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[Avalucia]

I have to line up behind Janine. I think she has the right idea. When I was more available back in the fall, I noticed a similar thread to this… or maybe it was the same, I don't know. And sorry if I am kicking at the dead horse since this topic has quieted down, but I find this idea kind of curious.

Curious mainly because it's a game, and the avatars on the screen are only idealized representations of ourselves. I am not a sleek, 20-something, dark-haired beauty.

I'm sorry, Tight, I hope I didn't break your heart .

This doesn't mean I don't want to be, but I am in entering my 40's, married with a darling little one, and perhaps not as trim as I could be. Being promiscuous and sleeping with various men and shes is not something that's available to me, and won't be. I wouldn't do it even if I could. Does that mean I shouldn't fantasize about being a sleek professional that is able to woo men with a flick of her eyelashes – because that isn't really who I am IRL?

Maybe I can separate myself from the avatar because I am a writer, and what is often called a “gamer girl.” I play MMOs, and I role-play characters in those MMOs. The characters aren't me. I am not a dark elf necromancer that kills halflings for sport. When I personally walk down the street, I step around the ants on the sidewalk. But halflings are just so irritating!

Does this mean men shouldn't be allowed to see what it's like to be on the receiving end of sex? Or vice versa with women experiencing what it would be like to be on the giving end? It sounds like the idea is being made to seem the gender-benders are up to some insidious plot, like they are dirt bags for lying and cheating, when we ourselves stay behind computerized representations of our own idealized image.

I list myself as bi. I am not interested in women, but I will certainly group with them if a he or she is involved. It is a curious fantasy. And maybe I will try a scene with a girl. Am I bad for saying I am bi when I am really not IRL? Should we all, therefore, undergo a strict entry evaluation just to access AChat to ensure we are exactly what we project in the computer world? Up top it says “AChat: Virtual Sex and 3D Sex Game.” It says nothing about a real world dating site.

Yes, you can often tell if a guy is playing a girl. It is just the way some things are portrayed. I don't care. If I can connect with the female avatar, and the male on the other end, so be it. If a girl is playing a guy, oh well. If they connect with me, I will room with them. It doesn't bother me to think that a girl might be pleasuring herself on the other end. What pleasure I get is the interaction of my character with their character, not me with them. I am not going to date them. I am not going to have a relationship with them outside of AChat.

What strikes me as kind of ironic is that a great deal of hentai comics and animations are done by males. It is so plainly obvious. And yet men will happily masturbate to them, even though they were written, animated and drawn by men, for men. Yet there is no demand that they be done solely by women.

But really, if it is so worrisome, there are other options… like e Harmony, and other actual dating sites.

[Avalucia]

Back again… well, was back Tuesday. Thanks for letting SFA know. It is so nice to be home to the interwebz and a real computer!

[Avalucia]

I suppose it does make sense. If the devs ever look to the forums for ideas, they would have to sort through the impossible to implement as well as the more feasible ideas.

Maybe something along the lines of what Tight suggested, a “what would you like to see” section, with some clear guidelines of what is and is not acceptable for a rational addition to AChat. This way it would be all condensed in one place, and ideas that are too over the top can be cleared out via the kill button. And with clear titles, it would save on repostings of the same idea.

[Avalucia]

I am guessing this has something to do, at least in part, with the post I made – given the timing (even though I merely stated it more of a thought experiment than anything). So, even with the extensive ambiguity of “some people” tossed around, I feel the need to post, if only to play the Devil's advocate.

I have to ask, what is so wrong with consumers, us, seeking more from the product we pay for? Should we just accept the status quo as it is, or seek to see the product expand out of its current boundaries and become some more than what it is? Ideas may be far-fetched, but many great developments come from subscribers putting their ideas out there for the Devs to see, acting as a greater thought pool beyond their own creative minds. Some ideas are “far-fetched” but others are not, and the advantage of live products is that they can and are always evolving and changing – and such should be expected of live products.

