The Art of Seduction for Dummies.

It was surprisingly far to the art room, but I wasn't in a hurry. My meeting with Sandra was my last today, and it's a Friday. After this I go home, put my feet up, and play some video games with a beer in my hand. My companion was quiet (likely from wanting very little to do with me) so I started humming to myself.

"What's that?" she asked after a few seconds.

"Hm? Oh, the song?" She nodded. "It's-uh-it's the humming from Luigi's Mansion." She clearly didn't know what that was and seemed confused. Ah, right. She's younger than Luigi's Mansion by like 5 years. "It's a really game from when I was a kid about a guy walking through a haunted house, killing ghosts and looking for his brother." It's a bit reductive but not wrong.

She was silent for a little longer. "I don't like video games. There's too much fighting, and people seem to like that for some reason," she said. I got the impression she wanted me to defend why I, on the other hand, DID like video games with fighting.

I decided to be Frank with her. "Well, I guess it comes from the fact that we live in a fairly civilized society," I said, making it up as I went but not lying, per se, "Usually if you fight someone, there are unavoidable consequences. You get arrested, ostracized, et cetera. But in a game, you can be violent and be rewarded."

"But why do you want to be violent at all?" Her face was contorted in an emotion I could only call concern. Ah man, she's a good girl. She wants to know why I like ****, not just call me a bigot for no reason. Maybe I should stop profiling people. I guess girls can be nice to guys even if they don't want to have sex with them.

"Well," I started, composing my thoughts and cracking my neck. An action I do a lot to phrase what I want. Spin is what lawyers do, after all, "I bet it's evolutionary programming. Hunting for food, fighting off invaders, so on and so forth. Men want to fight because... we have always fought. And just because the world doesn't want us to fight now, that programming doesn't just go away. So we make video games with **** in them to scratch that itch. At least, that's my guess. Better that we beat up dragons in a video game than each other out here." I had never presented about it before and I wasn't certain, but I didn't lie. this was my honest reason why it was okay to have **** in video games.

A long pause. "I guess that's fair." and she said nothing further. Only the sounds of our footsteps now resonated through the hallway until we arrived at our destination, the school's art room. Art is a strange concept in schools. Schools try to foster talents, sponsor their students to become the best versions of themselves and achieve their dreams and destinies. But the discipline allowing for the most freedom of expression, Art, is woefully unsupported. And the reason for that is obvious, there's no money in the school for it. If your school's band or orchestra wins a contest, that's usually a grant for that school so as to reward its commitment to excellence or whathaveyou. There's not nearly as much of a reward for art. And yet, art is clearly important. Even now, the girl next to me is using art to advertise and promote her worldview. A peaceful worldview, if her words are taken at face value.

We entered the art room and she turned on the lights. Paintings, sculptures, and a general messy, art studio look to it. It felt strange being in here. I'm a 32 year old lawyer. The art room at a high school isn't exactly one of my usual haunts. I place the box of art supplies down where she tells me to. "There you go. Sorry again. Good luck with the rally." And I make my exi-

"WAIT!" my companion exclaims and grabs my arm. I look back in bewilderment (and terror, she's as tall as I am) "uh... don't go."

I was now thoroughly confused. "uh... okay? Why?"

She was shifty now. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was nervous. "Can we sit down for a moment? My name's Zoe. Zoe Hunters" She gestured to one of the tables. I imagine the art room uses tables instead of desks for larger workspaces if you're sculpting or using drafting paper. I sit in the chair meant for students (an occurrence I've had happen several times since I started working for the district). I have learned not to anger plucky high school girls with phone cameras; they try to **** people really easily.

"I don't know how to do this, so I'm just gonna say it." She took a deep breath, looked at me dead in the eye, and "I love you. I have loved you completely since I first saw you."

"W-what?" I didn't expect that.

She didn't stop. "I fucking love you. I don't want to live a single day without you ever again and I want to make you the happiest version of yourself."

"Hold on," I was frightened and looked to the door to make sure no one was there. Something was horribly wrong.

"NO!" she yelled, and slammed her hands on the table "I won't hold on! If I hold on, I'll be too embarrassed to keep going!" She was crying now, this was bad. "I want... to be your girlfriend... or something..." and she covered her face with her hands. She had run out of steam and was making herself as small as she could, hiding from the world.

This... this is not what I expected. I didn't expect this. This was unexpected. This is what I'd call a moment of peril. Moments like these are what lawyers dread. My actions thus far and my actions I'm about to take will have serious repercussions. What has happened thus far is this. I have bumped into a high school student (which could be considered ****), apologized for it (which could be an admission of guilt), helped her to deliver her supplies to the art room (which could be me intentionally taking her to a private location), and made her cry (which could be emotional damage). The next few seconds will be extremely important.

"Um, well look, Ms. Hunters," I started.

"Zoe." She said, peeking from behind her hands

"Zoe, right," oh boy, "I'm very flattered, but I don't know how to properly respond here." I decided to level with her. "I'm a lawyer. The school district calls me specifically to stop enraged parents from going to the news by giving them government money after guys in school faculty start coming onto students. You can imagine my hesitance with accepting your admittedly wonderful love confession." She looked horrified, not only at what appeared to be a rejection, but also a realization of what my job entails. She deflated yet again, then had what she clearly believed was a fantastic idea.

"Hey, what's your name?" she asked me, and pulled her phone out.

I didn't really want to answer, but she could find out if she really wanted to. "Felix Lighter. Like the James Bond character, but not spelled the same." She calmed herself down, stood up, and pointed her phone camera at herself. She then started recording.

"I, Zoe Hunters, being of sound mind and body, acting of my own volition, and legal age, declare that I am thoroughly in love and attracted to Felix Lighter, and.." she stopped, bright red, "and hereby withdraw as the head of the LGBT club president of Gronye High School, as I am no longer a lesbian." She stopped recording and sat down. She looks more winded saying those things than carrying all that shit to this room. She brought me out of my stupor.

She brought me out of my stupor. "Do you need me to send that to you?" She asked meekly.

"Uh, sure. It's on the cloud anyway, but..." I didn't know what to say, I think she actually had a thing for me, this wasn't some half-assed sting attempt. "Are you okay?"

She sighed, "Not really. I've always been attracted to girls, but I bump into the some guy that happens to be my literal optimal type and I've never been attracted to guys, let alone this much." She steeled herself again. "I just know that I wasn't going to live with myself if I didn't convey to you how I feel. I'll never fall for anyone like I fell for you"

I was starting to catch those feelings "Well, you're still young, you'll probably meet someone better tha-"

"NO-sorry." She said, trying to stop herself from getting worked up, but jumping to her feet anyway. She walked to the door, looked outside, and closed it. "Let's make out or something!"

"What?"

"Or let's go back to your place! Or my place! Please!" I wasn't used to someone being this... into me. Even though she wasn't my exact type she was quite attractive and getting a vehement love confession with a legal acknowledgement that I didn't **** her or something was kind of a turn-on. I actually don't have the same responsibility to the students as I'm not school faculty, but I can't actually have sex with this girl, right?

Right?