Page 14 of SEAL Mates

Paula

It was a long drive. I knew it beforehand and sitting for hours on end writing, or rather procrastination I should be used to it.

“I’m hurting all over,” Greg sighed as he pulled up and parked up.

“Shoot, I can drive. I should have offered to take over for a while.”

He laughed, “And have you been sleeping at the wheel. No way.”

“I slept?”

“Uh-huh, I had to push you over a couple of times.”

Now, I understood why my back was hurting, no doubt, I’d moved to the center of the jeep and arched my back. Damn, I had such bad posture from writing, and mom had told me so many times not to sit on the sofa and slouch or even sit for too long. I never felt it before, but now it was happening all the time. Old age sucks, anyone that said any differently was lying, it was crap and the things I could do in my twenties were just now a memory long forgotten. I could get up in the middle of the night breastfeed, go out to work and I would feel as if I’d slept all night long. Now, the idea of doing it with my droopy tits and nearly crippled back from my bad posture. I would hate to think what would happen.

“Do you want to go to the hotel and sleep some more or should we go straight inside?” His dark eyes were staring at me, which meant that as per usual, I had gone to my little place. I never used to daydream. I wondered if it was part of being a writer. Daydreaming, being overweight and finding it hard to talk at times because we were so antisocial.

“No. Best we just get it over and done with.”

He cheered, “That’s the spirit.”

I sighed, knowing he was being sarcastic and everything I’d just said had come out wrong.

“Sorry.”

Before I could get another word out of my mouth, he put his hand up to stop me.

“Why are you so apologetic all the time? The Paula Williams I knew was full of confidence and had people apologizing to her all the time, even when she was clearly in the wrong.”

I felt as if I was in a counseling session. One I promised to go to one day, but never made it.

I shrugged, playing the innocent Paula Williams he knew died a long time ago. She died the moment she had her heart broken, not once, not twice but three times.

“Damn Greg, where have you been?” A dark haired green eyed God shouted across the car park, sparing me from telling Greg about all my insecurities.

“Stan, we were a little late, but as they say better late than never.”

They did a man shake, then hug, then back to complimenting each other on how the other looks good, but the other even better.

Either way, they were both as hot as hell, and they both won the competition on who was smoking hot! I walked to the side of them, not knowing whether to join in the man hug.

Damn! I sounded and felt like a pervert as I drew near and stopped myself from getting too close.

“Sorry, Stan this is Paula. Paula. Stan.”

I nodded, feeling like a little pea, as my dead vagina started to raise to the situation and act as if it was going to get some action. I wasn’t raising it from the dead, but I smiled and I think I flirted. Shit, I even forgot how to do that. But, it naturally occurred as Stan smiled at me.

“The famous Paula. The famous writer that everyone is desperate to meet.”

He took my sweaty palm, and then kissed my hand.

Holy crap!

I thought as he bowed his head. I should n't have worn my jeans which now had a sweat patch in between the legs, nor a black shirt. Well, officially I was dressed in black, I needed to hide every love handle I possessed and try to look at least one dress size less. It was a fantasy. A stupid one for a woman my age to worry about her sex appeal when it came to men like Stan. For sure he had a pretty little woman waiting for him. Little in the sense of age and size.

“The guys are so excited to see you.”

Now, I was worried as I snatched my hand back, and for a second I was going to ask him to kiss it again. But his words made me go into a state of panic.