Ned shuffled his feet nervously, casting a glance at the bright petite brunette beside him with a smile that seemed to dip into his every pore. "Chuck," he said, examining the signage with slight dread, "Are you sure about this?" Slipping her gloved hand into his, she tugged him with her as she ran into the building.
"Come on, Ned!"
Sitting down in the plush red leather chairs of the office, the Piemaker felt an odd sense of dread and anxiety waft over him. Squeezing his hand with her gloved own, he smiled at her, until the woman with the graying hair lowered the clipboard blocking her face. Offering a quick, indifferent smile, she rattled off, "And what can I do for you today?"
"I'm Charlotte and this is Ned." The woman accompanied this with a scribble on the clipboard. "I called? We're having…" She paused, lowering her voice to a whisper. "Intimacy issues."
"Intimacy issues?" Ned turned to face her. "W-We're not having intimacy i—our intimates are ju-just fine."
"Mm-hmm," the woman hummed disbelievingly. She followed this with a lowering of the glasses and scribbling on her clipboard.
The piemaker turned to face her. "Chuck, I can't believe you—"
"Do you always call her Chuck?"
"Wh-What?" Ned did the appropriate double-take.
"Do you always call her Chuck?" the woman repeated with a deliberate slowness.
"Why?"
"I think perhaps you may be subconsciously associating her with masculinity because of your intentional misnaming. Perhaps that's why you're suffering from impotency."
"Wh-What?" Ned stared at the woman. "I don't—Impotency?"
"You know. Problems with your…" Her eyes flitted downwards.
"What? What? N-no, there's nothing wrong…down, uh, ahem. There's no-nothing wrong."
"His equipment works just fine," Chuck amended.
"So then," the woman said, thrumming her fingertips together, "what is the problem?"
"Well, we can't touch."
The woman's jaw dropped. "Say what?"
"Literally speaking, we can't actually—she has a…thing." Ned gestured futilely. "Our thing is—we—there's a…a thing."
"I have an allergy."
The woman slid her glasses further down her nose in disbelief. "You have an allergy?" Her eyes flitted from Chuck to Ned. "To him?" Chuck nodded. "How tragic."
"We can't touch at all or she'll, uh, die," Ned added.
"And we wanted to know if you could help us…work around that."
"Work around your lethal allergy to each other?" Chuck and Ned nodded. "What have you been doing until now?"
"Well, I always make sure to bring plastic wrap with me, though it doesn't really fold well. It really just crumples and then I spend too much time unraveling it, but it doesn't matter because it's worth it."
"Uh-huh."
When their session ended, the woman left them with a little advice. Chuck strolled out of the office with a smile.
"Chuck, I can't believe you did that."
"I think she was extremely helpful."
"She told us to get a loofah sponge on a stick. I-I'm not even quite sure what that is."
"Ned, don't you want us to…you know?"
"I want us to," he replied quickly. "I want us to you know more than you know, but…I just—I don't know about this."
"And it's like one of those things you use to pet Digby."
"You're not—I mean, Digby—I don't want to you know with Digby. We've never, uh, really been that close." Chuck just smiled.
"Aren't you excited for next week? I bet she'll just have loads more useful advice."
"Chuck, we're not going back next week, are we?" She smiled at him. "It's j-just…a sex therapist?"
"Does it make you uncomfortable?"
"N-no."
"Your eye's twitching."
"O-oh. I'll fix that." Smiling, Chuck reached into her purse for the plastic wrap and unraveled it as best as she could, smoothing it out.
"You're sweet." Leaning in, she pressed the plastic wrap over his lips before covering them with hers.
He responded in kind, pushing back against her lips ever so slightly as her glove slid up to the base of his neck and into his hair. Pulling away, Chuck smiled. "Can we come back next week?"
"O-okay."
She linked her gloved hands with his again, and smiled. "Thanks, Ned."
He smiled back, his cheeks dimpling. "Anything for you."