Ake's Pains debuted in the University of Akron Buchtelite in September of 1977. The school's reputation as an institute of higher learning has still not recovered. Ake's Pains returns after a brief 32 year hiatus. It's back, baby!

Monday, September 21, 2015

Not An Afternoon Delight

I was busy working in my home office one afternoon when I was interrupted by the doorbell. I scurried downstairs to find my neighbor, Hot Carla, standing at my door, appearing somewhat distraught.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I need someone to talk to”, she explained.
I hesitated before I nodded, because I had work to finish and of course I was a bit uncomfortable being alone with Hot Carla in my home. I mean this is Hot Carla, and well, you know. But I invited her in since it seemed like the neighborly, Christian, thing to do.
She thanked me and assured me the discussion would not take long.  I discretely took a peek at the clock. If the discussion took 30 minutes, I still had time to finish my work on time. More importantly, my wife wasn’t due home for another hour and obviously Hot Carla had to be long gone by then.  As she moved past me, I took note how much perfume she was wearing to determine if I needed to deodorize the room after she left.
I directed her over to the loveseat and motioned for her to have a seat, and I swear she had in fact started to sit. I turned my back, walked over to the far end of the couch and sat where there would be a full six feet of space between us.  But apparently Hot Carla does not like people to be far apart when discussing personal issues, because she had not sat down on the love seat. She waited until I sat down on the couch, then she kicked off her shoes and sat down right next to me.  And “sat” is not the optimal term; because she pulled her feet up off the floor behind her. So I guess she curled up next to me on the couch.
Now this is not what you think (If it were, I wouldn’t be blogging about it. And you are all totally disgusting for even going there). Hot Carla’s father was ill and she needed some fatherly advice.  She would typically be able to get that advice from her father, but obviously not in this case. So I was serving the role of “father-figure”.  When young, attractive, women start valuing your paternal wisdom more than other male-type functions that you are willing to perform, you know you are traveling down the hill, not up it.  This realization is one of those that is both uplifting yet disturbing at the same time.
Like many beautiful babes, Hot Carla is oblivious to how hot she really is and what affect this sitting arrangement might have on me.  So Carla’s intentions are innocent, she just wants to be this close when discussing very personal matters.
Now I know the guys out there are wondering how Hot Carla is dressed since she is “curled” inches away from me on the couch.  I can say that it was summer, it was hot, and Hot Carla was dressed for coolness and comfort.  So in the way of clothing; not much. She looked so hot I think I noticed some wisps of smoke emanating from her body.  Carla may have been dressed to stay cool, but suddenly it was sweltering where I was seated and I was seated way too close for comfort.
Now you might accuse me at this time of having impure thoughts, but this is absolutely not true. My thoughts were in fact totally pure --- in the undiluted sense of the word.  Even so, I was able to overcome this daunting obstacle.  It takes a skilled listener, with amazing super powers of concentration, to perform under these circumstances. You must keep your mind and all your bones totally under control.
So I listened intently and was able to offer Hot Carla some good advice.  However I was concerned that if the advice was too wise, and her father did croak, these meetings might become more frequent. At times she came close to breaking down in tears. I did keep glancing at the clock to make sure we did not go over the “allotted” time.
The conversation was winding down.  It had been a success. I had been able to help this damsel in distress by comforting her and providing the guidance she so desperately needed.  Just call me Sir Ake-A-Lot. We must have been discussing something very important at that moment, because I failed to hear any noise in the garage.   By the time I heard the door open, it was too late to jump off of the couch and  propel my body through the air and onto the loveseat, which I swear I would have and could have done if I had only time.

In some cruel twist of fate, for some still unknown reason, my wife had decided, without warning I might add, to come home half-an-hour early that day.  She had never done this before. I mean who leaves work a half hour early for no good reason? Who I ask?  And yet there I am sitting on the couch with a shoeless, Hot Carla, in all her hotness, curled up next to me, as I greet my wife.
I look totally guilty of something, but I am totally innocent. The challenge is to try to maintain your composure and a believable facial expression, under extreme duress. It wasn’t so much deer in the headlights as it was buck caught in a compromising position. I resist the urge to immediately jump off the couch.
Instead I slowly rise up and move as carefully as an infantryman through a minefield, putting as much space between Carla and me as reasonably possible. At this point, one wrong move, one wrong look, or one wrong word, could cause an explosion of epic proportions.

“Carla’s father is ill”, I blurt out in attempt to diffuse the situation.  Fortunately Carla’s face communicates the severity of the situation.  It would have been a great time to unleash those tears. I know I wanted to cry right then.   But it does help that Carla does not recognize how things really appear. She is sweet, but rather blunt, and I could imagine her saying to my wife, “Don’t worry honey, we weren’t £*€!ing, we were only talking.” My wife offers her sympathy and engages in some polite small talk.  Since I don’t sit back down, fortunately Carla realizes the conversation is over and I walk her to the door.
Of course now there will be no comforting hug as we part. I do know it would have been a polite, platonic, neighborly, type hug. The kind of hug you would give your sister (if I had a sister) and I’m sure I wouldn’t have felt a thing. As I return, it seems the room temperature has dropped about 70 degrees.  I don’t say much the rest of the evening, and surprise! - - -  I lived to blog about it.
But once again, I’m trying to do the right thing. I’m striving to use my special powers and skills for noble purposes. I’m giving of myself to promote love, peace, and the betterment of humanity. For the record, I want to state again that I am totally, totally, innocent. Really, really, I am.  I was just trying to do the right thing, and the wrong thing happened …… again.

1 comment:

  1. I pictured you propelling your body in the air from the couch to the loveseat -- too funny!!