The counselor was momentarily distracted by a dinging noise outside his window. He looked out and saw that the motel across the way had just turned on its neon VACANCY sign. He wasn't all that sure how many customers a neon sign might attract in the middle of the day, but he thought nothing more of it -- and a good thing too, for in fact the vacancy was due to a barber (if we are to believe a prior report) shaving himself and slicing his head clean off in the process. It was a curiously non-gruesome death, the head coming off as easily and neatly as one might slice sausage, so perhaps the traveler had been suffering a serious physical condition which in turn affected his state of mind.
In any event, the counselor could not be bothered with details outside his office. He buried his nose in the file before him and did not look up, at least not straightaway, as his next clients stepped in.
At last he did look up, and saw a rather prim and frail-seeming man dressed darkly with glasses and a little moustache.
"Excuse me," the man inquired in a rather nasal peevish voice, "but are you the marriage guidance counselor?" He even pointed to the nameplate on the counselor's desk as he enunciated the profession.
"Yes, and you are?"
"Mr. Arthur Pewtey."
The counselor turned, and froze.
What the hell!?!? his brain wondered. The woman seated beside Pewtey was abso-fucking-lutely amazing. Where to begin? She was definitely not shy about her legs, which went up forever and then disappeared under her very high-cut dress, nor her hourglass body, which her dress clung to, and definitely not her bosom, which was staggeringly bountiful, something to make many a Vegas stripper green with envy, and damn near spilling forth right out of the plunging neckline. There was a soft sweetness about her lovely smiling face.
"And who might you be, madam?" the counselor wondered. As she went on smiling, he sensed that she was a bit of a mute, or at least liked to act that way, and in her smile he sensed ... yes ... availability. Hell, she seemed to be smoldering in a perpetual state of horniness.
The counselor noticed Pewtey about to comment, but decided to cut him off. He wanted his own shot at this doll. "Wait, don't tell me. It's something soft and lyrical, like moonlight ... and yet tender and timid, like a frightened little rabbit." The counselor inwardly kicked himself for the rabbit metaphor, perhaps he was thinking of making out like rabbits, but the woman seemed genuinely impressed and that was all that mattered.
"That's my wife Deirdre," Pewtey clarified.
Pewtey's voice was already beginning to annoy the hell out of him, and he wished he could have Deirdre all to himself. "Deirdre. A beautiful name." He got up, thankful that by some miracle he was not already sporting serious wood, and decided to scome around and sit on the edge of his desk, the better to get a look at her. "A beautiful ... beautiful name," he said, feeling as if he were in a trance. Then it occurred to him that he had to deal with that Pewtey fellow. "So what seemes to be the problem?"
Go back - Go to the parent episode.
Sat Jan 30 08:55:38 2010