships that turned out to be unhealthy had moments, sometimes many, when they were not. Being drawn back into those memories is only natural I think.


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