The M.I.L.F. Man

Bea

"Can't you have them assassinated or something?" I asked. "Just for me?"

Richard laughed, really laughed, for the first time since we'd met—lunch, we were having. And in public, too.

Yes, we were having a normal nosh, at one of the best restaurants in town, of course, but still, quite a step for our boy. To be seen in public with another boy. Albeit the sort of boy he wanted to be seen with deep down in that tortured soul of his.

He sipped the last of several Irish whiskeys he'd insisted I try—I was quite tipsy by then—and said, "For you? Possibly." Giving me this rather snarky smile, though.

When we ventured outside of our private "roles," he reverted to his snide, sarcastic self. Which I didn't mind at all. I preferred that version. It was fun to fight with.

"Oh, I'm serious," I said. "I want them run over by a train or something. Something gross and grisly."

"Well, I'd be jealous if it weren't so much fun experiencing young love vicariously through you. I don't believe in love of course. It's a form of dementia, as far as I'm concerned."

"Gasp."

He chuckled and sipped some of his heinously strong whiskey.

And then said, "I might consent to assist you in some small, far less sadistic way. Though I am impressed how quickly you've taken to that particular mode of thought and behavior since we met."

"Of course you are--what did you have in mind exactly?"

"Names, perhaps. Of the culprits behind this nonsense. And it is nonsense. Small time, spiteful nonsense. This being a small time, spiteful sort of era, in a state full of small time, spiteful people."

"Well, I'm quite fond of the people. Just not the scary, arch-conservative ones."

"They're not conservatives. I am a conservative. Their behavior is born of fear, ignorance and...well, the school system here is woefully ineffective. Though of course, the entire American educational system is fucked as the children they've short-changed so grievously would put it—you're slumming. You can afford to. But you've told me yourself how appallingly uninformed they all are. I'm glad they're nudging you toward the Exit. You've really got to move on, Chastain. That is something I would gladly assist you with. Finding a purposeful path."

Amused me that I'd become something of a "son" to him. Which made things even more bizarre between us, but I think it was making him feel more like a real member of the human race from which he'd painstakingly exiled himself for so long.

But to remind him who was the "master" of our secret situation, I tossed down my napkin and said, "Well, I have to go soon."

"Business or pleasure?" he asked. Tighter smile that time...

"Certainly not pleasure. There'll be precious little of that for the foreseeable future."

"Well, pain is so much more...educational," he said.

"You are one sick puppy, you know that?"

He raised a glass to me. And said, "I'll take that as a compliment."

"You would," I said. "And now I'm off."

I was scheduled to spend the day with what turned out to be one of the most remarkable clients I'd ever accepted. I'd begun, having fallen head over heels in love, to be very selective, choosing only "fantasy" dates who ticked the "no sexual contact" box in the appointment form.