Johnny Goes to War

Chapter 1

The second chapter of my life started with a bus ride from Jacksonville to Fort Benning, Georgia. I won’t bore you with a lot of details, suffice it to say I went to basic training at Fort Benning, Georgia, and I did okay. I wasn’t the top trainee in our company but I was in excellent physical condition, and I sorta knew what to expect so no big deal. Some of the guys in my company reacted poorly to the constant close supervision of the Drill Sergeants. I sort of laughed at that because these guys never got an ass chewing from my grandfather. It was clear to me from day one that I’d made the right choice in enlisting. I was a squad leader in my training platoon, my empathy helped me in dealing with my squad.

I left basic with a promotion to Private E-2 and went to Fort Sam Houston for the Combat Medic Course. I learned a lot at Fort Sam, the medic course was more interesting than I thought it could ever be. I passed the sixteen-week course and went back to Benning for the Basic Airborne Course.

About two hours of Jump School was fun, the rest of it was an exercise in how much harassment I could stand and then how much fear I could deal with. Any time I wasn’t double timing, I was pushing up Georgia in the heat of a muggy late Spring. In between ground week, tower week and jump week I did a million push ups. But after a week of pulling support, two weeks of training and a week of actual jumping, I was a paratrooper. My parents and grandparents were at my graduation and Papa pinned on my wings. How cool was that? Elaine came up with my parents. She said she was representing all the girl friends.

From Jump School I went to the Ranger Indoctrination Program (RIP). Rip was conducted by Ranger Cadre right there on Fort Benning. It took two tries but I made it through RIP. RIP didn’t earn you a Ranger Tab. Rather, it qualified you to be in the Ranger Regiment. A private like me could be in the regiment without going to Ranger School but officers and NCOs had to be Ranger Course graduates to stay in the Regiment.

So how was it you ask? Well, it sucked big time, but it was at RIP that I learned to embrace the suck and drive on. After graduation I was assigned to the Regiment’s Headquarters Company. I no sooner signed into my first duty unit than the Company First Sergeant sent for me. Top (slang meaning Top Sergeant) looked me up and down and grunted.

“Welcome to the Regiment, Pulaski. Don’t get too comfortable because we are waiting on orders for you to attend SOCoM {Editor’s note: Special Operations Combat Medic Course}. Go see the Supply Sergeant and collect your beret, unit patches, and unit crests. And get the right rank insignia, PFC Pulaski. Don’t let me catch you out of uniform again. Any questions?” he said.

“No, First Sergeant,” I replied half assed loudly.

“Good man,” he said. Then he added, “You are in the Regiment now, Pulaski, we have high standards and don’t tolerate assholes or fuckups. There are no second chances here. If you step on your dick, I’ll chop it off. Got it?”

Oh, yeah. I got it, loud and clear!

I’ll bet you are asking yourself, ‘if this idiot hates school, why did he volunteer for another thirty-six weeks of schooling after just finishing thirty-two weeks of training? Well, let me illuminate you by listing the reasons.

1. These schools were performance oriented; they weren’t all boring lectures.

2. The training was challenging and different every day.

3. I enjoyed the subjects I was being taught unlike the crap I endured in high school. For example, think emergency medicine vis-a-vis European History before 1700. Then compare Jumping out of an airplane versus jumping off a school bus.

See what I mean?

While waiting for my class at SOCoM to start, I volunteered to be a medic for every training exercise I could finagle my way onto. I got into the field three times as a support medic before my class start date arrived.

The SOCoM course was taught at Fort Bragg, North Carolina, home of the Army Special Forces (Green Berets) and the 82^nd Airborne Division. I enjoyed every minute I spent at the course. It was challenging and I received a top-notch medical education.

So, right in the middle of my second month of the SOCoM course, I had a different woman show up to spend the weekend with me for four weeks in a row. I became a minor celebrity when the twins and Cindi visited me one after the other, but I became a legend when Katrina breezed in for a visit.

Katrina showed up unexpectedly at the end of the duty day on a Friday. I had changed into civvies before heading over to the chow hall for supper. Ellen had been there until last Sunday, and I wasn’t looking forward to being a bachelor again for the weekend. As I exited the barracks, there stood Katrina with her halo of short golden hair atop her beautiful face. Her six-foot swimsuit model body was wrapped in painted on Daisy Duke’s, a cropped black t-shirt with a yellow Ranger Tab emblazoned across her chest that I’d sent her from Fort Benning, and Under Armor running shoes. Three of my classmates were chatting with her when she saw me.

“Sorry, guys, gotta go, ’cause there’s my man,” I heard her say.

She ran towards me.

“Johnny!” she squealed as she flung herself on me.

Every inch of her was pressed against every millimeter of me. Then she whispered something in my ear. I cracked up at what she said.

“I told them I worked at Hooters in Daytona, and invited them down,” she confided.

We shared a room at the Raddison out by I-95. We stayed on the side of Fayetteville away from Fort Bragg so we could avoid my classmates. I didn’t know how successful I’d be keeping the fact that she was my sister a secret. We shared a room and a king-sized bed, but we kept it tame. It was tame because she was interested in one of her classmates. Katrina went on and on about this guy. She made him seem as if he were the second coming.

I don’t know how I felt about that, I was hung on the horns of antinomy. On the one hand I was happy for Katrina, she deserved a guy with whom she could have a future. On the other hand, I was jealous and didn’t want to lose what she and I had together. I chose the high road.

“That’s great, Trina!” I forced myself to say.

“I Thanks, Johnny, one reason I like him is because he is a lot like you. We haven’t been intimate yet because there just hasn’t been time to do it right. The Academy doesn’t exactly forbid relationships between Cadets, they just make it difficult to have one. Anyway, we just started seeing each other, we’ll see how we feel next May when we graduate.”

I spent my nineteenth birthday reviewing for a critical performance exam in module six (the peripheral nervous system). I was just over halfway through the course. I passed the exam and the next Friday night some of my buddies took me to the All-Ranks Club to celebrate my big one-nine. Of course, I was the only one in the group not old enough to drink legally. Consequently, I was at the bar nursing a club soda with lime while they were shooting pool and drinking beer. I was about to call it a night when a thirtyish female walked up to the bar next to me and ordered an Appletini. I’d never heard of an Appletini, so I asked about it.

“Excuse me, Ma’am, but what’s an Appletini?” I asked.

She looked me up and down before replying.

“That’s not a very good pick-up line, young man,” she said with a laugh.

I laughed too, “You are definitely worth chatting up and that was coming next, but it was a legit question,” I replied.

“Then it’s a Martini made with apple flavored Schnapps, Vodka and apple juice. You want one?” she asked.

“No thanks, I don’t drink,” I said, and that was true enough.

Then I stuck out my hand, “Johnny Pulaski, at your service.”

When she took my hand a jolt of energy shot up my arm then reversed up hers. Her eyes fluttered and she swayed a little. I put my other hand on her other forearm to steady her and the same thing happened.

“Maybe you don’t need that Appletini,” I joked.

She gave me a speculative look and licked her lips.

“That was weird,” she said, then followed up with, “Becky Jordan, pleased to meet you.”

Becky Jordan wasn’t a petite woman. She was about five-feet-seven-inches tall and weighed about one-fifty. She was attractive but not beautiful, but she had that spark of something that I found attractive. The bartender brought her drink in a Martini glass garnished with a wedge of Granny Smith apple. She took a sip then turned her attention to me. Intelligence radiated through her expressive hazel eyes behind black framed glasses and her short hair was dark brown and curly. She was dressed in black slacks and a long red sweater.

“You are not my usual type, but you intrigue me. What’s your story, Johnny Pulaski?” she asked.

I shrugged, “Not much to tell really. I’m a student at SOCoM here from the Ranger Regiment. I was born and raised in Palmdale, Florida. I don’t want you to think of me as a creep, but you are my type. I like smart, witty women with a sense of humor and I’m betting you are one of those.”

She smiled when I said that last bit and, surprisingly, she was wearing braces on her teeth. Since she was smiling at me, I turned the conversation around.

“How about you?” I asked, “Come here often? What’s your sign? Your place or mine? If I told you …”

Before I could regurgitate any more corny pick-up lines, she started laughing and hit me on the arm.

“Okay, okay, that’s enough. You are officially the biggest goofball I’ve ever met,” she said, still chuckling.

Then she turned serious.

“I’m at least ten years older than you, Johnny, and I’m an officer to boot; but what the hell, meet me outside in ten minutes and we’ll go to dinner off base.”

I agreed. She drained her Appletini and walked out of the club. I went to the bathroom then told my buds I was shoving off and thanked them for thinking of me. They grumbled about me abandoning them, but when I put a fifty-dollar bill on the pool table and said, ‘the next round is on me,’ they all smiled and waved goodbye.

I ambled out of the club and towards the parking lot wondering how I was supposed to link up with Becky when a pair of headlights flashed on and off in the middle of the second row of cars. In minutes we were on Bragg Boulevard headed towards Fayetteville. We ended up in a small intimate Chinese Restaurant attached to a motel out on Raeford Road.

We were led to a quiet booth by a decidedly non-Asian, Rubenesque waitress with a thick southern drawl. I looked around at the shabby ‘chic’ decor and gave Becky a curious arched eyebrow look. She shrugged.

“This place has the best Chinese food in town,” she said in explanation.

We ordered hot tea and made conversation while we waited for our tea service.

“How old are you, Johnny?” Was the first thing she asked.

She sat back in the booth in surprise when I replied, “Thursday was my birthday, I’m nineteen.”

“Jesus!” she exclaimed. Then she looked around in embarrassment at her outburst.

No one was paying us any attention, so she leaned towards me and in a lowered voice said, “I was almost fourteen when you were born, technically I’m old enough to be your mother.”

I reached across the table and put my hand on hers, beamed her calm and trust, and said, “But you’re not my mother, and we’re having a meal together, not eloping.”

Whatever she had to say next was delayed by the waitress arriving with two cups with saucers and an ornate tea pot. The waitress filled our cups and then whipped out an order pad.

“Y’all make a cute couple. Whatcha havin’, Sugar?” she asked Becky.

Becky blushed but didn’t remove her hand from under mine. She ordered Beef with Broccoli and the waitress turned to me.

“How ‘bout you, Honey?”

