"See, you're just like Frederick here, you don't think I'm pretty either." These words were coming from Nurse Palma as she breezed past me at the Nurse's station. "I just am clever with my use of make-up, that's all."
I was working taking notes on a patient when I realized some personal response was being called for. "Now who could have put words or ideas like that in your pretty little head. I could never have said anything that could be as false as that," or some such horseshit. I really did mean it though, Palma was one of the most attractive women of any race that I had ever known. If she thought that I would let the darker nature of her complexion stop me for one second she was mistaken. She had the broad African nose with the narrow, high cheekbones of English aristocracy perched on a smooth skinned frame that made me stop and appreciate the view every time.
"Oh, then how come I can't find a man? she asked me. No one wants to go out with an old woman like me." Now she was stretching my ability to believe. At forty she still had the face of a thirty year old and a body that oozed sensuality and begged to be held closely. Maybe she just spends too much time making money and doesn't have the time for chasing men? I know she wouldn't have to chase me too hard...I'd trip and fall down quickly and hope to catch her on top of me.
I pulled her aside, slowed her down a little and walked down the hall with her. "You know, the problem you're having is you don't give us married men who really need some excitement a second look. I know of at least one married guy who'd give his eye teeth for a few hours alone with you." These words were spoken just above a whisper and I wondered if any of the old residents sitting in their wheelchairs had heard me or would understand anyway.
Anyway, Palma blushed (beet red right through her coffee colored skin) and told me in her usual Jamaican accent clouded with the giddiness of having just taken a compliment: "Sure, you say that." Well, damn right I say that, I thought but it was too late and I was getting what I feared she would view as a toothpick-woodie compared to the oak logs I figured she was used to. Still, not what I wanted to walk around the Home with for the next hour so I retreated to my cubby hole/office.
I was very surprised when I heard Palma's soft-voice behind me about a half hour later asking: "Did you mean any of that bullshit you were talking?"
"What do you mean bullshit? I think you're hot-as-hell and you know it," I replied.