"Did you take a shower? Put some deodorant? Brushed your hair? Are you wearing those jeans that make your arse looks God-like? And socks. Do you have enough spare socks?"

Detective Robert Osborne Bergman rolled his eyes: his brother was really ticking him off now.

Your fault, Bob, you really shouldn't have told him you would go out with her tonight.

"Yes. Yes. Sort of. Wearing random trousers. Why do I need spare socks?" he replied, trying to keep his voice casual.

From the other end of the line, Pat sighed. "Johnnies, Bob. Or blobs, Frenchies, safes or sheaths if the girl's American. Or any other word to call those little rubber thingies any conscientious man rolls on his willy."

Bob felt his ear redden at his older brother's explanation.

"I told you this is not a date. And you are the last one who should lecture me on safe sex: you got Ines pregnant after two months you started talking to each other."

"Ehi, don't blame me if I've got the hottest, most wonderful woman in the world." Bob could feel the grin on Pat's face. "Ines tells me Vir' can sleep over at our place tonight: we don't want you to have another 'hand in cookie jar' accident and keep being a thirtirgin, do we?"

Bob coughed his embarrassment away, almost failing.

Women thought he was the epitome of manly male. the archetype caveman; the man who didn't need to ask; a Michelangelesque statue of muscles, sinews and testosterone; a rough Viking Warrior who took the Fair Maid whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted and however he wanted. A sex god, a Priapus, a Don Juan. A piece of the finest beef to eat raw.

Bob was lucky he learned how to properly block people's thought while he was a student at Saint-Simon, or he would have become a hermit long time ago to escape the empathic sexual assault.

Despite his looks, Bob was quite the contrary of what women thought he was and it made him angry to be seen like a potential one night stand or a sex toy – or worse, like someone who sought to satisfy his basic instincts and ran as far as possible from commitment. He was a person with a sensible heart under his detective badge and armour of muscle. He wanted a woman who would appreciate him, someone to have a stroll with holding hands. Someone to grow old and wrinkled with. Someone who wouldn't laugh at him on finding out that, at the ripe age of thirty-two, he was still a virgin.

It wasn't that he had never been in a relationship, however, most of the times the girl had simply been enamoured with her fantasy version of him. Amanda had been the only exception: both young and inexperienced, they had meticulously planned their First Time for the whole Summer, before she left for Antarctica with her researcher of a father. He had cleaned his bedroom, changed his bed sheets, put on a romantic CD and lighted one by one the two-hundreds tea lights, just like Amanda had fantasised. Everything was going so well and Bob had at last got the gut to slip his trembling hand in her panties... when his mother entered the room she thought empty to turn the radio off.

"It's out of question," Bob said, ignoring the shame and embarrassment the memory still recalled. "I know the two of you and you'll certainly let her sleep over at that guy's place."

"That guy has a name, and it's Biagio. So, you rather plan to end the evening at her place? Even if she's got children? Because being caught by them is worse that being caught by your mother or sister," Pat insisted with a snort. "Well, it's your choice but take her to the farm next time: Mum and Dad will be much relieved to see you with someone. I'll call you tomorrow and good luck!"

Bob was almost relieved the phone call was over. He knew his brother meant good and wished the best for him, still he didn't need to be checked before a date.

It's not a date, Bob. You are going to have a pint of hale together, a bite and a chat.

And tell her how you feel about her.

Bob sighed, thinking about the only woman who didn't saw him like a walking prick – she always kept her thoughts professional and her feeling under control whenever they meet. She held true beauty, the one coming from the inside - nothing like the bimbos that used to swarm around him like flies. Bob held his breath as the mental picture of her popped into his mind - a single mother of two, struggling everyday with a consuming job and her children's education. Did she feel lonely? Was the burden too eavy for her slender shoulders? Had she given up her sentimental life for the sake of her son and daughter? Those questions whirled in his mind every time work granted him with the sight of her.

Bob whispered her first name, tasting each letter and blushing at the effect the word had on him - like a spell. He closed his eyes and rehearsed the monologue he had been working on since the instant she had accepted his invitation for a beer together - he felt important to let things look casual. And then his mind went into daydream mode, showing the possible end-of-the-evening.

She would blush as she admitted she felt the same, however she worried for her children and didn't want to impose him anything. Bob would reply with a smile, tenderly caressing her cheek.

"I won't mind being their new Dad, if it's what they need and what you wish for them," he'd say to reassure her, as he walked her back home.

And then she would invite him to come in 'for a cup of tea or coffee'. They would sit on her sofa, talking with hushed voices to not wake the children - unless, of course, they were sleeping over at some relative or friend's. Then he would get the courage to lean over and kiss her, and then the kiss would grow into and embrace and then he would confess her he had no experience at all and she would be surprised at first but then reassure him and tell him to trust her and she would guide his hands and his lips and he would remind her the children were in the nearby room sleeping and it would be a bit awkward and then she would deepen their kisses and their touch more daring and intimate and then they would peel their clothes off and he would drink in the sight of her naked body and then--

"Sorry, I'm late."

Bob snapped off his daydream at the sound of her voice and clumsily stood up, doing his best not letting the daydream influence his profesionalism.

Surprise surprise! Who would have thought that Hot Bob was a thirtirgin? You have to thanks Hubby for that, because not even I contemplated this possibility and the hilarity of it. And the surprise aren't over and, in the next installment, you'll find out his MIL-- Ladylove's name and, most of all, if the evening will end with sparkles or not ;)

The video is the trailer of a French film, "Les adventures de Philibert, Capitaine Puceau" (roughly translated as "The adventures of Philibert, the virgin captain), I think I don't need to explain myself ;)