Watching Charlette finish up her colorful home improvements, Paul took a seat on one of the porch chairs.  When she was done, he took note of the extra, empty chair for her to sit on, yet she chose his lap instead.  Oh boy, he thought, keeping any anxiety attacks at bay.  Or trying to, at least.  He knew he hadn’t quite reloaded yet.  Her little kiss on his lips wasn’t exactly helping.<br/><br/>You’ve been busy, Old Man.  I mean, you haven’t seen this much action in, what, nearly three years?  Why wasn’t there a switch to flip that Voice off?  She’s gonna wear you out, Old Man.  Best be careful.  And don’t forget your Old Man vitamins.  Was that chuckling in the background?  Bastard!<br/><br/>Breathing was going to be quite difficult, what with Charlette now on his lap.  And why was this?  That wicked, unforgiving combination of her own scent, with a mingling of soil and sweat thrown in to entice the pot.  Paul was pretty sure he could breathe through his mouth for now and the near future.  As long as Charlette behaved herself.  And that was a crapshoot at best.<br/><br/>Eyes met, Paul said, "You've been, uh, quite busy this morning.  And to think, all the while I was sleeping, um, like a baby."  More like a tired old man, Old Man.  There was no choice but to ignore him, as Charlette's lingering kiss, however brief, reminded him of the pair of Close Encounters of The Charlette Kind. "I'm gonna have to cook you a good, hearty dinner as my way to say thank you for the rainbow you've brought here."<br/><br/>Her proximity, especially her butt on his lap, was pure torture.