Bonita Brown, Contributor

I was addicted to him, seriously addicted. I was so obsessed with Mark that I could feel him coursing through my veins. I could smell his scent, feel his presence, hear his thoughts, think of him and he would call. Mark was not a habit; he was a craving, a need, an obsession. This man was dangerously crazy and he meant to take me with him to that extreme; but that was why I was so attracted to him. I sometimes seriously questioned my actions and my motives and still I could not find a plausible explanation for the things that I did, or for the things that we both did. I was hopelessly infatuated.

This was about the fourth time within several months that I would be thinking about him and he would call.

"Hi, I was just thinking about you," I said, answering the phone.

"That's why I called," was his reply.

I recalled one day while lying on the settee watching a movie, it felt as if I had an out-of-body experience. I became aware of a presence, Mark's presence, as if he were actually standing beside the settee, looking down at me. I saw what appeared to be an apparition of his face and I could even smell his scent, as if he were really there. I was so shaken by this hallucination that I had to get up and shake my head to clear my mind. I subsequently phoned him because I thought that something might have been seriously wrong with him. Maybe he had hurt himself or had been in an accident.

"Hi, are you okay?" I asked.

"No, I am not."

Keeping my wits about me, I coolly asked, "What is it? Is something wrong?"

"Yes. I need you right now. I am aching for you."

I knew what he meant; I felt a delicious warmth pervading my being and I had to hold on to my composure.

"I felt your presence just now as if you were right here beside me," I declared.

"That's how much I need you right now."

I could feel his passion through the phone.

"Where are you?" I enquired, as I thought he might be home.

"I'm at work and I am unable to move right now because of my desire."

I could feel his every need, desire and pulsation; it was so uncanny that it scared me. His desire was so strong and urgent that I often felt alarmed by it. From time to time I would question myself.

Mark was crazy and passionate and he took pleasure in doing wildly outrageous things that border on the brink of insanity. He went to the extreme in order to satisfy his passion and he took me with him. He dared me to join in his foreplay and, although I could refuse to, I was too captivated by the sheer excitement of him and his antics. He was exhilarating and I couldn't get enough of him or get him out of my thoughts. He was in my blood, a most pleasurable addiction.

One evening he phoned me.

"Woman!" he declared lightheartedly, "where are you?"

"I am by my sister," I replied with a smile on my face and my sister looking on inquisitively.

"Doing what?"

"Had a bad day and I'm not in a good mood so I am just talking to her about it."

"I am here, why aren't you talking to me."

It was more of a statement than a question. "Come over and talk to me about it," he commanded.

"All right, I'll soon be there. Give me a few minutes."

"Okay."

Shortly afterwards I was by his home sitting outside in the garden discussing my little troubles while he listened. We chatted about several things until my disposition lightened. The mood of the moment then changed from cheerful chatting to fervent ardor right there under the stars, we could at any moment be discovered by anyone.

Some say that there is a thin line between love and obsession, gumption and insanity, and I think that one overlaps the other. They can so easily be confounded with each other that a person can effortlessly cross the precincts from one side to the other without even realising. Therefore, I must keep reminding myself that this man is not mine to keep. I cannot have him for myself and so I dare not fall in love with him, for he belongs to someone else.