Navy SEAL and Homeless Woman Ch. 04

As if he was an emergency room doctor and, in the way that he's helped soldiers survive battlefield wounds, he was more than qualified to tend to her bruised ribs. After seeing her up close, a real diamond in the rough, he'd love to give her the full physical attention whether medical or not that she clearly needed and deserved.

"Bastard," she said kicking the unconscious man in the ribs, the one who kicked her in the ribs, ribs, before kicking him in the face.

"That's going to leave a bruise," he said laughing. "Okay that's enough," he said.

Whether deliberately or unintentionally, he cupped both of her big breasts in the palms of his horny hands when he wrapped his arms around her. He pulled her away from the man before giving him his own, swift Karate kick to the ribs. Definitely, in the way that he kicked him and knew how to hurt him, no doubt, he broke his ribs for the bruised ribs that he gave her.

When he wrapped his arms around her, he quickly removed his hands from cupping her breasts. With both arms wrapped around both of her breasts and her round ass firmly pressed against the front of him, he immediately had an erection. Not considering before, it was then that he imagined being with her. He imagined kissing her, French kissing her. He imagined making out with her. He imagined making love to her before he imagined fucking her.

# # #

"Bastard," she said.

She was more focused on kicking the unconscious man than on him holding her while feeling her body with every sexual nerve ending that he possessed. When Christopher pulled her away from going berserk on the man, he unintentionally cupped her entire big tit in the palm of his hand again. Paying him no never mind of him groping her big breast, she spit her outrage on the man after extricating herself from his hold again.

"You're thinly bony," he said with a laugh. "You weigh nothing. When did you last eat?"

He looked at her while imagining her in cleaner clothes, a short skirt, and a low-cut blouse, her hair done, and her wearing makeup. If she looked this good now dirty, she'd be stunning with some pampering. He looked at her while wondering why she was out here alone with no one to protect her. With him believing that there was a reason for everything, he looked at her as if seeing her for the first time.

"Eat? I dunno. I'm not sure. I no longer have a watch. I hawked that to buy some much needed food," she said. "Now, without having a watch to keep track of the time, one day seems like another," she said with a shrug. "All that I know is that I was starving last night and I'm even hungrier this morning."

She looked at him confused while wiping her nose with her dirty sleeve.

"What day is it today? After a while, I get confused," she said with a sad, little shrug. "When you're out here with no money and no hope, it's hard to tell one day from the next. They all feel the same with morning dragging into night before starting all over again."

He nodded his head.

"Trust me. I know the feeling," he said. "C'mon. Let's get you something to eat. The diner is open down the block. I could use some grub and I hate eating alone. My treat."

# # #

She grabbed what little personal possessions she had.

"Okay," she said picking up her bag of cans.

He took the bag of cans from her hand.

"Leave them," he said.

She looked at him as if he was crazy.

"Leave them? Are you nuts? Do you know how long it took me to collect those cans?" She grabbed for her cans but he pulled the bag away. "I can't leave my cans."

He chuckled.

"You can't take a bag of cans with you in the diner," he said. "Don't worry. I'll give you money."

Then, when she looked and gave him a questioning look, he eased her worry.

"No strings attached. I'm helping you in the way that I hope that someone would help my sister should she be in a similar situation," he said.

She smiled up at him.

"Thank you," she said.

# # #

She reached for the bag of cans again.

"But I can't leave my cans," she stomped her foot as if she was a spoiled child. "Someone will take them. It took me all day to collect those cans. There's enough money in that bag to buy me coffee and a muffin and to eat off of for a couple of days. There must be three hundred cans in that bags. That's about fifteen dollars and there's not another can to be found in this whole alley," she said.

Even though she was hard pressed to do the math in her head, she looked at her bag of cans with a knowledgeable eye. She stared at her plastic bag of cans as it was filled with money.

"Here," he said handing her three twenties. "I just bought them from you for four times what you would have gotten to recycle them. Now they're my cans. Leave them. C'mon, let's go eat. I'm hungry and I sure could use a cup of coffee," he said.

She stuffed the sixty-dollars in her pocket.

"Okay. Thank you," she said.

She stuffed the bag of cans behind a trash bin and covered them with cardboard.

"I'm just making sure that no one steals your cans," she said looking up at him with a little, sexy grin.

She continued smiling up at him while wiping dirt off her face with her dirty sleeve.

# # #

"Will they allow me inside? I know the diner. I tried buying coffee there once before and they were rude to me," she looked at him with sadness. "I'm really grubby and I smell," she said smelling her armpit.

He chuckled again.

"Don't worry. You're with me. You're my guest. Trust me, they'll allow you to eat there," he said with kindness.

She gave him a sad, little look.

"Even though I was so cold, so tired, and even though I just wanted to sit and rest before falling over, they said that I had to take the coffee outside to drink," she said as if she was about to burst in tears. She continued telling him her sad tale. "As good as any other customer, I was a paying customer too," she said with anger. "I gave them my last dollar for a lousy cup of coffee."

