Page 20 of SEAL Mates

Paula

I felt like a big pervert at the meeting, because I was in horny heaven. There was a guy in a cop uniform. I couldn’t tell if he was an actual cop or a stripper. Maybe that was just my secret fantasy. My nipples which weren’t hard, like never even if I’d slept with my husband let alone my ex-boyfriend were constantly hard ever since I’d been here.

One day.

I’d only been here one day, and all my hormones were all over the place. Then again maybe it was a sign of early menopause.

Oh no, not that.

Not yet.

I was too young, well maybe not. I was nearly half a century, no more was I ticking the box from 40-44. No, I was ticking from 45-49 and in a couple of years with an extra three months. I’ll be ticking the box from 50-55. Shit, when that time comes then I’ll have to stop going to the dentist/doctor’s and everywhere else that requires me to fill out a form and tick a box. After all, it was too short to be reminded of the one thing that I didn’t want to be reminded of, every single day.

I was just about keeping it all under wraps my anxiety about pre-menopause, feeling like a pervert and debating about whether I would continue ticking the box, or just doing the honourably thing and just lie about my age.

When the cop/stripper with his sky blue eyes and dark hair approached me. He spoke softly and slowly and was seducing me with his words. The coffee which I was about to drink, wasn’t needed anymore. I had to make a run for it. Otherwise, I would embarrass myself like I’d done already with Greg and Stan and my uncontrollable nipples.

It didn’t help that as I tried to avoid staring at the cop, that I spotted a fireman too.

What the hell was wrong with this town?

I thought maybe next on the list would be a mechanic, construction worker and a doctor in his overalls. Every woman’s sexual fantasy. Especially one’s like me, who were romance writers and knew nothing about the hot erotic sex that they wrote about.

One too many porn videos, other erotic books and we all claimed that we were experts. We were far from it, but it was our secret, one we liked to keep behind closed doors and express our desire to do it, like everyone else who read our books.

I was getting all hot and flustered thinking that I was really kidding myself. How the hell was I going to give the interview when I couldn’t even keep it together in one meeting with one. I ran out to the carpark with my tails behind my legs, wondering whether tell Greg the bad news as I concluded it must be early menopause, it was the only thing I could think was the reason I was acting like such a big girl’s pants.

* * *

I’d spent more than half-an-hour in the carpark, debating whether to tell Greg I was ready to leave. It didn’t feel right making him leave early, when it was clear he had a lot of friends.

It was amazing seeing how they all reacted to him, and he was treated as some sort of the hero.

“You’ve come a long way Greg. The guys really look up and respect you.”

I said once we drove to the hotel, after he’d come to look for me, when I’d spent a little too long hiding in the car park. Once he found me, he didn’t ask what I was doing there. If anything he asked if I was Okay, and then we drove here in silence.

“I suppose. I don’t want to sound as if I have a big head, but I know I’m making a difference and some of the guys have taken to me. Sometimes I think I’ve taken the wrong approach.”

“What do you mean?”

“That was a long day, right?” Greg asked, changing the subject and avoiding the question, once we started to head to the elevator up to my room. As we stepped in, he pressed the third floor, and I hoped that he would tell me what was on his mind, so I gave him a little push.

“Little Greg, that was the little boy that sat in the classroom. The one that never got into any trouble.”

He chuckled as his eyes met mine. “You mean that one went out of his way not to be noticed. Wondering if he did get noticed, if he would end up being one of the little boys that the bullies picked on.”

Yeah, that was the thing back then. Boys were picked on physically in middle school, whereas girls just mentally, until they reached high school and then it became a whole different ball game.

As the elevator reached our floor, he picked up both cases and then headed in the direction of my room. His room was next door, so I didn’t have to feel guilty about him escorting me to my room.

“Some guys get addicted to drugs, drink or even worse violence to deal with their pain and other

I was desperate to get in. Desperate to get my vibrators to work. Shoot, I threw them away. My vagina was dead. No longer did it feel like any action.

Doesn’t matter, I have fingers, I'll get them to work.

“You’re tired. It’s been a long day. I’ll leave you.”

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