"Could I offer you tea or coffee, Miss Hagen?" asked Mrs. Winsor.
"Coffee, please," said Alexandra Hagen.
"Lucie?" said Mrs. Winsor, turning to the young maid, who hurried out of the drawing room to urns on tables set up in the hall. "And tea for me, please."
"You have a beautiful home," said Alexandra. "I had no idea such places existed so near the city. And in an area that seems so wild, surrounded by forest and lakes."
"Yes, we are rather isolated here," said Mrs. Winsor. "But it suits me. I'm weary of the city, and it's a good place for my son - it calms him."
Lucie returned carrying a tray. She set it down on a low table next to the chair Alexandra sat in. "Sugar or cream, miss?", she said.
"A bit of sugar, please," Alexandra said, as Lucie poured the coffee and tea.
"Will there be anything else, ma'am?"
"No, thank you, Lucie, that will be all," Mrs. Winsor said. The girl made a little curtsy, then tripped out of the room.
"Sweet girl," said Alexandra. "Do I hear a bit of an accent?'
"She's Romanian," said Mrs. Winsor. "She came with her mother, who works as my cook. Yes, she is a nice girl."
Mrs. Winsor took a sip of her tea and then sat back and looked at Alexandra. "I daresay you're wondering why you're here," she said, smiling at Alexandra.
"Well, actually, yes," Alexandra said. "You contacted me through the email I use for my business, but your message was a bit, well, ambiguous - I might even say a little cryptic! In any event it intrigued me, as did your address. Before I arrived I admit I was expecting to be greeted by, well, by a gentleman,"
"Quite," said Mrs. Winsor, sipping her tea. "Yes, quite understandable, but no gentlemen live here, except for my son and old Mr. Fawkes who tends the gardens." She clasped her hands together and leaned forward, looking closely at Alexandra. "Nevertheless," she said, "it is in your professional capacity that you've been invited here."
Alexandra gave a short laugh. "You surely know what my business is, what I do for a living?" she said.
"Oh, indeed I do! You've been thoroughly vetted, one might say, by my social secretary Mrs. Atkins. We were particularly impressed by some of the articles you've written."
"Really! Well, I have to admit that I'm not often praised for my opinions on the subject."
"Yes, I know that, and I think it's entirely unfair! Yes, I'm in the minority, and I know about the prejudice that abounds, even among the privileged few such as those who raised me! But then I've always been the black sheep of the family."
She paused and sipped her tea, then went on.
"Even before reading your writings I was convinced that what you do is perfectly honest work, even necessary in many circumstances."
"Even if the work involves sex?" Alexandra asked quietly.
"Especially then!" asserted Mrs. Winsor. "I was so impressed that you insist on calling yourself a sex worker, rather than a 'prostitute'. Why is one person hired for a skill a valued employee or service provider, while another is an exploited prostitute?"
Alexandra opened her eyes wide in surprise as she drank her coffee. "Oh my," she said, "I'm not used to hearing my words being thrown back at me! It's like the choir preaching to the preacher!"
Mrs. Winsor laughed. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said. "It's just so rare that I get to vent like this to anybody. Even with my late husband, he was very open-minded, but whenever he used words like 'whore' I got livid! So unfair!"
"I'll drink to that," said Alexandra, lifting her cup. She put her cup down in its saucer. "Now, as to why I'm here. Are you looking for a woman who knows how to be with another woman? If so, I can recommend ..."
"Oh no, nothing like that," Mrs. Winsor said hastily. "Tell me, Alexandra - may I call you that?"
"Yes, of course."
"Thank you. Well, Alexandra, do you have children?"
"No, I don't. I'm not married, but of course that doesn't matter these days - but no."
"Yes, of course. Well, I have two. You're probably aware that children can be a blessing, but they can also be very trying! Tilda, my daughter, is married and gone off, far away, and like the old cliché I never hear from her! My son Christopher is still with me ... and probably will always be. He's what is sometimes offensively called 'special'."
Alexandra listened attentively, but said nothing.
"He's nineteen years old but has the mind of a child - a very young child. He's actually quite intelligent, but that intelligence has in some ways never matured. Things he's interested in are no problem for him - animals, the forest and the lake, numbers - he loves numbers! - and books, some books, anyway. But awareness of adult matters, relationships, future goals, he seems devoid of all of this."
Alexandra nodded. "Have doctors seen him?" she asked.
"Oh, doctors! Yes, of course, but they're as puzzled as I am. Some genetic abnormality, perhaps, they say. In fact," Mrs. Winsor said, clasping her hands together tightly, "they're not even certain as to how long he'll live!" She swallowed and fought back tears. Alexandra reached out and touched her knee gently. "He may die tomorrow or he may outlive me by many years! And frankly I don't know which is worse - I hate thinking of what would become of him without me to take care of him." She actually did begin to weep now.
Alexandra got up and sat next to her on the couch. She put her arm around the older woman's shoulders. "He's lucky to have someone who loves him so much," she said, doing her best to be comforting.
"Yes, I know," said Mrs. Winsor, trying to rally. She dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief and sat up straighter. "But I've resolved, you see, to do whatever I can to see that whatever life he does have will be as full as possible, as full and enjoyable as I can make it for him." She turned and looked straight at Alexandra. "I want him to experience pleasure, Alexandra. The pleasure of being with a woman."
Alexandra stared at her, stunned. She had not expected this!
"I know, I know this must shock you," the distraught mother went on. "But after reading what you've written, and now after talking with you here, I'm sure you're the kind of person who understands how deeply important sexual desire is for people, how it is part of what makes us human." She hesitated for a moment. "And," she went on slowly, "evidently you have skills."
Alexandra had to smile at this. "Yes, I suppose I do," she said softly. "Has he had any sexual experience at all?" she asked. "You know, by himself? Most boys do."
"Not as far as we can tell. I have often checked his sheets and underwear in the laundry - no sign at all."
Mrs. Winsor stood up and began to pace back and forth in front of the couch. "I've actually considered, you know, doing it myself! Oh, I know that sounds awful, but I've been at my wits end worrying about him! I thought about it but then decided that it wouldn't be at all appropriate - I mean, I am his mother, after all!"
"It's been known to happen," said Alexandra, "and sometimes I've been asked to pretend."
