A bit intrigued.

It takes some effort not to laugh at Christopher's swear. Besides being amused that there might be some metal in this young man, you suspect he doesn't even realize what a wonderful pun he has just made. "So, you don't know what the fuck you're talking about when it comes to fucking?" You can't resist playing with him a bit and to lighten the mood. "Isn't that what the internet is for?"

The high school senior is nowhere near as skilled at controlling his facial expressions as you are. "Oh, um, I'm sorry, Ms. Summers." He blushes. "I didn't mean to be so crude."

"It's okay, Christopher." You quickly respond, not wanting him to suffer too long. "I'm just giving you a hard time. We're both adults." Standing, you begin to clear the table, knowing the wise decision is to let your barely legal date go his way, for you have fulfilled your obligation to the universal karma. However, there is something intriguing and charming about this young man. "If you have to run, I understand, but I would be curious to hear more about your art."

"Really?" He seems genuinely surprised. "Okay." He nods with a smile, "What would you like to know?"

"How about a drink first? Then we can retire to the living room." Opening up a kitchen cabinet, you give Christopher his options: "Coffee, tea, flavored water, I make a mean Cuba Libre, or . . ." You stop in mid sentence and discretely put the bottle of Denizen Aged White Rum back into the cabinet, remembering the drinking age laws of your state. "I think, I might have some lemonade."

"Water is fine." Christopher answers unaware as he helps you with the table.

Fighting the urge to pour yourself a real drink, you too go for the water option and head over to your Cabana Banana "L" shaped couch. Sitting on the larger section you leave room for Christopher to sit next to you. He hesitates, pauses, goes to sit down, stops, and then moves to the smaller love seat perpendicular to you. You know it's wrong, but gently teasing his innocence is becoming rather enjoyable.

"So," you begin the conversation as you cross your legs, "you're writing a story to go with your pictures of this Riannon?"

"It's more than mere fan-fiction." He nods excitedly. "I would like to create a digital graphic novel, I was thinking of even posting it online, maybe on deviantart."

"I know the desire." You take a sip of your water, wishing it was rum. "I like to play around with photography and I post some of my better pictures on my instagram page. I'm amazed how realistic your pictures look. Do you use models as a reference?"

"Well, I do use pics I find on the internet," again Christopher briefly turns slightly red, "but I don't know any models. But that's okay, because the rendering algorithms of the program I use . . ." Your new friend launches into a five minute lecture about the merits of the software he has, all of which you find strangely endearing. Any other guy would have jumped at the opening to at least make some cheesy line about you modeling, but in his naivety, Mr. Sajenson completely missed it.

You bring an end to Christopher's diatribe when he makes a reference that he has been working on alternative endings. "You mean if the monster has his way?" You interject.

"Well . . ." He looks at the floor for a second. "Yeah, a bit more of a kinky ending I guess. Just for fun, you know."

"Could I see?" You hold out your hand.

"Um." Christopher fumbles with his phone. "Okay."

Taking the phone again, you look over the new pictures. Though more racy then the others, they're still only R rated, and done with his usual artistic flair. "Sexy." You simply comment as you hand the phone back.

"Wait?!" His eyes go wide. "You're not offended?"

Crossing your legs the other way you smile. "Woman have fantasies too. We just like to share them with someone we trust and who cares for us."

"Oh." Christopher answers and then goes silent, pondering your words, while trying not to obviously stare too much at you. Unsure on how to reply, he eventually has to cross his legs, also. For him, however, it's an obvious attempt to try to cover a common condition that plagues excited teenage boys.

Enjoying his juvenile discomfort for a minute you finally speak. "So the fantasy ending with bondage and a monster you can write, but not a simple love scene? What in particular is giving you such difficulty?"