She paused as if thinking about if she should continue telling him the rest of her sad story. She looked away from him with an embarrassed look.

"What? Tell me," he said. "Trust me. You're with a friend."

She looked down at the ground.

"I really needed to use the bathroom and as soon as I walked back outside and the cold air hit me, I peed myself," she said beginning to cry.

Christopher wanted to hug her but backed off to give her some space.

"I'm so sorry," he said. "I apologize for their treatment of you."

# # #

"I heard the waitress laugh to the other waitress that I smelled," she said looking at him with tears in her eyes. "Okay, yeah, sure, no doubt I smelled after I peed myself but I don't smell, especially in the cold," she said lifting her arm to smell her pit again. "I don't know how anything or anyone can smell in the cold. Besides, I take a shower, not every day, but I shower in the shelter whenever I can."

He touched her hand.

"Don't worry about not being served. You're my guest and you don't smell," he said moving her long, blonde hair out of her face.

Not a typical bag lady, when he moved her lush, blonde hair out of the way, he imagined she was Rapunzel or Cinderella. He imagined moving her hair from her face just before kissing her. As if she was a movie star on a sound stage, after seeing her closer and under the soft glow of the street light, and after she cleaned herself up, he wouldn't mind going to bed with her every night and waking up to her every morning.

Suddenly, he had an image of her wearing a long, lavender nightgown that buttoned halfway down the front. He imagined himself taking the time to slowly unbutton every button while looking to see what each unbuttoned button revealed before reaching his hand inside to feel her abundant breasts and finger her hard nipples while kissing her. Continuing his sudden enamored vision of her, especially after seeing her without any warm outerwear, he imagined dressing her for the cold while warming her within his strong arms.

He imagined spoiling her. He imagined buying her fleece gloves, a tam hat, in the way that Talia Shire wore in Rocky as Adrian, and a scarf wrapped around her neck. Wearing nothing more than an unzipped, 800 down vest to keep her warm and to protect her from his horny hands, he imagined himself kissing her while feeling her everywhere. Not stopping his imagination there, he imagined marrying her and buying her a cute, little, green Mini Cooper S as her wedding gift. A common occurrence, a protector falling for the victim, he wondered if she was falling for him, too.

"Thank you," she said shivering. "You're too kind."

He removed his jacket.

"Here," he said. He removed his holster, removed his shirt, and buckled the holster under his shirt. "Wear this. It's Polartec," he said placing his jacket over her shoulders while holding out the jacket to help her arm inside. "It will keep you warm."

He took her all in as if noticing her for the first time. With him 6'4" tall, he liked that fact that she was tall, maybe 5'9" or 5'10" tall. With her nearly as tall as he was, she'd be even taller had she been wearing heels.

He liked that she was blonde and busty with big, blue eyes. He had a thing for blonde women with big tits and blue eyes. Only all the blondes he's ever been with were dyed blonde and judging from her pubic hair, she's a natural blonde just as her breasts are natural and not surgically enhanced.

Too busy paying attention to the three men, he hadn't taken the time to look at her, really look at her until the way that he was looking at her now. Never thinking that he'd make it home alive from his next deployment, all the women in his life were one-night stands of drinking, desperate groping, and sweating in a cheap motel room. Except for his sister, all of the women in his life didn't matter to him in the way that this woman suddenly mattered to him now.

He wanted to help her. He wanted to take care of her. Was this fate that they met or was he thinking more about her as a romantic connection than she was thinking about him as a romantic connection?

# # #

"Thanks," she said.

She put on his jacket and zippered it all the way up against the cold, and to hide her dirty blouse and her braless breasts while staring down at his concealed weapon.

"You have a gun," she asked. She looked at him hard. "Are you a cop?"

He shook his head no.

"Yes, I do have a gun but I'm not a cop. I'm a retired Navy SEAL and I have a permit to carry a concealed weapon. A part of me as if it's an extension of my hand, I don't go out without my weapon."

She looked at him with curiosity.

"Then, I don't understand," she said.

He smiled at her.

"What don't you understand," he asked while staring down at her?

"Why didn't you use the gun on them?"

He laughed.

"I didn't need to use my gun on them. I was in no imminent danger or threat of death to use deadly force. Besides, I never pull my gun unless I'm going to use it," he said.

He gave her a smile.

"Furthermore, with three men, there's always the chance that my gun could be taken from me and used against me. Besides my real weapons are my mind, my resolve, my hands, and my feet. None of those can be used against me. Sometimes, especially in close hand-to-hand combat, a gun just gets in my way." He looked at her and smiled again. "Besides," he said with a laugh. "There were only three of them."

She looked at him with concern.

"Yeah but, they could have..."

He made a face.

"They could have what? Bled? Vomited? Peed all over themselves?"

He laughed.

