I opened the certified letter figuring something like this was bound to happen and I guess I should be glad things weren't much worse. Making a note on my calendar, I was at least happy that something as simple as a blood test would prove I was not the father. I just would have to curb my indignance to avoid any possible criminal accusations so I kept reminding myself that once the blood test was complete it would all be over.
Sure, I had raped her, but... but it was... I wasn't responsible, I... no, I was not the father and as soon as the facts came out people would understand. They would understand the true reason she did not press criminal charges and only brought on the civil action when I refused to send her any support for the child... the child that wasn't mine.
It all started so innocently, a story, something we created together, a simple meeting in a public place, in this instance a bookstore. She had invited me to go to a poetry reading so we met at the small bookseller's shop and joined the small group assembled for the reading. I was pleasantly surprised when midway through the reading they called her up to read some of her own poetry.
Impressed by the subtle erotic imagery and the wonderful rhythmic flow of her words, I found myself highly aroused, more from the sensual brilliance she expressed with her words than any physical aspect of her. When she finished reading, she modestly sat down next to me, completely unaware of how awestruck I was.
As the final poet was moving up to the microphone, I summoned the courage to ask her out to dinner after the reading. She accepted, recommending a small place not far away. When the reading was over the poets spent some time trading and signing chapbooks, so I wandered through the bookshelves until she was ready to leave.
The night was cool, so we walked the few blocks to the restaurant. We walked in silence for a short while, but... well I couldn't contain myself any longer, "Your poetry tonight was stunning."
"Well thank you. I wasn't sure about inviting you, a lot of guys would have been completely bored."
"No, no... well, a few of the poets were a bit tedious, but there was some very enjoyable poems read tonight. None were as amazing as yours."
She blushed a bit and smiled, "I'm glad you liked them."
We continued the conversation as we arrived at the restaurant, only changing subjects when we were handed the menus and she recommended I try the grilled tuna. I followed her advice and we shared an enjoyable hour or so, talking about favorite restaurants and dishes.
When we finished at the restaurant, I began heading back towards the bookshop, figuring her car was parked there, not far from mine. Instead she said, "My apartment is just around the corner, would you like to come up? I've got a couple of my chapbooks I can show you."
I immediately accepted, interested in her chapbooks, but also considering the more intimate possibilities. I followed her around the corner, past two buildings and up the stairs to her building. Once on the elevator, I leaned closer to her and gently kissed her on the lips. She didn't resist, but didn't really respond to the kiss either.
We stepped off the elevator and headed to her apartment, while my head spun crazily, trying to comprehend all the messages she was sending: erotic poetry, her invitation to her apartment and then the almost frigid kiss.
