One evening, as we lay together in bed after making love, Sylvia said to me, "Darling, I was speaking with Gabrielle today. She's really worried about Chantelle."
"Oh," I said. "Why is that?"
"She says that Chantelle is nearly eighteen, but she doesn't show any interest in boys. Gabrielle thinks that she needs l'instruction," replied Sylvia.
"That sounds reasonable," I said. "But Gabrielle isn't married, so who would teach Chantelle?"
"Well," said Sylvia, "we thought that you might help out."
Would I teach my niece the art of making love? Well, why not? It wasn't any weirder than teaching my own daughter, which had happened a couple of months ago.
"Sure," I said. "I'd be happy to teach Chantelle."
A few days later I had a call from Chantelle. "Hi, Uncle Steve," she said. "Mama told me about l'instruction. I think that we should meet up and talk about it."
We agreed to meet for coffee after Chantelle finished school that day. She was waiting for me when I arrived at the café. When I saw her in her school uniform it was hard to believe that she would be eighteen in a couple of weeks.
She gave me a hug and we sat at a table on the sidewalk. There were no other customers there, and so no-one could overhear our conversation. We chatted until the waitress brought our coffees. I could see that Chantelle was nervous, So I thought that I should raise the subject.
"About l'instruction, Chantelle," I said. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to. It's entirely up to you. I understand that you might not be comfortable about it."
It's not that," she replied, "it's just that, ..... well, you see, ....... I like girls!"
It took me a minute to recover, but I tried to act casual. "I see," I said. "And you don't want your mother to know that you are a lesbian?"
"Exactly!" she said.
"Then I have an idea," I said. "You could spend the night with me, and we could just hang out and enjoy each other's company, and your mother would never know any differently."
"Oh, that's a good idea," she exclaimed. "Yes, please, let's do that!"
It was arranged that Chantelle would spend the night with me on the Friday after her eighteenth birthday. Sylvia took our girls to visit her parents and to spend the night there. And Chantelle told her sister that she was spending the night at one of her girlfriend's house.
That evening, I heard a taxi pull up outside my house a little after 8 pm, and a few seconds later there was a knock on the door. I opened it, and as expected, there was Chantelle. I just stared at her. She looked stunning!
She looked down to avoid my eyes when she saw me staring at her. "It was Mama's idea," she said. "She thought that I should look nice for you."
"You look beautiful!" I stammered.
She blushed, "Thank you, Uncle Steve," she said.
I held the door open and she came into the house.