Yes, Achat at its core is a chat program with some animations and avatars put in for sexy encounters. And while it may be fine for some to simply accept that, others may what to see more come from the product they are paying for and thus use this forum as a means to express that desire and generate ideas on how to keep it, at its core, from stagnating.

Let's look at it from a purely monetary format. At $10.00 a month for basic subscription it isn't bad, I paid for it, and am considering the $50 for a year. But in comparison for just pure chatting: MSN = free, Facebook = free, Yahoo and so on are free. They are chat programs as well. For the online aspect of avatars and doing things with other people, MMOs like EverQuest 2 and WoW are typically around $15.00 a month, and also feature fully customizable avatars, though with way, way more options. If I wanted to just sit there and talk in EQ2, I could easily do so in guildchat or the Level 1-9 channel, or even sit in one of the many taverns and have a face-to-face. This is all while in a remarkably stable platform that is able to coordinate thousands of people at once. If I wanted to do more, well, there is an entire world to explore.

There is nothing revolutionary about this, it has been going on for 15 years now with the launch of EverQuest 1.

Now I know it isn't fair to compare the smaller Achat to companies like SOE or Blizzard that deal with multi-millions of dollars. The cost is reflective of the company size, so I refuse to comment on it from just a personal value sense. For what it is, the cost is reasonable. But these are the options available to consumers.

What Achat has going for it that the others do not is the sexual animation aspect, which is loads of fun – but with limited focus comes limited interest. I have about 10 people on my lovers list, most of them premium members. During the last week, with myself logging on for a while at various points throughout the day (about every two or three hours when my child is otherwise engaged), I have, at best, seen 4 of them active during that entire time. That is not every time, but here and there and not at all consistent. So, 40% of my Lovers list is on sporadically throughout the week – each maybe available for 4 hours in a 168 hour period (about 2 to 3% of the time in a week). The other 60% have apparently vanished.

With that in mind, just from my own field of view, while the status quo might be fine for a limited few, it doesn't seem marketable for the vast majority of what subscribers need to keep going and giving out their money – so people who enjoy what is provided here look to find ways to enhance their experiences, give them more to look forward to, more reason to log in instead of finding something else to entertain them.

And if more ideas are generated to make Achat even better, things that the Devs themselves never thought of, and can improve the community and the experience to draw in more people for longer – well, I fail to see how telling people to keep it to themselves and just accept it is especially beneficial.

[Avalucia]

Well, I have stated that it is not a realistic concept, not with a game that is already live (though that didn't stop SWG), but just something I was pondering while out roaming around the town. At no point have I stated that it would be something I would expect to see done, but merely my own musings with what has been done and what is available.

Take that as one will, I understand what AChat is.

[Avalucia]

Oh, yes, I did not think it realistic. It was just something I was pondering.

[Avalucia]

It would be more difficult for different breast sizes as, as Bear said, all the animations that affect the breasts will need to be adjusted – though I think that is in the works, given their poll about super boobs or something. Clothing is the other consideration, as the material maps can stretch and distort with too much variation.

[Avalucia]

PART V

I arrive at home, having returned the boy to his father's house up in the Properties with the promise of a meeting the following day at the park.

My smartphone says 11:58 as I step off the elevator. Right on time.

I let myself into the dark apartment. Most of the lights have been turned off or down, allowing the illumination of the night-time cityscape to shine through the floor to ceiling windows and into the open design of the neomodernist upper levels apartment. I discard my suit jacket on the back of the couch, leaving me with the silk blouse, and head to the glass doors that lead out onto the gardened patio.

The night's fare has been laid out on the patio table, still steaming in the cool air. It looks like dim sum. The hostess stands at the railing, looking out over the city, and the water in the distance. I take a moment to appreciate her form, slim and lithe, with a trim waist. She is attired in a short white cocktail dress. Smooth ivory stockings cling to her long legs – legs made more shapely by her high white pumps. She looks young and virginal, and the decor is topped off with a neat and trim cap of shock pink hair. A slim wine glass hangs in her hand.

