I sit forward on the edge of the hotel room bed. It’s a mid-tier “economy” model, the kind I’ve seen far too much of in my years of business travel. I’m fumbling with my phone, trying to calm my shaking hand and quickened breath. My thumb flips through my message history. *I want do do this, I want to do this* I tell myself. For years I have dabbled with these fantasies, trying something new with a stranger in a strange city, enjoying the freedom to dabble without the risk of being caught. It’s not that I’m unhappy at home – far from it – but 12 years of marriage and a limited history before that have made me a bit antsy. Beyond my husband, my experience consists of a few college boys who were still struggling to put a condom on properly. I hear my friends talk about their experiences – a gallery of exotic dick, if you will – big ones, thick ones, every color of the rainbow. Just this once, I’ve been telling myself, it’s time for me to try.