When I usually finish studies, Jean picks me at his car. He's my very good friend and also my
photographer.
He is about 60 yo and smokes huge cuban cigars.
I spend a lot of time with him, but his wife knows Nothing about me - it is our little secret.
I believe he loves me. I like him too,

But not in a sexual way.
His narrow, wrinkled eyes look excitedly at every part of my bare body, hoping,
wishing for me to give in to his sexual desires -

Like an unwritten contract, nothing is given and nothing is taken,
but I can almost feel his pain at my rejection.

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