"So what do you do?"

"Like, jobwise?" she asked.

"Yeah, jobwise. Of course, if you want to get into your whole history starting from elementary school like I did, feel free," I said.

She giggled at that, "I grew up in this city, and unfortunately, my elementary school did not have any syrup making traditions. Nowadays, I'm an amateur writer."

I perked up at that, "What genre? Or are you nonfiction, like a blogger or reporter or something?"

"I write fiction, mostly...romances," Amaryllis said. I wondered what that hesitation there was, but she seems to get an idea, "I've also been meaning to get into drawing."

"Drawing?" I asked.

"Yeah, I've been using myself as a model for female bodies, but I've never had a model for male bodies," Amaryllis said, "But maybe...?"

"Maybe?" I asked, slightly dreading what would come next.

"Maybe I could use you as a model," Amaryllis said, blushing slightly.

"Oh, if that's all, I'd love to be able to help," I said, relieved.

She perked up, obvious glee on her face, "Great, so take off your clothes!"

...

"What?" I said, surprisingly calmly given the shock I was feeling.

"Well, I need to be able to draw the body underneath the clothes. I can't do that with the clothes in the way," she was blushing, looking nervous. I could tell that she was wondering whether she had crossed a line.

"I did say I would help, so..." I took my shirt off, and was momentarily stunned by the explosive squeal coming out of Amaryllis.

I gave her a questioning glance, to which she responded, "Sorry, sorry, don't mind me. Keep going."

She very purposefully clasped her hands and placed them in her lap.