"Samantha!" A male voice called from somewhere to our left.

Sam winced and closed her eyes for a moment.

“So it begins." She schooled her face, put on a pleasant facade, and turned with me to face our new visitor.

“Mr. Sanderson, so nice to see you again," Sam said politely as the early 3@s man with a trim goatee strode over to us

“How many times have I told you to call me ‘Tim'?" he said, eyes gravitating down to Sam's upthrust cleavage. They lingered there a little longer than would be polite, but he finally brought his gaze back up. I couldn't necessarily blame him. Sam was impeccably dressed in a satiny black dress that put “the girls" on display, black lace stockings, and fancy skyscraper high heels. Her dark roots and heavy eye makeup accented her severe appearance to go with the dress, but her platinum-blonde hair, piled high in a fancy up-do, and dangling silver earrings completed the Look. Teenaged near-jailbait or not, Sam was gorgeous enough to attract the attention of everyone from twelve to a hundred and twenty.

“Perhaps one more time, Mr. Sanderson," Sam replied primly. Turning to me, she released one of her arms from mine and gestured, "This is my boyfriend, Matthew." She immediately wrapped both arms around my left elbow afterwards.

“Pleased to meet you," I stated evenly, offering my hand. For whatever reason, it never occurred to me that Sam would introduce me to people as her boyfriend. I mean, I knew I was going to be her escort, but I honestly thought I would just be her “date for the evening" or something.

Mr. Sanderson shook my hand, a trace of disappointment in his eyes.

Gleaning what I could from the conversation, I wondered just how long he'd been fantasizing about banging the hot blonde teenager. We exchanged pleasantries, but after less than two minutes, Sam explained that we needed to meet up with her parents and we excused ourselves.

We were stopped by one more “older admirer" and basically had a repeat of our conversation with Mr. Sanderson, but Sam's parents were nearby and overheard us. After Mr. Quin departed, Sam's mother Leaned over and asked, “‘Boyfriend'?" I could practically see her miming the air quotes the same way Sam always did.

“Relax, Mummy. It's just to keep the wombats at bay."

Her mother's smile broadened, and she looked at me. "Nice to see you again, Matty."

“You too, Mrs. Smith," I replied politely. I shook hands with Sam's father, and we had a nice chat for a few minutes, talking about school and other things.

While I'd met Sam's parents before, this was easily the longest duration we'd ever spoken. Sam's dad made a few references to San

Francisco politics, specifically his support of the LGBTQ agenda, and as the conversation wore on, I got the distinct impression Sam's father thought I was a homosexual.

When we separated again, I leaned in and whispered, “Does your dad think I'm gay?"

Sam giggled and shrugged.

“Well you have been hanging out with six girls and zero boys for the past few years. I've never tried to correct him. Otherwise he might pitch a fit about me visiting you."

I arched an eyebrow.

“Does your mom think I'm gay?"

Sam shook her head in the negative.

“You've done a much better job than other guys of not staring at my breasts, but you still check me out.

She noticed and asked me last year if you were gay or straight."

“Does she pitch a fit about you visiting me?"

Sam shrugged.