‘I’m Alexandra.’ She told me. ‘Are you here alone?’ I asked. Her eyes lowered, and she didn’t answer me. ‘Black Mercedes is yours?’ I...asked, sure I missed a pronoun in there. Alexandra’s eyes shot back up to me, and the fear returned. ‘We need to move. I carry you?’ I asked. Alexandra recoiled from me, but stopped when her back hit the rock, knocking the light over, and we were once again in darkness. I heard a whimper from Alexandra as the light disappeared between two stones. I fished it. An old-fashioned storybook, printed on actual paper, sat open on the bed beside them.Fortunately, it was written in English, and quite brief. I mustered my feeble dramatic talents, and read the story, doing different voices for the different characters. I was aiming for enough energy to draw their attention to the story, but not enough to excite them to the point they would resist their bodies' need for sleep.I achieved my goal, because when I finished the tale, I looked up to find them both. "Did you really do this kind of stuff, growing up?" Never mind what I did, growing up," I told her. "You and I are going to do some historical reenactments. This is the first of several I have in mind. You are -- oh, you're sixteen tonight. And I'm a little older. Eighteen, maybe. A real man of the world." My parents wouldn't have allowed me to go out alone with a boy when I was sixteen. And certainly not with an eighteen-year-old boy." Probably they wouldn't have been too thrilled about my. The dude finally lost it, and just standing there staring at me, I mutter, “well punk, you gonna suck my dick, or what”? He got a look of terror on his face. Most likely what he came there hoping for, but not really expecting it. Becoming impatient, and a little nervous that I had been gone too long from study hall, I reach up with my right hand, and put it on the top of his head. I knew he wanted it, so I began a moderate pressure, pushing him down. With a bit of resistance, he gradually gets.