Early Friday Morning...

The phone beside the bed rang. WTF? Why am I getting... Oh, yeah... I vaguely remembered asking for two wake-up calls. Why? Then the phone rang again. It was... Jace? Who? Oh, yeah... My two awake brain cells began working.

"Did you mean it?"

Mean what??? Oh, yeah...

"Come up and find out..."

Ugghh... I seemed to have trouble hitting the floor with my feet. My head kept floating off my shoulders. My stomach rolled over and played dead. I couldn't focus my eyes. I was paying the price for underestimating 100-proof whiskey.

Fumbling with my robe, I struggled to put it on as I stumbled my way to the door. The loose knot I tied in the sash didn't fully close the robe. A goodly amount of me that should have been covered... Wasn't.

I opened the door just as Jace stepped off the elevator. He paused while he digested the sight of me standing half naked as the loosely tied sash lost its battle to hold my robe closed.

The kiss was nice; I mean, really nice. But when I turned to move away from the door, I overbalanced and would have fallen if Jace's arm hadn't wrapped around my waist and pulled me tight to his chest. I stood still, leaning into that hard chest. God, I was being so shitty to him.

"I don't feel good," I whined, resting my head on his shoulder. "Jace, I'm so, so sorry for leading you on. I just can't..."

"That's alright," Jace said with a small laugh as he hugged me and patted my back. "I work in a bar. I've dealt with more than my share of drunk women."

"But first the restroom and now this," I mumbled. "You must hate me."

"The bathroom wasn't your fault, and if getting drunk was a crime, I'd be out of a job," he answered. "Besides, it's hard to hate a beautiful half-naked woman when she's in your arms."

Jace kept his arm around my waist and led me towards the bedroom I pointed at.

"You didn't look this short in the bar," I said, noticing that I was looking down at the top of his head.

"You're still wearing heels."

"I am?" I looked down. "Oh. You're right! So that's why it's so hard to walk!"

"I don't think it's the only reason," Jace smirked and pulled me tighter to his side when I stumbled over nothing.

Jace sat me on the edge of the bed and knelt to take off my heels. I shrugged out of my robe. He was a gentleman; while his eyes may have wandered over my nakedness, his hands only guided me to lie down. Covers were pulled over me. I felt the mattress shift as Jace sat on the edge.

Hands were placed on the sides of my head. Thumbs began to circle gently over my temples. A massage that was exactly what was needed to quiet a pending booze induced headache.

"Stop being so nice when I'm being so shitty to you," I demanded, though it came out more as a whine.

"Maybe I'm just a nice guy," Jace replied. "Everyone needs a little TLC now and then."

I sighed in relief as the bed stopped spinning. I relaxed deeper into the softness of the mattress. I felt a thumb trace the long scar along the side of my temple that was hidden by my hair most of the time.

"Ouch. That must've hurt. Did you fall off your bike?"

"Got shot," I answered drowsily. The thumbs stopped moving. "I got lucky. He didn't."

**********

The Past...

Someone had been plinking away at a U.S. base from long range for three days. He hadn't hit anyone, but he was hitting close enough to put everyone on edge. I'd been sent in to end his shit.

Everyone I talked to agreed that each report of the rifle sounded the same and came from the same direction. I asked people to point to where they believed the sound came from. Placing my scope on their arm, I'd look through it. I saw the same general area time after time.

Damned fool used the same position every time.

I exited the base that night. Before dawn, I'd constructed my hide. I sat for two days, examining every rock in the area people had pointed to. There were no shots. It began to look like he'd moved on when there was a shot.

I was lucky. I was looking through the scope when I saw a puff of disturbed dust. It had been kicked up by gas expelled from the muzzle of a rifle. I increased the magnification of my scope until that singular area filled the sight.

I'd found his hide but had no luck in seeing him. I waited. I began to wonder if he would be a one-pump-chump when I saw the barrel of his rifle appear. I waited for him to show himself, but that fucking bitch Fortuna, the Roman Goddess of Luck, decided to fuck with me.

There was a rock at the side of his hide between him and me. The very top of his head bobbed in and out of sight. I waited, hoping for a better shot. I saw the barrel of his rifle steady. He was going to shoot again, and this time he might hit someone. I couldn't let that happen.

Would the heavy, .55 caliber round go through the rock and hit him? Maybe... Even if it didn't, it would ruin his shot. I fired: the rock split in half. A head appeared behind the swirling dust that was once a single rock. His rifle swiveled towards my position.

His mistake...

He knew I had his position in my sights! Anyone with a working brain would have disappeared into cover, living to fight another day. When you're this stupid, it's just natural selection that removes your genetics from the gene pool.

I watched his rifle swing towards me as he searched through his scope. With slow, precise movements that didn't move my scope from my aiming point, I finished chambering another round. I recognized the exact moment he located me. I fired...

People at the base reported they heard two loud shots that merged into one. When I didn't respond on comms, they organized a search. They found the other shooter. They took the rifle and left the body for the scavengers. They found and dragged me to the base.

Docs at the base stabilized my vitals and flew me out. Next thing I could recall was waking up in Germany, where everyone wanted to understand how the hell I'd survived even a glancing wound to the head by the Russian equivalent of a .50 caliber round. A .50 caliber rifle isn't known for inflicting 'light' wounds.

I had to prove I could still do even the simplest of things. One female doctor with greying hair handed me a glass of water and told me to drink all I could in five seconds so she could gauge my swallow reflex. I looked in her eyes and deadpanned...

"I've had men test if I swallowed, but never a woman."

She laughed so hard she had to sit down.

MRI followed MRI... Spalling inside my skull from the impact of the bullet to the outside of my head? None. Not even one tiny bone shard had sheared off to penetrate my brain.

Conclusion: Sheer... Fucking... Luck... I'd survived a one-in-a-billion wound by the width of a single sheet of paper. I apologized to Fortuna for calling her a fucking bitch.

