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That might be acceptable, even, appropriate, for some women, but, I suspected, not for me, not for a woman such as I. - (Smugglers of Gor, Chapter 5, Sentence #25)

As our eyes had met, I should have smiled, approached him, and, as we are trained to do, asked if I might be of service. "May I help you, sir?" I could not do so. I felt as though it was improper, somehow, to be standing in his presence. That might be acceptable, even, appropriate, for some women, but, I suspected, not for me, not for a woman such as I. I tried to break this odd spell in which I felt myself bound. Should it not be easy enough to do? Was he not merely another modern man, another approved man, another permitted man, another joke on masculinity, another travesty on, and betrayal of, what might have been? How many bodies looked like those of men, and proved no more than a facade, behind which lay a shambles, pusillanimity or nothing. Surely many men would be as tall, as large, as narrow-waisted and broadly shouldered, as muscular, as darkly handsome, as large handed, as he. - (Smugglers of Gor)