“You're late,” she says, sensing me behind her.

I smile. She knows well enough that I am not, but it is a need for her. It is her means of establishing some control over me, making her feel stronger. I told the boy that she accepts my line of work – but acceptance is not akin to liking.

“I am sorry, L,” I say to her.

“Dinner is probably cold now,” she berates me, turning around to lean back on the railing, “and I spent two hours in the kitchen putting it all together for our special night.”

I cannot help but smile again – it is from the Cantonese restaurant on the second floor.

She turns her face away and frowns, “screw you. Fine. I hate that stupid stove.”

I step up to her. Even with my own heels, she has a slight height advantage over me. My arms slide around her trim waist, and my hands lock behind her, pulling her to me.

“Break any hearts tonight?” she says with a slight pout.

“No, he was very polite and dignified about everything.”

Her eyes slide back to mine, “do I want to know?”

I nuzzle against her cheek, “we kissed, that was all. I was to bring him out of his shell, to give him confidence. Not break him.”

She turns back to me, “that was it?”

I nod, “that was it.”

“I missed you,” she whispers.

I smile and lean into her, our breasts pressing together as our lips lightly touch and caress each other. She tastes like cherries.

I intended only a gentle kiss, but her hands lift to cup my head, holding me in place as her lips move against mine with sudden earnest intensity. I groan as her desire infects me, and forces me to pull her hips to mine, compressing our bodies together. Against my thigh, I can feel her special secret hidden beneath the fabric of her cocktail dress.

“L,” I say between breaths, “what of dinner?”

“Forget it,” she replies, locking her cherry lips with mine again. Our mouths open, our tongues teasing and exploring, twirling and flicking as our passion ignites. I keep it calm and cool all day – professionalism is something I always force myself to portray, even if a client desires something more than the standard personal assistant duties. I do not let the emotions run free, but they do build  up.

At first I was not sure that marriage was the best for me, my life is already unusual as it is. But it has since become a column of support and something I apparently needed – to have one person, a different sort of person in her own right, that I can pour all my pent up sexual and emotional frustrations into, and who delights in the intensity I give back to her as a result.

She has saved my sanity, though my clothing does not fare as well.

I am pushed back to the table, and the dishes clatter when I bump into it. I lift my bottom to prop myself on the edge. She is so aggressive, I can tell something is gnawing at her, but I do not question it now – now is not the time for talking. I release control of myself, kissing her back with unbridled ferocity, my lust and love forcing dirty words from my smeared, painted lips into her ears

Her hands leave my head. My skirt is pushed up, and the cool night air caresses the smooth skin of my thighs above the stocking tops. I can feel her fingers trace a path up my thighs, tickling me through the nylons, then tugging on the garter belt straps playfully. Without ceremony, my panties are hooked and pulled off my legs.

I cannot help but moan as I feel myself exposed to the cool air. My thighs part for her, my legs hooking around behind hers and pulling her to me. Her bulge, now fully engorged, presses against me through her dress. With my hands shaking and eager, I yank up her cocktail dress as she did to my business skirt and free her from the confines of her pantyhose.

“Don't need a warm up?” she asks with a grin.

I answer her only by gripping her buttock with one hand, and guiding her to my entrance with the other. She only needs to push twice, then she is inside me. I stifled my cries into her neck as I feel every inch of her spreading me, sliding and penetrating. She wraps me in her arms, pulling me to her, fully embedding herself. My thighs quiver, the muscles tightening around her, holding her as she holds me.

Once we have our breaths again, she draws herself back out, slowly… then pushes, once more slipping back inside with ease. Her hips roll rhythmically as she thrusts, moving herself inside me. Our lips lock, feverous and heated, my own moans of pleasure vibrating and reverberating with her own.

Bound as we are in each other's limbs, she cannot move much, but it is enough. I feel her touch and stimulate every part of my inner core, as my own vaginal contractions stimulate her.

It is exquisite.

It is the only Heaven I would ever need.

