Bonham.  Plant.  Jones.  Page.  If that were a law firm, it would be one kick-ass law firm, Paul Gudas enthused as one of his favorite parts of the song was approaching.  John Bonham and Jimmy Page were performing their respective magic on drums and guitar, and then it was time to join in vocally, albeit in a hushed tone of voice, allowing Robert Plant to be front and center.  And loud.  As always, John Paul Jones provided the backbone with his bass thumps.<br/><br/><i>. . . I was a young man, I couldn’t resist.  Started thinking it over, just what I had missed.  Got me a girl and I kissed her and then and then . . . Whoops, oh Lord, well I did it again . . .</i><br/><br/>Anything from Zeppelin had always warranted an increase in volume, but ass-kickers (in his opinion, anyways) of favorites such as<i>How Many More Times </i>required full-throttle volume.  One of his regrets was never seeing and experiencing the band perform live.  YouTube was as good as it got.<br/><br/>Steering into the final, soft right hander that led to his home, Paul’s blood pressure spiked a bit upon viewing the tail-end of a white pick-up protruding from his driveway.  And then he remembered Charlette was moving in today.  BP on the descent, he parked his muddied Subaru just a bit beyond the truck near the fence.  Upon extricating his 6’3”, 185 lb. frame from his vehicle, he spied the red VW parked in front of the pick-up.  That would be Charlette’s, he surmised, while the truck more than likely belonged to a friend.  Gotta love those friends on moving day, he thought while smiling.<br/><br/>The 30-year-old was eager to download the photographs he had taken earlier in the day.  And since everything seemed to be digital these days, the process didn’t take anywhere near as long as when he used 35mm film.  Less equipment was also needed, which was an absolute godsend, especially when lugging photography gear through forests and uneven terrain.  Hence, the empty room that he agreed to rent out to Charlette.  Previously, it had served as his darkroom.  When all that kit became obsolete, Paul decided that an easy source of income was to rent the room.<br/><br/>Naturally, he was extremely picky during the process, not all that bent on sharing his personal space and quiet refuge with any ol’ schmoe who happened to answer his ad.  When Charlette’s message of interest came through, he was exceedingly hesitant on even considering it.  Noting her age, it was evident what people would be focusing on.  Rolling her first and last names on his tongue, however, sparked a somewhat distant memory.  Searching his mental archives, he found it.  But of course! he triumphed.  She was the daughter of one of his dad’s long-time friends.<br/><br/>And he was pretty sure, though by no means 100% positive, that they had previously met.  Hawaii kept flashing in his mind’s eye.  Soon, he fondly recalled their flirtatious behavior on the island.  Right now, he attributed that to being on vacation, alcohol, the islands, alcohol, the mellow temperature, alcohol.  Back to reality, Paul thought of Charlette as more of a friend than anything else.  That, and perhaps a tenant for sure.  He was well aware of their age difference, and he was cool with that.  It’s not like he had eyes for her, or any misconceptions of her being dating material.  Yeah, dream on, Old Man, he thought with a smirk.  Still, her age was a minor concern, especially with Jemma potentially looming in the background.  And that was an entirely different ball of wax.  That said, Jemma did walk out on him, so technically, he could do whatever the hell he wanted.  Besides, Charlette was of legal age.<br/><br/>Paul laughed to himself, wondering why he was even thinking about this.  Best get on with it, he thought, as he ran his right hand through his brown hair, mostly out of habit, since it was already short.  Boxes remained in the pick-up’s bed, so he grabbed what he could realistically carry (no delusions of Super-Man grandeur here) and proceeded into the house.  “Hello,” he announced.  “That you, Charlette?”