The End Page 4     “Oh, I forgot to mention one more option. Let’s make it six you get to choose from. A trust fund kid. You know, one of those people that just hang out in cafes all days, enjoying literature, the arts and picking up attractive women.”    She smiles. She is enjoying the game. She continues with her thoughts. If he was a trust fund kid, it would be a sore point. He would not raise his privileged circumstances so nonchalantly. She looks at his hand, his arms. They are developed and tanned. They have been used throughout his life. He is not gentle enough to be a trust fund boy. He is a man, she thinks. Or is he a boy?    “Can I choose more than one? Is it possible you do more than one of the professions you named? Because for a moment there I thought I had you pegged as a trust fund Ph.D. student. The glasses made you a student, and that cashmere turtleneck, well, the only way a student could afford such a sweater was if he was already wealthy. You are far too gentle to be a butcher, and a banker would be in his office right now.”    She allows time for her answer to settle.    He smiles widely at her response. “How do you know I’m not a tour guide?”    “Well, you don’t really seem to know where you are. So how did I do?” She looks at him and notices that he is still standing, waiting to be asked to join her. She invites him to sit down. He gently pulls out the wooden seat across from her and tucks himself in after he is seated. Only now, after she has made her guess, does she really look at him. His light hair is fresh and well groomed. He carries himself with sophistication and elegance. Nevertheless, she decides he is definitely a boy. He is wrapped in a sarong of naiveté. His gentle skin seems so smooth, untainted by life. He reminds her of Dorian Grey.    She moistens her lips by licking them. First the top one, slowly, then the bottom. “So, are you going to tell me if I succeeded?”