I ordered what I always order: Sweet and Sour Chicken, Pork Fried Rice, and an egg roll.

“Beef with Broccoli and a special number six, I’ll put that right in,” the waitress said, and then she sashayed away.

When we were alone again, I nonchalantly let go of Becky’s hand.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to embarrass you,” I apologized.

“No problem, Johnny,” she said.

We yakked while waiting for our food then yakked some more while we ate. Our conversation was all over the place as we got to know each other. Thank goodness my girlfriends insisted I stay up on current events and world affairs because Becky was well informed. Turns out that Becky (short for Rebecca) Jordan was a Signal Corp Captain, and she was the 18^th Airborne Corp Cyber Security Officer. She was from some small town in Iowa and attended MIT on a STEM scholarship {science, technology, engineering, and mathematics} awarded by Orville Redenbacher of all people. Imagine that! She had a master’s degree in Electrical Engineering and Computer Science from MIT and she was sitting here scarfing down Chinese food with a guy who thought high school was too much academia.

For all our differences we had an excellent chat and found plenty of common ground. Surprisingly, music was one of them. Seems Captain Jordan was a serious AC/DC fan. She had even seen them live in Boston while she was at MIT. The subject of girlfriends came up and I truthfully answered every question she asked about girls back home. She was very curious about my relationship with them and rather than explain everything I just dialed Elaine’s cell phone.

Elaine answered with, “I’ll call you back, Johnny I’m on the phone with Aunt Nina.”

I replied, “Make it half an hour, okay?”

Of course, the call just made Becky more curious.

“What was that all about?” Becky asked.

“That is the person smart enough to explain my relationships to you,” I said.

We were on the road when Elaine called back, and as always, right on time. Becky pulled into a Circle K convenience store, and I handed her the phone. I went into the store to give her privacy. I snagged me a Diet Dr Pepper and some Goody’s Headache Powders while I was in there. I’d been having a lot of headaches, lately. I got them mostly after studying on my laptop. I was going to get my vision checked next chance I got. When I got back to the car Becky was laughing as I slid in the passenger seat of her BMW. She said ‘goodbye,’ closed my phone, and handed it back to me.

“That is one interesting young lady,” she commented.

“You don’t know the half of it,” I agreed.

“She told me that hanging out with you would be a smart idea that I’d never regret. That might be true, but it doesn’t mean I going to do it. I need to research the fraternization regulations first. I don’t think we would be in violation, but I’m going to check with my friend who is a JAG lawyer.”

I nodded my agreement.

“Good idea, and regardless of what you find out, it was a pleasure meeting you,” I said.

I kissed her on the cheek when she let me out at the barracks. Just for grins I sent her a little hint of lust as I slipped her my phone number.

She must have gotten the go ahead from her friend the lawyer because on Wednesday she sent me flowers. Yep, flowers. Don’t you know, I caught a ton of shit when I had to report to the orderly room to pick up a dozen white roses in a glass vase. There was a card attached to the flowers that was wrinkled and stained from the orderly room crew and who knows who else reading it. I took the small card out of its smudged envelope.

As I started to read the First Sergeant said in a falsetto voice, “‘I had a wonderful time Saturday and want more’ signed ‘B.’”

It went downhill from there as I carried the flowers up to my second-floor room. I was going over my notes on bloodborne parasitic diseases when my phone rang. It was exactly 1900 hours, and it was Becky Jordan.

“Did you get my present?” she asked, and I swear she giggled.

“Yep, and I enjoyed them as did every other ass hat in Delta Company,” I replied.

She barked a laugh, and then as was her wont, she abruptly changed the subject.

“Some friends up in Raleigh are having a cookout Saturday. Will you go with me?”

“Sure,” I said, “how do we meet up and what’s the uniform?”

I was standing in the parking lot dressed casually in jeans, an Under Armor hoody, and a pair of size thirteen Nikes when she pulled up in her dark blue Beamer. It was exactly 1100. I was to learn that Becky was obsessed with being on time. Becky was also wearing jeans, but hers were paired with a burgundy sweater and black ankle boots. She looked cute and I told her so.

The sixty-five mile trip took us a little less than an hour so it was almost noon when we pulled into a state park on the shore of a small lake. Becky navigated over to a pavilion where twenty or thirty people were sitting around in small groups on picnic tables. When we walked up everyone greeted Becky, and Becky introduced me. It took me about a minute to realize these were some seriously smart folks. It was as if I was amongst a platoon of Cavanaugh Twins. Two of the people I met were husband and wife doctors. They were impressed that I was at the SOCoM Course because they worked with a very sharp Physician’s Assistant who had attended the course.

I could tell Becky was leery of showing me affection, so I tried to put her at ease by being friendly but respectful of her feelings. I think that and the trust I radiated any time we touched helped her relax and enjoy her brainiac friends. Yep, sure enough, Becky had brought me to a MENSA get together. MENSA was some kind of organization for smart people, and truthfully, I didn’t know what I thought about that. Some of the people I met, like the doctors, were regular folks; but some of them thought being intelligent made them better than us hoi polloi. Those people I just ignored and tried to stay away from.

Mostly I did a good job of not calling attention to myself. That changed when I was returning from snagging a Diet Coke from a big cooler at the other end of the pavilion. I was halfway back when I saw this snobby jerk, whose claim to fame was being a Philosophy Professor at Duke, hitting on Becky. He was a medium tall guy, probably five-eleven or six foot and slim. He was nattily dressed in a dark brown corduroy jacket with leather patches on the elbows and blue jeans. He was holding an unlit pipe like a prop, and you could tell he thought himself Hugh Hefner. I could tell his attention was making Becky uncomfortable, so I interjected myself between them.

As soon as I arrived, Becky excused herself.

“Nature calls,” she said as she headed for the bathrooms.

When she was out of earshot Professor Dickhead scowled at me.

“You know she can do much better than the likes of you. She should be with someone her intellectual equal,” he said.

I nodded and leaned into his personal space.

“That is probably true, but she was making it clear that that someone is not you. Stop bothering her, or all the brains in the world won’t keep my foot out of your ass.”

For a second, I thought the Professor was ready to rumble as he glared at me. He started to push me away then reconsidered.

“You’re not worth it,” he muttered as he turned and stalked off.

Our little tete-a-tete did not go unnoticed. The reviews were mixed as one guy frowned his displeasure, but a woman and both doctors toasted me with their wine glasses. When Becky returned the female doctor took her aside and told her what happened. I watched them talk and prepared myself for Becky’s wrath because I offended one of her friends. Turns out that was not what happened. When she walked over to me an apology was on the tip of my tongue, but before I could open my mouth she smiled and hugged me.

“Thank you, Johnny. Elaine said I could trust you to always keep me safe,” she whispered in my ear.

“Safe from everyone but me,” I whispered back.

So that night, Becky and I ended up at a no-tell motel having wild monkey sex … in my dreams, maybe. The truth is that Becky took me back to Bragg and dropped me off in front of the Post Exchange.

She kissed me on the cheek and said, “I’ll call you,” before roaring off.

She didn’t call until Thursday. By then I figured my performance in front of all her big-brained friends put her off. But that wasn’t the case at all.

“I held out on calling for as long as I could, Johnny, because I’m scared of how much I like you. See, I’ve never really had a relationship that lasted longer than a couple of dates. Guys either think I’m too heteroclite to date, or they act as if they like me and drop me when they get what they wanted. My heart knows you are not like that, Johnny, but my mind doesn’t. Understand?” she said.

I did understand what she was saying because she wasn’t the first woman I knew with similar experiences.

“Listen, Becca, I don’t think you are strange. I promise we’ll be any type of friends you want us to be. Yes, I think we would be great together in bed, but I’m not a one-night stand type of guy. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, so I want you to take the weekend and decide what you want and call me Monday. But no matter what you decide, I will still be your friend. Okay?” I replied.

It was Sunday afternoon, and I was studying pain management protocols when my phone rang. I looked at my watch and it was 1600 hours. The ringing phone was a welcome distraction. I figured it was either the twins or Cindi because Katrina usually called Sunday night. It was none of the above.

“Hello, Johnny, It’s Becky,” Becky Jordan said.

“Hey, yourself,” I replied.

She cleared her throat.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what you told me the other night,” she said.

“That’s good. So, what did you decide?” I asked.

“Come out to the parking lot and I’ll show you,” she replied.

I laughed at her misspeak.

“Don’t you mean tell me?” I asked.

“I always chose my words carefully, Johnny, and I say what I mean,” she replied.

All righty then! I asked her to give me fifteen minutes. I shaved, threw on jeans and trotted outside.

It was a chilly mid-November day, and a light drizzle was falling, so I was glad to see Becky’s Beamer idling in front of the Barracks.

I jumped into the car and Becky gave me a sweet little smile before leaning over the console and kissing my lips. It wasn’t a steamy kiss, but it was the first time our lips touched and I felt a tingle of sexual arousal coming from her.

“Sorry about the braces,” she said.

“What braces?” I gallantly replied.

I didn’t ask where we were going when Becky drove us out the Yadkin Road Gate. I was not familiar with this part of Fayetteville. We made a few turns to which I paid no attention as I was focused on what Becky was saying.

“I talked to my roommate about you, Johnny. I told her how much I liked you and she told me how crazy I was for getting involved with you. Rather than talk to her about it more, I decided to let her meet you. Sort of like the way you put me on the phone with Elaine.”

Wouldn’t you know it? A parental grilling by proxy to date a thirty-two-year-old woman. But I was used to them by now.

“No sweat,” I said. Then for good measure I added, “It’s good that your roommate cares about you. Besides, you are worth putting up with a parental inquisition.”

She laughed and said, “‘Parental inquisition,’ I like it.”

Becky drove up to a duplex home in a nice neighborhood of nearly identical houses. She parked in the driveway of the left-hand unit midway down the block. We went through the front door and into the kitchen where a small wiry woman was stirring a pot of something that smelled delicious. She turned around when she heard us come in and Becky introduced us. Regina had beautiful, blemish free chocolate skin, short wavy hair, and big brown eyes. She was cute as a button in that Jada Pinkett way.

“Regina, this is Johnny Pulaski, Johnny, meet my roommate Regina Hayes.”

