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"

"You mean how you escaped?"

Xiomara shook her head, "There was never an escape, Dr. Aquino. My smuggler let me go."

"After sneaking you halfway across South America? Why?"

"Because I paid him to."

"I thought your family were poor."

"They are. They still live in the barriada, too. I used the compensation money the port owners gave Mami after Papi died. I was able to pay a professional smuggler instead of some bonehead coyote."

"So how the hell are you on file as a trafficking victim with special immigration status?"

"My smuggler knew who to pay. The immigration service is just as corrupt as the rest of this country's government."

Despite her earnest tone, the good Dr. Aquino wasn't quite sure to what to make of these supposed revelations. He was no psychologist, but it sounded an awful lot like the sort of tall tale a troubled mind might concoct to help paper over a traumatic ordeal, such as being trafficked. Quite how composed Xiomara was didn't help matters.

"Why tell me this now?" asked Gregorio.

"If this is our last tutorial, I might never be able to talk to you like this again, and the man I love deserves to know the truth about me."

"The man you love?"

The schoolgirl nodded, "Don't worry, Dr. Aquino. I might have grown up in a barriada but I'm not some naive child. I don't expect you to love me back. I'm not even sure I'd want you to."

For several minutes, all Gregorio felt able to do was sit in silence, holding Xiomara's calm but unrelenting gaze. The whole situation was wreaking havoc on his cranium. Again, he wasn't sure whether to take what she'd said at face value, or to treat it as another symptom of a traumatised or unstable mind. Her apparent expectation and acceptance of her affections being unrequited only confused him further. That was unless there was something else at work here.

"Did I make a mistake, telling you about Renata?"

Xiomara sighed, smiling faintly at him, "Is there anything I can do to convince you I'm not crazy, Dr. Aquino? This is nothing to do with pity, or jealousy. I see very clearly you still love your wife and I respect that, but I can't help the way I feel about you."

Closing his eyes, Gregorio massaged his temples. Her lucidity continued to unnerve.

"Is that all, then?" he asked, somewhat hopefully.

"Well, there was one favour I wanted to ask."

"Go ahead."

"I would like for you to be the first man to make love to me, Dr. Aquino," said Xiomara, in evidently well-rehearsed English.

Once again, the good Dr. Aquino went silent for several minutes before speaking, "Are you quite serious?"

The Peruvian nodded.

"Xiomara, you ought to know I could have you expelled simply for asking that."

"Do you really plan on reporting it?"

The Honduran merely sighed at the question, "What if you were to conceive? What then? I'm afraid I don't believe in contraception."

"You don't believe in contraception? How come you aren't a father?"

"I said I don't believe in it. Renata felt differently so we found a way round it."

Xiomara shrugged, "A grandchild would a perfect gift to take home to Mami."

"To take home?"

"San Soldado's nice, but I miss my family."

Conversation trailed off after that as Gregorio fought in vain to gather his thoughts as he cast about in vain for something else to say. He was beyond doubt that he didn't reciprocate Xiomara's affections, but he had yet to categorically rule granting her so-called "favour". The spectres of automatic dismissal, probable prosecution and possible deportation all loomed large, but it had been so very long since a woman had shown interest in him. Was a brief tryst with an 18 year-old girl of uncertain psychological soundness worth the risk? It would take some thought. As such, he decided to play for time.

"Meet me here as normal on Monday, Miss Qinallata. You'll have your answer then."

"As you wish, Dr. Aquino," said Xiomara. She smiled warmly at him as she rose to her feet, as if in no doubt what his answer on Monday would be, "Happy Thanksgiving, by the way."

"And to you," replied Gregorio, raising a hand in fa

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