This was just for one night, he kept reminding himself.  First night in new surroundings, plus she’s a little tipsy, equaled his agreeing to her request.  At least, that’s what Paul kept telling himself, hoping sleep would just come for him already.  Because upon further reflection, he realized he should have respectfully declined.  The last thing he wanted (or needed) was to give Charlette the wrong impression, and he was never the leading-someone-on type.<br/><br/>Besides, he really needed to stick to women closer to his age.  It hadn’t quite made a one-year anniversary since Jemma decided that the grass was indeed greener on the other side of the fence.  If he remembered correctly, the man she decided was a better catch than him was some kinda pilot or other.  Think he flew for UPS or summat, but then, who really cared.  Charlette also had her Dave to deal with, so that was a good thing, though maybe not for her.<br/><br/>Paul was settling into his position under the covers as Charlette climbed in, after he had held them open for her.  Not expecting it, his body stiffened (no, not there!) when she pressed herself against his right side.  He could tell what body parts of hers were touching him, and if he were completely honest, she felt good.  Perhaps<i>too </i>good, as a familiar stirring was felt just below his waist.  Oh no, ain’t happening, my eager friend, he thought.  With Charlette this close to him, chances were better than good that she’d sense or feel the, erm, uprising, so that was quelled right away.<br/><br/>And now that he thought about it, what was she doing snuggling so close to him?  Cripes, she had enough real estate on that side of the bed to start a mini plantation.  Meh, just fall asleep, he tried to convince himself.  Damn shame about Charlette’s touch and fragrance then, as they were collectively preventing him from entering Dreamland.