I held out my hand and an expressionless Regina took it. Thankfully I felt a small connection so I sent her all the ‘trust me’ I could muster. It must have worked a little because she gave me a tentative half smile.

“I am pleased to meet you, Regina,” I said.

“Likewise, I’m sure,” was her lukewarm reply.

When Becky excused herself for the powder room, Regina spoke her mind.

“Becky is a very literal. She means exactly what she says, exactly as she says it. You need to do the same. She is probably the most honest person I’ve ever met. Don’t hurt my friend or I’ll make it my mission to ruin you,” she threatened.

“You will never have to carry out that threat, Miss Hayes, because I will never purposely hurt her. That I promise.”

Any further conversation was cut short by Becky’s return. Regina grabbed her car keys from a hook by a door that must have led to the garage.

“I forgot the garlic bread, so I’m headed to the Winn-Dixie. The sauce is simmering, put the noodles on in 20 minutes,” she said over her shoulder.

“Your roomy speaks her mind,” I said.

Becky nodded and grabbed my hand.

“We have twenty minutes Johnny! Do you really want to spend them talking about Regina?”

Oh hell no, I didn’t!

Seconds later we were on the couch making out. It was a challenge swapping tongues around Becky’s braces, but we worked it out. When I thought she was satisfactorily warmed up I slipped my hand under her Burgundy sweater. I was pleased when she gave a little moan. We were going at it hot and heavy her sweater up above her small ‘B’ cups, her nipple in my mouth, when she abruptly started pushing me away.

“We have to check the spaghetti sauce, it’s been twenty minutes,” she said.

I groaned but nodded and let her go. ‘Tempus fugited,’ I reckoned.

Dinner was excellent, as was the conversation. Regina turned out to be Becky’s lawyer friend. She was a JAG Captain on the Major’s promotion list in the 82^nd Airborne Division. Not only was she a paratrooper, but she was also Jump Master qualified and had thirty jumps. She had a razor-sharp wit to go along with all that. She had me laughing my ass off, mostly at my expense.

Becky dropped me off at the barracks at 1900 hours. She sent me into the building with a hard on after a smoking hot kiss, and a squeeze of old Kong.

Becky and I went out once or twice a week until SOCoM broke for Christmas. It was a lot like dating Karla Hernandez, in that we fooled around some but so far we hadn’t slept together. Becky wanted the whole dating and girlfriend experience, so we took things slow. Take it from Johnny P. Dating a girl with braces is a challenge. Not only did I end up with a cut tongue or split lip but hummers were a no go. Becky apologized profusely and fondled the Kongster till he surrendered. Still as much as she enjoyed my oral attention. It sucked (LOL) that she couldn’t return the favor.

One good thing that happened for Becky, was that she started exercising more seriously. She wasn’t that athletic, and working in IT involved a lot of sitting so her caboose was bigger than she wanted it to be. Until we started dating, she lacked the motivation to do something about it. Now she was running, eating right, and going to the gym with Regina.

“When we make love, Johnny, you’ll be able to bounce a quarter off my butt,” she promised.

When Becky took me to the airport on the nineteenth of December, she had already dropped six pounds and one pants size. She told me she was going to have more time to spend at the gym with me gone. Who would of thought Brainy Becky would turn into a gym rat.

Chapter 2

Specialist Four Janus P. Pulaski (that’s me!) (didn’t I tell you, I made Spec Four in August) went home on Christmas leave on December nineteenth after thirteen months in the Army. I still had at least three more months before graduation from the SOCoM Course. It was not lost on me that I’d completed more schooling than my genius girlfriends because I had been in school throughout the summer while they were lounging around on the beach. Well not for the whole summer because my girlfriends each spent a week in North Carolina with me, one at a time. Elaine and Cindi were impressed by the specific medical training I was receiving because they were still slogging through their general education requirements. Ellen, not so much. I think she would have been more impressed if I’d been at the Navy’s Nuclear Reactor School.

All three of my girlfriends picked me up at the airport in Orlando. For once I caught an early morning direct flight that took off and landed on time. I drew some admiring looks when they swarmed me at the baggage claim. The twins looked even less identical because Ellen had her hair straightened, dyed blond, and cut in a short shag much like Katrina. In contrast, Elaine’s riotous curly red locks were haphazardly corralled by a green polka dot headband. All three of them were wearing skirts with tights and sweaters because it was a chilly fifty-five degrees in Central Florida.

We stopped at the Cavanaugh’s even before I went home. Thomas and Donna greeted me graciously and seemed genuinely glad to see me. I think Mister and Missus Cavanaugh probably suspected that hanky-panky went on between me and the twins, but they didn’t say anything about it. Elaine and Ellen would soon be eighteen and were doing well at the community college with perfect 4.0 GPAs. Furthermore, both girls had been accepted to the University of Florida. They were well protected birth control wise; I was the only boy they dated, and their parents were the ones who had pushed us together. And finally, I think the Cavanaugh parents knew that I would always keep the twins safe.

We stayed in the family room making polite conversation until Elaine decided we’d spent enough time with her folks. She tugged on my hand to get me off the couch.

“We’re taking Johnny upstairs to talk, we have a lot of catching up to do,” she said breezily.

Indeed, we did, because except for an occasional hand-job, Kong and I had been celibate since July. And I wasn’t the only needy person in the room. I was very happy that my connection to them was as strong as ever. With Elaine it was maybe even stronger. It was like Christmas came early as they let me undress them … I took my time unwrapping my presents.

Cindi was first, her tight little body so different from all the other women in my life. Waifish Cindi had topped out at five feet, and a hundred pounds … on her tiptoes, soaking wet, and with a pocket full of rocks. Her skin was smooth, and she looked as if she had a light all over tan. Her hair was long and silky black. Ellen and Elaine had effectively identical, very nice bodies. They were both a tad over five-nine, weighing about one-thirty. Their skin was very pale, and they had a million freckles to go with their red hair. Anyway, it took a few minutes for us to be naked and less than another minute until Ellen was waxing the moustache I couldn’t grow, and Cindi was bouncing on the Mighty Kong.

As always, Elaine waited to be last so I would be slower on the trigger, and we could take our time. According to Elaine, she and I were attuned to each other down to the molecular level, that’s why we were so good together. We were soulmates she said. I didn’t know about all that, but I did know that only Katrina came close to being as perfect for me as Elaine. Elaine wrapped her arms and legs around me as if I were trying to escape. We made slow gentle love as Ellen and Cindi put on their clothes. Now that I’d taken the edge off, they had other business to which they needed to attend. I think the other girls made sure Elaine and I spent alone time together because of how Elaine felt about me.

I was on my elbows looking down at her as I beamed how much I loved her through our connection. She looked back at me, her eyes hooded, a small smile on her lips. She pulled my head down and glued her lips to mine as she shivered through an orgasm. This time she was the one pouring love into me. She broke the kiss and fell back on the bed with a cute little moan.

“I love you, Johnny Pulaski, and I probably always will,” she whispered sweetly.

“Back at you,” I replied.

I had a nice homecoming with Mom, Dad, Papa, and Nana. I hadn’t been home since last Christmas, so we were happy to see each other. Nana and Mom hugged me, Dad and Papa shook my hand and Jethro licked my face. It was just the right greeting. My family was the best. As a bonus, my parents and grandparents were all doing well, health-wise.

My sister came home for five days on the twenty-second while I was doing some, for me, early Christmas shopping. She had kept the visit a secret and she brought a friend along, a young woman from her academy class named Faith Hammond. Faith was on the volleyball team with Katrina, and she was another tall Amazon with a short haircut. In fact, she was probably an inch taller than Katrina. I liked Faith right away, even when it was obvious that she played for the other team. She didn’t announce her preference, but as soon as we touched hands I knew. When Katrina and I had a minute alone I asked her if Faith was her friend with benefits despite ‘don’t ask, don’t tell.’

“Nope,” she chuckled, “even a hint of that would ruin our nascent careers. Don’t ask, don’t tell is just lip service. Faith is the best athlete in the Academy and in the top ten percent academically, yet they would bounce her out on her ass if they found out she was gay.”

I didn’t see much of either of them as Katrina dragged Faith around to meet her friends and hung out with my grandparents, while I was busy spreading Christmas cheer among mine. My grandparents treated Faith as if she were another granddaughter and Faith ate it up. I guessed her family wasn’t all that close or affectionate.

So I made my usual rounds on the twenty-fourth and what a difference a year made. It amazed me how much everyone had changed. JJ Hernandez was a senior in high school now and a big man on campus. Everyone expected him to get drafted to play professional baseball. He was the pride of the family. JJ’s sister Karla was breaking hearts as a Junior at Palmdale High. His older sister Caroline completed her Registered Nursing Degree at Palmdale Community College and was working at the VA Clinic over by the stadium. Amazingly, Caroline joined the Florida National Guard and was a Second Lieutenant Nurse in the 256th Medical Company. She joined the National Guard because they were paying her way through the Bachelor of Science in Nursing program at the University of Central Florida. Smart girl, eh?

Speaking of Caroline, she was with Amanda Pullman at her house in the Palmdale Landing gated community. I still had my resident sticker on my truck, so I breezed through the gate that Alan Jerdin used to man. I couldn’t visit Alan and his fiancée Shelia Cavanaugh, because they were spending Christmas with his family in Jacksonville. So anyway, newlyweds Jane and Ralph Dabney also were home, so I got to see everyone at once. It was a nice visit because everyone was doing so well. Amanda was a second-year student at UCF with a declared major of Chemical Engineering. Jane and Ralph were happily married, and lucky old Ralphie wore a perpetual smile, thanks to Jane.

Emma and Kayla Thorpe were next on my list. Emma was a first grader now and she no longer lisped. She was a bubbly little cutie. I always bought a nice present for Emma as did my parents and grandparents. It was my pleasant duty to deliver the loot to my little sweety. I sat on the couch and talked with Emma while her mother went to Walgreen’s for some stocking stuffers. Emma talked the entire time her mother was gone. She covered everything from life in the first grade to her plans for our future wedding. Emma had decided that when she was sixteen she would marry me and we would adopt Jethro.

