Chapter Three...

Thursday Afternoon....

After the briefing ended, I followed the team to the mess hall. I ate until I couldn't eat anymore. I endured the comments about my pigging out, only raising an occasional middle finger. Screw 'em, after vending machine food for most of three days, I deserved to pig out!

In the unit room, I met Sergeant Eugene Wilson, although he was introduced as 'our Genie'. Wilson was the procurement sergeant. Basically, he requisitioned, bought, borrowed, or stole anything that the team needed.

"Genie can get you anything," Hayes laughed and reached out to rub Wilson's hair. "Rub his head, make a wish, and POOF! It appears."

"Screw you, Hayes." Eugene batted the hand away and turned to me. "Forget these animals, Ellis. I'll have your rucksack in your cage later today. Standard load-out?"

"No rifle, or pistol. I have my own. I will need more 9mm ammo. I'll check what you regard as a normal load-out and let you know if I need something else."

"Got it. Just let me know if you need anything. Anything smaller than an F-35 Stealth Fighter I can get today. An F-35 might take a week."

Eugene led me to the last cage in the line.

"This is your cage. Pukes will hang blankets on the fence before tomorrow morning so you can change in privacy..."

"Hell, Genie. You don't need to do that," Morris yelled from his cage. "We're all grownups here. Petty Officer Ellis is just another member of our team. If she wants to change clothes in her cage, we won't even notice. Right, men?"

"Hell, no... Course not!... Won't even peek... Is Ellis a woman? I didn't notice...

"Ha-ha, guys. I honestly don't care if you need to change your underwear inside your cage. Animals who haven't been potty trained need to, and I respect the privacy of animals," I called back. "Outside your cage, just keep it covered with a towel or underwear. After I saw a 300-pound German on a beach squashed into a Speedo, nothing fazes me."

I walked over to peer into the next room. A small head with two shower stalls with curtains and the usual.

"Anyone in the shower, close the curtain. Anyone on the toilet, close the stall door. Anyone at a pisser, I won't peek unless you shake it more than three times. Anyone outside their cage or shower wears at least underwear. Follow the rules, and we won't have to walk on eggshells around each other. We can share the head without you having to wait until I leave, and vice versa. Agreed?"

Sounds good... Okay... Won't really make me change a thing... She called it 'the head'. We got a real salty sea dog here...

"Wait, wait, wait, guys," Hayes piped up again with a broad grin. "Will Ellis play by the same rules and walk around in her underwear?"

I smiled and answered in a low, sultry voice. "Gee, I don't know, Hayes. I usually like to walk around wrapped in a short, skimpy towel that lets my ass hang out, but if you don't want me to..."

I swear to God, she's trying to kill me... Towel sounds great!... Whatever makes you comfortable...

Just then, Eugene came back with what I needed to sketch the compound: a ruler, colored pencils, and posterboard. The mood became professional.

Professionalism returned, and the team gathered around the long, center table as I began sketching from memory. Some were bare-chested and the beefcake on display... Mmm, yummy. But I kept my face neutral as I selected a pencil. I tried to keep the scale of 1 inch = 5 feet as close as I could while measuring and sketching remembered walls, doors, and openings.

As I drew, I answered questions. Which way does that door open? How sturdy are the doors? Are any locked? Will breaching charges be needed? How many bunks were in that room? How many men were in that room? What weapons did you see? Walls are made of what? How thick? How tall are the ceilings?

I continued drawing as Morris began to add notations in the margins to record my answers. I circled a small room.

"My best guess? This is where the hostages will be."

I tapped the circle I'd drawn beside the building.

"This generator is the only source of electricity. It's loud, so it was always turned off at night when the men slept. Damage the generator, and the compound is shut off from the outside world. I did see small hand radios, but they're useless except to contact the outposts.

"Don't worry about the outposts. If I'm given the word, they'll be neutralized before you go in."

Rodriguez pulled the map I'd used in the earlier briefing closer. His finger lingered on the distances I'd written on it. "These are pretty long shots from your hide. What's your record?"

"I don't remember. I was pretty rushed at the time," I answered and absently touched the two-inch scar running across the side of my left temple. It became more visible when my hair was pulled back into a bun. Remembering, my lips formed a tight, feral grin. "He got close. I got closer."

