An Awkward First Date

"You need to tell me what the blazes is happening here."

"Mom," Joelle said desperately, "that—that's my date."

"Your date? What does that mean?"

"I told you. I twisted my ankle and broke my wrist when I was on a date last Friday."

"And that was the man?"—pointing to Harry, now ensconced in Joelle's bedroom.

"Yes."

"Let me get this straight," Frances said with venomous precision. "You met this guy one week ago. You had this accident. And now you're parading around your house naked with him? I figure you're sleeping with him."

"Yes, but—"

"That was quick work, wasn't it?"

"Mom, you don't understand. He's been taking care of me—cooking for me, cleaning the house, doing all sorts of things to help me."

Frances's anger diminished a bit. "Is that right?"

"Yes. Why, he's even given me some showers." Oops! Joelle hadn't intended to spill out that detail.

"He's what?" Frances bellowed.

"Well, Mom, I can't do it myself! I have to hold on to the towel bar while he, um, washes me."

Frances's mouth became a perfect O of outrage. "He washes your body in the shower?"

"Yes."

"You're naked, I suppose."

"It's pertty hard to take a shower with your clothes on!"

"And he's naked too."

"Of course."

Frances closed her eyes. "Holy mother of God."

Joelle cracked a wry smile. "Hey, don't knock it until you've tried it."

Harry had now emerged from the bedroom. He quickly draped a nightgown over Joelle (it happened to be that sexy baby-doll thing, but at this point she didn't care). He had managed to get into a polo shirt and Dockers.

Joelle quickly made introductions. "Harry, my mom. You can call her Frances."

And with that, she hobbled away to her bedroom—only to get away from the oppressive presence of her parent for a little while.

Harry felt immensely awkward being alone in the presence of Joelle's mother. He grinned at her like a naughty little boy while shuffling on his feet.

But Frances was getting mollified and beamed upon her daughter's lover.

"I guess I owe you an apology," she said. "Joelle's told me how kind you've been to her."

Harry almost said Aw shucks, ma'am. "She's an easy person to be kind to."

"If you say so. Some people think she's a little . . . reserved."

"I don't mind that."

Frances continued to gaze at Harry as they talked. She suspected that she'd never forget the image of his nude form—both front and back, and including both his impressive member and his cute butt—and hoped that Joelle had found the man of her dreams. Perhaps, she thought, if he becomes my son-in-law, I could cuddle up with this succulent specimen of manhood sometime. Surely Joelle or my husband would mind?