I was sent to the States, where there was a more precise MRI machine. More tests... It took two months of tests for the Docs to decide what my mom and sister could have told them in two minutes. I'm a hard-headed bitch!

Once declared healthy, I was ordered to Quantico to test whether my shooting skills were still intact. There, a SEAL Commander reunited me with Baby. Special Forces had held on to her while I recovered. Commander McCain then asked if I'd like a nice, long vacation on a secluded island in the Indian Ocean.

**********

Early Friday Morning...

I have no idea how much of my story I related to Jace. The thumbs massaging my temples kept me floating between sleep and consciousness. But when I felt him rising from the bed, I reached out to touch his arm and asked him to stay.

When I'm with a team, I'll power through injuries and hurts because that's just what you do. But when I don't have to be tough? I'm a big baby when I don't feel good. I want to be cuddled and taken care of.

Jace was incredible. He stripped to his shorts and moved under the covers without a wisecracking comment. He raised his arm so I could mold my body to his side, my head on his chest. Throwing an arm and leg over his warm body, I was asleep before he finished arranging the covers over me.

**********

Friday Morning... 0500 Hours...

I woke when Jace moved to answer my morning wakeup call. He turned his head, saw I was awake, and started laughing.

"What?" My sleepy question made him laugh harder.

"Oh, my God! You look like a raccoon."

"What?!" Then I remembered. I hadn't washed off all the eye makeup I'd put on. I didn't even want to think about how I must look now. I pulled the covers over my face. "Don't look! Don't look until I wash my face."

"Hey, at least you're a pretty raccoon."

That didn't make me feel better. I scooted away, holding the sheets around me while looking for my robe until... Fuck it! He'd seen everything already. Jace sat up, his laughter dying as I stood naked beside the bed. Something other than mirth was in his eyes now. I'd seen that look before...

Not caring what animal I looked like, I sat on the bed and kissed him. It was a nice kiss. A hand cupped my breast... A thumb circled my nipple until it was hard and I was humming in my throat... I wanted so much to lie back down and... But I fended his arm away when it tried to pull me onto my back. Then I noticed the bedside clock...

"Shit! I gotta go! Jace, I'm so, so sorry. I don't tease... Okay, I do tease men, but not like this... Rarely like this," I apologized with qualifications as I pulled away and ran for the bathroom. "If I had time, I'd make everything better, but I don't!"

"Hey, it's okay," Jace yelled good-naturedly after me. "You're not the first raccoon to give me blue balls."

"Damn! I told you not to look," I cried as I adjusted the temperature of the shower's water stream.

"Barbara, I dare any man not to look when you're naked," Jace called from the bed.

From the shower, I yelled to ask Jace to order coffee. Strong coffee, and to ask that a car be brought around for me. Soap and water removed my raccoon face. Hot water on my skin and steam in my lungs felt so good; I stayed in the shower longer than I should have.

Naked, still toweling off, I ran past Jace and into my bedroom. His long wolf-whistle followed me. I dressed quickly. Just as I slipped my arms through the straps of my duffel bag, there was a knock on the suite's door. For obvious reasons, staff hustled to deliver to the owner's suite.

Jace handed me a travel mug as I exited the bedroom with several pieces of buttered toast.

"Coffee and toast; best things after a night of drinking."

I ate the toast in the elevator, washing it down with coffee so hot it scalded my tongue. That first jolt of caffeine was just what I needed. In the lobby, I yelled over my shoulder to ask if he was working tonight. When he said he was...

"I promise to stay sober tonight."

**********

Friday Morning... 0555 Hours

"Shit, shit, shit! I'm late," I cried as I ran past Hayes and Aniston, who were already on the road doing stretches. They laughed at me as I ran by.

Looks like the Navy runs on a different clock... What can you expect? They still keep time using bells!

I flew up the stairs and had to wait at the door as the men of the team filed out. First Sergeant Michals was the last in line. He scowled at me. He scowled at his watch. He scowled as he growled a warning.

"Ellis! You have four minutes to get your ass onto that road."

Eugene had been true to his word. Blankets were tied to the top chain links of my cage, hanging down to give me privacy. I stripped off my ACUs, glad I'd had the foresight to wear my PT clothes under them. Grabbing my fatigue cap from my duffel, I ran for the road.

Taking the outside steps two at a time, I saw Michal looking at his watch, his lips already curled into a thin smile in anticipation of reading me the riot act for being late. The other men, even Captain Howard, watched in stunned silence as I skidded to a stop at the end of the first rank.

Michal's eyes snapped up from his watch, "You made it by ten... WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WEARING, ELLIS!"

"Regulation Navy PT clothes, First Sergeant!"

The Rangers were in boots, camo pants, brown T-shirts, and camo fatigue caps. First Sergeant Michal's jaw worked, but he couldn't seem to find words as he marched to stand so close his barrel chest almost touched my boobs.

I remained at Attention, unmoving with my eyes forward, as Michal's eyes started at my boon dockers and slowly moved upwards. To my white, knee-high socks. Over my navy blue athletic shorts, then up my tucked-in yellow t-shirt with the Navy sigil on the left breast. I looked like I was wearing an upside-down Ukrainian flag. But I think it was my cap that struck him dumb.

Michal circled me as if maybe the view from behind would change what I was wearing.

"That... There is no way that... This..."

"First Sergeant! Everything I'm wearing conforms to Navy Regulations, First Sergeant."

I was at Attention and couldn't turn my head, but I could hear muffled guffaws from some of the men in the files to my right. Captain Howard was standing at the front of the unit. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him put a hand over his mouth as his shoulders shook.

"Ellis, you look... You look... Goddamn! I don't know what the fuck you look like." He circled back to the front. His face pushed so close I could smell his breakfast. "AND THERE IS NO FUCKING WAY THAT A PINK! FUCKING! CAP! IS REGULATION WEAR IN ANYONE'S MILITARY!"