The raw thrust and sheer animalistic nature of the act… the passion and pleasure of pure unadulterated lust. My entire world, for this brief moment of time, is condensed down into that singular sensation of a lover, my lover, releasing her desire for me – into me.

It seems to go on without end, pushing me to greater heights. My own hips roll back against her, urging, wanton.

And yet the moment can remain only for so long. After the raw intensity of our passion, our kiss breaks, her arms tensing around me as she rests her chin on my shoulder, her thrusts become more demanding, her breathing more insistent and wanting. I pull her into me with my thighs, in tune with her own gyrations.

I whisper in her ear, “do it.”

With only two more thrusts, she pushes into me as deeply as she can and her whole body shakes. A long, low groan escapes from her lips. In my mind's eye, I sense her ejaculate filling me.

Then with a gasp, she collapses into my arms, and I hold her there.

[Avalucia]

PART IV

That surprised me. I am not typically surprised, but I will admit, it tickles me. My manicured eyebrows rise in display of my emotion.

He looks away, mumbling, “sorry.”

I reach down and touch his chin, bringing his face back to look at me.

“I was wanting reaction from you, monsieur,” I say. “Though that particular response was unexpected. My sanity 'as never really be questioned before, it is a curious thing. Do you thing I am crazy?”

I see him smile slightly in the darkness of the night, “well, you don't exactly have a normal job or lifestyle.”

I smile back.

“Now we are being 'onest.”

I move my hand from his chin to his wrist. He doesn't resist when I lift it to place his hand on my stocking-sheathed knee. He looks stunned, staring at it. I have to resist the urge to just eat this cute little boy up!

“You see, monsieur… I am just woman. I am not mysterious or misunderstandable,”  I say, squeezing his hand around my knee. He moistens his lips again. I try not to giggle as he looks like he is about to pass out.

I leave his hand there and lean down to him, tilting his chin up to face me. Our mouths hover over each other for a short moment. He is going to taste like burger, but that is my punishment.

“Flesh and blood, just like you,” I whisper, and press my lips to his. His grip on my knee tightens as I gently work against his lips. His responsiveness is lacking, to say the least – but I will give him the benefit of shock and surprise. At least he was thoughtful enough to not get onions.

Our lips work on each other, opening and closing with the gentle caresses of my tongue on his. Then his instincts start to take over as his hand slowly begins to massage my knee, his fingers tickling against the smooth silky fabric of the nylons. I cannot help but groan ever so softly as he gets just a little braver and pushes against the hem of my skirt with his wrist, his fingers tracing a path leading a little higher up my thigh.

He is getting comfortable, and again it is time to dump him out of that zone.

I nibble on his lower lip before pulling away.

“One thing about women, monsieur,” I say to him with a wry smile. He looks at me a little confused.

“We like to play games with your 'ead.”

I slide off the table and out of his reach. He almost cries, and I almost feel bad. But if this boy hasn't been with a women in a few years, the last thing I am wanting is him getting too excited and… well… needing to change his underwear.

Confident his eyes are on me, I step over to the stone wall built to stop tourists from falling down the rocky ledge. I lean on it, bending over just slightly and propping myself up on my elbows.

“My father hates me,” I hear him mumble behind me. I smile.

“Why do you think that,” I ask, looking over my shoulder at him.

“Is he watching? Do you have a camera letting him see you torment me with your confusing antics? I already knew he didn't like me, but this… you… this is too much.”

I cock my head, “is monsieur getting upset?”

He purses his lips and looks down at his food, “no.”

“How come not? I am playing with you, leading you around like little doggy. Making you 'ave excitement, then refusing it.”

“Why bother, you just hate me too.”

I sigh, turning around to sit on the wall's edge and folding my arms across in front of me.

“In truth, monsieur, I like you very much. But you do not make it easy. Come 'ere.”

He looks up at me, “pardon?”

“I said come 'ere, please.”

His brow furrows once me, suspicious that I am going to trick him again. Realizing that he is not getting away easily, he relents and leaves the table to join me at the wall. I turn around to enjoy the view of the city with him.