"As it was, it wasn't a fair fight," he said with a smug laugh. "Seriously," he said as if it was no big deal. "There were only three of them. Having been down this road before in more dangerous situations, it takes more than three men, men who aren't trained in hand-to-hand combat, to get the better of me."

She looked at him as if I was nuts.

"But one had a gun, the other a knife, and the third had a pipe. How is that not a fair fight? Fair for them but not for you," she said with a look of disbelief.

He chuckled.

"It was obvious to me in the way they were standing and holding their weapons that they had no idea how to use them. As far as I was concerned, their weapons were my weapons to take from them and to use on them," he said with a grin.

She looked at him with confusion.

"Who are you?"

He puffed out his chest as if his commanding officer was pinning another medal on him.

"I'm a United States Navy Seal, Christopher Ryan, retired, at your service Ma'am," he said with a shit eating grin.

She gave him a wide smile.

"Wow! Lucky me," she said returning his smile. "I'm lucky to have had a Navy SEAL come to my rescue," she said.

# # #

As if they were old friends, seemingly comfortable with one another, they continued talking as they walked to the diner.

"I'm a movie buff," she said. "I used to watch the old black and white movies when I was a kid. A latch key kid, my Mom worked during the day and I stayed home alone after school."

She didn't tell him that her mother was a stripper, a prostitute, and an all-around whore.

"I remember watching this one, old movie, Soldier in the Rain, one of my all-time favorite movies, right up there with Requiem for a Heavyweight with Anthony Quinn, on the Waterfront with Marlon Brando, and Old Man and the Sea with Spencer Tracy," she said rattling off her favorite, old, black and white movies.

He smiled at her while touching her hand.

"Anyway, Solder in the Rain starred Jackie Gleason and Steve McQueen. Jackie Gleason played a tough, smart, Sergeant Major who did crossword puzzles in pen. Have you seen the movie?"

He stopped in front of the diner.

"No. I haven't seen any of those movies. Well, here we are," he said opening the door of the diner for her to enter.

She paused staring at the diner before looking up at him.

"Wait. I can't go in there. Can't we take the food to go," she said baulking by taking a step backward. "They'll recognize me. I'm hard to miss. There aren't many homeless women living on the street, especially one that's a tall, blonde, blue-eyed with big tits," she said with a laugh. "TBBBT."

He gave her a questioning look.

"TBBBT? What's that?"

She laughed.

"That was my nickname in high school, TBBBT, tall, blonde, and blue-eyed, with big tits," she said with another laugh.

# # #

He grabbed her by the hand and walked in the diner ahead of her while pulling his reluctant, late night, supper guest along.

"Hi Pete," he said with a wave. "My sister and I are going to grab the booth in back," he said pointing to the empty booth.

Pete waved his hand.

"Yeah, sure, Christopher," said Pete smiling at Christopher before he scowled when eyeing Susan and her disheveled appearance.

Pete didn't dare say a word after Christopher stopped a robbery attempt one early morning. Open 24 hours, his usual routine after his late night, early morning walk was to hit the diner for coffee with apple pie and ice cream. As he approached the restaurant, always alert, Christopher heard shouts from the street before opening the door to the small diner.

Pete was out on the floor. He's never out on the floor. He's always positioned behind the open, high counter window in the kitchen, while his waitress takes cares of the customers out front.

With just a telling look from Pete, Christopher knew that there was more than just coffee brewing. There was trouble. Not waiting for the men to reveal their weapons and make their deadly move, Christopher made the first strike with a sidekick to the knee of the man who stood closest to him.

His gun hit the floor before he did. Christopher reached down and recovered the weapon before he did. Then, coming up fast and hard, he pistol whipped the second man in the nuts with his friend's gun while taking his weapon away from him too. Just as it was in the alley, the altercation was over in three seconds. Just it was in the alley, it took him longer to disable the weapons than to defeat the perpetrators.

Pete called the police and had the two arrested. Ever since then, whatever he ordered was on the house. Only tonight, wanting to give this homeless woman a belated Thanksgiving Day feast, he intended to pay for her food.

# # #

They sat in the booth across from one another. Sally, the waitress, handed them menus while looking from Christopher to stare at Susan before looking back at Christopher with a questioning look on her face.

"Coffee?"

Christopher looked at Susan and she nodded.

"Two coffees," he said and the waitress left to retrieve her coffee pot.

Christopher didn't even have to open his menu. He knew the menu by heart.

"Order whatever you want. Whatever you don't finish, you can take with you to eat later," he said. "Don't worry about what it costs. It's all on me," he said.

Susan gave him a big smile.

"Okay," said Susan already busy looking at the menu before she looked up to study Christopher. "Thank you but I can't decide what I want."

Christopher turned to Pete.

"We're both really hungry. Give us everything on the breakfast menu, Pete. I'm paying," said Christopher.

Pete busied himself in the kitchen.

"You got it, Christopher."

He looked at Susan.

"What's your name?"

She smiled.

"Susan. Susan Jill Parker."

To be continued...