BIRTHDAY PIE
There's a world of difference between a minute spent with a pretty girl and a minute spent with your hand on a stove.
I stared, face to face, eyes to sleepy eyes, for a good five minutes trying to process the situation. I couldn't deny that the girl in front of me was extremely cute, but it felt like saying so was a crime. Calling or thinking anyone as such should have been a compliment, but with his final comment before leaving the premises, I wouldn't dare tell her aloud, even if she hadn't heard it. First things first, make the situation less awkward. It was unbelievable how awkward he left things. What a shitty birthday present.
"I don't know what he told you or how much he paid you and for what, but please don't feel obligated to stay. If you feel uncomfortable, feel free to leave without a word. I'm not a sicko or anything, so I'm not gonna try anything with you, but I'm sure you were pressured or swindled into coming here and I wouldn't want you to think you'd gotta keep up with those feelings." Even I had more responsibility than that. I lifted my hand to scratch at the back of my neck. I had brought home a pie, on sale at our school for the special occasion of pi day, which happened to be my birthday, and was planning on enjoying it the entire passing week. It wouldn't hurt to share a slice with her. "Care for some pie? It's cherry." Without really waiting for an answer, I began my walk to the kitchen counter to grab plates, a knife, forks, and cups. Treating her to something sweet seemed like the least that she deserved, and probably the least I could offer. "Not to intrude or anything, but -- my last name is Ii, and as of today I'm twenty years old. Can I ask how old you are? And your name?" It was the first time in a long time that I even gave my real last name and age at the same time, but I felt that a level of trust was needed in order for her to feel okay. My fetishes aside, I didn't know how enjoyable this experience would be on either of our sides.