Well, then this turns to disclosure that he started thinking about me after an event some years back, when they had to dump me in the horse trough, because I was overheating badly, and apparently my period undershirt was doing a wet t-shirt routine. He says I can compete with ladies half my age. So, being the flirt that I am, I kid about "and here I'm supposed to be passing as a guy!" and say at least it's not the "Water Nymph of Lake Tahoe" series, photos of me in the fish pond at the Tallac Estate, in a wet 1920's teddy. (It was a '20's party, and someone said no one there would have the nerve to be as wild as some of the real parties, where someone jumped in the pond in their skivvies. How was I to know I would be immortalized on film? I can't say I object too much, though.) Those were passing around my Civil War group, some years back, I found out.
Now I'm getting "Hey, send me copies." If I could find them, I say fliply. "Hey, you could re-stage them. Send them along, and I'll send you mine."
Uh huh, and does your wife (who is also a friend) know you're on the computer, sir? Now, I have nothing against married men, except for one thing. I need the approval of the wife. I'm poly, not a fling on the side, thank you. I've been the approved lady-friend a couple times in the past, but it has to be according to certain rules. I'm not getting that vibe here. I need a nice little flirtacious FULL STOP message to toss back at him. Maybe drop into historical lingo, pull out my Jilara-the-erotica-writer mode, of talk but don't touch... Just because one is the object of men's fantasies doesn't mean one has to indulge them.