"First Sergeant! Navy Regulations state the type and size of approved PT headwear. The cap is to be of a matching Navy or Marine Corps ACU pattern or a solid color. Nowhere do Navy Regulations specify what that solid color must be, First Sergeant." I pushed my luck. "I like pink, First Sergeant."

The laughter was no longer muffled. Captain Howard was almost doubled over, trying not to laugh.

The problem Michal faced and had no solution for was that I was in the Navy, not the Army. Navy Regs governed my apparel right down to the color of socks I could wear with different uniforms while on duty. Michal could probably recite Army Regs for appropriate military wear from memory. But he had no idea what the Navy Regulations were.

Michal stood in front of me. His face red, his jaw working, trying to find words. He wanted to vent his frustration. Oh, how he wanted to! But even though his blood pressure was spiking, he knew when he'd been outmaneuvered. With a visible effort, he turned away and marched to salute Captain Howard, who quickly schooled his face to a neutral expression and returned the salute. The rest of the men quieted.

"Unit is formed, Captain. All men present or accounted for, Sir." With difficulty, Michal corrected himself. "And one... Female!"

"Very well, First Sergeant. Your unit," Howard announced, transferring operational command to his First Sergeant.

Howard went to stand at the front of the unit. He would lead by example. I respected officers who weren't above getting down and dirty.

Michal kept us at an easy march pace for the first hundred yards. Men in front of me kept turning to look and laugh quietly. Men we passed looked and laughed loudly. I ignored everyone.

"Admit it, Ellis," Richter whispered from his place on my right. "There is no way a pink fatigue cap is regulation."

"Maybe yes, maybe no," I whispered back. "But if Michal wants to know, he'll have to find a copy of Navy Regs on an Army base."

"You must like living dangerously, Ellis."

"Not really. But I've learned that I need to stake out my territory with a new team and not back down from anyone. If I back down one time, you jocks will think I'm a pussy you can push around."

Michal began upping our pace. We finished the first mile at a brisk jog. Warm-up over, we finished the last five miles at a leg-stretching run. Our run ended at an obstacle course.

I had a stitch in my side. Damn! I was out of shape. The weeks I'd spent in the jungle... There's nowhere to get a good run when you're dodging thick mud that can suck the boots off your feet.

Crawling, running, jumping, climbing, balancing: the usual torture, though more of it than at a normal Army course. I handled everything. If not as quickly as the men, at least at a pace where I wasn't embarrassing myself.

At the end came The Wall. My arm muscles were already exhausted as I faced a vertical wooden wall. Twenty feet tall with a rounded log at the top. Ropes hung down from the top. You grabbed the rope and let your feet, scrambling for purchase on the wall, help propel your weight up. I tried to shake strength into my arms while waiting for my turn on a rope.

The first fifteen feet were the easiest. Hands on the rope pulled half of my weight up while my wall-walking feet pushed the other half of my weight up the wall.

But the higher I climbed, the more horizontal the rope stretched out from the wall. I planted my feet against the wall and pulled my torso towards the top until my exhausted arms couldn't pull any more. My feet lost traction and slipped. I was left dangling from the rope, my hands still three feet from the top.

I needed to cover that last distance hand-over-hand using only arm and upper-body strength to reach the top. I can do this! I have done this! But not after a strength-sapping month in the jungle that ended only hours before being tossed on a plane to travel for days to my present location.

**********

Diego Garcia... Five Weeks Ago...

"You wanted to see me, Commander?"

"Yes. Come in and have a seat, Ellis. Did you hear? Scuttlebutt is that Chief Stanford discovered a snake in her BEQ room."

"That's..." I coughed into my hand until I could control my shit-eating grin. "Very unusual, Sir. I didn't know that snakes were indigenous to the island."

Commander McCain knew I'd had differences with Chief Stanford.

"They're not. What's even more unusual is that the snake Chief Stanford found is indigenous to India. You just returned from India yesterday, didn't you, Ellis?"

"Yes, Sir. The snake must've stowed away aboard our plane. Just coincidence it made its way to Chief Stanford's room."

"Yes... Coincidence... You know, Ellis. I was reviewing personnel records, only to check that certs are up-to-date..." McCain went on, opening a folder. "Ellis, you have a HALO certification about to expire."

My HALO certification was good for another year.

I knew I wouldn't like what was coming when Commander McCain lifted his eyes from the folder and smiled at me. This wasn't a friendly smile. This was the grin of someone who already knew the punchline of a joke.

"It just so happens that a joint exercise with some Filipino Scouts is about to start. It will involve a HALO jump; you can recertify at the same time. I think it would be a very good idea if you volunteered. You'd be far away from all the drama in your BEQ. You'll have three days in Manila off the island, and away from trouble, I mean, away from the drama in your BEQ, before the training exercise begins. You wouldn't have to worry about another snake slithering around the BEQ... Though I hope the chance of that is very, very low."

"If two snakes somehow slithered onto my plane, I would think the chance that both would find their way to the BEQ is non-existent, Sir."

"Good. Good, now about this training opportunity. It will involve infiltration training against Filipino Scouts. I'm sure it's nothing you can't handle, and a shooter of your skill might come in handy off the island for a month."

"Commander, I'd like to volunteer for this wonderful opportunity. Sounds like a month of training far, far away is just what I need."

"I knew you'd jump at the chance to go to the Philippines."

"Well, Sir. I do like Manila..."

"I'm certain there'll be plenty of time to visit Manila. Oh, and Ellis?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Inspect your plane thoroughly for hitchhiking snakes before you return."

I wasn't sure why McCain kept grinning at me as if I was the punchline of a joke... But I did like the Philippines. Shopping in Manila... How bad could it be?

**********

Mindanao Island, Philippines...

'I should have remembered Uncle Mike's advice. Never volunteer,' I thought bitterly eight days later as I pressed my face into wet, rotting vegetation. My ghillie suit was heavy, saturated with water, and caked with mud.

