Two Olive Martini (eBook)
260 Seiten
Bookbaby (Verlag)
979-8-3509-4291-0 (ISBN)
Her pen name is Linda G. She graduated from San Jose State University with a BS in nursing in 1984. She specializes in high-risk nursing and has mentored dozens of medical students working their way into their science. She is a mother of two and has welcomed hundreds of babies into this world over her forty-year career as a registered nurse. She is also a Pastor, a pilot, and a writer. She now writes and edits for LynDance, LLC., and resides with her husband in Oakley, California.
Back in the day, a woman would signal potential suitors by how many olives she placed in her martini. One olive meant single or available. Two olives meant married and unavailable. Three olives meant married and available. Barely escaping a death sentence from cancer and estranged from his second family, Sean finds himself broke and without resources until a magical fortuity. Twenty-six years after their divorce, he and a now twice divorced Gail bump into each other in the airport, the last passengers to board the same flight. Gail is the beautiful wind Sean kicks himself for driving away when he was young, stupid, and selfish. Sean is the passionate lover Gail misses, needing his trust, strength, and spontaneity now more than ever. When a family emergency requires them to work together, Sean relapses into his old selfish self. This forces Gail to decide how many olives to place in her martini. Sean still has a lot to learn. Gail is willing to teach him but is unwilling to repeat the past. Will Sean redeem himself and make worthy his contributions to their newfound love? Does Gail have the patience to rebuild their union?
CHAPTER ONE
THE BEAT OF THE DRUM
A woman may not need a man,
but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t want one.
Gail awoke at 4:00 in the morning for her daily commute to the hospital in Berkeley. Eyes half closed, she navigated to the small kitchen nook where the automatic coffee maker had begun its methodical drip.
It was still dark in her tiny two-bedroom home nestled in the foothills of Gilroy, California, but Gail knew the floor plan so well she had no need to turn on the lights.
She spent two weeks out of every month here as a traveling nurse, though her permanent home was in Oklahoma. So was her second husband, Dick. Because of that alone, she would rather spend three weeks every month in California. But things were the way they were. She had a feeling now that her eldest daughter had finished college and begun her career and the other was married with two children, things would change soon.
Sensing her way to the cabinet, she found her favorite mug and poured herself a cup of dark, black coffee. The bitterness helped to lift her heavy eyelids.
“M-mm,” she purred after she took her first sip.
Four or five small steps from the counter took her through the sliding door outside onto the patio. She studied the sky to see if the stars were visible. This would tell her whether she could fly her small Cessna to work or if she had to drive the long, tedious, dangerous, and uncomfortable South Bay commute north on the 101.
Thousands of cars and a sea of red taillights, PU, she thought. It would be so much nicer to fly.
She continued staring into the morning sky, which held no cloud in sight. The stars were brilliant in their expanse and multitude. They would supply her with the visual acuity needed to take flight.
The reek of garlic and onions wafted its way from rural Gilroy, the world’s garlic capital. As its scent tickled her nose, she deeply inhaled and sighed with distinct pleasure. Gail loved this sign of summer. Outside of the time she’d been shackled to Oklahoma and a few years spent in Eureka, she had lived in the South Bay all her life. The pungent smell of the fresh garlic and onion was a pleasant fragrance to her.
Returning from her patio to the kitchen, she sat at her claw foot table and turned on her banker’s lamp. She was a meticulous housekeeper. She kept her things nice while she delighted in their simplicity. She enjoyed her little belongings in life. She subscribed long ago to one of the keys of true happiness: It is not having what you want; it is wanting what you have.
Her antique lamp supplied the light she needed to map out her visual flight plan from Reid-Hillview Airport to Oakland. It only took moments to complete. She texted her friend Pat to meet her there, and then into the shower she stepped.
Gail lathered the soap between the palms of her hands. The scent of cashmere silk mingled with the mist. She smeared the suds around her breasts as the pressurized water rushed down the nape of her neck and across her shoulders. The water converged in her cleavage, both in front and behind, creating a current surging between her legs.
She no longer “needed” a man, but that didn’t change that she still wanted one. Just not the one she was currently stuck with. As she washed her most intimate parts, she reviewed last night’s erotic dream involving her ex-husband.
Sean came to me while I was asleep in bed. He traced my parched lips with his tongue, gently opening my mouth. Our tongues intertwined as he pressed his lips to mine. He always could melt my knees with his kisses. He joined me in bed and embraced me. His tenderness brought tears to my eyes—in the dream, I hadn’t enjoyed his company in a while, but it wasn’t the eighteen years it’s really been. He ran his tongue down my chin and then to the center of my neck. He stroked the curves of my hips with his strong hands as he worked his way down. His constant touch made me tremble, and I opened my legs to him. I don’t know why. I should hate this man, but I only feel the good times in dreams.
