Don't think.<P>Don't question.<P>Just do.<P>The anonymous note wasn't for me.<P>Don't get me wrong, I'm not in the habit of reading other people's mail, but it was just a piece of paper with a few lines scrawled on it, clearly meant for the apartment upstairs. It looked so innocent, but decidedly&mdash; <I>deliciously</i>&mdash;it was not.<P>Before replacing the note&mdash;and the ones that followed&mdash; in its rightful slot, I devoured its contents: suggestions, instructions, commands. Each was more daring, more intricate and more arousing than the last&hellip; and I followed them all to the letter.<P>Before the notes, if a man had told me what to do, I'd have told him where to go. But submission is an art, and there's something oddly freeing about doing someone's bidding&hellip;especially when it feels so very, <I>very</i> good. But I find that the more I surrender, the more powerful I feel&mdash;so it's time to switch up roles. <P>We play by my rules now.