Chante recognized the look of embarrassment on her face. Somebody with her pedigree probably felt awkward asking assistance for such a personal need. She entered the bathroom and saw a bedpan and carried it towards the bed.
“Uhmm… what’s that?” the old woman asked, with what sounded like horror in her voice.
“It’s a bedpan,” Chante replied, feeling foolish.
Of course it was a bedpan.
“I know it’s a bedpan. But why are you bringing it to me?” Mrs. Lowell asked.
“You said you wanted to pee,” Chante replied with some confusion.
“I’m not peeing on any bedpan,” the old lady declared, as she struggled to get out of bed.
Chante nearly dropped the bedpan as she jumped across the room to stop her.
“You can’t get out of bed…,” she said as she tried to push her back.
“I can if I want to pee… and I’m not peeing on a tin can…,” the old lady answered obstinately.
“Alright, I’ll help you…. but please take it easy. You can have a dizzy spell after being in bed,” Chante replied as she took hold of the old woman’s arm.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” a voice called out from the other side.
Chante was taken aback and looked in the direction where the voice came from. As the figure rose and emerged from darkness, Chante barely suppressed a gasp. And as he approached nearer, Chante caught her breath. If she didn’t exhale soon she’d turn blue in the face.
The man was stunning. Brownish-blond hair over a chiseled face, thick brows over cobalt-blue eyes, a finely sculpted nose, high cheekbones, and a good strong jaw line. A slight flaw of a cleft chin only managed to enhance the Adonis effect.
The buttons on the rumpled shirt was open all the way, revealing a smooth hairless chest. Portions of a six-pack lay visible against the narrow opening. He was barefoot and Chante thought that she had never seen more perfectly formed toes in all her life.
The upper part of his pants hung low over a narrow waist and Chante had to exert all her strength of mind and body not to stare at the swelling that was etched against the crotch of his pants.
“Oh my God!!!” Chante’s heart skipped a beat as she clamped her mouth shut.
If this man managed to wake up each time with that erection, he should be considered a lethal weapon. Now she understood what the brouhaha was all about.
“I-We…,” was all she managed to say.
“Oh, don’t get your panties in a bunch, Jared. Chante was just helping me get to the bathroom,” Mrs. Lowell admonished her son.
You’re not supposed to be out of bed…,” Jared replied, giving Chante an annoyed look like it was her fault.
“I can if I want to go to the bathroom,” his mom answered, glaring up at him.
Chante was caught between mother and son locked in a battle of will.
“Oh…alright,” he conceded as he came near to take his mom’s arm.
“Chante can manage…Can’t you, dear?” the old lady asked as she pushed her son away.
Chante managed to nod her head mutely. Samantha Lowell’s remark about the panties in a bunch somehow managed to steady her equilibrium. She tried to dismiss the image from her mind and the laughter that was slowly forcing its way up her throat.
But the problem with trying to overcome one’s laughter in an absurd situation is that the more it persists on being set free.
Chante felt her body heave as she let out a slight titter hoping to release the funny sensation inside her head.
“I’m sorry…,” she managed to whisper to the old woman as she guided her towards the toilet.
“It’s quite alright, my dear, sometimes he needs to be put in his place,” replied Mrs. Lowell, tapping her arm slightly.
Chante kept her back to Jared Lowell as his mom entered the cubicle. It wouldn’t do to let him see the amusement on her face.
“Well…don’t just stand there like a statue. It usually takes her a while to finish her absolution,” Jared remarked from behind.
Absolution…really? Couldn’t he just say pee? Chante kept a straight face.
She squared her shoulders, determined to stay where she was. She had a job to do and if it meant staying by the door till Mrs. Lowell finished with her absolution, so be it.
After a few seconds more, Jared added, “You look like an ass standing there by the door.”
“At least my panties are not in a bunch…,” Chante remarked, before she actually realized she said that out loud.
A stunned silence followed. Then she actually heard the man snicker before she got the courage to slowly turn around and face him.
“You are a feisty one, aren’t you?” Jared remarked, standing just a few feet away from where she stood at her post.
Chante found his proximity stimulating and unsettling at the same time.
“Look Mr. Lowell…,” Chante began.
“Jared…,” he cut in.
“Jared…err… Mr. Lowell, I’m here on orders to look after…,” Chante continued.
“I know…I know…,” said Jared, cutting in once more.
Then he did a totally unexpected thing. He moved even closer until they were just inches away from one another.