leaders in a castle sounded like ruin. Not that the fairytales expressed that explicitly.”
“No the fairytales do not express that bluntly. But that’s true happiness, in the fairy tales, a woman who waits on her man to make love to her?”
“That brings me true happiness.”
“What about my true happiness?”
Mr. Lauser replied, “Your happiness, logically would spring from my own.”
“What if my happiness originated below my belly button, Mr. Lauser. Does that put things out of sync?”
“Heaven’s, no. Many a man responds well to a fiery female in the bedroom—on rare occasions.”
“How many rare occasions would she have, this woman you love? Two a year? One a month?”
He turned slowly this way and that as if some dust landed on his top hat.
“I’ll make it easier for you, Mr. Lauser.”
“Do so. This is a rather delicate line of inquiry.”
“Would it make you happy if you could just fuck me once every day?”
“Gosh. Heavens no, that’s way too much.”
“Would it make you happy to fuck me once a week?”
“That doesn’t sound too bad.”
“And would it make you happy if I approached you, wanted to do you sexually once a week?”
“I supposed that depended on the time of day.”
“Let’s say it is in the morning. I’m sure you rise early in the morning,” I insinuated his wonder tool under his belt.
“That might be fine.”
“Would it make you happy to fuck and not love me?”
“No, I think I should love you, Miss. Bedrosian.”
“Would it make you happy to have a big meal after this erotic activity?”
“That’s superb. Yes.”
“Would it make you happy to cook that big meal—after the erotic activity?”
“Well, I don’t know how to cook?”
“Would it make you happy just to fuck me?”
“That would be happiness somewhat?”
“Would you then just like to fuck me for a fee?”
“I didn’t come here for a trollop. I came for marriage, Miss Bedrosian.”
“Well what if I wanted to just fuck you for your accent? It’s really attractive.”
“I’ve never heard of that before. I don’t talk much during sex.”
“It would bring me happiness if you did talk during sex”“
“I supposed I could perform that too during—”
“Or would it make you happy to just fuck me for $1,000 and no strings attached. No talking requested.”
He responded. “Can a man find happiness from paying for sex?”
I waited for Mr. Lauser to answer his own philosophical questions. Because he really was like any other bloke. He saw my bus poster ad. That I was a single woman and thought I needed a good cock. But in reality, I just needed someone with a cock to act like they might want to marry me so I could fulfill the obligation to Olivia’s social tradition. I’d never told this to him, I fumed. Because in the end, he just wanted to get in my pants.
He squirmed about looking at the dust on the table, and there was none. His expression went blank. His eyes lifted up. “Prostitution flourishes all over the planet. Men seem happy enough without love.”
“Are you happy—would you be happy just to fuck me and I give you $1,000?” I paused. “Just for your English accent, but you have to talk during the dirty dealings.”
“No I can’t take money for sex. I give it—”
Mr. English Shelby Lauser caught himself. “I did just say I’d pay for sex. One thousand doesn’t seem like a bad price. You are very attractive. Would it make me happy to just fuck you for that price? Yes. There I said it.”
“I’m afraid. I don’t fuck for English pounds, dollars or whatever currency is in your rich tail coat pockets. So I think this little meeting is over.”
“That is a shame because I really learned to love you more and more.”
“I’m sure you did. Mr. Lauser.” I stood up and escorted him to the door.
* * * *
I wanted to say next, but that might give the impression of giving quickie blow jobs for pay. Or of an incredible Bitch Boss who wanted the
“No the fairytales do not express that bluntly. But that’s true happiness, in the fairy tales, a woman who waits on her man to make love to her?”
“That brings me true happiness.”
“What about my true happiness?”
Mr. Lauser replied, “Your happiness, logically would spring from my own.”
“What if my happiness originated below my belly button, Mr. Lauser. Does that put things out of sync?”
“Heaven’s, no. Many a man responds well to a fiery female in the bedroom—on rare occasions.”
“How many rare occasions would she have, this woman you love? Two a year? One a month?”
He turned slowly this way and that as if some dust landed on his top hat.
“I’ll make it easier for you, Mr. Lauser.”
“Do so. This is a rather delicate line of inquiry.”
“Would it make you happy if you could just fuck me once every day?”
“Gosh. Heavens no, that’s way too much.”
“Would it make you happy to fuck me once a week?”
“That doesn’t sound too bad.”
“And would it make you happy if I approached you, wanted to do you sexually once a week?”
“I supposed that depended on the time of day.”
“Let’s say it is in the morning. I’m sure you rise early in the morning,” I insinuated his wonder tool under his belt.
“That might be fine.”
“Would it make you happy to fuck and not love me?”
“No, I think I should love you, Miss. Bedrosian.”
“Would it make you happy to have a big meal after this erotic activity?”
“That’s superb. Yes.”
“Would it make you happy to cook that big meal—after the erotic activity?”
“Well, I don’t know how to cook?”
“Would it make you happy just to fuck me?”
“That would be happiness somewhat?”
“Would you then just like to fuck me for a fee?”
“I didn’t come here for a trollop. I came for marriage, Miss Bedrosian.”
“Well what if I wanted to just fuck you for your accent? It’s really attractive.”
“I’ve never heard of that before. I don’t talk much during sex.”
“It would bring me happiness if you did talk during sex”“
“I supposed I could perform that too during—”
“Or would it make you happy to just fuck me for $1,000 and no strings attached. No talking requested.”
He responded. “Can a man find happiness from paying for sex?”
I waited for Mr. Lauser to answer his own philosophical questions. Because he really was like any other bloke. He saw my bus poster ad. That I was a single woman and thought I needed a good cock. But in reality, I just needed someone with a cock to act like they might want to marry me so I could fulfill the obligation to Olivia’s social tradition. I’d never told this to him, I fumed. Because in the end, he just wanted to get in my pants.
He squirmed about looking at the dust on the table, and there was none. His expression went blank. His eyes lifted up. “Prostitution flourishes all over the planet. Men seem happy enough without love.”
“Are you happy—would you be happy just to fuck me and I give you $1,000?” I paused. “Just for your English accent, but you have to talk during the dirty dealings.”
“No I can’t take money for sex. I give it—”
Mr. English Shelby Lauser caught himself. “I did just say I’d pay for sex. One thousand doesn’t seem like a bad price. You are very attractive. Would it make me happy to just fuck you for that price? Yes. There I said it.”
“I’m afraid. I don’t fuck for English pounds, dollars or whatever currency is in your rich tail coat pockets. So I think this little meeting is over.”
“That is a shame because I really learned to love you more and more.”
“I’m sure you did. Mr. Lauser.” I stood up and escorted him to the door.
* * * *
I wanted to say next, but that might give the impression of giving quickie blow jobs for pay. Or of an incredible Bitch Boss who wanted the
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