Why not?

"Okay," I said, to my mirror self in the background. "He's an EDP. No big deal. He just needs to have sex a lot. If he wants to have sex, I - I have to have sex with him. It's the law. I can do this." A pit formed in my stomach, and I was wanting to just run out of there. But... would that be illegal? I don't even know anymore.

I stared at my reflection. Sometimes talked to it, sometimes just made thoughts. Really depending on who was in the bathroom. That's when she walked into the room.

"Your boyfriend's wanting to know how much longer you'll be," said Marigold the waitress, who seemed a little bored. "It's been thirty minutes, and your food's getting pretty cold."

Ignoring the boyfriend remark, I looked her up and down, and didn't notice any change in appearance from earlier. Maybe I was imagining this all. "Did... did you sleep with him?"

She popped some bubble gum and answered directly. "Yeah, I fucked him in the men's room. Wasn't the first time," she said, a hand on her belly, which I now noticed was slightly protruding. "Anything for a customer," she snorted, before covering up her laugh.

"He's..." I whispered, even though it was just the two of us, "...an EDP? A three-hourer?"

She got in close. "Duh," she said, passive-aggresively, then smiled and left, as I contemplated my options.

Just a few minutes later, I exited the bathroom and returned to the booth. He was sitting there relaxing, but seemed shocked to see me approach. "C-Cassie," he said, stuttering a little, as he was almost sweating as I scooched near him. He adjusted himself away, but I paid it no heed, as he took a deep drink of his water.

"I'm sorry I took so long in the bathroom, it's just, I was thinking and I think I know what your medical condition is." I fidgeted a little with my hands, despite attempts to control this.

"You do?" he said, a little nervously and clammy.

"Yes. And Marigold confirmed it. You're... you're an EDP. An Erection Dependent." I sighed deeply as I said those words.

And he responded with a breath of relief himself. A few of them. "And you're okay with that?"

"No one's perfect," I smiled, which he returned.

"It's getting late," he said. "I think we should go home." He squeezed my hand, and I smiled.

"You don't want me to go with you?"

He shook his head no. "Not on a first date, silly." He made an odd face and then reached under the table, as I was surprised to see an older woman in her thirties emerge. She wiped the semen off her face, and quietly returned to her family a few tables over, as Kevin adjusted himself and helped me out of the booth.