Men continued to listen, question, and study my drawing with an intensity as if their lives depended on it, which might well be the case. They knew that the quality of information I was supplying increased the chance of everyone returning home. When questions tapered off, First Sergeant Michal picked up the posterboard and gave a satisfied nod.

I couldn't hold back a long, drawn-out yawn any longer.

"I think Petty Officer Ellis is tired for some reason. Don't you Navy squids know how to sleep on C-17s?" Michal sounded disappointed, as if my being tired after almost three days of brief naps on uncomfortable chairs was a personal failure on my part. "Rodriguez, drive her to the BEQ. 0600 hours. Fall out on the road for PT."

Without another word, Michal left to take my drawing to the Colonel.

"Do you think he meant me, too?"

"What do you think?" Hayes answered.

"I think it's going to be an early morning for me tomorrow."

I countermanded Michal's instructions as Rodriguez walked with me to the Humvee. The BEQ had none of the amenities I wanted. I'd checked, and a few miles from the front gate was one place that had everything I wanted.

It had a large swimming pool. Suites with large bathtubs where I could soak for hours in hot water before eating a thick, bloody steak in the hotel's 4-Star restaurant. I asked Rodriguez to drop me at the Harrington Arms Hotel instead.

"Pretty expensive digs," Rodriguez observed as he drove me off base. "The Navy must have a better BLA (Basic Living Allowance) than the Army."

"Not really," I smiled. "I just know a guy who knows a guy."

He nodded and didn't ask more questions until he dropped me at the entrance to the hotel. I shook my head when he asked if I'd need a ride back to the base in the morning. The hotel would supply a car.

People stared as I retrieved my luggage, not used to military Humvees dropping off passengers. The huge crystal chandelier I walked under as I made my way to the reception desk probably cost more than the house my sister and I grew up in. I drew more stares as I dropped my baggage onto the thick carpet. A tall blonde in a Navy enlisted uniform that would never pass inspection with a large, canvas duffel bag strapped to her back wasn't something anyone expected to see in a ritzy hotel.

I waited while a hotel employee, clearly losing her last shred of sympathy, patiently explained for probably the fourth or fifth time that the hotel had not lost the reservation of the man who was ahead of me.

"Sir. When we called to confirm your reservation, the person we contacted cancelled your reservation. We did not lose it. It's not lost in our computer files. You cancelled it."

"My receptionist," the man said with a long, suffering sigh. "I told her I'd cancelled my trip to New York. She must have gotten confused. Do you have another room? I'll settle for a closet right now after the long flight from Seattle."

I snorted out a chuckle, which caused the man to turn and stare at me with such an aggrieved look that I snorted out another chuckle. In his mid-thirties with a slight paunch, he needed to exercise more.

"Sorry. Sorry, it's just your 'long flight from Seattle' struck a chord with me. Sorry..."

"Sir," the receptionist said, pulling his attention from me. "Vanessa is already calling other hotels to see if they have a room available, but..."

"But?"

"But there's another 'this time we mean it, it really is our final farewell concert tour', a pay-per-view wrestling event, a NASCAR race, and three conventions in town this weekend."

"Yeah, I know. I'm in town for the dental convention," the man sighed, sounding defeated.

"I promise we'll do our best..."

"Don't bother," I cut in, taking pity on the guy. Also, I felt guilty for laughing at him. "He'll bunk with me."

"Do you have a reservation, Miss?"

"Just scan this," I replied, stepping forward to slide a card across the counter. It didn't have the Harrington Arms logo. In fact, it was embossed with the logo of a competing luxury hotel chain.

"Miss..." she began with a dubious look on her face.

"Please. Just scan it."

She picked it up and did something out of sight. There was a quiet 'beep'. When she looked back up, her face had a completely different look as she pushed a sign-in form and a pen towards me.

"Him, too," I smiled, indicating the man beside me. Another form and pen appeared.

"The owner's suite is still available?"

Of course, it was. Hotels always have a suite that is never let out in case the owner drops by. No manager wants to be the one to tell the boss that there's no room in the inn for him. It's never the largest or most posh suite. Those are reserved for paying guests. But I've never found one that wasn't luxurious enough for me.

"Yes, ahh," the receptionist began, looking uncertainly at my uniform.

