Memory or fantasy?

A woman in a shop window stops me cold.

When all you can do is feel, everything I do becomes a surprise.

A little role-reversal fantasy in which the boss gets what she deserves.

She sounded too good to be true, and there’s no such thing as that good on Craigslist.

A piano player, a dark bar, a plane ticket, and a pair of panties balled up in my pocket.

A fantasy I sent to a woman I hadn’t yet met.

She’s finicky, bossy, a little whiny — and she wanted a leash around her neck.

A cab ride I’d like to take.

I direct her from across a crowded hotel lobby, texting instructions while businessmen in khakis steal glances at what they can’t have.