“I love it up 'ere,” I say.

Edward says nothing. I glance at him. He then nods, “it is quite nice.”

“You can see the old theatre, it glows like fire on nights like this.”

He tries to be polite, to see what I see, to look where I am looking. But ultimately he shakes his head, “I don't see it.”

I point out over the city, “it is there, next to the building with three lights on it. 'ow can you not see? It is there, gorgeous.”

He tries to follow my point, but still fails miserably.

“I'm sorry, I still can't see it.”

I sigh with exasperation and step in behind him. With our bodies close, back to front, I lift his arm, sighting my vision down it like a rifle.

“It is right there,” I say, my chin resting on his shoulder. He strains to see what I am indicating. I try to help, leaning into him further, allowing my breasts to press against his back. But he pulls his arm from my hand, catching on to my antics.

“There's no theatre that looks like fire is there,” he says.

I giggle, “no, monsieur.”

“Is this another trick?”

“Why did you kiss me,” I reply, ignoring his question.

“Because… you were kissing me,” he says, looking back at me.

“That is not it, monsieur.”

“Pardon? I think I would know…”

I cut him off, “you were acting as any man would with the object of his affection presenting themselves to 'im. You are not gay. That will bring some comfort to your father, despite 'owever irrelevant your sexual preference should be.”

He looks back to the cityscape, confused.

I then add, “you masturbate to the….”

“I don't masturbate,” he says, a little too loudly and a little too quickly. I smile.

“Of course you do, monsieur. You masturbate to the thoughts of your roommate not because you desire 'im, but you desire to be 'im – to feel what 'e feels when 'e is with girls.”

I slide my hand around his waist and hold him against me, letting him ponder his reality.

“Tell me what you want, monsieur,” I say after a long moment.

“I think… I think I want to kiss you again.”

I giggle softly, “then why are you talking about it?”

[Avalucia]

PART III

“You know, my father isn't going to be happy that we skipped out on Allegro,” Edward says holding onto the warm paper bag and soft drinks.

I shrug.

“That is your father's choice of restaurant. It is very nice, but 'ardly fitting. Nor do I think you were really keen on it.”

“Was it that obvious,” he asks, frowning at me. Good, he is at least looking my way now.

I shake my head. “Not really, but it was a hunch.”

He turns his eyes back out the side window. I can almost his brow knitting as the closed shoppes and boutiques of the North Shore's picturesque urban landscape slip passed the car.

I take the opportunity to shift slightly in my seat, enough to cause the hem of my skirt to rise slightly – just an inch or two, not enough to display the darker band of my stocking tops, but give the boy a little more of a view of my legs. It does not escape his notice when he turns his eyes back to me.

I can almost feel his eyes stroking the sheer, dark stockings that encase my legs.

“Uhhh… where are we going?” he finally asks.

I glance over at him, his eyes dart up to mine. He flusters, like a schoolboy suddenly caught pulling all the fire alarms.

“A quiet place I know,” I say, and cut a corner that takes us away from the water and up towards the coastal mountains that frame in this area of the city. He is perplexed, but says nothing, settling into his seat. After another short glance at my legs, he watches out the window as I merge us into the late evening traffic.

Ten minutes later we leave the heavy city traffic behind and turn onto the wide, switch back road up one of the mountain slopes. Free from the constraints of city traffic, I kick the car up a notch, and accelerate, zipping up the dark road with a gleeful laugh. I am not a speed freak of any sort, but sometimes it is just fun to let the car perform. Keeping up the speed, we race up the switchbacks to a picnic and viewing area perched on the edge of the mountain. The city is splayed out below us, its lights twinkling and shimmering in the night air.

Only one other car is here, a young couple making use of the scenery for some night-time romance. Not wanting to infringe on their business, I park on the other side of the narrow lot.

“Here?” Edward asks. I nod and get out. He looks a little dubious, but follows me. It is a cool night, but not cold. The wind is mild and carries the scent of the salt air. We make our way to a picnic table with a good view of the city below and sit opposite each other. He takes the honour of tearing open the bag to lay out our fare.