"Petty Officer Ellis is fine," I said, but she was already on the house phone.

"Are there any dietary restrictions our chefs should be made aware of?"

"None for me," I replied. I looked at the man beside me. He looked very confused at the turn his luck had taken, but he shook his head. "Please send someone from the laundry up. I have uniforms and clothing that need to be washed and ironed by the morning."

"Ahh, what's happening?" The man looked confused as he pushed the form he'd filled out to the receptionist.

"You needed a room, and I have one. Just be glad we won't have to Hot Bunk." That caused his look of confusion to deepen, but I didn't feel like explaining.

I stopped the receptionist from calling over a bellhop to handle my luggage. Instead, I pushed my shoulder bags into the arms of my new roommate.

"I've got my pack mule right here."

After getting directions, we walked away from the desk.

"What the hell is in these?" my new roommate asked as he tried to settle the straps of the heavy bags comfortably over his shoulders. He still looked confused, but seemed ready to go with the flow if it led to a room with a bed.

"Pistols, ammo, and...," I dropped my voice to an ominous whisper. "Well, just don't drop 'em on a hard surface."

I had to try hard not to grin at the look on his face. Hell, he could drop them from a helicopter, and except for possible scratches to my pistols, nothing would happen. But he didn't know that.

"Petty Officer Barbara Ellis, by the way," I added as we waited for an elevator. "You're a dentist, so do I need to call you doctor while you're here?"

"How..." he began before I cut in.

"You said you're here for the dental convention. You blamed your receptionist for the mix-up. Businessmen here to make sales have secretaries. Dentists have receptionists. QED, you're a dentist.

"Dr. Dwayne Johansson," he finally introduced himself, shaking my hand. "Are you a Navy detective with NCIS? Like the TV show?"

"No," I laughed. "I'm just observant.

"You asked for the owner's suite. Are you really the owner?"

"No. I know a guy who knows a guy."

I didn't elaborate and didn't bother to admire the view out the windows or the expensive furniture as we entered the suite. Instead, I beelined to the nearest couch, took off my shoes, and stretched out lengthwise on soft cushions.

"Oh, my God," I breathed, then moaned through a long stretch. "I've waited three days for this. Just put those bags down, carefully, in the bedroom you don't want. I'm not picky."

I remained reclining as housekeepers arrived to buzz about. Bed linen was changed to a higher thread count as flowers in vases and chocolates in bowls appeared on every horizontal surface like magic. I only levered myself vertical when the laundry lady showed up. I went into my bedroom and changed into a tank top and jeans. She took everything else with a promise to return the uniforms and clothes tonight.

Dwayne ate newly delivered bonbons while trying not to stare at the tight, sleeveless tank top that molded to my boobs. I'd sent all my bras to the laundry, and my nipples were forming hard pokies in the air-conditioned cold. I called Mom to let her know where I was and to catch up on family gossip. Oklahoma was only a long drive through Texas from Fort Hood. I promised to visit as soon as I could.

I began pacing in frustration while trying to call my sister, only to be shunted to voicemail again and again. I finally lost it and shouted into my phone...

"You fucking bitch! I fly halfway around the world, and you put me in phone purgatory? Three times! I've explained over and over that I didn't know he was your boyfriend! Call me, or I'm telling Mom what an asshole you're being!"

I plopped into a chair and crossed my arms over my chest. Dwayne silently extended a bowl of assorted chocolates to me. I popped a bonbon into my mouth and let the chocolaty goodness sweeten my bad mood away as Dwayne called me out.

"Bullshit," he chortled. "You knew the guy was your sister's boyfriend."

"Who's the detective now?" I started to deny, deny, deny; then shrugged.

"He was an asshole. I did my sister a favor by exposing him. Besides, he was a lousy kisser and a big, fat liar. He actually tried to make Brenda believe that he thought I was her. It was dark! It's not my fault you're twins," I added in a whiny, pleading voice. "Brenda should be thanking me instead of ghosting me!"

"You have a twin? There are two of you," Dwayne laughed. "God does have a sense of humor."

"Oh, we're nothing alike. Well, except for how we look. Brenda's the crazy one."

Dwayne gave me a long, skeptical look but remained silent. I couldn't sit still any longer. I was tired yet too restless to sit down. I'd crossed so many time zones that my circadian rhythm was completely screwed up.