I paid a visit to Nina Murphy and her daughter Isabella, who everyone called Bella. Bella was a twenty-month-old toddler now. She had been walking for almost a year and she talked a blue streak. She was very bright, and I figured she would be one of Becky Jordan’s MENSA chums for sure. She was inquisitive, and prone to getting into to everything. Nina had to hire a nanny to help her and her housekeeper, Missus Napier, corral the little terror. Well, maybe not terror, but seriously overactive. Bella had dark red, slightly curly hair and sparkling blue eyes. It was going to be impossible to deny her Irish heritage. But she was also tall for her age so maybe a few Pulaski genes slipped in there. Bella would be a heartbreaker if she resembled Katrina with red hair.

I was stopped at a red light on my way home when my cell phone rang.

“Hey, I’m driving can I call you right back?” I asked.

“Sure, Johnny. It’s Marcella … Mikayla Turner,” she said, and she hung up.

I pulled into an Exxon station with a Dunkin Donut attached and parked. Then I redialed the last number that called me.

“Thanks for calling me back,” Mikayla said.

“You’re welcome,” I replied, then followed up with, “What can I do for you?”

“Can you meet me for dinner, my treat?” she asked.

“Sure … When? … Where?”

I left out the why.

“Seven and you pick the place,” she replied.

It was five when she called so I drove home. I called Elaine and postponed meeting up that night. She had no idea why her cousin wanted to see me.

“I don’t know what she wants, Baby; but be yourself, and give her what she needs. Okay?” she asked sweetly.

When she called me Baby and used that voice, I would walk in front of a truck for her, and she knew it.

“Of course, Honey,” I replied like any good hen-pecked husband.

I showered, shaved, and put on Levi’s with a Ranger Regiment hoodie. At six-forty-five I drove over to Beachcomber’s Seafood Shack.

When I pulled up Mikayla/Marcella was standing by a silver Jag. I chuckled when I saw she was dressed almost the same as me: snug jeans, a sweatshirt, and a Yankees baseball cap. She was also wearing glasses. She looked like a cute, casually dressed, slender but stacked, teenage girl.

“Hi, Johnny,” she said shyly as I walked up.

“Hey, yourself,” I replied. “What am I calling you, today?”

She actually giggled, “I prefer Mikayla when I’m not working.”

“Okay, Mikayla it is. I like it and I like your outfit.”

She giggled again. I loved it when she did that.

“Camouflage. You never know when some paparazzi might jump out of the bushes.”

I gestured toward the restaurant, took her hand, and sent her a gentle feeling of calm and safety.

“Shall we?” I asked. (Smooth, eh?)

She nodded and we walked into Beachcomber’s hand and hand. It was midweek and right before Christmas, so the restaurant was not packed. I snagged us a seat at the long bar overlooking the ocean. Once we were seated, a waitress dropped off a menu and took our drink order. When we were alone again, I asked the obvious question.

“It’s nice to see you again, Mikayla, but I’m curious as to why we are here,” I said.

She gave a little shrug.

“I was in town for the holidays and Mom said you were, too. I remember how good I felt when we had dinner together. I wanted to see if it was a fluke.”

I took her hand again and sent her good feelings … and I couldn’t help it, I threw in a little tad bit of horny super model. She looked at me and squeezed my hand. Her deep blue eyes looked huge on her elfin face. She looked even sexier than my former neighbor, Rachael Scofield (remember her?).

“I like it when you do that, Johnny. For some reason no one else can connect with me like that. I thought I was too broken even to enjoy something all my female cousins take for granted,” she said softly.

I nodded, smiled, sent her some more trust, and let her hand go.

“Cool,” I said, “I’m hungry let’s order. Would you like a cocktail? I’m not old enough but I don’t mind if you have one.”

She shook her head and looked me in the eye.

“I am a drug addict, Johnny, and it’s a struggle trying to stay straight … so, no thank you.”

I nodded my understanding. We ordered Beachcomber’s special half pound bacon cheeseburgers with curly fries, and got to know each other as if we were two regular people, which on reflection I guess we were. Mikayla was reticent but as I kept beaming her peacefulness, she loosened up a little as she demolished her burger.

“I was a willful young woman as a teen, Johnny, and I did some things that hurt a lot of people, myself included. I’ve been trying to live that down for ten years. Last time you saw me was the first time I’d been home since I was sixteen,” she said.

After dinner we took a leisurely stroll on the beach holding hands. We were down by the water on sand damp from the outgoing tide. The sky was partly overcast with a half-moon ducking in and out of the skittering clouds. I was starting to like this version of Mikayla Turner Delong. Yeah, I remembered the hockey player she married; it was some Canadian guy named Luc Delong. According to some ex-hockey player talking head on ESPN his teammates supposedly called him Delong Dong. As I recall the marriage only lasted a couple of years. They kept their divorce on the down-low.

“I really enjoyed that burger, but it’ll take three extra hours on the Stair Master to work it off,” she said.

The idea of sweaty Mikayla in a spandex bicycle shorts and a sports bra made me groan. She gave me an inquisitive look, so I told her exactly what I was thinking. She hit me on the shoulder.

“Pervert,” she said with that little giggle.

She was effortlessly seductive, just like her cousins. She had me hooked as if I were a trophy fish. Yeah, I was one of those Big Mouth Billy Bass Plaques singing ‘Take Me to the River.’ She suddenly stopped walking and turned towards me until we were face to face.

“My mother said you did something to her she thought only my dad could do. I want you to do that to me, Johnny. Make me feel something besides bitter remorse,” she said.

She seemed so forlorn I couldn’t say no even if I wanted too. I took her in my arms and pulled her against me. She looked up at me expectantly, her eyes limpid pools of smokey Sapphire blue. I leaned down and kissed her. She flinched when our lips met but I sent her some soothing calm and she settled down. She returned the kiss, and I sent her the same sexual jolt I had inadvertently sent her mother. Mikayla quietly moaned and her tongue slithered between my lips and into my mouth. She kissed me about as well as I’d ever been kissed. When we came up for air, I had both hands on her slender hips, her arms were around my neck, and she was grinding against me.

Mikayla’s eyes seemed even bigger in the wan moonlight. She gave me twenty unblinking seconds to recover before she kissed me again. This time her hands slid down and ended up in my back pockets so she could pull me against her. I returned the favor and put both my hands on her slender ass. This time she broke the kiss and backed away from me.

“Jesus, Johnny, what did you do to me? I am ready to fuck you right here on the beach in front of God and everyone!” she exclaimed.

I shrugged.

“I think you just rediscovered your ability to connect with someone. Maybe you felt it so strong because it was a new experience,” I said.

“Whatever,” she growled, “just give me some more, Johnny I haven’t felt this way since I was sixteen.”

“Whoa there, Champ,” I said with a chuckle. “Let’s find a less public place.”

We ended up in my truck because it was parked nose against the restaurant’s back wall and had that ‘limousine tint’ on the windows. My center console/armrest flipped up so nothing was between us except denim and fleece. We made out like horny high schoolers for twenty minutes. Mikayla’s sweatshirt was laying on the floor and her jeans were unbuttoned and unzipped.

“Tell me you have a rubber,” she whined.

Uh-oh.

“I don’t. You’re a super model, shouldn’t you be on birth control?” I complained.

“Until tonight, I haven’t needed it! I haven’t been with a man since I divorced Luc,” she said frustratedly.

So in the end, I got her off using my fingers. Doing more with her in jeans, and a general lack of the space we needed, was beyond my ability. I passed on her offer to return the favor, but I did promise to see her again. Mikayla was a squirter and my hand was soaked. Not to mention I would need a large bottle of Febreze to eliminate the hot woman smell permeating my truck. As if that wasn’t enough, when I walked her to her Jag, she was wearing my Ranger Regiment hoodie. After a decidedly R rated kiss she jumped in her car; and, with a wave and toodle-oo, off she went. Some night, eh?

I drove two blocks to the Seven-Eleven and purchased a can of air freshener. It was only nine in the evening when I bundled Mikayla off so I called Elaine.

We shared mushy hellos and Elaine asked how my date went. I told her everything that happened, trepidatious that she would think I let things go too far. That wasn’t her reaction.

“Mikayla called me already, and she was over the moon. You are such a good guy, Johnny, and I love you so much. Come over here and I’ll take care of your problem,” she told me.

She didn’t have to ask me twice because I had a serious case of azul gonads. Elaine opened the door for me, and we breezed up the stairs. This night Ellen stayed down stairs with her parents, so it was just us two. Elaine sent me home at ten-thirty wearing a big smile and a lingering whiff of her Shalimar.

In an accidental feat of time management, I made it home just in time to change clothes and attend Midnight Mass with the family. I had forgot all about the service and, to my Nana, missing it would have been tantamount to stealing a car. We arrived fifteen minutes before Mass and it was still crowded. Katrina found enough room for three near the back and on the outside aisle. She sandwiched me in between her and Faith. My parents and grandparents ended up a few rows in front of us. My butt had barely hit the pew when my sister leaned her head towards me and sniffed.

“You smell like sex bro, you should have showered,” she whispered.

Faith overheard and leaned in for her own sniff. I don’t know what could have been more embarrassing than having a relative stranger wrinkling her nose at the way I smelled.

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I denied.

Undeterred by my denial, Katrina press on, “Who was it?”

“A gentleman never tells,” I answered haughtily.

“Then it’s a good thing you aren’t a gentleman. Ellen told me you had a date but wouldn’t tell me who with. So spill,” Katrina whispered snarkily.

By now Faith was leaning in too.

“Okay but keep this to yourselves. I took out a girl named Mikayla Delong, she is Ellen and Elaine’s cousin. I took her to Beachcombers for dinner, and that’s all. Afterwards, I visited Elaine.”

Faith inhaled in surprise and whispered, “I know that name, she’s a model who uses the professional name ‘Marcella.’ I’ve had the hots for her since I saw her in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue.”

My sister clucked her tongue, “Johnny Pulaski, you are some piece of work!”

All the Pulaski’s plus Katrina’s friend, Faith, spent Christmas at our house. As we opened presents and ooh’d and aah’d at our loot, I couldn’t help but wonder how many more Yuletides we’d spend together. I shook off the melancholy and decided to focus on the day and not the future. I helped clean up the mess we made and then went upstairs to change my Christmas pajamas into something nice to wear to the Cavanaugh’s. I had just made it to the top of the stairs when Faith exited the bathroom, an almost too short towel wrapped around her long lean torso. Her arms were up drying her dark brown hair and I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw her like that.

