Navy SEAL and Homeless Woman, Ch. 7
Navy SEAL falls in love with a homeless woman.
Author's Note:
This is a Romance story. There is no rape in this story.
All characters portrayed in this story are over 21-years-old. There are no minors under the age of 18-years-old in this story. There are no sexual references to anyone under the age of 21-years-old.
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Continued from Chapter 6: Navy SEAL and Homeless Woman.
"What about love at first sight," she asked looking up at him to see his reaction to her question? "Do you believe in that?"
She looked at him waiting for him to respond, and when he didn't answer her, she continued.
"Other than the Navy, tell me, what else to you believe in besides the United States military," she said with a laugh? "You don't think that some kind of cosmic attraction or magical force whether physical, spiritual, and/or emotional played a part in what happened tonight and with you interceding on my behalf to save me or do you?"
She looked up at him and smiled. He looked down at her while trying to read her. He had a much better chance of reading a Taliban terrorist than reading a woman, especially a woman who was so, very pretty.
"And I suppose you do," he asked?
Feeling more comfortable thinking of her as such, he looked at her as if she was a prisoner of war that he was interrogating.
"To be honest, seeing you only from a distance, I thought you were nothing more than an old, bag lady," he said. "Then, when I saw you in the diner," he paused not wanting to tell her that his heart skipped a beat. "I never expected you to be a tall, beautiful blonde."
Susan looked at him while understanding him more.
"Yeah, well, even if you don't believe, I believe in all of that mumbo jumbo. I think that fate had everything to do with what happened here tonight. Right place and at the right time, someone tapped you on the shoulder, and they weren't wearing a uniform other than wings and a halo," she said laughing.
He looked down at her as if unsure of her meaning.
"So, what are you saying?"
He looked at her as if she was a new recruit telling him that there was more to life than being a SEAL.
"Are you saying that there is more to all of this than me saving you, feeding you, and offering you a place to bunk?"
She laughed again.
"Duh? You asked me to bunk with you," she said laughing. "Wow! Right up there with asking me to be your woman, that's some serious shit for you. Next, you'll be making me a braid out of a terrorist's scalp and giving me that as a ring before pinning one of your medals on my chest," she said with another laugh.
He laughed, too.
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"Wait. Hold on, now. I only asked you to spend the night...or two," he said looking at her. "I didn't ask you to be my woman. I didn't ask you to marry me. Where did all that come from about me giving you a ring to put on your finger."
Even in the frightful mess that she was, underneath her messy hair, her broken and dirty fingernails, and her makeup free face, he could tell that she was a beautiful woman. In the way that her blonde hair was wild, frizzy, and pulled back as if restrained when the rest of her spirit wasn't, she looked as if she just woke up from bed after a long night of sex.
She smelled of sex. She exuded sex. More than just sexy and shapely, she was the epitome of what every man wanted and sexually fantasized having in a woman. Tall, blonde, beautiful, and busty with big, blue eyes, what man could possibly say no to her?
He looked at her again and always more comfortable categorizing the women he knew, the closest women he could imagine her being like was Marilyn Monroe, Kim Basinger, and Christie Brinkley, only younger, shapelier, and more beautiful all wrapped up in one.
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"Wait. Hold on, now. I only asked you to spend the night...or two," he said looking at her. "I didn't ask you to be my woman. I didn't ask you to marry me. Where did all that come from about me giving you a ring to put on your finger."
Even in the frightful mess that she was, underneath her messy hair, her dirty fingernails, and her makeup free face, he could tell that she was beautiful. In the way that her blonde hair was wild, frizzy, and pulled back as if restrained when the rest of her spirit wasn't, she looked as if she just woke up from bed after a long night of sex.
She smelled of sex. She exuded sex. More than just sexy and shapely, she was the epitome of what every man wants in a woman.
He looked at her again. Always more comfortable categorizing the women he knew, the closest women he could imagine her being like was Marilyn Monroe, Kim Basinger, and Christie Brinkley, only younger, shapelier, and more beautiful all wrapped up in one woman named, Susan Jill Parker.
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Navy SEAL and Homeless Woman, Chapter 7:
With nothing else to give him, Susan rewarded Christopher with a blowjob for saving her life.
They spent the rest of their walk in silence, Christopher with his hands dug deep in his pockets with his eyes glued to the ground and Susan looking everywhere but at him.
"This is me, right here. It's a basement apartment. It's a little dark but I like it like that. When not putting on an interior light, no one can see me from the street," he said. "It's my very own, personal bunker," he said with a laugh.
She knew that there were steps leaning down to his basement apartment, but she could hardly see them. No doubt, with him feeling right at home, it was as if he lived in a bunker.
"It is a little dark," she said noticing the lack of lights needed to illuminate the steps when walking down to his apartment.
Steadying herself, she held onto the wall. Suddenly feeling fearful, she took a step back as if afraid. Scarred from what made her homeless, she had a reaction that she never expected.
"I got you. What's the matter," asked Christopher putting his arm around her slender waist?
She waved a hand in front of her face as if she was about to cry.
"I was flooded out of my basement apartment," she said. "After leaving my physically abusive husband, I had just moved from Boston to Hershey, Pennsylvania, in June of 2011. I was living with my Mom in a beautiful basement apartment, when only three months later, the Susquehanna River flooded.
Cresting more than thirty-feet over flood stage level, it was three weeks before the cops, the fire department, and the building inspectors allowed us back in the building to salvage anything. Nothing was salvageable. Floating in a soup of home heating oil and raw sewage, everything was ruined. There were dumpsters lining both sides of the street filled with everyone's ruined possessions," she said looking as if she was about to cry again.
He put his long, strong arm around her shapely shoulder and gave her a hug.
"Wow, that sucks. I'm sorry, Susan," he said. "Even with the few possessions that I have, I can't imagine losing everything I own."
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes.
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"With us living in a basement apartment, the water was up to the second story of the building," she said looking up at the second floor windows of the house. "We had water from floor to ceiling."
She relived the flood again by merely talking about it. She had a look of sadness on her face as if it had just happened.
"Well, there's no water here," said Christopher. "You're safe here. I'm pretty far from the river and I'm on a hill. You're safe from water flooding us. If you want to worry about something, worry about being incinerated in a nuclear explosion," he said with a laugh. "Three Mile Island is right there," he said pointing to the four, huge, chimney stacks across the river.
Quite the site to behold, she looked over to where he was pointing.
"If the smoke stakes look so big from this distance, I can't imagine how big they'd look up close," she said.
He nodded his agreement.
"Fortunately, Three Mile Island is closed because of the natural gas boom," said Christopher. "Still, radiation is always a threat and is still a real danger. The experts say that the nuclear plant can withstand a plane crashing into it but that's what they said about the Twin Towers, too."
