Private Jets and Getting Snipped.

I raise my glass to him, and he acknowledges my gesture. I dig my fork into another bite of delicious. I can’t believe the man who just told me that story is snipped. He obviously cares about family, heritage, history… I’ve heard these things are reversible. Maybe that’s his plan; when he meets the right woman. Or maybe he’s had his sperm frozen, in some private bank or vault in one of his many houses. Maybe that’s just how the uber rich do it. I should ask Lola when I get back.

I should just ask him. But I’m reminded of my terrible faux pax with Mr. Smyth. I said “boyfriend” and ended up with a broken heart. If I say “children” I’ll probably end up having to drive myself back to Los Angeles, instead of straddle his hard-on on his private jet. I refuse to repeat the same mistake twice. It’s too soon to pry into things like this. I know he expects more from the women he dates. He expects more from me; that I’ll be able to handle things, like the project at work, and my orgasms. It’s understandable. He’s a busy man. With a great private jet.