My laugh startled her, she jumped backwards, and then looked at me as if I just farted.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, annoyed.

“Sorry, it’s not you,” I apologized, “Katrina did that to me for six years and for all those years I prayed the towel would drop. Now another beautiful Amazon is doing the same thing.”

Her expression softened and she chuckled.

“You mean like this?” she asked, and she pulled open the towel and flashed me.

If she thought I’d turn all embarrassed, she had another think coming, because I gawked at her like a country boy on his first trip to the big city. She was tall, slender, and long-legged with well-defined muscles. She has perfectly symmetrical small breasts, six pack abs and a hairless little slit. Her devilish grin told me she was teasing me, so I thought ‘what the hell,’ and twirled my fingers in a circle.

“Very nice, now the back,” I said nonchalantly.

She laughed, spun around, and scampered into Katrina’s room dragging the towel behind her. Her hard little white butt reminded me of the Coppertone Girl. If I had a body like hers, I’d flaunt it too.

I stood there in shock. For once, Johnny Pulaski was speechless. After I picked my jaw off the floor, I headed to my room, Kong’s hard head was tenting my PJs.

I had gifts for all the Cavanaughs when I made it to their house around five. They were small things, but it was the thought that counts, Right? I gave Mister C a coin that Special Forces guys carried and Missus C a silver charm in the shape of the Special Forces Memorial Statue (also known as Bronze Bruce) at Fort Bragg. The twins got Ranger gear of course, t-shirts, crop tops and even camouflage undies, all in black and yellow or woodland camo. All with a Ranger Tab. Yep, I was the gift guru. Of course, they gave me nicer and more thoughtful gifts, my favorite was a leather bomber jacket I could use for the rest of the winter up in frigid North Carolina.

I got home just in time to join my family for dinner at Papa and Nana’s. As always, Nana had prepared a feast. I ate like a starving refugee, but Faith and Katrina demolished food like a couple of hungry lumberjacks. My parents were amazed but Nana beamed and kept passing us more food.

Dad, Faith, My sister, and I played Monopoly sitting on the floor around the coffee table when we arrived home from Papa and Nana’s. My sister and Faith were ruthless adversaries, they teamed up to eliminate Dad and then turned their attention to me. The dice gods were smiling on me, though, so I managed to survive and even put a dent in their nefarious plan. I rolled a six and landed neatly between two properties they owned for the fourth time in a row.

“He’s cheating,” Faith said menacingly.

I think so, too,” Katrina replied.

They were both looking at me as if I kicked their dog.

I threw up my hands in mock surrender, maintaining my longanimity in the face of their unjust accusations.

“How could I cheat, you are rolling the same dice as me,” I complained.

“Are we? Maybe you are switching them for a loaded pair,” Katrina accused.

I looked at her, dumbfounded at her specious argument. Another denial was on my lips when she jumped up off the floor.

“Get him,” she yelled, and she dived on me.

Faith followed her a second later. They knocked me over on my side and before I could escape, Faith was sitting on my chest and Katrina had me in an arm bar. I looked up and dad was peeking at us through the kitchen doorway, a Michelob Light in his hand.

“Help me, Dad,” I pleaded.

He laughed and ducked back into the kitchen.

“You are on your own, Kiddo! I have things to do in the garage.”

Some help he was.

“Strip him,” Katrina ordered, “I think he has loaded dice on him somewhere.”

Faith whooped and started unfastening my belt.

“Whoa…whoa!” I hollered.

“Fair play, Johnny, you saw mine now show me yours,” Faith said.

I sighed and resigned myself to my fate - until I was down to my boxers - then I started to worry.

“Okay, that’s enough you two. Let me up,” I said, and I tried to sound stern.

Katrina laughed and put a little more pressure on my arm.

“If we let you go, you strip for Faith like she did for you, understand?” my sister said softly next to my ear.

I groaned my agreement and they let me go. I stood up, gathered my clothes and with all the dignity I could muster, I marched up the stairs. My sister and Faith were right behind me giggling like a couple of junior high school girls. I decided since they were forcing me into this, that I would ham it up. I was going ‘Full Monty’ on them.

“I’ll be right out,” I said as I ducked into the bathroom.

I shucked my boxers and gave Kong a couple of tugs to grow him some. Then I wrapped a towel around my waist, threw open the door, and strutted out. I stopped in front of the two gawking women and swiveled my hips à la Elvis.

“Thank you … ah, thank you very much,” I sneered, and I sounded just like the King.

They were giggling until I dropped the towel and jumped towards Faith. Then both women squealed and took off running.

I took Katrina and Faith to the airport on the morning of the twenty-eighth. I told them I was not happy about them leaving but I was very happy to have met Faith. Both women hugged me, and Faith surprised the heck out of by planting a big kiss on my lips.

“If I ever switch teams, I’m looking you up!” she whispered in my ear.

{SEC}

Chapter 3

I drove home with a big old smile thinking about what Faith had said. As I was parking my truck in the driveway my phone rang. The caller ID read ‘Mikayla’, so I answered the call.

“Hi, Johnny, are you busy?” she asked.

“Never too busy for you,” I replied.

“Surrre,” she said, and she made it sound that it was the opposite of what she thought, “I’ll bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Only the beautiful redheads,” I replied gallantly.

She laughed at my attempt to be charming.

“Goofball … So listen, are you busy tonight?” she asked.

“Nope, not a bit,” I answered.

“Then could you meet me at Chili’s at six?”

“I’ll be there. What shirt should I wear to complete your wardrobe?”

“You are a laugh riot, Pulaski, but, now that you mention it, a lumberjack plaid would be nice, red and black if you have one.”

Quick wit, eh?

Instead of going into the house I drove over to Penney’s and picked up a red and black plaid flannel shirt in size extra-large-long. When I hit Chili’s I was wearing that new shirt over a long sleeved Life is Good t-shirt. Also, my backpack full of contraceptive materials was behind the seat of my truck. I was standing outside the door when Mikayla walked up carrying a shopping bag. She was disguised again, Jeans, well-worn sweatshirt, and this time a blond wig and black framed nerd glasses. She looked as if she were an off-duty librarian. She grinned when she saw me in the plaid shirt.

“You are such a Goober,” she said, “you know I was joking about the shirt.”

“I thought so, but I couldn’t take the chance of disappointing you,” smooth Johnny replied.

She didn’t say anything, but her smile spoke volumes. She took my arm, and we walked inside. She held my arm tightly as if I might run away. We sat in the bar area on tall stools at a high-top table. We sat next to each other holding hands and we might as well have been the only people in the place.

We left Chili’s at seven-fifteen, and I didn’t have a clue of what she wanted to do next. So I pitched an idea.

“It’s early, would you like to go to the movies? Superman 2 is playing; or, if you like, some rom com titled The Lake House,” I said.

She shrugged and reached into her purse. When she pulled out her hand, instead of car keys she held up a key card.

“We could do that, or you could follow me to the Pelican,” she replied, swinging the card back and forth in front of my face as if she were a side show hypnotist.

Her idea beat the hell out mine, so I jumped in my truck and pulled out of the parking lot right behind her. Fifteen minutes later we pulled up to the Pelican, the nicest apartment building on the beach. The Pelican was seven stories of luxury apartments. Some of the units had full time occupant but most were investments that the owners rented out through a management company. All the apartments had balconies overlooking the ocean. I hopped out of my truck, grabbed my backpack, and met her where she was waiting at the main entry. She had the shopping bag in one hand, and the key card in the other. Gone were the blond wig and glasses. Mikayla used the key card to get us in the foyer and led me to the elevator. Once in the elevator and headed up to the sixth floor she nodded toward my backpack.

“What’s in there, Johnny?” she asked.

“Tooth brush and three forms of contraceptives. What about you?” I replied.

She laughed and held up the shopping bag.

“Two forms of birth control and a present for you.”

“Thinking of us using birth control is present enough for me,” I said, and I meant every word.

She laughed again just as the elevator came to a gentle stop and grabbed my hand. This time it was her sending me a jolt of lust. We tumbled out of the elevator and quick timed it to the door of unit sixty-six. Mikayla swiped open the door with the key card and we fell through it, already in a clinch. We threw our bags into the room, and I kicked the door shut. She jumped up and wrapped her legs around my waist our lips already fused together. I was headed towards where I thought the bedroom might be when she stopped kissing me.

“Condoms,” she reminded me.

I reversed course and walked back to the door where we threw the bags with Mikayla still wrapped around me. I squatted just enough to grab both bags and turned us around.

“Which way?” I asked.

“Second door on the right,” she answered.

I turned us sideways and sidled through the door. Mikayla reluctantly unpeeled herself from around me and dropped to her feet. As soon as she hit the floor, it was a race as to who could get naked first. Mikayla only beat me because after toeing off her sneakers she only had to shuck a sweatshirt, jeans and minuscule t-back undies. But soon enough I was naked too and together we tumbled onto the bed facing each other. Our lips were once again connected, I just couldn’t seem to get enough of her kisses. Finally, she broke the kiss and leaned back until she could look me in the eye.

“My cousin Elaine told me if I let myself go you would catch me. I don’t know if I can let go of my fears; but if you get a condom on, I'm willing to try,” she said.

She sounded so vulnerable I couldn’t help but agree. I nodded and jumped off the bed. I hurriedly opened my backpack and fumbled out a strip of three pre-lubed Trojans. There was absolutely no question about Kong being hard enough to don the rubber because I could have driven in railroad spike with him. I rolled on the rubber and turned toward the bed. Mikayla was laying on her side facing me, that lingerie model body on full display. Mikayla had surprisingly large breast for her slender build, and I wonder if they had been surgically enhanced. She wasn’t completely shaved like most of the women I know, instead she had an inch wide landing strip above her goodies. Oh yeah, and the carpet matched the drapes. Her waist was narrow, and her hips flared out just the right amount.

“You are so beautiful,” I said reverently.

I knew she’d probably heard that all her life, but I still had to say it.

She didn’t say anything she just held up her open arms. I took it as a clear invitation and jumped up on the bed with a growl. She squeaked in surprise when I did that, so I decided to try a little caveman to see how she liked it. I figured I had a good chance of being right because being married to a hockey player, she had to like macho men. I took both her hands in my big Polish paw and pinned them above her head as I rolled on top of her. She gasped as I settled above her and moaned when I claimed her lips. Our connection flared brightly so I knew I was on the right track. I slid down her body and went to work with my lips and tongue.