Our mission was to infiltrate a position patrolled by a company of Filipino Scouts. The team had split into groups this morning, except I was the odd woman out. I was alone. According to my map, there's a roadway two hundred meters ahead that leads straight to the Scouts' camp. I was betting that I could find a spot along that road, the only clear path in this jungle, where I could take one long-range shot to hit and ring the bell. Ring the bell, win the exercise.

I'd thought the Scouts, convinced no one could make such a long shot, wouldn't be patrolling this far from their base. I'd been wrong. Two Filipino Scouts were so close that I didn't dare move. I was waiting for them to move away.

Filipino Scouts are good, really good! I found out just how good when a warm waterfall hit my back. I put my head down and sighed. I didn't roll away. I didn't get upset. The Scout who'd detected me and crept so close undetected... Fuck it! He'd earned his chance to count Coup by pissing on my back.

He and his two comrades were amazed when I revealed that I was a female. We had a fine time as they walked their 'captive' to the road. I told them I'd planned to shoot at the bell from the first spot I could see it.

"No way, nobya. (Tagalog for girlfriend.) No one could make such a shot!"

"I think I could. Wish I'd had a chance. Sure would be a challenge," I said with a wistful sigh. "Know what? I have 500 US dollars. I'm willing to bet that against 500 Filipino pesos that I can do it!"

At that time, one Filipino peso was worth about one US penny. I'd made what they could only guess was a stupid bet only a stupid woman would make. If I hit, I'd get the equivalent of five US dollars. If I missed, they'd win the equivalent of 50,000 pesos. I could tell they were thinking about it... 50,000 split three ways...

They began talking excitedly in Tagalog. I kept my best Blonde Airhead look on my face, giggling at every rock, tree, and mud puddle as we walked to the road.

I knew they were on the hook when one man began looking down the road with binoculars every few steps. Men! No matter the nationality, make something into a bet and their higher brain functions shut down...

We'd walked less than a hundred yards when the man with the binoculars stopped. There followed a short conversation among the men until one turned to me.

"The bell can be seen from here. The bet is you get one shot."

"Agreed."

I stripped off the condom I'd unrolled over the muzzle of Baby to keep dirt and water out of the barrel. Assuming a prone position, I searched through the scope until I found the bell. The rangefinder read 2,155 meters. Well over a mile. Right at the very, very limit of a .50 caliber Barrett, but not Baby's limit.

Pulling a laminated card from under my ghillie suit. I rechecked the drop for 2,150 meters. Hundreds of rounds fired at targets at different distances had allowed me to zero the scope to account for the expected drop due to gravity at 25-meter intervals. I adjusted the scope, then made another small adjustment to allow for the suffocating humidity.

I checked tree branches. No movement... No wind... The bell was shiny brass. Probably ten inches in diameter at the bottom. Narrow where it was mounted to a wooden beam. I chambered a round. Centered... Relaxed... Deep breath, slow exhalation... Fired. I waited for two slow heartbeats and then watched as the bell was ripped from its mounting.

The man standing over me lowered his binoculars in defeat.

"Well, guys," I announced in my happy voice as I stood up, "Not only did you just lose your bet, but you also lost the exercise! I think that counts as ringing the bell."

"No! We captured you first!"

"So? Here's the way it is," I explained as I found another condom to unroll over Baby's muzzle. "You lose the exercise if that bell is rung before tomorrow morning. No other rules apply. If you took me to your base as a prisoner and I threw a rock and rang that bell, you'd still lose!"

I didn't know if that was true, but it sounded true enough.

"Now, you have two options...

"Option One: We can walk to your camp, and you can admit you allowed a girl you captured to ring the bell. Something your buddies will never, ever, let you forget!

"Option Two: We can walk to your camp, and you can tell everyone you captured me after I took my shot. I'll even sweeten the deal by giving each of you 50 dollars."

They chose Option Two.

**********

Friday Morning... 0742 Hours...

Lock yourself in a sauna and set every control to: Kill.

That's the jungle. There's no relief from the high heat and humidity. No wind. No direct sunlight. With every deep breath of the thick, humid air, you feel like you're being waterboarded. Everything is wet, itchy, or trying to bite you. Even when resting, you're trying to find a position where you might find a little comfort. Spoiler Alert: There isn't one!

It hadn't helped that I was not only the lowest-ranking member of the team, but I'd never been attached to the team I was training with. Like any newbie, I had a lot to prove. When we'd find a stinking bog or stream in our path...

"Ellis! Wade over to the other side so I can see how deep that is!"

"Aye-aye, Senior Chief," was the only acceptable answer.

I'd wade through scummy water up to my armpits while balancing my heavy rucksack and Baby on my head. I'd be praying that the weight of my full combat loadout wouldn't sink me deeper into the muddy bottom under my boots. Once I reached the other side, I'd wait while pouring as much mud and water as I could from my boots while the Senior Chief pretended to examine his map.

'It looks like the bog ends to the east...' Or, 'It looks like the stream is shallower upstream...' would be yelled across the offending water, followed by, 'We'll cross there, Ellis. Now get your ass back here!'

Sometimes, the only thing worse than an angry Senior Chief is a Senior Chief with a fucked-up sense of humor. For the first week, I got every shitty detail.

I found out why when Senior Chief Phillips sat down beside me at the end of the week.

"I followed my orders," he told me. "Commander McCain wanted me to ride your ass for a week. What did you do to piss him off?"

I remembered McCain's grin. That bastard! I explained why I'd needed to get off Diego Garcia.

"I didn't think he'd care so much about a practical joke," I groused.

"He didn't," Phillips said as he stood back up. "He cared because you caused him extra paperwork. Never be the cause that makes an officer do more paperwork. They don't like that shit."

Wise words from a man who'd been in the Navy longer than I'd been alive.

I'm mentioning this to explain that my month in the jungle wasn't a vacation. It was a strength-draining ordeal. It was why I now found myself three feet from the top of that damned wall, straining with arms too tired to pull, and my hands slipping on the thick, rough rope.

