Please enjoy this, my entry into the 2014 Nude Day Contest.
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"Christopher!" Evelyn yelled after I picked up the phone and said hello.
She only called me Christopher when she was upset or angry. That fact, combined with the timing of the call -- late at night on a weekday -- and her tone of voice, told me that my neighbour and very good friend had very serious business to discuss.
Still, I couldn't help myself. "What's up, Evie?" I cheerfully asked, using my favourite nickname for her, one that I came up with many years ago.
"Not now, Christopher! I'm NOT in the mood."
I gulped. "OK, Evelyn. I understand, and I apologize. What's on your mind?"
Evelyn sighed. "No, Chris, I should apologize to you. I shouldn't have snapped at you like I did. I'm just... I'm really at wit's end right now, and I don't know what to do."
"Don't worry about it. What do you need?"
"I need you to talk to Tamara."
I covered the receiver with my hand so I could let out my groan without Evelyn hearing me.
Tamara was Evelyn's daughter and only child. Soon before Tamara's birth, her biological father, the guy who got Evelyn pregnant, decided he didn't want to be a part of their lives anymore. He ran out on the two of them the first chance he got.
Which was fine by me. That bastard was lucky to run away when he did. Evelyn told me about all the shit he pulled on her, including screwing every new secretary at his office he could get his grubby little hands on while blaming her for getting pregnant. The asshole claimed he never wanted kids, but everyone who knew the story knew his claim was an out-and-out lie. At the end of it all she was more than ready to kick his ass into next week, and she definitely would have done so if he hadn't fucked off. And I would have made damned sure I finished the job.
Evelyn and I are next-door neighbours, and we've been so for almost twenty years. We live in a small subdivision just to the south of our city's downtown block. The neighbourhood is comprised of old war-time houses. The houses are small but they offer more than enough space for a single person like me, and a two person family such as Evelyn and Tamara could also live in one comfortably.
The community as a whole has always been great. People took the time to get to know each other. We all regularly invited each other over for summer barbecues and holiday parties. We also looked out for one another, helped each other with our various home renovation projects, and in more serious times we assisted each other in times of need. As a result I have become good friends with nearly all of my neighbours.
I developed a rapport with Evelyn in particular, especially during and after all the nastiness with her scumbag ex. I commiserated with her and made sure others in the neighbourhood did whatever they could to help her deal with the combined burden of raising a young child and working to support the two of them. This was never a problem. Many neighbours were more than willing to assist because Evelyn and her daughter were, and still are, very well-liked in the community.
In return, Evelyn has always been there for me to help me when I was down. She has been a constant source of support and someone I could talk to about anything, whether it be minor problems at work or more serious issues, like my failed efforts at finding love.
Those failed efforts, unfortunately for me, were numerous.
I attracted women easily enough. I definitely had the desire and the (ahem) proper means to please women sexually. At the risk of sounding too egotistical, no woman I was with ever complained I was lousy in the bedroom.
It was all the other stuff that proved to be the downfall of these relationships.
Sometimes it was the woman's fault. Often enough it was mine. Other times... well, I don't know anymore. Chalk it up to bad luck, fate, karma... whatever the hell you want to call it.
Eventually, I tired of spending so much energy looking for love and getting nothing but burned in the end. The fallout from all the abortive attempts left me an avowed bachelor. I became accustomed to and enjoyed the freedoms of being single, and I had long since accepted my lot in life.
Many people over the years asked why Evelyn and I never became a couple. I have spent a lot of time thinking about why this is the case, and my answer now is the same as it's always been.
I have no idea.
She's certainly a very pretty woman, and I've never been shy in telling her so. In return she has complimented me on my looks many times. I suppose with everything we went through, it caused me to be so wrapped up in either helping her with her problems or seeking solutions for mine that I never took the time to think of her in romantic terms.
We came to a definitive conclusion on this topic on a Saturday many years ago, when Tamara was at a friend's sleepover birthday party. We polished off a couple of bottles of wine and discussed many things well into the night. When the subject of our relationship came up, I explained to her how I felt, and she told me she felt the same way I did. For similar reasons to mine, she never thought of me as a potential romantic interest. We were just friends; very good friends, but nothing more than that.
And we were OK with that arrangement.