“I don’t need that, Johnny, I’m ready for you right now,” she whined.

“I’ll decide what you need,” I said sternly.

Then I pulled her hands down and shoved them under her tight little ass.

“Don’t move them,” I ordered.

She whimpered and vigorously nodded her head, her eyes huge as I dove between her spread thighs,

It only took three or four minutes before Mikayla groaned my name and soaked me. She came so hard her vagina made a farting noise and she sprayed my face and chest. It was a big, pleasant surprise for me, my first squirter. I wiped my face with my forearm and loomed up over her. She looked chagrined and tried to apologize.

“I’m so sor…,” and that was all I let her say.

“Put me in and clean my face,” I commanded.

I was getting into this being in charge stuff, first Cindi and now Mikayla. They had released the Kraken!

I was a young healthy soldier with lots of stamina and she was a sex machine! We were a match made in porn heaven. She’d orgasm a few times, then I would let loose a load. We’d strip off the dead Trojan and she would revive Kong with her talented oral skills. Once hard, she’d sheath him up and we’d go at it like sexually enhanced lab rats. I’ll tell you what, Mikayla being celibate with men for three years was a crime against the male population. After we polished off the strip of condoms, we fell on the bed side-by-side. Both of us were covered in sweat, Mikayla had hickeys on both breasts, and I had some scratches on my back.

“Wow, Johnny, that is the best sex I’ve ever had while being sober!” she exclaimed.

I nodded my agreement as I tried to catch my breath. We showered together, washing each other’s back, and playing grab ass. After we dried off, Mikayla asked me to stay over. It was only ten, so I called home and told Mom I was spending the night with a friend. Since it was fairly early, we sat out on the balcony. I was in my boxers, and she was wearing her new red and black plaid shirt. I had perched myself on a wooden Adirondack chair and Mikayla crawled into my lap holding the mysterious shopping bag. We were bundled up with the comforter off the bed because a stiff breeze was blowing off the ocean and the temperature was in the fifties. The susurrus lapping of the outgoing tide was a peaceful backdrop to our conversation. A quarter moon was the only illumination.

“I’ve been carrying this around all evening. I was going to give it to you at Chili’s, but it was too noisy. Then when we got here, I got ‘distracted.’ So anyway, I got this for you to replace the shirt you are never getting back,” she explained.

She handed me the bag and I pulled out a dark green cable knit sweater that must have cost a bundle. Then again, a fortune to me was probably chump change to her.

“This is very cool! I love it!” I said, and I gave her a smooch.

She beamed me a big smile and said, “Seeing you happy makes me happy, Johnny. Try it on, let’s see how it looks.”

I shucked the comforter off my shoulders and pulled the crew necked sweater over my head. The wool was coarse, and I knew I would need to wear a t-shirt under it. It felt warm and cozy though. I preened for Mikayla, trying to look good in her thoughtful present. She ran her hand over my chest feeling the design that ran down the front of the sweater.

“It looks good on you, and I love this color. I think you will too when you see it in the daylight,” she said.

We sat out on the balcony for a half hour chatting about whatever inconsequential thing that popped up. I was doing everything I could to make Mikayla smile and laugh because those were things I intuited she didn’t do a lot. It was near eleven when we went back inside.

I dropped onto the couch in the open plan living room and Mikayla breezed into the kitchen.

“Hungry?” she asked.

“I could eat, now that you mention it,” I replied.

She turned on the oven and rattled around a cookie sheet.

“Watch closely because I am about to show you the totality of my culinary skills,” she said pontifically.

Then she whipped open the fridge and pulled out a Pizza Hut box. She took the pizza out of the box, put it on the cookie sheet and slipped it into the oven. She stood up with a flourish and gestured to the oven with one hand above her head and one down by the oven door.

“And Viola,” she said, as if she were Julia Child.

She looked impossibly cute standing there with the way too big plaid shirt draped on her. I was liking this woman more and more every minute. The pizza came out of the oven a few minutes later and we sat at the breakfast bar to eat it. I was mildly surprised that half the pizza was a meat-lovers with jalapeno peppers. I looked at Mikayla inquisitively.

“Elaine told me what you like,” she said in explanation.

“You and Elaine share a lot of information,” I said.

“Yeah, she is the go-to source for all things Johnny Pulaski. She is seriously crazy about you, you know?”

I smiled and nodded.

“The feeling is mutual and the more time we spend together the more I like you, too. I should have warned you in advance that I don’t jump into bed with anyone I don’t have feelings for.”

She turned serious suddenly.

“I like you a lot too, Johnny; but I have to tell you, I am damaged goods. I’m a drug addict and I’ve been in rehab twice. When I was sixteen, I overdosed on pills, booze and cocaine and almost died. So you see, I’m no catch.”

“That is all in the past, Mikayla. I’m a ‘live in the present’ type of guy. The Mikayla I know is sweet, smart, and funny. You are the one getting the short end of the stick because I’m just a poor GI who can’t decide what I want to be if I ever grow up,” I said.

We tucked into the pizza, my carnivore with hot peppers and her travesty with spinach and no meat. Then it was back to bed for round four. We fell asleep around one in the morning and she woke me up at four.

She rolled me on my back and went down on me until I was erect, then she installed one of the fancy condoms she’d brought and climbed aboard. Like I said, she was a sex machine.

I was up at my usual 0600. I woke up the same time every morning no matter how late I stayed up. I was drinking a cup of coffee from her fancy Keurig machine and watching ESPN, when Mikayla walked out of the bedroom. Her hair was a tousled mess, and she was wearing my Life is Good t-shirt. The shirt hung down to mid-thigh on her lanky body and her unfettered breasts wobbled underneath it. She was too cute for words.

“Good morning,” I said cheerfully.

She ignored me and stumbled toward the kitchen.

“Coffee,” she mumbled.

I chuckled, “You are so beautiful and pleasant first thing in the morning.”

She gave me the finger and pulled a mug out of the cabinet. Once her coffee brewed, she doctored it up, plopped down on the couch, and snuggled up next to me.

“Stop being cheerful, Pulaski. Morning people irritate me,” she groused.

I laughed and put my arm around her. We sat in comfortable silence as we sipped our coffee. Then Mikayla sighed and pushed tighter against me.

“I’m going to miss you,” she said out of the blue.

“You’re leaving?” I asked.

“I am flying out tonight. I have a New Years Eve party in Paris my agent obligated me to attend. It’s with a big fashion house, so I can’t duck it,” she explained.

“I understand,” I deadpanned, “happens to me all the time. What time do we have to be checked out of here? Do we have time for some breakfast and more hanky-panky?”

She laughed and said, “You’re in luck, Pulaski; because we have all day, and I own this place.”

Why didn’t that surprise me? She scrounged me up a shirt that once belonged to her hockey playing ex that fit me well, and probably cost what I made in a month. I was making out like a bandit on the clothing exchange deal. A beautifully tailored dress shirt and expensive Irish knit sweater cost me about twenty dollars’ worth of JC Penney’s finest.

We went to a diner a few blocks away and I scarfed down a ‘he-man’ breakfast, while she nibbled on a fruit cup. Then it was back to the apartment for the promised hanky-panky. We called it quits at four so she could get ready for her trip. I was bummed she had to go but I was pleased when she said she’d stay in touch.

“I’m not through with you, Johnny, not by a long shot!” she averred.

I spent the night at home recovering from my adventures with Mikayla and watching the Alamo Bowl with my dad. The game was only a few minutes old, but things were already looking bad for Texas Tech as Minnesota quickly scored twice. I was in the kitchen fetching us drinks when my cell phone rang. My caller ID said, ‘Private Number’.

“Hello,” I answered cautiously.

“Hello, Johnny. It’s Melissa Turner, remember me?”

“I could never forget you or your voice, Missus T. What can I do for you?” I replied.

“You’ve already done it, Johnny, by being so good to my daughter. She was glowing when I took her to the airport, and she said you were the reason why.”

“It was my pleasure, Missus T. Every minute I spent with her was wonderful.”

“Thank you, Johnny. If you ever need anything call me, okay?”

I said sure, and we exchanged goodbyes. Then I took Dad and my drinks and a bag of Cheetos into the family room to watch the rest of the game. Texas Tech was getting whipped 38-7 half way through the third quarter. Then they made the comeback of the century and ended up winning 44-41 in overtime.

Elaine, Ellen, Connie and I spent New Year’s Eve at Nina Murphy’s annual party with about fifty other people, mostly Nina’s relatives of some sort. This year there was no drama, and we had a nice time. Especially when Shelia Cavanaugh showed up with Alan Jerdin. Al and Shelia lived in Gainesville now while Shelia was attending the University of Florida. Shelia was a business major aiming at an MBA. Owning the motel with Al had her primed to start a business empire.

I went back to Bragg on January second. This trip I took my truck. I figured I’d need it in a few months to move back to Fort Benning. Classes started back up on the third for our last two modules. I was in my barracks room studying the Endocrine System, the collection of glands that produce and secrete hormones (Know how to make a hormone? Don’t pay her! Yuk-yuk!). I was going cross eyed trying to learn the names of the glands and their functions when my phone rang. It was exactly 1900 hours, so I didn’t even need to check the caller ID.

“Hello, Becky,” I said.

“Hi, Johnny, how were your holidays?” she asked.

“They were exceptional,” I replied, “how ’bout yours?”

“It was okay, I guess. I didn’t go home this year, but Regina and I put up a tree.”

Then she segued the conversation.

“So listen. I missed you, Johnny. When can I see you?”

I thought Becky’s propensity for blunt truthfulness was part of her charm, but I’ll bet her superior officers didn’t share that opinion.

“I want to see you too, Becky, but we started out a new module today and I’m up to my ears in glands and hormones (I skipped the hormone joke - funny as it was). I should be free after class Friday until noonish Sunday, so you choose.”

“Excellent! I’ll pick you up Friday at six, bring your shaving kit and a change of clothes.” She said.

“I drove my truck up so I can just meet you somewhere,” I offered.

“I’ll pick you up Friday at six,” she repeated.