That's when Svenson appeared on the rope next to mine. Holding on to his rope with one hand, he used his feet to swing over to me. A hand on my ass pushed. I was lifted so fast I almost flew over the top log. Luckily, I managed to grip the log with my arms and legs.

I was left lying on my stomach: legs on one side of the log, arms on the other. Then Svenson swung his legs over the top log and sat facing me, perfectly at ease as if he were sitting on his favorite barstool.

"You going to take a nap there, Ellis?" He didn't wait for an answer. He didn't bother to use the net on the other side. He fell twenty feet onto sand, rolled twice, and came up running. He even ran backwards to shoot finger-guns at me just to score extra style points.

I climbed down the boarding net. My arms trembled, and I was out of breath at the end of the course, but I had enough breath to thank Svenson.

"We all make it or none of us make it," Svenson replied. Disgustingly, he wasn't even winded.

"Hell, Ellis. He just wanted an excuse to grab that sweet ass of yours," Samuels laughed.

"Thank you, Samuels. For thinking I have a sweet ass. I think you've got a pretty sweet ass, too," I volleyed back with a broad smile.

The easy laughter and comments from other team members about my sweet ass were music to my ears as we walked to the road. Silence would have been far worse. I wasn't fully accepted as Team yet, but I hadn't been rejected.

There was no rest for the wicked. It was up to everyone to find their own pace for the six-mile return run. I'd run track in high school and knew how to conserve my strength. I stayed with the pack.

For the final mile, everyone pulled out the stops. The pack spread out as the fastest men sprinted ahead. I was still within an acceptable distance when Morris burned out. Sweat streamed down his face. He was gasping for air as he fell further and further back. There was nothing I could do to help him. I stretched out my long legs to close the distance to the men in front of me.

I finished last, except for Morris, but not so far back that the others made fun of me. I knew I'd do better once I got back on my regular exercise routine. Turning to check on Morris, I bent over to put my hands on my trembling knees. I heard a wolf whistle from behind me...

"Damn! That really is a sweet ass," Hayes said.

I was too tired to straighten up. I didn't have the breath to say anything in response. I just raised an arm and showed him my middle finger.

Morris was still stumbling towards us. Forty yards away, he fell to his knees and vomited on the road. We ran to where he remained on his hands and knees. If he expected sympathy, that hope was quickly dispelled.

"What are you doing, Morris!" Michal leaned down to yell in Morris' ear. "This isn't the finish line. On your feet, Ranger!"

Morris tried and stumbled.

"You disgust me! You're not sick! You're hungover! I can smell it on you! You got drunk closing down a bar! You knew there'd be PT, but you wouldn't stop drinking! What? Were you trying to impress a pretty, new waitress?"

Ouch! Sounded a lot like me last night, only with a handsome bartender. But at least I'd stopped in time to sober up... At least, mostly.

Michal turned and snatched my cap off my head. He waved it in front of Morris' face.

"Look at this! LOOK AT THIS! A fucking Navy girl smoked your ass WHILE WEARING A FUCKING PUSSY PINK CAP!"

From the way Michal listed my sins, I didn't know which was more damning. That I was Navy, that I was a girl, or that I wore a pussy pink cap.

Without turning, Michal slapped my cap against my boobs. I put it back on.

"Now you listen to me, you sorry excuse for a Ranger! There," Michal shouted and pointed. "THERE is the finish line! If you're not there in twenty seconds, I will personally kick your ass off this team and off this base! RANGERS... NEVER... QUIT!

"Twenty... Nineteen... Eighteen..."

Captain Howard, who'd crawled, run, and climbed the obstacle course with his men, did exactly what he should. He stayed silent and let his First Sergeant deal with Morris. Handling disciplinary matters that didn't reach levels where officers had to become involved was what First Sergeants did.

Morris made it to his feet and staggered towards the finish. He made it with three seconds to spare and collapsed onto the grass beside the road. Michal and the other men turned without a word and walked away, leaving him there.

Tough love is the only love given to Rangers who slack off. I followed the men, not paying attention while I watched Morris stagger to his feet...

"Ellis! Where the fuck do you think you're going?"

"Inside, First Sergeant? The showers..."

"If you think you're going to track mud ON MY FLOORS, you're dumber than your pink cap!"

That's when I noticed that the team had changed direction. They were walking towards the corner of the building. I followed, enduring their laughter. Laughter at my expense was their way of showing that I was still in the running to become one of the team.

I'd finished the course and the run. Yes, Svenson had helped me, but that was acceptable. Not everyone, not even SEALs and Rangers, can do everything. I didn't have their muscles. They couldn't hit a target at 2,000 meters. Others are expected to step up when a teammate needs help.

If I'd given up and dropped off the wall before Svenson arrived to help me? The silence around me would have been just as damning as their silence to Morris. But I'd still been trying. I hadn't given up...

I followed the men to a smaller building. Inside, showers lined one wall. On the other side was a long, metal bench with lockers behind it. It was perfect for men to shower after a sweaty run and muddy obstacle course.

For men... Unlike the showers in the squad room, these had walls only four feet high separating the stalls. One, at the end, did have higher walls, probably so that an officer could have his privacy.

Undecided, I stood as men began taking off muddy boots. Captain Howard motioned to the high-walled stall and told me to use it. I still hesitated because there wasn't a curtain.

I entered the stall. It cut off my sight of men now turning on water, and who were undoubtedly naked.

I'm hardly shy but... Was this another test? I sighed and took a deep breath. I could wash with my exercise bra on. The bra would cover me better than many of my bikini tops. But my thin, nylon panties would be near enough to transparent to make no difference. Pussy and ass would be on full display. Fuck it!

I had my shirt off when Eugene and two men entered carrying armloads of clean clothing and dry boots. I held the muddy yellow shirt in front of my exercise bra as two men I'd never seen before shook out a blanket and approached my stall.

"Sorry we're late, Ellis. Wasn't intentional. Hold it high," I heard Eugene command as the front of my stall was covered with the blanket. "One peek! Just one peek and you'll be off this base before the paperwork is finished.