Evelyn did go on dates of her own, but for the most part she decided to forego her own needs and desires for companionship in order to focus on raising her daughter. She took on what I consider to be the most difficult responsibility anyone could ever have; being a single parent. She handled it so well, and really did a great job raising Tamara.
Even more remarkable was her doing so without much assistance from the rest of her family. It wasn't that they didn't care. The problem was Evelyn's path in life had taken her well away from her hometown, where her parents and siblings still lived, all the way on the other side of the country. Other than making a few special visits to provide her temporary relief, and sending their love and support via phone, e-mail and the occasional delivery of care packages, there was little they could do to help.
As I mentioned my neighbours and I pitched in when we could, but all we could reasonably do for Evelyn was offer moral support, a sympathetic ear and occasional babysitting services. Realistically, she relied almost exclusively on herself to raise her daughter.
Despite those challenges, Tamara grew up to become a good, well-adjusted young woman. That she did so was a real credit to Evelyn's love and determination to do right by her.
I was the closest thing to a father figure Tamara had, and I tried my best to use that status to help her in whatever ways I could. It was a privilege to watch Tamara grow up. She turned nineteen in March, just a month ago. The occasion of her birthday celebration made me wonder where the years went. She chose to stay at home because the university in town had everything she wanted, including almost all of her closest girl friends from high school who had also chosen not to leave the nest just yet.
Tamara really was a sweet kid. She was intelligent and hard-working, yet also knew how to cut loose and have fun when the time was right. She had a way of asserting herself and letting her independent spirit shine through without being mean or disrespectful.
In her later teen years Tamara used that independent spirit of hers to test her mother's boundaries. Sometimes Evelyn handled it well, but other times it really got to her.
Lately, the two were clashing more often. Evelyn tried to clamp down on her daughter's increasingly challenging behaviour, invoking the "my house, my rules" parental clause, while Tamara really wanted to experience life and the freedoms promised to youth by the world.
More and more I was being asked to intervene in these disputes. It was necessary, I guess, given my role in their lives, but I didn't feel comfortable doing so because I knew no matter whose side I chose, there was a better than average chance the "losing party" would be upset with me.
Choosing a side wasn't always easy, either. Sometimes Evelyn was overly protective of her daughter, sometimes Tamara needed to calm down and recognize her mother had her best interests at heart and, quite frankly, knew better than her. Sometimes both were true at the same time.
I had managed to help the two keep the peace so far, but sometimes it was a close-run thing.
"What does Tamara want this time?" I asked Evelyn as I tried to stop living in the past for now and focus on the present. In truth, I wasn't expecting this to be much ado about anything. I was sure Evelyn would respond with some minor request from Tamara that was causing both of them to needlessly overreact.
Was I ever wrong.
"She wants to do a porn shoot."
I nearly dropped the phone in shock. That was way beyond anything Tamara had ever asked for, and probably the last thing I expected Evelyn to say.
Even worse, a dark part of my brain was reminding me of a relevant fact, one that wasn't helping me to deal with this revelation. "Tamara is fucking gorgeous!" it whispered to me in a gleeful voice choked thick with lust.
Tamara was the same height as her mother, at 5'10", taller than average for a woman. She also shared the same hair colour as Evelyn, a rich cocoa brown, but where her mother had long since cut hers short and sensible, Tamara's hair cascaded in waves down past her shoulders. The look of warmth usually found in her hazel eyes matched her friendly persona, but they also had the ability to sparkle with seductive mischief.
She was very active and fit, starring in a number of sports in high school before concentrating on volleyball in university. Over the last couple of years she developed sensuous curves in all the right places. Her ample breasts sat high and proud on her chest, and the swaying of her ass was enough to hypnotize any straight man that had the pleasure of walking behind her.
In short, she was a healthy, beautiful specimen of young woman.
And lately, she wasn't being shy in advertising that fact to the world.
I need to be clear here. It would be both grossly unfair and grossly untrue to say Tamara was dressing or acting in any way like a slut. I would have been enraged to hear anyone say so.
It was very fair, and very true, to say that, lately, her skirts and dresses were shorter, her jeans and shirts were tighter, her swimsuits changed from one-pieces to bikinis, and more soft skin and tempting cleavage were put on display.
I wasn't sure if Tamara was doing anything purposely to attract my attention. It didn't really matter, because without even trying she was enticing me way too much. I had trouble thinking coherently when I was in her presence. I can't count the number of times I pictured her body pressed against me as I took her...
