She was kind. That would be all he would remember of her.
He'd wanted someone experienced. Someone older. Someone who would teach him and not ask questions.
There were any number of heroines who would help him but that was Robin. Tim needed this, too. Maybe more.
One of the few benefits of the endless parties Bruce dragged him to in his playboy persona was the number of beautiful women looking for a few hours of stringless fun. They didn't mind that he was only seventeen. They only cared that he was Bruce Wayne's son.
When he finally found the one he thought would be the best to teach him, he didn't care that was why she wanted him.
A few hours spent in a luxurious hotel suite, two condoms, half a bottle of champagne, and his virginity was gone.
He felt good, relaxed, relieved that he hadn't come across as a foolish kid, pleased that the woman had expressed pleasure so he must have done something right. He watched her rise and stretch and smile at him before heading for the bathroom with a casual, "See you around," thrown over her shoulder, and he took that as his cue to leave.
As he strolled down the hallway, hands in the pockets of his suit pants, jacket over one arm and tie loose around his neck, he knew this wasn't what his parents would have wanted, probably wasn't what Bruce would have wanted--Batman was another thing all together--but he was a man--at last--and it was what he wanted.
Tim could live with it.
And, really, sex was amazing. If love added something to it, he'd probably be left limp as a noodle.
He'd have to try that next.
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