'I've been hanging out with too many Type A Alpha males,' I thought. 'I can't just sit and do nothing.'

Dwayne watched as I paced the floor. My tits were bouncing on my chest as I bounced on my toes and swung my arms. Fuck it! Let him watch! How could I feel so tired yet at the same time feel charged with so much energy? I needed... I needed...

"Come on. Let's go," I told Dwayne.

"Ahh, go where?"

"The pool. I've been sitting for three days. I need to exercise. I need to burn off energy. A swim is just what we both need."

"Okay," Dwayne shrugged. "I wouldn't mind getting some sun and fresh air, but I don't have a swimsuit."

"Neither do I," I admitted as we entered the elevator. "We'll both strip and swim until the cops show up."

Dwayne seemed very interested in seeing me nude, but I dashed his hopes by leading him to a store off the lobby that sold a small collection of overpriced clothing and sundries that guests may have forgotten to pack.

I told the saleswoman I didn't need help and began flipping through the selection of swimsuits. I found a bikini top that my boobs would fill comfortably, but the bottom was meant for a woman with much wider hips and a fatter ass. Why do clothes designers think women with big boobs must also have big butts? While Dwayne occupied the saleswoman, I found a bottom more my size and in the same color. The saleswoman didn't see me switch.

I had everything charged to the room. At the pool, we split up to change in our respective restrooms. The look of appreciation on Dwayne's face when I appeared in my new string bikini was everything I'd grown accustomed to from men.

We sat on the sun-warmed concrete at the edge with just our legs in the water. Dwayne tried but couldn't hide his glances at my string bikini-covered boobs.

"Look all you want, Dwayne," I smiled. "Just know that I'm only sharing a suite with you. Doing a good deed. You needed a room, and I had one, but the room is all I'm offering you."

"Understood," Dwayne nodded, "I'm married anyway. I'm going to have a hard enough time explaining this to my wife as it is if she finds out I'm sharing a hotel suite with a woman."

"Hell, call her. I'll talk to her and explain everything."

"Maybe later."

I knew he wouldn't call. Often, ignorance means marital bliss.

The sun was warm, and the water was cool. It was just what I needed to stretch out my muscles. The pool was unoccupied. There were only a few children in the shallow kiddie pool. The trophy wives lounging around the pool would never want to ruin their makeup by actually swimming!

Dwayne only knew how to dog paddle and left the pool quickly, but I'd been sitting for three days. I needed to stretch. I did 20 easy laps, alternating between breaststroke, freestyle, butterfly, and backstroke. Then I did four alternating laps, pushing my muscles to the limit. My arm and leg muscles burned as I lifted myself out to sit on the pool's edge.

My figure was prominently on display to the men around the pool as I lifted my hands to strip water from my long hair. I admit it: I like having a body that men admire. Genetics may have given me my height, long legs, and full breasts, but it was my hard work that turned genetics into toned muscles, a trim waist, and a low body fat percentage. I was a lean, mean fighting and fucking machine!

I remained beside the pool for a few minutes, finger-combing and fluffing out my hair to help it dry. I wasn't above showing off to the admiring eyes of the men, though many of the women's eyes held a quite different emotion. Two deeply bronzed cougars looked as if they'd like nothing better than to watch me floating face down in the pool while they sipped their martinis.

It wasn't long before the reddish tint of my shoulders shouted I'd reached the limit I could remain in the sun without chancing sunburn. Standing and stretching to my full height with my hands reaching for the sky, I gave the cougars a broad smile. Ignoring, yet very aware of the eyes on me, I strutted like a model on a catwalk around the edge of the pool. I motioned for Dwayne to join me in the shade of a large umbrella. My muscles felt pleasantly tired as I put on my sunglasses.

"Damn. That's some guy you know who gives you all of this... Or are you a secret billionaire in disguise?" Dwayne asked after several minutes of small talk, obviously fishing for information.

"Nope. Poor as a church mouse. And no, my guy isn't a lover," I laughed, answering his unspoken question. "My guy is my uncle. He served thirty years as a Marine. Uncle Mike did some interesting things and met some interesting people in that time. Something interesting he did saved the life of a very wealthy man.

