“Why ‘Poor Henry?’ I’m overcome with happiness.” And it’s true.

　“Oh, I’ve been dropping all these surprises on you like big rocks.” Clare swings a leg over me so she’s sitting exactly on top of my cock. It concentrates my attention wonderfully.

　“Don’t move,” I say.

　“Okay. I’m finding this evening highly entertaining. I mean, Knowledge is Power, and all that. Also I’ve always been hugely curious to find out where you live and what you wear and what you do for a living.”

　“ Voila!” I slide my hands under her dress and up her thighs. She’s wearing stockings and garters. My kind of girl. “Clare?”

　“Oui.”

　“It seems like a shame to just gobble everything up all at once. I mean, a little anticipation wouldn’t hurt anything.”

　Clare is abashed. “I’m sorry! But, you know, in my case, I’ve been anticipating for years. And, it’s not like cake.. .you eat it and it’s gone.”

　“Have your cake and eat it too.”

　“That’s my motto.” She smiles a tiny wicked smile and thrusts her hips back and forth a couple times. I now have an erection that is probably tall enough to ride some of the scarier rides at Great America without a parent.

　“You get your way a lot, don’t you?”

　“Always. I’m horrible. Except you have been mostly impervious to my wheedling ways. I’ve suffered dreadfully under your regime of French verbs and checkers.”

　“I guess I should take consolation in the fact that my future self will at least have some weapons of subjugation. Do you do this to all the boys?”

　Clare is offended; I can’t tell how genuinely. “I wouldn’t dream of doing this with boys. What nasty ideas you have!” She is unbuttoning my shirt. “God, you’re so...young.” She pinches my nipples, hard. The hell with virtue. I’ve figured out the mechanics of her dress.

　

　The next morning: