Read this at your own risk ~ Rev. Wesley Halifax

I took a moment to compose myself. Oliver was supine on the sofa, eyes closed, head back on a pillow, still naked. His member lay across his left thigh like a slumbering serpent. I simply gazed in appreciation at the spectacle for some time, but he soon appeared to be dozing, and I was not yet ready for him to sleep off the effects of absinthe and majik.

I drew an ottoman up to the sofa and took one of Oliver's hands in mine.

"Oliver darling."

"Mm?

"You are awake?"

"Mm-hm."

"May I ask you why you keep me at a distance, in spite of the incident in the green-house?"

He opened his eyes. The expression on his face told me that he was trying to form a diplomatic answer. I would have none of it. I brought my face close to his and stared into his eyes and said: "You must give me the unvarnished truth."

A look of dismay crossed his face as his will attempted to re-assert itself. It was much easier to bend Oliver's will to unsolicited sexual congress than it was to bend it towards the unvarnished truth. In fact, it had been so easy, up until that point, to bend his will to mine that I had forgotten just how willful Oliver can be. He strove mightily to keep the words from escaping his lips - our wills contended together, but at last I said, in my most commanding tone: "You will tell me the truth. Now."

"You are too old" he blurted out, and a look of horror crossed his face immediately after.

I was indeed surprised. "But I am only a few years older than you."

"That is too old. My wife can be no older than thirty five."

"But you yourself are over 40. Why insist on youth when you yourself have none to give in return?"

He proceeded to lecture me. It was, he informed me, a scientific fact that men aged much more gracefully than women, and that whereas a man was vital and virile well into his eighth decade, women began to lose their charms exponentially after the age of thirty.

I was truly disheartened by this. I suppose I had idealized Oliver to such a degree that I believed that whatever I thought, whatever I felt, he thought and felt too. I lost my desire for him at that moment, so repugnant was his belief-system to me. I sat for a long time, lost in thought. Oliver fell asleep - I had indeed put him through a trying night's work by imposing my will on him so severely, and no doubt he was exhausted. I certainly couldn't leave him lying naked on the sofa all evening. I considered re-dressing him in his own clothing, but thought better of it - I did not want to bother with suspenders and cravats and all that. I decided to dress him in my late husband's dressing gown and night gown. I did so, and then covered him with a quilt. I retired to my own room, and lie awake for some time, perplexed and dismayed until I finally fell into a restless sleep.

(To be continued...)