"You okay in there, Ellis? Just leave your wet things on the floor when you're done. The pukes will collect and launder everything."

"Pukes?" I asked as I stripped behind the privacy blanket.

"Wannabe Rangers. They show up for physical training a month or two before the course starts. They puke a lot after PT. Heads up," Eugene finished. I looked up to see a washcloth wrapped over a small bar of soap float over the blanket.

"Thanks, Eugene," I said as I soaped up the cloth. "You wouldn't happen to have..."

"Heads up!"

I caught a small travel bottle of a combination shampoo/conditioner.

"Eugene! I love you!"

'Oh, Eugene! You're my hero!' Someone called out in a high falsetto. That caused a chorus of smooching noises and comments from the zoo animals.

When I turned off the water, a towel was tossed over the blanket. After an appropriate time, a hand holding my bra and panties discreetly pushed a small way past the edge of the blanket. I guess Eugene didn't feel right tossing them through the air.

"I used my master key to unlock your cage," Eugene said quietly from the other side of the blanket to reassure me. "I was the only one who entered your cage to collect your, umm... Your underthings."

Once I had on my ACUs, I stepped from the stall and thanked the men who'd held up the blanket.

"Don't thank the pukes, Ellis," Hayes called out from where he sat, lacing up dry boots. "You might make them feel important."

"I'm not a Ranger, Hayes. I don't follow your hazing rules," I replied to set new boundaries.

Back in my cage, I had time to arrange my things. Exiting, I looked for an electrical outlet.

"Ellis, there's an outlet in my cage," Carrick told me, eyeing the blow dryer I was holding.

"Thanks."

I was blow-drying my hair when Michal entered the squad room. There followed loud sounds that echoed off the walls as a mop bucket and mop were thrown across the room.

"Why the fuck are you here, Morris? You left a mess ON MY ROAD! CLEAN IT UP!"

It was becoming obvious that Michal considered everything on Fort Hood as his...

Michal saw me. He scowled at my long hair. He scowled at the hairbrush and blow dryer in my hands. He shook his head but didn't say anything before turning away to enter his cage. If he ran the Army, I'm sure even the women would have high-and-tight haircuts.

"I think he's starting to like you, Ellis," Hayes whispered. "He didn't yell."

Whether he liked or disliked me, I knew Michal would continue to test me. I would never be a Ranger, and becoming one of his Team hadn't been decided yet.

I'd be shooting later today, so once my hair was dry, I put a blanket over part of the long central table. The team watched and asked questions as I field-stripped, cleaned, and reassembled Baby. By sight and touch, Rodriguez helped me inspect every round I'd take to the range for dings or scratches that might affect their ballistics.

Then I retrieved a metal, rectangular box the size and shape of a laptop but two inches deep from my cage. There was a mirror glued to the inside of the lid. The bottom of the box held a jumble of makeup products. A machinist on Diego Garcia had made it for me.

Sitting at the table, my putting on makeup seemed to hold the same fascination among the team as my field-stripping Baby. First Sergeant Michal poked his head out from his cage as I finished a muted Smokey Eye look.

"What... The... Fuck... are you doing, Ellis? Does my unit room look like a beauty salon?"

"Eye makeup, First Sergeant," I answered, holding up my mascara. "The obstacle course absolutely ruined my makeup this morning."

"Will any of that eye stuff help you shoot better?"

I lowered my mascara and drew a sharp breath as if shocked. I gave Michal my best wide-eyed Blonde Airhead look.

"First Sergeant! If a girl can't look good while shooting, then why bother shooting at all?"

I continued my wide-eyed Blonde Airhead look while Michal struggled to find words.

"You know, First Sergeant. You have dry lips. Lip gloss will fix that." I started running a finger through the jumble in my box. "I have gloss that tastes like strawberries here somewhere. Just dab it on your lip a couple of times and spread it with a finger... Ahh, here it..."

When I looked back up, Michal wasn't in the room.

"Hey, what's up with Michal?" Samuels asked as he entered the room. "He almost ran over me in the hall. Who yanked his chain?"

Every man pointed at me.

I smiled sweetly and continued darkening and lengthening my eyelashes with mascara.

**********

Friday Afternoon... 1300 Hours...

There was a crowd at the range. The news that a one-of-a-kind rifle was to be fired by an enlisted Navy female had circulated far beyond our squad room. A big-boobed female firing a huge gun? A crowd pleaser for men everywhere. I set Baby on a table and gave the crowd a shortened version of the speech I'd delivered to my team.

Howard asked which target I wanted. I selected a circular one about 20 inches in diameter. When he asked what range, a murmur ran through the crowd when I answered 1,500 yards. Even the best shooters in this group would have trouble hitting inside the target at 400 yards with the rifles these men carried.

I'd prepared for today. I pulled ten $100 bills from my pocket and placed them in a line across the table.

"Okay! One shot, 1,500 yards. I say the Navy gal puts her shot inside the 5x ring! Any of you manly Army men have the guts to bet against me?"

My challenge had the desired effect. I'd made it an Army vs. Navy, a Male vs. Female competition. A 1,500-yard shot into an area less than a foot in diameter...

Cash started hitting the table immediately to cover my bills. Everyone loves a bet!

I'd just picked up Baby when Hayes moved close to whisper...

"Ellis, that's a tough shot to hit anywhere in the target. But inside the 5x ring? How sure are you?"

"I'm one thousand dollars sure," I replied softly.

Hayes nodded thoughtfully.

"Slow down as much as you can. We need time," he murmured and moved to where the team was.

After a short discussion, they began shouting that they'd cover all bets made against me. My chance at being one of the team would be in the trash, and the trash would be buried under a mountain of shit if I missed.

"That's not like any sight I've ever seen," the range officer commented as I assumed a prone position.

"It's from DARPA," I replied, running a finger down the larger-than-usual scope. I didn't give a list of the improvements DARPA had made to it.