I nibble on my share. Fast food is not something that agrees with me in any quantity, but that doesn't stop the boy. I smile at him, he is actually very cute.

The other car, apparently bashful to continue their rendez-vous with strangers nearby, starts up and departs, leaving us alone.

“I'm surprised you turned down Allegro for McDonald's,” he says after finishing off a sizable mouthful of his burger.

“It is not about me.”

“Pardon?”

“I told you. That was your father's choice for us. You did not agree with it, so we did something more to your liking.”

“Oh, yes… well, I'm a student. Exam times and homework can get very busy, you have to eat what you have time for.”

I nod to him, smiling, “of course. And what are your studies?”

“It is not especially interesting,” he says.

“Ah, well 'arvard itself always is,” I reply.

He blushes a little, bashfully flattered that I know where he takes his studies. This allows us to move into a more comfortable mood. We talk for a bit, not really about anything of import, just directed small talk so that I can feel him out a bit – his studies, his time at Harvard, and a little about his friends, of which he does not have many.

He relaxes more with the conversation, and becomes actually able to look me in the eyes for an extended time.

So, it is time to make him uncomfortable again.

I have been sitting upright, my back straight and neutral. Clasping my fingers together, I lean forward, resting my elbows on the picnic table and my chin on my hands. I only gain about two inches, but the gesture becomes suddenly much more intimate.

He looks at me curiously, once again nervous and unsure.

Perfect.

Then he spots the ring on my finger.

“You're married?”

I glance at it, then nod.

“Does… does he know you go on fast food dates with other guys?”

I smile slightly, “I do not recall saying that they were a man.”

“Oh.” He looks down at his hands. I smile as that statement will get his mind churning out various scenarios. I take the time to study him further.

“That is bothering you?” I then say after several moments of silence.

He glances up at me, “that you're married?”

“Mmmm… that you 'ave been wanting to put yourself inside a married woman.”

He sputters.

“Come now, monsieur,” I say, tilting my voice into a more challenging tone, “you 'ave been staring at my legs since we got in car. You would pretend now that you 'ave not thought what it would be like to be between them?”

“I… what? I thought this was not about… sex.”

I give him a slight smile, “it is not, it is about 'onesty. Admitting to yourself what you feel.”

“Does it matter?” he asks.

I nod.

Pushing what remains of my food away, I stand up and circle the table. He shifts to the side, not really certain what I am doing but politely tries to make room. I do not sit beside him, but step up to perch myself on the table – a difficult task to do with dignity in heels and a tight skirt. But the height over him gives me a mental advantage.

“Why do you not touch me? I am right 'ere.”

“Uh… you're married?”

I laugh. He furrows his brow.

“Monsieur, my spouse knew what my career was before we married, and they are accepting of it now.”

“Still…”

“There is no still, monsieur,” I say, leaning in, “do you not think yourself good enough? Do you think you are just some student, and 'ow can you 'ave a hope with a woman like me because I am so gorgeous, sophisticated, and very, very sexy? 'ow could you even dream of satisfying a goddess of sexual energy such as myself?”

He is silent, looking suddenly like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming truck.

I lean further to whisper in his ear, “you are supposed to say “yes,” else I will be very cross with you.”

His moistens his lips with his tongue, and asks in a shaking tone, “are… are you insane?”

[Avalucia]

I'm with Bear and Alstott… the men need some serious lovin' – give the girls a chance to rest.

[Avalucia]

Thanks for the comments! I just loved how it turned out so much I just had to share it.

[Avalucia]

Cuddle Bunnies!

More cuddling! The facing foreplay is nice and more along those lines would be great – something like lying in each other's arms, fondling, kissing and general closeness. Like post-coital, or just having fun without actual sex.

[Avalucia]

Well, for me it is simple…

Either an LBD (little black dress)….

I know there is the wine & black one, but straight black is easier to match up other attire with.

or

a stylish skirt suit, like for an executive woman or secretary. Basically something classy.