"Not Harrington... But think about this. You're so wealthy that there's absolutely nothing you can be given that you can't buy for yourself. A Rembrandt? You can point to the three already on your wall. A castle? You just flew from your castle in England to your castle in Bavaria. So, what is left that the ultra-wealthy can give each other?"

"I don't know," Dwayne answered after a long moment of thought.

"Favors. IOUs. The wealthy man my uncle saved gave him a lifelong IOU. Uncle Mike passed that IOU to me when I joined the Navy. When I use that IOU for, say," I gestured at our surroundings. "A free hotel suite, I give Harrington a chance to be owed a small favor from my benefactor.

"I've been comped into the best hotels from Berlin to Hawaii, and every time I leave behind a personal IOU from my benefactor, and I'm not above spending those favors."

"Aren't you worried that at some time your IOU will be used up?"

"I haven't given it much thought. Let's find out."

I found my cell phone and dialed a number from memory. I made it a conference call so Dwayne could hear. It was answered on the third ring.

"Barbara, what a pleasure. How are you?"

"I'm fine and in Texas, Stanley..."

"Texas? What the devil is in Texas other than cattle and oil? Are you there to fight yet another of your country's Indian Wars?"

"There are some men here who decided my skills may be of use."

"Ahh, a new team?"

"Yes. But the purpose of my call is to inform you that I'm currently lounging beside the pool of a very expensive hotel owned by your rival, Harrington. I may be here for some time, and your money is flowing into Harrington's coffers like water through my fingers."

"Fantastic, my dear. Absolutely smashing! I'll be crestfallen if you haven't spent me into the poor house by this time tomorrow. Devastated! Drop by and amuse me with the story of your latest adventure when you can."

I signed off soon after.

"You see? Stanley doesn't give a damn about money. He helps me to pay off the debt he thinks he owes my uncle, and because I amuse him. Harrington helps me to gain a small, personal IOU from Stanley," I waved a hand at the luxury hotel setting. "And I get this for a few days. Everyone wins."

"Your uncle must be quite a guy."

"He is. He's seventeen years older than my mom. Mom and Dad divorced when I was five, and money was tight with us. Uncle Mike was forty-seven when he retired with full benefits and retirement pay. But he had no plans for what to do next. My sister and I were eight when he retired. He saw how his sister was struggling and appointed himself our surrogate father.

"He'd watch us after school and during the summer so Mom could get a good job. He began taking us camping to give Mom a break from 'two whiny girls'. A night on his farm. A weekend in the woods. When he thought we were old enough, he'd take us into the mountains for a week and then a month when school was out for the summer. The way my sister and I fought, I think Uncle Mike saved Mom's sanity.

"But after thirty years in the Corps, the only way Uncle Mike knew was the Marine way. That included dealing with two girls entering puberty who argued about whether it was day or night. Uncle Mike's idea of camping was more like Wilderness Survival Training. It was what the Girl Scouts would be if run by the Marine Corps!

"He'd hand us a compass and a map with an X on it. We had to learn Land Navigation to find our next meal. We learned to fish with string and a hook we whittled ourselves. He taught us how to shoot, hunt, trap, and fish when all we wanted to do was hang out with friends and chase boys. My God," I smiled in remembrance. "How he didn't kill us and bury the bodies, I'll never know."

"I would think the boys would have chased you."

"They did. My sister caught most of them, though. She's completely crazy."

"Looks like you and crazier than you? That's... Frightening."

It was the thought of alcohol that pulled me toward the faux Tiki Hut nearby. Two men were inside. One was preparing drinks, while the other collected empty glasses, took orders, and delivered drinks to patrons lounging around the pool. I ordered a Long Island Iced Tea. Dwayne ordered the same. It was cold and strong enough to ignite a warm glow by the time I finished it.

The sun was still two finger widths above the horizon. I'd burned off much of my excess energy. Alcohol was pulling my eyelids down as we entered our suite. I told Dwayne I was going to nap. He said he might not be here when I woke up.

"Some friends I made in dental school are here. We agreed to meet on the first night at a bar to catch up on our lives over drinks."

"You have enough singles for the strip joint?"

"What? How..."

"C'mon, you're far from home, and I'm to believe a group of guys just wanna sit around a bar table and talk? Hey! I'm not judging. I'm just disappointed you didn't ask me to tag along."