Class was dismissed at 1630 on Friday afternoon so I had plenty of time to get all spiffed up. I packed my trusty LL Bean backpack with the items Becky specified and six pre-lubed Trojans, just in case. I wore jeans, hiking boots and my new cable knit sweater (With a t-shirt under it, the sweater was toasty warm and not a bit itchy). I walked out of the barracks at 1755 and Becky pulled up at exactly 1800. I idly wondered how she managed to time things to the minute like she did.

I tossed my backpack into the back, slid into the passenger seat and turned to tell her hello. The words were on the tip of my tongue but never escaped because suddenly her tongue was wrapped around mine. She broke the kiss with a sigh and sat back in her seat. I noticed immediately her braces were gone.

“What do you think?” she asked with a toothy smile as she put her Beamer in gear and drove off.

“I think as soon as we park, I want more of that,” I answered.

She smiled and replied, “You’ll get that and more as soon as we get to my place.”

We arrived at her duplex fifteen minutes later and she practically dragged me into the house. She unlocked the door and led the way into the living room. I was shocked as hell when she pushed me back onto the couch and attacked my zipper. This was turning into something past what I expected.

“Whoa … whoa!” I protested.

She gave me a confused look.

“I want to perform oral sex on you now that my braces are off,” she explained.

I was used to her use of literal language by now, but I still had to suppress a smile.

“We will probably get around to that but first come up here and talk to me, okay?”

She didn’t move but looked up at me with a hurt expression.

“You don’t want me now?” she asked.

I reached down and pulled her up beside me.

“Oh, I still want you but you don’t owe me anything. And anyway, at least kiss me first, okay?” I said.

She had the good grace to blush. I pulled her up on my lap and we kissed. I poured love into her, and she melted against me. When we broke the kiss, she leaned back and looked me in the eye.

“I know I don’t owe you anything, Johnny; but I’ve been wanting to do that, since the first time you did it for me. Now that my braces are off, I finally can.”

I nodded my understanding and said, “So now we can do each other.”

She shook her head, “I’m menstruating,” she said.

I suddenly realized how stupid I sounded trying to argue a woman out of giving me a blow job. I grinned sheepishly and started undoing my pants.

“Okay, but you need to be topless when you do it,” I stipulated.

She shucked her blouse and bra as I dropped trou, and she knelt between my legs.

I noticed right away that her stomach was almost flat, and her medium sized breasts looked perky with her ski slope nipples pointing slightly upwards. She took Kong in hand and gave him some gentle caresses. When he started firming up, she licked his head and put her lips around his crown as if he were a Tootsie Pop. It only took me a minute to realize little Miss Jordan had major league skills. I put my hands on her head and she looked up at me adoringly with those big hazel eyes. Then she closed her eyes and slowly sank down on my shaft until her lips touched my pubic hair. Holy Guacamole! It took all my will power not to pop after only two minutes of her expert attention. As it was, I barely lasted four.

“I’m gonna cum,” I warned.

I wanted to give her a chance to pull off in case she didn’t want a mouthful of Johnny Juice. She gave me those big eyes again, pulled back until she was nursing on the head, and redoubled her efforts. Asked and answered, I reckoned. I couldn’t help myself from holding her head a little tighter as I pushed and pulled her mouth on me. My loss of control made her moan and speed up. I moaned myself as I unleashed a torrent of jism. I think she was surprised by the gusher she caused, because she gulped and then gave a little cough. The flood of semen overflowed Becky’s mouth and trickled down onto her breasts.

I was slumped on the couch in a post orgasmic stupor as Becky dashed out of the room carrying her blouse and bra. I was zipped up and breathing normally when she returned. She had slipped back into her blouse and bra and fixed her make up while she was gone. She sat on the couch and snuggled up against me.

“Wow! Thank you very much that was amazing!” I blurted.

“I developed that talent in high school because it got me dates, but you are the first guy I ever did it for, because I really wanted to,” she replied.

“Well, you are extremely talented. Where’s Regina? I’m guessing you wouldn’t have done that if she was around.”

“Regina was just promoted to Major and tonight she is the Staff Duty Officer of her brigade. That’s why I invited you to spend the night.”

We went to the small Chinese restaurant attached to the motel for supper. We ate there every few weeks, so we were regulars. Tonight, we lucked out and scored one the four booths that sat along one wall. We were sitting side by side and holding hands when Tammy, the zaftig waitress we met on our first date, swayed over to our table.

“Don’t y’all look cozy tonight,” she commented as she sat a glass of ice water in front of each of us.

I was dumb struck when Becky blushed and replied.

“Johnny’s been away for two weeks, and I got my braces off while he was gone, so we’ve been celebrating.

Tammy was speechless for a few seconds, then burst out laughing.

“You go, girl,” Tammy said.

Time passed quickly and suddenly it was the second week of February. We finished a five-week module at the SOCoM course, so I was one more twenty-five day block of instruction from completing the course. I was excited about finally graduating. I loved the education I was getting, but I was ready to go back to the Ranger Regiment and put it to use. We had a two week break before the last module started, so I was dragooned into working at any of the post’s clinics that needed a warm body. It was my luck that the clinic in question which needed a body, was the 82^nd Airborne Division’s clinic. The Division was conducting a round of nighttime airborne operations. So you know which Polish medic ended up on the old drop zone, right?

For three nights in a row some other Spec Four and I took a field ambulance out to the large Sicily Drop Zone and set up next to the DZSO (Drop Zone Safety Officer). The first two nights were easy-peasy as a couple of National Guard C-130s dropped Headquarters and Staff weenies for their quarterly proficiency jump, commonly referred to as a pay jump. If you didn’t jump once a quarter your hazardous duty pay stopped. Pay jumps were also conducted ‘Hollywood’ style, no weapon, and no rucksack. There was a full moon and no wind, a paratroopers dream that seldom happened.

The third night, however, was a disaster. This night there was a ten mile per hour wind and a partly cloudy sky as the First Battalion, 504^th Parachute Infantry Regiment conducted a mass tactical airborne operation. I was eagerly watching as nine C-17s disgorge 700 combat equipped jumpers. I watched them exit the airplanes through a night vision device that was part of the ambulance’s equipment. I had never seen a mass tactical jump before, and it was truly impressive. At least it was until two jumpers from the sixth plane collided about two hundred feet above the ground and became entangled. One parachute immediately deflated and both jumpers hurtled to the ground on one partial canopy. They hit the ground like a bag of shit, rucksacks still strapped between their legs.

The DZSO saw the accident and sprinted towards his Humvee.

“Get out there,” he yelled at us, “and don’t run over anyone.”

Specialist Greene, my partner that night, bounced across the drop zone as fast as he safely could dodging other troopers as I directed him toward where the jumpers lay. Greene screeched the field ambulance to a halt with the headlights on the unmoving men. I jumped out with my aid bag as soon as we stopped moving. Greene grabbed his out of the rear of the ambulance and joined me. I could tell immediately that both men were severely injured by their twisted up unmoving bodies. I checked their vitals, both were alive, although just barely. They were unconscious and their breathing was labored.

When the DZSO roared up Greene was with one man busy cutting away his equipment while I was fitting mine with a cervical collar. The Captain serving as DZSO stuck his head out of the passenger window.

“How are they?” he asked.

“Both critical, Sir, we need a MEDEVAC asap,” I said.

The Captain, whose name I didn’t remember nodded and picked up his radio handset. He called Range Control and declared an emergency. We were working hard at stabilizing our patients when the distinctive whop-whop of rotor blades flew in from our left. Th DZSO identified the men by their dog tags and relayed the information to Battalion Commander and some of his staff who just arrived. Then the DZSO’s radio crackled to life.

“Sicily DZSO this is Dustoff 22 on night vision. Clear me an LZ and guide me in,” said the Pilot, callsign Dustoff 22.

By the time they arrived, we had both troopers on Ringer’s Lactate drips and strapped to rigid backboards, on stretchers. Both were wearing heavy duty cervical collars. We also had them masked to portable oxygen bottles to aid their breathing. The UH-60 Blackhawk with a red cross on the side landed about a hundred feet away from our ambulance and a guy in scrubs jumped out as soon as the door slid open.

The man ran over to us and identified himself.

“I’m Doctor Alvarez, what do we have?”

Greene looked at me, so I turned my back to the sand kicked up by the rotor blades and regurgitated what we’d determined so far.

“Both men are still unconscious from TBI (traumatic brain injury).”

I paused and pointed to the trooper I was treating.

“Both of Private Shay’s pupils are non-responsive and Sergeant Hall’s left pupil is non responsive. They both have numerous broken bones. Shay is the more seriously injured because he cushioned Sergeant Hall when they hit the ground. I suspect he has a rib puncturing his left lung and a possible back injury. We established a Ringer’s Lactate drip and dressed some of their obvious wounds, but we are sure that both sustained internal injuries. They are ready to transport.”

“Okay, good job. Let’s get them loaded and you come with us Ranger,” Doctor Alvarez said.

I made sure the DZSO knew I was going with the patients then I grabbed one end of Shays stretcher. We mounted the stretchers on the forward litter racks with Hall on the bottom rack and Shay on the top. The Crew Chief gave us both headphones with boom mike then he locked the stretchers into the litter rack. As soon as the litters were secured, he notified the pilot, and we lifted off. Doctor Alverez worked on Shay who was the most critically injured, and I took care of Hall.

As we were landing on the roof of Womack Army Medical Center, Private First Class Alvin Shay coded. Doctor Alverez tried to shock his heart back to rhythm with the portable defibrillator to no avail. He was still trying as a couple of medics and a nurse helped me load Hall on a gurney. I turned back to Doctor Alverez and spoke into the boom mike.

“Want me stay, Doctor?” I asked.

He nodded his head.

“He’s expired. Stay with him down to pathology.”

And so my first real patient died.

{SEC}

Chapter 4

Private First Class Alvin Shay, from Ames, Iowa, was officially pronounced deceased at 2250 hours. I escorted PFC Shay’s body to the Pathology Lab where blood was drawn to eliminate drugs or alcohol as a possible cause of the accident. From Pathology I accompanied the remains to the hospital morgue. Ironically, just two weeks ago I toured these same areas with my SOCoM Class. When the morgue attendant took possession of Shay, the medic who brought the gurney out to the helipad cut me loose and I made my way to the ER to check on Sergeant Hall.

