"So…You're going to be the one who takes the first bite of cake, huh? Well, I must tell you it's nice to negotiate in English for once. Although…" A cigarette found a place between those British lips. "I can't say that I like your accent."

"You don't like anything, do you Arthur?"

"No. Not really." A cloud of spoke wafted from his nostrils and lips, and he did not seem to care. "You've given me quite a bit of money…About twice as much as I make when I usually sell a virgin. Are you sure you don't want to wait? I've gotten a few bids, but…Nothing nearly as high as yours."

"No. I don't want to wait."

"Why? You're giving me fake money?" A grin construed of filth. "Well…I'm not going to complain. He's yours."

"Wonderful."

"Now; how about a date?"

The American thought a lengthily expanse and finally gave his reply. "Two weeks."

"Two?"

A nod.

"Why two?"

"It's a good amount of time…Besides; I'd like to see him before we become intimate."

"Well, I suppose the customer is always right, at least, that's what I'm supposed to say. I think you're a fucking lunatic for not taking him sooner but…I suppose the first time's always special."

"First time?"

"Oh? You're not a virgin? Excuse me."

"Even if I was a virgin, I still wouldn't be a rapist. I would much rather be a virgin than a rapist."

"And I'd much rather be a rapist than a virgin. I suppose it all works out."

"…I'm not a virgin."

"No, no, no. I heard you the first fifty times. Would you like a cigarette? It relieves stress, you know…and you look pretty worked up…Are you sure you're not a virgin?"

"I don't smoke."

"Now I'm certain you've never had sex."

The American sighed and the Englishman laughed, a wide smile strewn healthy upon those great and terrible jewels.

"I'm just fucking with you."

There was no reply.

"Well…I've got one more question. And then you can be on your merry way and I can buy something wonderful with all this money…There's no refunds, by the way."

"Of course. I wouldn't expect anything else."

"Great!" A long drag upon that cigarette, and atmosphere stricken by sudden quiet born of heavy thought. "You've ah…" Those thick brows bent beneath the weight of his request. "Look, I'm no good with this whole notion of caring."

"I've noticed."

The British man employed false and mocking laughter; more seconds ticked by within his mind. "…You're going to be gentle with him, aren't you?"

"Yes…Of course."

"Good, because…" A sigh wallowing in troubles. "He's a good kid…"

"Yes. He is. And I'm not going to be rough with him."

Finally, there was only a well contemplated nod.

"So…Can I be on my merry way?"

"Yes. Get out of my sight…Please."

"Of course."

Something within Mr. Kirkland's heart sunk to the bottom if a great sea brimming with unfelt emotions, knowing he could not deflower that treasure himself…And for even a brief moment, he did not want anyone to lie fingers upon that shining jewel. They did not know what they were doing, and would likely cause him more pain than was necessary.

There was something like concern within his stomach…something he had not experienced for someone else in what could have been years.

Mr. Kirkland watched as Alfred left, all his thoughts so brimming with incoherencies, and his tongue tied into a wordless knot.