The first time I saw a man naked, I knew bondage.

A man came to our door begging for shelter. My father relented and allowed the man refuge in our home for the night. The next morning I came upon him while he bathed. He did not see me and I could not turn away. Each passing second planted a seed and each seed a torrid thought sown into my young mind, which found its way to my heart where it germinated and grew. I wanted him. I wanted to touch him, as he touched himself in the early morning ritual of bathing.

How dangerously mysterious my heart felt. How rapturous I felt when I sat at my father's table and ate my stew. No one would ever know, and no one ever could. As mysterious and strangely magical the moments when I saw him felt, I also knew the fear of my secret and what it would mean if I ever admitted my needs. It must remain hidden, especially from other men.

Now, as I stood before Auberon, I felt cold terror seize my heart. Had I seen a flicker of knowing pass across his face? When his body touched mine, did I somehow give myself away? Did he know? Could he sense what burned within me?

What if they all knew; were only waiting for me to act and confirm their suspicions?

Then the flicker vanished, and in its place, his ignorant smile spread unknowingly. If he sensed what lived in my heart, he chose not to believe it, and instead unleashed another surprise.