You open the door and before you stands a stunningly drenched women about your age. Her blonde hair sticks to her face and shoulders, draped over her short over coat which exposes her long legs. At the end of your eyes journey her toes squish in a ruined pair of stilettos.
The loose change slips through your fingers and the measly tip bounces and rolls across the floor. She opens her mouth, hesitating at your awkward stare.
Your tongue feels awkward in your mouth, and you realize your mouth is gaping open.
She breaks your stare by speaking again.
"I uh, got caught in the storm and my cellphone is dead- and lost, probably in a puddle somewhere. Anyway I was wondering if I could use your phone to call a taxi?"
You stand straighter. A damsel in distress? You wonder if this could possibly be more cliche but you take the bait.
"Um, sure! Here uh, come in out of the rain." You motion your arm towards the inside of your humble abode, complete with used underwear in the crack of the couch.
She smiles. You become painfully aware of your body odor. You turn towards the kitchen and grab your phone and hurry back into the living room. The stranger has made herself comfortable right next to your used underwear. You cross the room with new energy and hand her the phone and snatch your tighty whities all in one motion.
She thanks you and begins to dial as you stand there in the middle of the room. You think about your hands. You know this is a mistake. You don't know what to do with them except hold your underwear behind your back but that only takes one hand and you feel too much like a man in waiting trying to occupy both hands with this simple task. Your free hand starts to scratch every invisible itch on your body while your tongue still won't sit comfortably in your mouth.