That woman walked through first. She was wearing a gray business suit: Marcus' test administrator. 'I'm not sure I can handle this,' Sylvie thought. She could smell her own sweat, which had taken on an acrid odor. Her heart was hammering in her chest, and she found it hard to take a breath. The woman was smiling at her, but Sylvie didn't know how to interpret that.
Just as Sylvie was about to faint, her nephew walked through the door. He looked like a deer in the headlights, staring wide eyed around the room until his eyes locked on his aunt, and his mouth went agape. Sylvie didn't notice his reaction at all -- she didn't notice his new clothes, or his handsome face, or his partially-visible upper chest; her eyes locked immediately on his right wrist. When she saw the hoped-for red glow, she felt her knees go weak, as the bulk of the physical tension that had been building, for over a month, was finally let out. She put a hand on her chest and took a deep breath. 'I hope he wants me,' she thought; with her biggest concern out of the way this next hurdle loomed large in her mind.
Seeing his aunt had, quite literally, taken Marcus' breath away. She was the most attractive woman he'd ever met. Yet in all the five years they'd lived together, he'd never seen her, or any other woman, in anything other than the unrevealing black-and-white dress that was the de facto female uniform on the South Side. Even when doing physical activities like hiking or bowling, she had worn the same outfit. Marcus had, of course, seen women doing water sports like swimming, kayaking, or the like, but even then, people of both genders wore baggy dry suits.
By the standards of the South Side, Sylvie was practically nude. She had on a tight, floral-print cotton crop top with a deep vee neck. The garment only partially covered her breasts. Had Marcus been closer, he would have noticed the bottom edge of her areaolea peeking out beneath the fabric. On her hips she wore a blue denim micro-miniskirt that hugged her generous curves. Marcus looked up at her face and felt a warm sensation spread across his chest. Although she looked tired, with dark areas under her eyes, the lines of tension that he had seen building on her face for the last few weeks seemed to melt away in real time, as he gazed at her. Her eyes were locked on his wrist, for some reason.
"Auntie?" he said.
Sylvie snapped out of her reverie and stood up. For the first time, Marcus got a clear view of her figure: slightly narrow shoulders, heavy breasts, a waist that tapered only slightly, and wide hips. The warm feeling in his chest turned into a much hotter sensation as his heart began to pound. To his embarrassment, his penis began to stiffen, and it would have poked out of the y-front of his pants, had it not been hanging down his thigh. He hoped neither his aunt, nor Laura Stetson, would notice. Sylvie was indeed too overcome with emotion to notice that detail, just then, but the bulge forming along Marcus' left thigh was not something the observant Mrs. Stetson was going to miss.
She had been watching the two of them like a hawk might watch two mice. The encounter had, she felt, lived up to her expectations. As a matter of course, Laura had met briefly with the aunt, once. Even then it had been clear the woman was nervous -- Laura had a strong suspicion as to why -- and was also, at the same time, looking forward to training her nephew with an unusual degree of anticipation. Seeing the two reunited on the North Side, and Sylvie's palpable relief and Marcus' undisguised adoration, Laura's face broke out into a cat-like smile. 'I could just eat this up with a spoon,' she thought. 'Granted, it wouldn't be the strangest thing I've eaten from a spoon.'
"Marcus," Laura said, adopting a formal tone that sounded like she was reading a script, "all adults in The Province are required to first undergo a sexual training regimen lasting a number of weeks. By tradition, the default trainer for a heterosexual male, such as yourself, is your mother's closest female relative who shares the same grandmother as her. Obviously, your aunt Sylvie Jerez, nee De Laurentis, is that trainer." Now it was Marcus' turn to feel like he was having trouble breathing. "I am legally obliged to inform you," Laura continued, "that you may request a different trainer from your family tree, provided they are willing, and meet certain guidelines, or if you would prefer one not related to you at all, the state will be assign one, at no charge to you."
Marcus stared dumbfounded at the two women. Laura could see faint lines of worry on Sylvie's face: she was still concerned about something.
"Miss, uh," Sylvie said, then stopped.
"Stetson."
"Miss Stetson, may I add a few words? I feel like there are some things Marcus ought to know. Of course, I am happy to be your trainer, but," she said. At this point, Laura noticed a stricken look cross Marcus' face.
'He thinks she's trying to get out of it,' Laura thought, and her cat-like grin returned, despite her best efforts to maintain a professional mien.
