“I’m ok with it if you are.”

Tracy’s words to me are playful, and I’m glad that she has finally relaxed enough around me to be able to joke. I look at her and say, “Well, I’m usually on the viewing end of things when it comes to displays of nudity, but I suppose I can make an exception... Provided that you’re ok with it.”

I study her expression, waiting for her answer, wondering if she is just joking, or if this is an opening I can pursue for something a bit more hands-on than a joke.

She smiles enigmatically and says, “Are you asking if I’m ok with having you change clothes in front of me, or are you asking if I’m ok with doing the same thing?”

I have to choose my next words carefully. If I just blurt out what’s on my mind, it will sound something like, “What I’m wanting to know is whether we have time to fuck before and after dinner, or if I should just content myself with a quickie right now and expect something more at the office tomorrow.”

Instead, I try to frame my next words as something a tad bit less hormone-driven and in the spirit of a sort-of, kind-of first date.