I came through the hospital entrance to the Emergency Room, and it was easy enough to find Sergeant Hall because there was a medical convention happening in one of the treatment rooms. I stood in the hallway peeking into the room as the emergency room crew worked frantically to save his life. I stepped aside as a Staff Sergeant medic exited the room carrying a half dozen vacutainers of blood.

“You can’t be here, Specialist,” she said.

“I treated him on the DZ, and came in with him on the MEDEVAC,” I explained gesturing to my blood-stained uniform.

The medic nodded her head and said, “Okay, but stay out of the way.”

It took a couple of hours, but they managed to stabilize Hall. His list of injuries was extensive, and his prognosis was not good. I was out in the lobby to grab a candy bar and a cup of ‘Joe’ when I spotted a knot of soldiers around a crying pregnant woman. Hall’s wife, I guessed. It was a scene that I wasn’t about to intrude on.

I stayed in the ER until Sergeant Lester Hall was transported to the fourth floor Intensive Care Unit. Then I caught a ride back to the barracks from a medic getting off duty at seven the next morning. My night as a drop zone medic was a complete disaster; and, as I was to about to learn, it wasn’t over yet. I walked into barracks just as the First Sergeant was coming in from PT (Physical Training). Top was an old school Special Forces medic with twenty years of service. He stopped me in the entrance way.

“Rough night, huh, Pulaski?” he asked.

I nodded and said, “That’s for sure, First Sergeant.”

“It’s okay to be down when you lose your first casualty, son; and, if you are a good medic, it never gets easier. Now hit the rack but expect to not be in it long, because I’m sure someone will be here shortly to question you,” he said.

The First Sergeant was right, because just after 1300 hours a runner rousted me out of a nice dream full of hot red heads in miniskirts!

“You’re wanted down in the Orderly Room,” he said.

I groggily threw on a clean uniform and splashed a gallon or two of cold water on my face, and then I trotted down to the orderly room. When I went through the Orderly Room’s open door the company clerk pointed towards the conference room. I nodded and knocked on the closed door.

“Enter,” someone called.

I opened the door and saw a Lieutenant Colonel whose name tag read ‘Greer,’ sitting at the conference table next to my Company Commander. I was leery of most officers, but an unsmiling Lieutenant Colonel was intimidating to a rookie Spec Four. Across the table from the LTC sat Major Regina Hayes, and a Staff Sergeant. Both had notebooks in front of them and Regina had a small tape recorder. I snapped to attention and saluted the Colonel.

“Sir, Specialist Pulaski reports,” I barked.

The Colonel returned my salute, put me at ease and told me to have a seat.

“Specialist Pulaski, I have been appointed by the 18^th Airborne Corp Commander to investigate the death of PFC Shay. I have a few questions about the airborne operation you covered last night, but first let me introduce you to my team. This is Major Hayes, she is the JAG officer assigned to the investigation and Staff Sergeant Phillips is from the Inspector General’s office. His job is to take notes and act as a witness to the proceedings,” he said.

Then LTC Greer looked at Regina.

“Major Hayes,” was all he said.

Regina nodded her head and looked down at a form laying on the table. Regina was all business, and she scared the shit out of me by reading me my rights and having me sign a form to acknowledge she had done so.

“Am I in trouble?” I asked.

“Just a formality,” LTC Greer replied.

Turns out he had more than a few questions. He quizzed me for thirty minutes, often circling back to ask the same question from a different perspective. He was particularly interested in the fact that I’d seen the actual collision between the two jumpers through the night vision device. I had to repeat three times the fact that Shay was the one who ran into Hall. He asked me why I thought that.

“Shay hit the ground first with Hall’s feet caught in his suspension lines. I saw a gust of wind hit the lower jumper, he started to oscillate and cut underneath the other jumper. His canopy got tangled with the upper jumper’s feet. Both canopies partially collapsed, and they started falling like a rock. When they hit the ground, Hall landed on Shay and that’s the way we found them,” I explained.

LTC Greer thanked and dismissed me with the caveat that the inquiry team might call on me again.

I went back to my room but couldn’t sleep, so I took a chance and called Elaine. I lucked out and she was out of class for the day. She knew immediately that something was wrong, so I told her about how being unable to save PFC Shay was weighing on me. She commiserated with me over his death, and just talking to her made me feel better.

At exactly 1700 my phone rang. So, you know it was Captain ‘Punctuality’ Jordan, right? She and Elaine should write a book!

“Oh My God, Johnny! Regina told me what happened. Jesus, that’s terrible. Are you okay? Do you want to talk about it?”

Although I was feeling down, I replied that I was fine. I was a member of the Ranger Regiment what was I supposed to say?

“That was a stupid question, of course you are down. Are we still on for tonight? I’ll understand if you need to be alone,” she said.

“No, being with you is exactly what I need. What do you want to do, Babe?”

I heard her take a breath.

“I want us to spend the weekend together. I am protected now, and we can make love with nothing between us. It will be the first time for me without a condom, and the first time with someone I actually care for,” she said.

That was unexpected! This day had been a long time coming and it was just the thing to take my mind off the drop zone debacle.

“I’ll pack my bugout bag. How soon can you get here?” I asked.

“I’m already here, so get your butt in gear,” she replied.

I got my butt in overdrive, and in fewer than five minutes I was sitting in her passenger seat.

“That was quick,” she said.

“I’m a motivated trooper,” I replied.

She laughed, threw the car into Drive, and floored it. We screeched out of the parking lot as if we were escaping from a bank robbery. I noticed right away that there was nothing between her big Hazel eyes and me.

“Where are your glasses?” I asked.

“Contacts,” she replied, “I’m trying them out for thirty days. What do you think?”

“I think you have beautiful eyes, glasses or not,” I said.

We made the trip to her place in record time. When we arrived, the house was empty.

“Regina went down to Charleston to visit her family for the long weekend. It was a last-minute thing, so I didn’t know about it until it was time to get you. I was so excited I forgot to tell you.” Becky explained all in a rush.

We were barely in the door when she grabbed me in a torrid lip lock. I was hot to trot until instead of jumping into bed, Becky headed for the bathroom.

“I’m going to take a shower, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” she said.

Women, right? One minute she’s all over me and the next she disses me for her shower massager.

I was sitting on the couch with my shoes off channel surfing for sports on their big screen when I heard Becky clear her throat. I looked up and there she stood in the doorway wearing a red and white babydoll nightie and a sultry smile. I jumped up, made a caveman grunting noise and stalked towards her. She squeaked and dashed towards her bedroom, me hot on her trail. We were both laughing as she tumbled onto the bed. She watched me with big eyes as I set a new world record for getting naked.

When I was standing next to bed in my birthday suit, Kong waving in front of me, she sat up and reached for the hem of her babydoll top.

I wagged my finger at her.

“Uh-uh,” I said, “that’s mine to do.”

She nodded, hopped off the bed and stood in front of me with her hands up in the air. I Peeled off her top and admired what I’d uncovered. Becky was slimmer now and had some definition to her abs. Her breasts seemed slightly smaller, but they hardly sagged at all, she would easily pass the pencil test. I dropped to my knees and pulled her lacy panties down her toned legs and then sat back on my heels to admire her. Becky had a sparse brown bush that had been trimmed away from her nether lips. It was an extremely attractive look on her.

“Turn around,” I said.

I think this was the moment she’d been waiting for because she pirouetted like a ballet dancer and struck a hipshot pose. Becky did not have a small ass, her hips flared out from her narrow waist, and she had an unblemished ‘bubble butt.’ Her uniform hid that Kim Kardashian ass when she was on duty, and she wore loose trousers and long baggy sweaters when she wore civies. She looked over her shoulder to see my reaction and then she swiveled her hips like a hula dancer. True to her promise when we first started dating, now a quarter would absolutely bounce off her butt. Her glutes looked as if she could crack a walnut between her cheeks.

“You look amazing! How did you get in such good shape in four months?” I asked.

She turned back around and told me.

“I was a dancer and gymnast when I was younger, up until my butt started blossoming. I have always stayed in shape. I just got lazy in the last year. I was concentrating on my job, and I let myself go. Meeting you galvanized me to change that. You made me see there was more to life than my career.”

“Good for you. Only now you are going to have to do that hula thing while I’m in you,” I quipped.

“I’ll do anything you want, Johnny, but I have almost no experience. I’ve only slept with two other guys, once with one guy, and twice with the other. I didn’t particularly care for either experience,” she said, her voice and expression serious.

Her little confession made me determined that I would do my damnedest to make sure that today was good for Becky. We started making out, and after a few minutes I started working those kisses southward. I’d gone down on Becky a few times and I knew what revved her up. I didn’t have any trouble in getting her off the first time tonight. I had no trouble knowing when Becky came either, because she was very vocal.

Her “YES … YES … YES … I’M, COMING … I’M COMING!” sounded as if they came from a bad porn actress.

You know what? She was even louder during intercourse. Becky was a very snug fit, but I took my time and soon bottomed out.

“Oh, Johnny, you fill me up so good,” she groaned.

It took a few minutes and some experimenting before we found the combination that brought her off. I must admit it made me feel like a manly man when she started invoking deities and yelling my name as she came. I gritted my teeth and managed to not flood her as she dragged me down for a kiss.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she said breathlessly.

“Don’t thank me yet,” I warned.

Then I flipped her over and pulled her up on her knees. She looked over her shoulder with those smoky hazel eyes as she pushed herself up until her hands were also under her. She moaned when I slid into her from the rear. I lightly slapped her butt.

“Get this thing moving,” I grunted.

And away we went. She was twerking, and jerking, and doing - I can’t describe what else - with that generous ass. All the while her tight little coochie kept clamping down on me. It was as if I had plugged Kong into the paint shaker down at the Home Depot!

“Oh, Johnny,” she moaned, “This feels so good, and I like how I can move in this position.”

She wasn’t the only one who liked how she could move in that position, because she pulled a load out of me not a minute after we changed positions. I came so hard I had spots before my eyes. The Kong was enjoying it enough that he stayed erect; and, after a little pause, we kept going, and going, and … well, you know. I swear the Energizer Bunny stopped drumming and took off his shades to look at us in awe!

That was a preview of Johnny Goes to War. To read the rest purchase the book.

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