"I never thought that... I mean, do you want to come?"

"No," I laughed. "I don't need more photos posted on the internet of me doing a drunken striptease in a titty bar."

"More photos?"

"Most were of Brenda, but since we look alike..." I shrugged.

"Most?"

"Just go and have fun."

Dwayne went to change clothes. I stripped off my bikini, crawled under the bed covers, and was asleep before he left.

**********

Thursday Night....

What...?

It was dark in the bedroom. I remained motionless on the mattress. Something had woken me up. Then I heard the soft scrape of a shoe on carpet. No light showed in the other room. If it were Dwayne, wouldn't he turn on a light? I rolled off the bed, crouching to take stock of my options.

Pistols? No, they were packed away and unloaded. I slid on a robe and walked softly to where I'd left my purse. I reached inside and quietly unsheathed my knife. I peeked through the door. The light coming through the large windows in the common room was much brighter than in my bedroom. Someone was beside the minibar. He was holding something. It didn't look like a weapon.

Then it filtered through my thoughts. This is Texas, not a third-world country! Why am I being so paranoid? Fuck it!

I stepped out. Flipping on the lights, I shouted, "HEY!"

A pad and pen went flying as a bellhop jumped three feet into the air. When he landed, he turned to face me, clutching his chest. I palmed the blade to hide it behind my wrist.

"Holy shit! You scared the hell out'a me. I didn't think anyone was here!" The poor guy took a deep breath. "I brought your laundry back. The wool uniform was sent out for dry cleaning and won't be back until tomorrow. I was leaving a note."

"Thank you," I replied as my fight-or-flight rush of adrenaline began leeching away. Stepping into my room, I put my knife away and replaced it with a twenty-dollar bill. I gave him the bill for a tip and apologized again for frightening him before he left.

'Damn! I gotta remember I'm not in the jungle anymore...' I thought. There, the snap of a twig might mean that a Filipino Scout was creeping up on our camp to count Coup by mock killing one of us. Those Scouts were damned good! My senses were still hyper-alert.

I wheeled the luggage cart to my bedroom. I discovered what had woken me up. The cart had a wheel that squeaked. My clothes were in separate plastic sleeves. The creases in my uniforms were crisp.

"Now what the hell do I do?" I asked myself, checking the clock beside the bed for the time. It was still early, not even 10 pm. I occupied myself by laying out what I wanted to wear in the morning and packing in my duffel what I wanted to take to leave in my cage.

I checked my watch again. A few minutes closer to ten. FUCK! I didn't even sit on the bed. I'd had a five-hour nap. Adrenaline still coursed through me; sleep in the foreseeable future was out. I could watch TV or...

I saw The Dress hanging from the luggage rack.

We were in Mumbai: blending in as businessmen and a 'secretary' while waiting for further orders. I made a lousy secretary but passed as a great escort for one of the wealthy businessmen. The plan didn't require a shooter. But I was bored and wanted a vacation from Diego Garcia. I went to Commander McCain to make my case. If the team needed to blend, then what better way than to include a woman? After all, everyone knew there were no women in Special Forces.

McCain didn't believe a word. I gasped in mock shock when he accused me of just wanting a military-funded vacation. Then he shrugged and told me to go and have fun.

I actually did come in handy. The team needed to keep an eye on an apartment and take pictures of who went in and out. We took turns walking different routes where we could watch the apartment. On one walk, I caught sight of The Dress. A black sheath dress stretched over a mannequin in a store window.

I estimated that the mannequin represented a woman who was 5'5". I was seven inches taller with a much longer waist. The sheath dress would cling to every curve of my body, with lots of boob displayed above and lots of thigh displayed below. Thinking how it would fit my body... Fuck it! I stepped into the store and bought it along with a pair of beautiful, black heels. After all, a girl must have new shoes with a new dress. It's a law!

Modeling The Dress in front of a mirror in my motel room, I almost backed out of wearing it that evening. There's a line I don't cross with team members, nothing past light teasing and sexual innuendo. The Dress went beyond light teasing. But being 'one-of-the-guys' for so long, sometimes my teammates needed a reminder that there's a woman under the ACUs I wore on base. Besides, sometimes a girl needs to let her hair down, put on makeup, and wear something sexy. That's another law!