I remember thinking, “Is this a dream? Do I really feel the caress of his hands moving up and down my body?” It doesn’t feel like a dream when he touches me. He is so generous with his love. His kindness toward me unlocks my thoughts and then my legs. Is he just a dream? He comes only at night. I wish I’d never met him. But I still love him.
Why is Sean’s love still so special to me? He is only a man. And in the dream, I knew I was married to Dick. Why would I compromise myself with Sean? In my dreams, his soothing whisper causes me to alter my sexual morals. Is my subconscious trying to tell me something? I hate him for leaving me. I hate him for making me feel this way.
When we were together, his laugh was my laugh. His hunger was my hunger. We made love like no other couple has ever dreamed. Our bodies connected so easily, like two pieces to a puzzle. We fit perfectly. His words were my words, and his thoughts were mine, too. True love is unique. I hope it comes more than once in a lifetime.
Gail ended her shower with her fingers massaging her clit. When she climaxed, she felt euphoric, and then she completely relaxed. Why is Sean so different? Did dream him really exist, or am I too stupid when I’m asleep to remember he was a philandering jerk?
She frowned, reminding herself of reality as she dried off. Our bitter divorce divided us, our children, our friends, and our families. The life we had carefully planned and carved for ourselves withered. He’s a womanizer, and he’s married to another woman who’s the same as him. End of story.
She dressed, hastily did her hair and makeup, and packed her flight bag. Dick was arriving after she got off work today for a surprise visit. “Some surprise,” Gail lamented. Composing herself, she swiftly drove to the small San Jose airport.
“Thank goodness,” she thought, finding a parking spot next to the aviation building. Flipping the visor down on the driver’s side of the car, she looked into the mirror to primp. Gail checked her makeup for flaws, fluffed her hair, and carefully applied her lipstick. She took a deep breath and finally settled down.
Flying was a big expense to Gail but well worth the cost because she loved it. She’d invested in her own airplane a decade ago rather than continually renting. Gail filed her flight plan with the tower and then began the preflight inspection of her small Cessna 172. She examined the plane with the care of a surgeon preparing to operate. Gail studied the wings visually and then ran her hand along their smooth contours, making sure there were no indentations. She checked the engine for leaks, obstructions, and other debris. She inspected the propeller, the flaps, and then the tail wing for ease of movement.
Gail climbed aboard her plane; the seat adjusted so her short legs could reach the floor peddles used to steer the plane while on the ground. She had to place a pillow under her small derriere to enable her to see over the dashboard. Seat belted in, she methodically reviewed the standardized checklist to ensure all was in order.
Then she cracked open the window port and yelled, “Clear!”
Satisfied, Gail turned on the ignition and fired up the small but mighty engine. She carefully listened to its synchronized hum, reassured the engine was strong.
She turned the radio to connect to the tower and spoke with authority, “Reid-Hillview, this is Cessna two-niner six-niner ready to taxi over.”
The tower responded, “Roger, Cessna two-niner six-niner. Good morning, Gail. I hope that’s you, over.”
Gail giggled. “Roger, Frank, over.”
“Great to see you in the pilot’s seat again.” Frank sounded delighted. “Okay, Cessna two-niner six-niner, you are cleared to taxi to one-eight north and hold over.”
“Roger, tower; Cessna two-niner six-niner is ready to taxi to one-eight north and hold. By the way, Frank, it looks like a great day to fly.” she amused herself by flirting with the much younger air traffic controller. She emphasized the word “great,” attempting to elicit an envious reaction.
“It sure is, two-niner, six-niner. Got room for me?” Frank joked.
“There’s always room for you, Frank, but I’m in a bit of a hurry today. Next time, or anytime for that matter, especially with a pro like you.”
It was innocent chatter, but Gail couldn’t help herself when it came to teasing Frank. Plus it was another way to shake off that dream about Sean and how her rebellious heart felt about Dick today. She taxied to the end of the runway and informed the tower she was ready for takeoff. Frank affirmed Gail’s position, assigned her an altitude, and cleared her for the sky.
Frank always ended his radio transmission with a fond farewell, “Roger, two-niner six-niner. Enjoy your flight, Gail. Over and out.”
Gail aligned the plane to the center of the runway, set the brake and pushed the pedal to the metal. The roar of the engine excited Gail’s senses as she anticipated the thrill of liftoff. Revving it to its max, Gail released the break and roared down one-eight north. Nobody but her now; the runway was all hers. She was in control.
The engine snarled as Gail held the plane right down the center of the newly...
Erscheint lt. Verlag | 25.3.2024 |
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Sprache | englisch |
Themenwelt | Sachbuch/Ratgeber ► Gesundheit / Leben / Psychologie ► Partnerschaft / Sexualität |
ISBN-13 | 979-8-3509-4291-0 / 9798350942910 |
Informationen gemäß Produktsicherheitsverordnung (GPSR) | |
Haben Sie eine Frage zum Produkt? |
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