Dembe was seventeen years old and Red was extremely proud of the progress he had been making with his studies. His French and Spanish were practically flawless and he had a good head for math and the sciences. He seemed to be doing equally well in his therapy sessions; he was not as fearful and insecure as he used to be and though he still stayed close to Raymond, he was noticeably less clingy than when he first came to live in Paris.

One late Sunday morning, Red was in his dining room reading the news on his tablet and sipping coffee. He had been up for a few hours as he had entertained company the night before and they had made and eaten breakfast before she had left.

"Good morning, Raymond."

He looked up to see his young charge standing there smiling. "Good morning, Dembe! Would you like some breakfast?"

"I made oatmeal, I'm going to eat in the kitchen so I won't disturb you. I just wanted to greet you."

"Nonsense! Join me in here. I'm just catching up on the news."

So Dembe got his cereal and sat at the dining room table. He found that Raymond was easy to talk to and he enjoyed their conversations. He had gotten over his early wariness around the man and even though he wasn't completely comfortable, he felt the bond between the two of them growing stronger every day.

Their talk had come to a natural end and he finished his oatmeal while Raymond returned to his reading. There was a question Dembe desperately wanted to ask and he had wondered to his therapist if he should. The answer he had been given was that Red would probably address any issue Dembe wanted to raise; all he had to do was bring up the subject. Well, he thought, based on last night, now is a good time. "Raymond? I want to ask you something."

Red looked up and turned off his device. "Of course. What is it?"

"Um…" Now that he had the man's attention, he wasn't sure how to start. Inhaling deeply, he said all in a rush, "I heard you with Rosalie last night, the, the sounds you and she were making…" Raymond's eyes had narrowed and Dembe feared he had crossed a line. "I, I'm sorry, Raymond, I…" He stood to leave, but was stopped by Raymond's hand on his arm.

"No, talk to me," Raymond said gently, "It's fine. What do you want to ask me?"

"He wanted to know why I like sex!" Raymond and Mr. Kaplan were having dinner in a small bistro a few blocks east of the Champs – Elysees. "That poor kid! By the time I was seventeen, I was sexually active and couldn't get enough! It was years before I was any good, but I was having a great time practicing!"

Kate had choked on her wine at his comments and playfully slapped his arm. "Dearie, don't try to kill me! Seventeen was a trying time for me. I knew I was different from my sisters and friends. They were all mooning over guys and had been for years while I was getting crushes on girls and had no interest in boys. I didn't have my first sexual experience until I was a junior in college and it was with a boy and I didn't like it one bit. It wasn't until I was out of school and living on my own that I was first kissed by a woman. I was rocked to my toes. The first time I had sex with a woman, my whole world shifted and I knew that's who I am."

Raymond shook his head. "I was a hormone fueled, fumbling horny teenager and you were a confused, repressed one. And we had what passed for 'normal' childhoods! Imagine having your entire family murdered in front of you and then being sold into slavery and sexually assaulted on a daily basis. The mind boggles."

"What did you tell him?"

"The truth! My truth, anyway. I told him that sex is physically and emotionally satisfying and that having sex with someone you like is fun. I also told him that having sex with someone you love and trust is all those things plus so much more."

"What did he say to that?"

Red rubbed his face. "Kate, I was so saddened by his response. He equates sex with pain, humiliation and brutality. He said the men who frequented the brothel where he was kept liked dominating and hurting the children; that was how they derived pleasure from the act. He doesn't understand how anyone indulges in sex to show love or tenderness."

Kate leaned back in her seat. "Oh Dembe, Dembe, Dembe, you poor sweet child," she muttered. She leaned forward and took Red's hand. "You know you have to help him. What are you going to do?"

Red kissed her hand and placed it on the table. "Dembe sees the therapist Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays. I made an appointment to speak with him on Monday. I need guidance. I can't screw this up, it's too important."