"Don't bother asking where to get one. It costs so much that after DARPA presented the bill, the military nixed it. I guess the damned Air Force needed another F-35 fighter."

(Yeah, I'd liberated the sight at the same time I'd liberated Baby. Hey, if DARPA hadn't wanted it stolen, they should never have left it sitting out in plain sight in the vault!)

"Range is clear," the officer called out once Captain Howard returned from placing the target.

"Shooter, load one round into your magazine."

I did so and waited, calming my mind.

"Shooter, seat your magazine."

I felt the satisfying click as I did.

"Shooter, chamber your round."

Slow is smooth. Smooth is fast... Uncle Mike had repeated that to me every time he'd given me a lesson. I mentally heard him again. I found and centered the target in my sights. The sight never wavered as my hand worked the action to slide a round into the chamber. Then...

"Shooter, one shot... Fire when ready."

The way the wind was blowing grass down range... I moved the crosshairs a tiny fraction of a degree to the right of the target.

I slowly exhaled a long breath. The sound when Baby fired between one heartbeat and the next wasn't the sharp Crack of smaller rifles. It was a loud, percussive BOOM! that the gathered men felt in their chests.

"8x ring! Three inches low and just right from dead center," Captain Howard called out from behind the spotter scope as if even he couldn't believe it. Whoops from winners and groans from losers were equally loud.

"Shooter, magazine out. Safety your weapon. Step away from the firing line," the range officer told me, professional to the last. Then, breaking range protocol, "And tell me where the hell I can get one of these!"

Winners and losers nodded in respect and congratulated me as I collected my winnings.

Back at the squad room, the target was pinned to the front blanket of my cage like a badge of honor. But more importantly, I'd proven my worth to the team with that one shot. I'd never be a Ranger, but I was Team. Even First Sergeant Michal thawed enough to growl as if it hurt.

"You can wear your damned pink cap, Barbie."

**********

Friday Evening... 1700 Hours...

"Mmmm, this is how my life should be lived," I sighed as I reclined against the curved side of the large bathtub. Almost floating in hot water and bubbles, I tilted my head up just enough to drink cold champagne. Two bottles on ice were within easy reach next to the tub. One bottle was almost empty, one full. While I sipped, I heard someone enter the suite.

"Barbara? Are you here?"

"Hello," I called out. Footsteps approached and... He took one startled look and disappeared back into the hall.

"Sorry! I saw the open door. I didn't know you were in the tub."

"So? I bet you've seen a woman in a tub before. Hey, talk to me. I'm covered in bubbles. You won't see anything."

He peeked through the door. I put an arm on the lip of the tub to lever my torso up so I could look over the edge while keeping my boobs hidden. He looked at the glass in my hand and the bottles.

"Are you drunk?"

"Getting there... Ask me again in an hour. Hey, tell me how your day has been." I cajoled.

I continued to stay low to keep my boobs out of sight, and, hesitantly, he did.

"Not much to tell, really. A couple of seminars on orthodontic procedures, nothing as exciting as your day, I bet."

"What's orthodontics?" I asked to keep him talking.

While he answered, I innocently sat up to reach for a bottle to refill my glass. Bubbles and boobs moved into view over the lip of the tub. Talking about teeth was forgotten.

"Oppsy, I forgot," I said innocently. But I didn't move to lower my boobs out of sight as I emptied the last drops from the first champagne bottle into my glass. "But you've seen boobies before."

I rested my arm across the tub's lip and rested my tits on my arm. This spread the fullness of my Double-D boobs out, making them seem even larger. Eyes locked onto the bubbles sliding down my breasts.

"Want some..." I asked, then paused to let him think about what I was offering before indicating the champagne bottle. "It's very good."

"I, uhh. No. I... I should go and let you finish your bath," he said. But he didn't move very fast. His feet moved slowly towards the door, but his eyes kept straying back to my boobs.

"Before you go..." I started, then stopped to pour more champagne into my glass. "Would you scrub my back? That would be so nice."

"I don't think so," he said, then continued in a more decisive voice. "Look, Barbara, I told you I'm married and..."

"Pfft, pfft, pfft..." I interrupted with a dismissive hand wave. "Do you wanna know a secret? I know a secret. I'll tell you my secret, but ya gotta come closer."

"I should..."

"No, no, no! Come here! Come closer," I waved a rapid, come-here hand motion, which caused my boobs to sway. Eyes followed my boobs. "It's a good secret!"

He shuffled closer, one small, slow step at a time. It was as if he was caught in the gravitational pull of my tits. Gathering my legs under me, I rose onto my knees as water sloshed in the tub. Bubbles that had covered me from sight slid slowly down my skin due to gravity. Eyes watched as my flat stomach, the curve of my bare mound, and the barest hint of the slit between my pussy lips were exposed as bubbles moved.

He stopped. Not moving closer, not retreating. Only his eyes moved to follow bubbles as they slid down wet skin. He shied away when I reached out, but not far enough to prevent my hand from gripping his tie. He didn't resist much as I used my hold to pull him closer.

"Closer, you gotta come closer to hear my secret."

With steady pressure, I pulled his lips to mine. Our kiss lasted for several seconds before he jerked his mouth away.

"No. I'm married," he said as if reminding himself. He pulled back, but not far enough to pull his tie from my loose fingers.

"Don't move away. I want to tell you a secret," I continued in a reasonable tone. My hold on his tie tightened. Resistance melted as I pulled his lips back to mine. Lips softened and opened. Tongues touched as our kiss deepened.

As we kissed, I kept my grip on his tie while my free hand reached to take his wrist. I guided his hand to my breast. Fingers immediately began caressing my soapy, slippery tit.

I let him play for several seconds before I put my fingers over his. I pushed his fingers deeper into my soft flesh. I hummed in pleasure.

"Mmm, don't be afraid of hurting me," I whispered, my lips still touching his. My fingers tightened on his more. "I like it rough."

