Dinner has become an untold pleasure. Her inquiries, as honest as discerning. Her reflections of his answers. New insights for both of them. All of it playful, with words and thoughts for toys. Facial muscles aching from unaccustomed smiles. Even laughter has escaped him once or twice. Tentative, groping as if blinded by sunlight after years in dark fallow.

So much for Her to learn. He has kept Her to himself to begin with. Preparing Her, showing Her the world through his window and his imagination. Sharing all his lore.

Even so she pushes against its boundaries, visibly enjoying it. A ball-tossing game with words, pace ever accelerating, crescendo of pleasure. Until pleasure turns into desire and the game changes.

Almost too soon. He could keep up the word game until sleep would end it. Never before has anyone offered him such a response. He made Her well. But wit has to bow to the passion he instilled in Her in the end. Might have done with a little less. Wanted to be sure, though. Seems insatiable now.

Trying at times to introduce the subject of love into the game. Pointless. Like asking a fish about swimming. Something nagging him about it but Her eyes only glaze, the mere thought of love fanning Her flame, dispelling all thought. If She cannot help him find out what, then who can?

Perhaps time to introduce her to the Apprentice. The thought brings a frown. Catching himself not wanting them to meet. Smiling at himself. The very reason to let it happen.

He tells Her at once to forestall any doubts. She brightens, tensing in anticipation of this new, like before all new. Her curiosity about the world, not about the young man as such.

Not in the least.