Basically something sleek and stylish. Maybe even an extra piece for the Sex attire – like having it pulled up around the waist for the skirts?

[Avalucia]

PART II

We take the elevator back down, and I lead him out the front of the building to my waiting car. I am not sure the boy could have driven, even if he had his own vehicle, the way his hands were shaking.

So I took the initiative.

The BMW is where I left it. Black and sleek. I pondered red when I bought it, but decided that is best left for rich college kids trying to impress their friends. Black makes the statement that I need to make.

Even though it is my car, Edward still plays the gentleman and opens the door for me – an odd gesture given his reluctance with my presence. I thought a moment it was just a distraction so he could run down the street. But no, he climbs in the passenger side.

In moments we are away – but a silence remains in the car for at least three blocks. He is fighting with something in his mind – I do not distract him with senseless chatter. Whatever he is working on, he will work it out on his own.

And he does.

“I know why he hired you,” Edward says finally, “my father that is.”

“Do you?” I say, glancing over at him with a quirked eyebrow.

He nods. “He thinks I'm gay.”

“Are you?”

He shrugs slightly, “I don't know. I mean… I like girls, but I just can't think how to act around them. I can't talk to them. I… just can't understand.”

Edward turns to look out the window at the passing buildings and city nightlife.

“My roommate, he… well, he has a new girl over almost every week. They try to be quiet, but I can still hear them.”

“Does that bother you? 'ow do you feel when you 'ear them?”

He shrugs slightly, “I don't know.”

“Do you think of the young woman?”

Edwards shakes his head.

“Ah, you think of 'im,” I say with a slight nod.

He doesn't respond.

Leaving it there, I turn us onto the main drag that cuts through the downtown core, heading west towards the water. It does not take Edward long to notice.

“I… I think the Allegro is the other way.”

I nod, “it is.”

“We have reservations there,”  he says, his voice betraying some concern.

“Oui, we do. You are smart boy,” I say with a slight smile. “You 'ave been with girl before?” I add to put an end to the inquisition about our direction of travel.

He nods, still refusing to look anywhere near me.

“First year of college. Just once. It was a bit of a disaster.”

“Do you think me attractive?” I ask.

He nods without a word, still looking out the side window.

“Would you like to have sex with me?”

He starts, finally turning to look at me with incredulity.

“Pardon?”

I look over at him, “would you like to have sex with me?”

He looks down to his hands in his lap, “I… I don't know.”

I return my attention to the road with a slight smile – that was the answer I was looking for. The idea is now in his head. He thought of it before of course, but it seemed so unreal of a concept to him. Now I have stated it from my own lips, and a thought of a real possibility lurks in his mind – and it will continue to nag at him.

Our route takes us up and over the inlet via the suspension bridge, and into the North Shore. Out in the water, ships wait to be loaded, their lights illuminating across the waves.

“You are wrong, 'owever,” I say to him once over the bridge and swinging around the on-ramp that leads to one of the main roads around the rocky coastline.

“I'm sorry?”

“I was not employed by your father to 'ave sex with you. I am not call girl.”

“Oh.”

“The idea of you gay is concern for 'im, as it is for many of 'is generation. Thankfully, society 'as changed so much for better, even if it leaves so many old minds be'ind. Still, for whatever faults your father may 'ave, 'e is wise enough to realize that you just putting your penis in a woman is not a 'cure' for this condition.”

“Then why? Why are you here?”

“Simple, monsieur, I 'ave to 'ave pleasant evening with you. That is all.”

He studies me closely. He is getting braver, and I suspect my admission that I will not expect him to perform is a large part of it.

“Forgive me, but I don't believe you.”

I laugh.

“That is in monsieur's right, but copulation is not in my contract for this evening.”

“Then what…–“

“Monsieur,” I say, cutting him off, “do not look for motivations that do not exist.”

I turn us off the main road into a popular drive-through window, “now, what kind of burger is monsieur wanting?”

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