Karl and Helga

[Nakhshpil]

Carl and Helga

Knock, knock. Knock-Knock. Knock-knock-knock-knock. There was persistent knocking on the door. Karl barely lifted his head from the pillow - yesterday’s dancing at the Old Gustav brought in decent money, but took away all his strength. They pay well for a good step, and they also pour it in - is it worth it to be surprised at the cast iron head? Karl, swearing, got out of the blanket and went to open it.

A lady stood on the threshold. Karl silently looked her over from head to toe - not a lady, but an oak wardrobe on legs. Large, tall, even massive, she was dressed in a red coat, and the same red hair was gathered at the back of her head in a heavy knot. The lady looked down on Karl and, pursing her lips, waited for him to speak.

Karl cleared his throat:
- Good morning, madam. Are you coming to me?
The carmine lips compressed into a thread opened, and Karl heard a stern contralto:
– First of all, it’s already day, I would even say evening. Secondly, not madame, but mademoiselle. My name is Helga Boke and you hired me as a housekeeper. Let me come in, or will I just hang around on the stairs?

Karl hit himself on the forehead with his fist. Well, of course! Housekeeper! A lonely bachelor, approaching forty, needs home comfort and hot food, at least sometimes. Karl led a free lifestyle: being a dancer and partygoer, he was indifferent to everyday life and completely neglected his home. Eating in a hurry, a lot of drinking and an unbridled love for sweets led to the fact that in the mornings Karl felt unwell and more than anything he wanted homemade soup and a steamed cutlet. The idea came to mind spontaneously: why not hire a housekeeper? Say, three days a week? And so she, the long-awaited one, stood at his door and sniffled arrogantly.

– Please, come in, Miss Boke. I am very glad to see you!
Mistress Boke threw her bulky coat directly into the hands of the taken aback man. Karl thought: “As if she had crawled out of the wardrobe to freedom” - the red cloth hid from prying eyes a stately figure with outstanding forms in every sense.
Helga walked into the living room and looked around her with a skeptical look:
– I I see how happy you are to see me. Well, it’s okay, I’ll make candy out of your kennel, and I’ll make a decent person out of you.

Karl entered after Helga:
– Miss Boke, let me introduce myself, Karl is smart , a handsome, moderately well-fed man in full bloom...
“Yes, yes,” the housekeeper interrupted him, “who lives under the roof.” Why do bohemians love to live in the attic so much? It’s high, it’s uncomfortable, and the ceilings are stupid. By the way, do you smoke? Your smoking may have a detrimental effect on my health. You will have to give up this nasty habit. And why do you have dirty dishes scattered all over your room? Ugh, how uncivilized. Ugliness. It’s disgusting to watch.
Karl sighed: “I have a talking head in my house.” Well, let it be - as long as the cook is excellent.

Freken Boke began cleaning the apartment, without stopping to lecture. Karl began to get irritated: “I urgently need gas station. A liter of coffee and a cake with whipped cream will come in handy,” and, leaving the keys to the grumbling person, he flew out of the attic like a bullet.
Three weeks passed. Karl danced, drank, and came home to spend the night only in the morning. But now his house was clean, and his kitchen was fragrant with the aromas of freshly prepared food. True, these joys were accompanied by Miss Boke - a harsh lady, categorical in her judgments, who seemed to be trying to re-educate Karl in her own way. “Calm, just calm,” Karl constantly repeated to himself like a mantra. But one day he couldn’t stand it.

One morning (or, in fact, after lunch), Karl, with his eyes wide open and feeling as hungry as a hundred wolves, dragged himself into the kitchen to eat something. Fresh buns were steaming on the table, smelling wonderfully of cinnamon. Carl, burning his fingers, grabbed one and threw it into his mouth. The first was followed by a second, then a third; the fourth bun demanded coffee. And then the glutton was caught in the act - the figure of Miss Boke appeared on the threshold, and the expression on her face did not bode well. Karl smiled guiltily:
- And here we are playing with buns... Join us!

Helga frowned even more:
- By what right do you carry my buns? ! I have prepared a diet stew and chicken cutlets for you! Sweets are contraindicated for you! And in general, sweets spoil your figure. You’re a dancer, don’t you know this?
Karl angrily threw another bun on the plate:
– Listen, Miss Helga, how long can you educate me? I am an independent adult and do not need a nanny. But you seem to be in dire need of a man. Get yourself a lover! Or at least a cat.

And then Helga... burst into tears. She propped up the door frame and cried, cried bitterly. With no strength left, she sank heavily into a chair and continued to sob while sitting. Karl looked at her in confusion:
- Freken Boke... Did I offend you? Sorry. I did not want. I just wanted... Well, what are you really doing?

Holding back her sobs, Helga spoke:
– “You will forgive me, Karl.” It seems like I really went too far. Don’t hold a grudge against me,” and, wiping her tears with a handkerchief, she added: “I’m almost a widow - I was going to get married, but I didn’t.” My beloved, Ulrik, died five years ago. Since then I’ve been alone. Loneliness is unbearable for me - I had to move in with my sister and her cat. - Helga grinned: - And about upbringing... This is a professional deformation. For twenty years I worked with difficult teenagers, some of whom were criminals. One of them was involved in the death of my Ulrik, and I couldn’t do it anymore... I couldn’t take care of the children and went to the most harmless job, although I’m still far from retirement. I’m only forty-five...

Karl looked at Miss Boke in amazement. Forty five? Can’t be. Although if you look closely... Helga was a tall woman, with perfect posture, very large, high breasts and an impressive butt. The figure is, of course, not for everyone, but very attractive. “If you don’t get into the wardrobe anymore,” thought Karl. Helga’s face, washed with tears, calm and not twisted with a dissatisfied grimace, was pleasant, even thoroughbred. “I wonder what kind of hair she has?” – Karl asked himself and, quietly reaching out his hand to the woman’s head, pulled out the hairpins from the tight knot. A shining red wave poured onto Helga’s shoulders and back.

Karl gasped in amazement:
– Miss Boke, you are a beauty! Why are you burying yourself alive in this stupid closet, at this stupid job?!
– In the closet?
– Well, yes, your coat looks like a closet... Throw it away! Buy yourself some nice clothes, let your hair down, take off the mask of an eternally dissatisfied old woman from your face. You are not a housekeeper, you are a Muse!

Giving in to an impulse, Karl touched Helga’s cheek - the skin turned out to be velvety and elastic. Helga raised her eyes and opened her mouth in silent surprise. Karl affectionately stroked the woman’s face, which was transforming under his hand: from sincere words and gentle touches, it seemed to shine from the inside. Suddenly Miss Boke became embarrassed, blushed, jerked upward, dropped the chair and almost fell herself:
– Sorry, Karl, I’m so awkward…

– Oh, Helga , - Karl hugged the beautiful lady as much as he could. A minute later, he carefully took her face in his hands and kissed her hot cherry lips, salty from tears.
- Karl, what are you doing? – Helga did not break out of the hug, but tried to maintain the last decency.
– I hug you, mademoiselle. “I’m the world champion in hugging,” Karl kissed Helga again. - By the way, I invite you on a date. At night. On the roof. Do you love the stars?
Mistress Boke finally smiled:
– How can I tell you... Crazy! – And, wrapping her arms around Karl’s neck, she added: – I’ve gone crazy, what a shame...

#ViolettaMokh
https://sun9-9.userapi.com/c855616/v855 ... kEtXdM.jpg

[Fantasy woman]

Nicely written, variation on a theme...
I liked it