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Guarding Stephanie-Part 4
Hal'sPOV
I tried to keep my eyes on the road, but my attention was drawn to Steph, in the passenger seat of the SUV, talking animatedly about I have no-fucking- idea-what. Steph can really talk. None of us guys at Rangeman ever talk, unless Steph forces us to. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the side mirror. I look like a total badass. I have short cropped blondish hair, blue eyes covered by mirrored shades. I am 6'4" and slightly over 300 pounds of pure muscle. I was wearing a fully loaded utility belt, which was actually a bit uncomfortable when driving. I was armed with two guns and a knife. I was a former SEAL so I know 20 ways to kill someone with my bare hands, but I had no fucking idea how to talk to a woman. There was only one thing I felt comfortable doing around women, and it involved doing better things with my mouth than talking.
My eyes cut over to Steph, but I had no idea what the hell she was blathering on and on about. I loved Steph, don't get me wrong, all the guys do. But we usually had no fucking idea how to handle her. I always have to plan carefully around her, as if she was a time bomb that might explode if I make the wrong move. I have been a little unsure of her, especially since the time she had stunned me with my own stun gun. She had charmed me with her smile into actually surrendering my weapon. What kind of soldier EVER surrenders his weapon?
That was two years ago, but I get reminded of it every damn time I go out to guard her. That fucking Santos grins and says " Try not to let her stun you again." Anytime I guarded Steph, the guys took bets on weather or not she'd get away from me. Since the stun gun incident, she hadn't outsmarted me once. Her latest stalker was still at large, so Ranger had ordered that she never leave the Rangeman building without a guard. I am sure that it was carefully planned by the guys that I would get Steph duty today. They were waiting for me to fuck it up. And they knew what was in store for me.
"Right, Hal?", I hear her say, looking at me expectantly. Shit. I am supposed to to say something. I have no fucking idea what the hell she was talking about. I try to remember the last topic I paid attention to. Shopping? no. Tastycakes? No. That asshole Morelli? Sure as fuck no. She is still waiting, realizing that I have no clue what the hell to say. I make eye contact with her in the rearview, my face expressionless. She sighs. Steph hates "blankface."
" I said that since this is a party with a bunch of women, you won't need to go in the building with me. You can just wait outside. Right?" I pull into the parking lot of the VFW hall and give her a tiny grin. Like there was a chance in hell I'd let her get out of my sight. As much as I was going to hate this assignment, orders were orders. I wasn't going to be the butt of jokes again.
She opened the back door and pulled out a box wrapped in shiny, fluorescent pink paper that was so bright it hurt my eyes when I looked at it. It reminded me of the horrible act of womanhood that I was going to have to endure. I stayed two feet in front of Steph in the parking lot, my eyes constantly scanning.
" You will ruin it. No one will want to talk if there is a guy around. You don't really want to be there anyway, do you?," she pleaded. She damn well had that right. I opened the door for her and was assaulted by a screech that almost made my eardrums shatter.
"Steeeeepppphhhhh! I had to step away from her or get stampeded by five immense women, arms outstretched, running towards her and shrieking her name. Fuck. My head is throbbing already. Why do women screech like that? The women engulf Steph in a huge hug and I am surprised that she doesn't suffocate. 'Steph. its soo good to see you." A woman with an enormous stomach puts her hand on my biceps. "And who is this delicious man? Is he your boyfriend?" I take a step back, totally horrified by the sheer size of this extremely pregnant woman squeezing my muscular biceps. I resist the urge to yank my arm away from her. "Uh, no, ma'am," I managed to stammer out. Steph thrusts the blinding pink box at her and she lets go of my arm and walks into the main room of the VFW hall.
I debate not following Steph. After all, she is with a bunch of seriously pregnant women who can barely walk, let alone attack her. And I doubt her stalker would jump out of the cake or something. No stalker would get within 100 yards of this place. But I have orders, and they are not to let Steph out of my sight. I sigh and follow the women into the large room.
As I enter the room, my head hits something and I jerk back. A pair of pink plastic baby shoes twirl wildly in the air. Little pink plastic shoes are hanging from every light fixture. Ok, that is just creepy. After all, shoes hanging in the air are a sign of drug dealers. Poor baby isn't even born yet and they and everyone will think it is a drug dealer. I walk across the room to stay close to Steph, carefully avoiding the rest of the creepy hanging baby shoes.
