RaphaelMature

“Hello. I see you have met Raphael.” I said, indicating for the jet-black Rottweiler to come next to me. He obediently sat by my feet, eyes fixed on the person walking up the path to my house.

“Who are you?” I asked. The man smiled politely.

“I’m sorry, I should’ve introduced myself. I’m Bob Hunt. I called you about the gutter of your house. I was the one that said it looked a bit squiff.” We hadn’t said our names when we last talked.

I recalled the conversation we had about my guttering over the phone. Suddenly his voice sounded very familiar.

“Would you like a drink?” I asked, pulling him inside as he nodded.

“Lemonade?” I said in a French accent, completely humiliating myself in front of him.
He chuckled and nodded once. I poured him a glass from the pitcher of the homemade beverage. I carefully put a heart-shaped ice cube in his drink. He looked surprised at the heart-shape of the ice.

“It’s... my girlfriends ice.” I used that as an excuse every time.

“Now, I’ll have a look at that roof.” He said after a sip or two. Raphael automatically got up as Bob did. Bobs dirty jeans slowly slided down his anus as he walked, I watched with amusement and interest.

“So, what’s your name?” He asked me, trying to distract me from his neon-pink boxers.

“Lee Carter.” I said, shamefully, I went scarlet.
 
“Why are you embarrassed?” He pulled a ladder out of his truck. It looked tiny but I knew it would reach my roof.

“I hate my name.” I always have.

“I think it’s lovely.” Chuckling again, he flirted unknowingly.

The End

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