We made love for hours that first night together, Brad trying new ways to excite and satisfy both me and himself. I didn't object to anything he did, or asked me to do. His strong, well-muscled body was one that I had always hoped my lover would have. He took complete charge of me that night and I thought that I had found the one man that was right for me.

I soon discovered I was wrong, though. Soon Brad began becoming solicitous toward me. If I was in a bad mood, or not feeling well, he'd want to do things for me, he would act weak and start asking my permission to make love. I couldn't tell him how much that turned me off. Seeing him acting unsure of himself, as if I could grant or deny him what he wanted, made me dislike, no, despise him.

But I couldn't say anything to him about it. I've never been able to talk to men that way, not as an equal. It just has never seemed right to me. Most women, too, at least those who are older or prettier than me, always have power over me. It has always seemed that I should defer to their wishes, that I should follow their orders rather than trying to assert myself.

That's how I've always felt, but I've never done anything about it. I've always just waited for the universe to create itself around me and hoped that it would be the way I like it, but never feeling as though I had the power to do anything about it. Little did I know that this was ail about to change.

This was going to be our last night together for at least three months. The last test of our freshman year at UCLA was completed and Brad was ready to leave for his summer job as a steward on board a cruise ship. I envied him a little bit. I liked the idea of taking a cruise to Central America, through the Panama Canal and then up to Florida and back again. I could work on my tan and get paid for the vacation, only having to work half days.

Besides, there was something appealing about working as a servant, something about being given orders and not having to make decisions that appealed to me.