I stand at parade rest just inside the doorway of the room, trying to tune out the sight and get into my zone. There are about 10 enormous pregnant women in this room, all looking like they are close to bursting. I check my belt for my cellphone in case one of them decides to drop out the kid here and I have to call 911. I shudder at THAT thought.
The woman who grabbed my bicep gets up and waddles to the front of the room, holding a roll of toilet paper. What the hell? Toilet paper? I watch in horror as they have a contest where they wrap the toilet paper around the hugest woman and shout out how many squares it will take to go around her. You have got to be fucking kidding me. And they make fun of men for watching sports? They are all screeching again and jumping up and down. Shit. I cringe. They need to stop that or they really will drop the kids right now. Steph seems to be getting into the stupid game, but at least I get to see her smile. They play some more games that involve a lot of the goddamn shrieking and I am expecting my head to explode from the noise.
Finally, it gets quiet as they stop to eat cake. Steph loves cake and I love watching her eat it. She moans and licks her lips, and her eyes roll back in her head in a blissful enjoyment of sugar. Watching her repeatedly lick her lips and moan makes me fucking hard as a rock. I can practically see the bulge in my black Rangeman cargo pants. She licks a huge dollop of icing off her fork and twirls it on her tongue. I groan and look at the linoleum tiled floor before I cum in my pants like a teenager.
My dick is so hard it hurts, but I quickly lose my erection as the women talk in detail about giving birth. Ok, I could have been quite happy living my entire life without ever hearing the word placenta, but that was not to be. Steph seems fascinated but I am traumatized for life at the thought of the blood and umbilical cords. Yuck. I think I am going to be sick. Too bad I don't have a mike so I could record this for the other guys. They deserve to be as disgusted as I am. I begin to wonder if my Rangeman insurance covers trauma therapy. I am never going anywhere near a kid ever again.
I look at my SEAL watch, silently praying that this nightmare will be over soon. I swear, I would rather be tortured by guerilla warriors than ever come to a baby shower again. They have finished eating and the largest pregnant woman sits down and opens presents from the towering mound of gifts behind her. Shit. If she has to open all those we'll be here for fucking ever.
Ok, here is the main difference between men and women. When men get a wrapped present, they rip it open quickly and get done with it. When a pregnant woman gets a present, she spends ten minutes admiring the fucking wrapping paper, opens it slowly so that she can reuse the fucking tape, slowly takes the present out so she has time to make an animated face, and then holds it up so all the other pregnant women can go "oooooohhhhh" tell her how fucking adorable and cute it is. At this rate I'll be 50 before we get the hell out of here.
The huge woman holds up yet another little set of baby clothes that are exactly the same as the one before, and all the women goo over it, and I decide that God hates me. Ok, I have to admit that the teeny little socks are kind of cute, but this is fucking ridiculous. Next, she holds up a , what the fuck is that? Fuck. It's a..a.. breast pump. Groosss. I cover my eyes and make a gagging noise as the woman all coo over this monstrosity. There is only one thing that should be that close to a woman's breasts and it's not a machine. Someone takes a picture of the huge one holding up the breast pump. Women are so fucking weird.
I try to wipe my mind of the picture of the breast pump by imagining myself with Angelina Jolie. I thankfully manage to get myself into my zone so I can blissfully ignore the rest of this horrible ordeal. Fifteen minutes later, I am jerked rudely from my zone by the sound of chairs scraping on the floor. Steph is getting up. Yes! There is a God. We can get the fuck out of here.
Steph hugs the hugest one but can hardly get anywhere close to her. Steph grabs her purse and walks towards me, ready to leave. "See. I told you. You hated that, she said. I lead her out of the room, avoiding the macabre little plastic baby shoes hanging from the lights. I am going to have nightmares about baby drug dealers in little pink plastic shoes. We make it outside and I open the SUV door for Steph, glad to be out of that hell.
All the way home Steph is going on and on talking about he fucking shower. Why does she tell me about it? I was there. I suffered through it. Why force me to relive the experience? I stop at Dunkin Donuts so she will stop talking and I can get turned on watching her eat. She looks at me out of the corner of her eye and flashes her irresistible smile. " You know, Susan is 7 months pregnant and her shower is next week. I wonder if Les would like to go."Anyone but me," I think. Ranger doesn't pay me enough to sit through another one of those showers.
I grin an evil grin. "Steph, honey. I am sure he would love it." Fuck you Santos.