No longer cupping and fondling my breasts, fingers gripped my pliable tit tighter. The rough play made my throaty hum louder. I rose higher on my knees. Releasing the tie, I brought his other hand to my tits.

"Do my big tits feel good?" I whispered, my lips still close enough to move against his. "Mmm, what you're doing feels good to me."

I put my fingers over his again and pressed until what I felt almost passed over the threshold to real pain.

"Harder... I like a man who can be rough when it counts." I put a hand behind his head to pull his mouth hard against mine. Fingers tightened their hold on my tits.

"Ohh! Yes! You can be rough with me. Take what you want! Squeeze my tits harder. Pinch my nipples. Ooohh! Yes! Yes, like that! Harder! More!"

The fingers of both hands were gripping and molding my tits. The threshold was passed. Real pain made me squirm, but I didn't pull away. Sometimes the right kind of pain feels so good!

I pushed my tongue past his lips. Taking one of his hands in mine, I moved it down my stomach and past my mound. I moaned into his mouth when a finger found my clit.

"Mmm, you can be as rough as you want," I whispered. "You can do anything you want... I'll do anything you want... Can you feel how warm and wet my pussy is just thinking about what you'll want to do..."

While he was distracted by my tits and pussy, my hands weren't idle. His belt buckle and the button on the waistband of his trousers were nothing but minor inconveniences.

"I can't..." He pulled his lips and hands away when I began to tug his zipper down. But his actions to pull away were weak, with no real decision behind them.

I hooked one of my fingers in the waistband of his pants. Just one finger... Not my fist... One finger that couldn't have stopped him if he really wanted to move away and remain faithful to his wife. It would be entirely his decision.

After a couple of seconds, I pulled slightly with that one finger.

His surrender to temptation brought his lips back to mine. Hands returned to mold my breast and cup my pussy. There was no more indecision on his part as I pulled trousers and boxers down to his knees. His cock swung in freedom until my hand captured it.

"It's time I tell you my secret," I whispered as my hand began slowly milking his shaft. This time, I was the one to break our kiss. I lowered my head to put his cock at eye level.

"My secret is..." I bent my neck to make eye contact. My lips parted as I leaned in just far enough to run the flat of my tongue over the purple-ish head of his cock to collect the large amount of pre-cum I'd milked. His quick gasp was followed by a soft moan.

"My secret is..." I repeated, alternating my words with soft kisses and licks along one side of his cock and then the other as I kept eye contact. The shaft twitched in my fingers with every touch of my lips and tongue.

"Nothing... Absolutely nothing... We do... Matters... As long as... You don't... Come inside me."

With my secret delivered, I stopped teasing his cock with kisses and licks. Instead, I moved forward to let the smooth shaft slide past my lips and over my tongue. I took his cock deep into my mouth and held it there. The tip pressed against the back of my mouth while I tongued the sensitive skin along the bottom of the cock.

I took a deep breath and held it as I pressed forward to let more shaft slide past my lips. I continued to push. The tip pressed harder against the back of my mouth. I relaxed my muscles and controlled my gag reflex as cocktip slid far enough into my throat to block my airway.

I held still. My lips and nose were pressed against the hardness of his groin while I held all of him in my mouth. My tongue massaged the underside of the cock in my mouth until my need to breathe forced me to pull back.

Thick strands of saliva connected my mouth to his cock until they broke while I caught my breath. My saliva lubricated the shaft in my hand as I continued to jerk him off. I tilted my head up to meet eyes that had watched everything.

"You like that? I did; I love sucking on a hard cock. Just remember..." I added and leaned forward to run the tip of my tongue over his sensitive tip.

"Nothing we do means anything as long as you don't come inside me," I clarified again. "But that doesn't mean you can't come in my mouth."

I took his cock back in my mouth.

I'd shown him a way to assuage any remaining guilt he might feel for cheating on his wife.

Me? I wouldn't feel a thread of guilt. I love seducing married men. Being the sensual temptress leading husbands into becoming cheaters excites me. But I always give my victims an easy way to escape my trap. I give them their chance to remain faithful. For Dwayne, it was one fingertip hooked in the waistband of his pants that he could have pulled away from easily. Very few pull away before the trap snaps shut on their cock.

So me? I wouldn't feel a shred of guilt because he'd surrendered to one fingertip.

He leaned over my head to bring his hand further between my thighs. Two fingers penetrated my pussy up to their knuckles while I continued to suck cock deep into my mouth. I quickened my mouth's rhythm on the shaft as the moaning above me changed to a throaty rumble.

I knew it wouldn't be long. I gripped his ass cheeks with both of my hands as his hips began to move. I stilled my head, no longer needing to move my lips over the shaft that was now moving rapidly in my mouth under his control.

Cock drummed against the back of my throat. Ass muscles tensed. Hands gripped my head. Moans changed to deep groans. I knew it wouldn't be much longer as his hips thrust cock between my lips faster. Fingers tightened in my hair to pull my mouth forward to meet his thrusts. I was anticipating tasting and swallowing the hot cum I expected shortly...

"What the HELL!"

**********

"What the HELL!"

I'd just returned to the suite when sounds drew me to the bathroom. There I saw hands reaching around to grip Dwayne's bare ass! I couldn't see the owner of the hands, but what Dwayne was doing was unmistakable.

Shit! I shouldn't have yelled. He was an adult, and I assumed the whore he'd picked up was an adult, too. But, DAMMIT! It had been a long day. I was tired, and my muscles had been aching for a hot soak in the very tub that Dwayne was using as an impromptu gloryhole. The least he could have done was close and lock the door after picking up some skank...

Dwayne's head snapped around to look at me. His eyes went impossibly wide as his hips stilled. I heard the wet slurp of a mouth releasing a hard cock. Then the face of a very familiar skank looked around Dwayne's hip and grinned at me. Familiar because it was my face!

"Hi, Sis! Could ya give us a couple more minutes?"

"Brenda! What the hell are you doing?"