We were to meet at an outdoor restaurant down the street from the apartment. I got there early. Wearing large sunglasses, I kept my head down. My long blonde hair hid much of my face. I smiled behind my drink as the first teammate arrived. I knew my 'disguise' was working when his gaze lingered with appreciation in my direction. But his eyes never rose above the level of my boobs before they moved away to scan the tables for other teammates. He hadn't recognized me. I was never going to let him forget it!

From then on, my team spoke of The Dress with awe.

I was never able to wear it on base after we returned to Diego Garcia. It was definitely NSFW (Not Suitable For Work). I'd wadded it up and tossed it into my duffel as I packed for Fort Hood. Its weight was negligible and took up little space. Besides, if it were sent home, I'd never get it back from my sister.

I held the scrap of stretchy material up. After months stationed on a military base... after months of wearing uniforms... this dress deserved to be worn again. I needed to let my girly side out! Besides, a couple of drinks would help me relax and fall asleep again. Wouldn't they?

I brushed my hair into something that didn't resemble bedhead. Nobody understands except other women with long hair, but long hair can be a pain in the ass, especially when you're in the military. But every time I stand in front of a mirror and think how simpler my life would be with a short Page Boy cut, my hand refuses to pick up the scissors.

While I brushed my hair and put on my makeup, Shania Twain's Man! I Feel Like a Woman blasted from my phone. OW! OW! OW! Looking in the mirror, I remembered my sister Brenda's mantra, 'There's no such thing as too much eye makeup.' Words to live by... I reached for my eyeliner again.

When I pulled the sheath dress over my hips... I'd either forgotten how little material The Dress contained, or it had shrunk in the time I hadn't worn it. Pulling the top up to cover more of my tits caused a lot of my upper thighs to be exposed. Pulling the hem down caused a lot of boob to be exposed. I finally reached what I thought was a happy compromise.

It had been far too long since I'd worn high heels. I wobbled a bit at first, but walking in stilettos is like riding a bike; you never truly forget. After checking myself one last time in the mirror, with a final 'Let's Go Girls,' I grabbed my purse and left the suite with an extra sway to my hips.

Bene videor ergo bene sentio... 'I look good therefore I feel good.' That's my philosophy. Perhaps my philosophy doesn't carry the significance of Descartes' Cogito Ergo Sum, but I don't care. Women know what I mean.

The lights in the hotel bar were muted. The level of conversation dropped noticeably when I entered and strutted through the gloom to sit at the bar. A 6'4" (with heels on) blonde tends to draw attention. Carefully crossing my legs, I leaned back against the bar and swept calculating eyes over the patrons while waiting for the bartender to finish drawing a couple of beers for the men sitting a few stools down from mine. The waitress passed by and looked me over. With a smile and a small nod, she signaled her approval.

"Not much of a crowd tonight," I said, turning to face the bar when the bartender turned his attention to me. He was my age. Good looking in a white button-down shirt and black tie.

"It's a Thursday," the bartender replied with a shoulder shrug. He smiled as his eyes looked at the amount of cleavage and top boob that was pushed into view by The Dress. He had a nice smile. I wasn't insulted when he looked at my breasts instead of my eyes. Any woman who wore a dress like this and then took umbrage when men looked is either an idiot or a world-class bitch.

"Barbara," I introduced myself and extended my hand over the bar.

"Jace," he answered while shaking my hand. "What can I get you?"

"Line up three shots of your top-shelf whiskey," I replied. Jace's smile broadened. Maybe he'd expected me to order something hip or girly like a Cosmopolitan.

"Look, it's pretty laid back at the Tiki Hut when customers order drinks," Jace leaned an elbow on the bar and confided quietly instead of pouring the drinks. "In here, I need to ask for ID."

"Why bless your heart," I replied in my thickest Southern accent. "Ah ain't been cahded in a coon's age!"

"Darlin', I bet that's the only thing you ain't done," Jace replied in a broad Texas drawl.

"Now I remember. You were in the Tiki Hut earlier. You make a great Long Island," I said, finally placing his face and dropping my accent. "I'm surprised you remember me."

"I never forget a pretty blonde in a black, string bikini."

I handed over my military ID.

"Navy? You're in the Navy?" Jace asked incredulously, examining my ID closely.

"Right out of high school."

"Damn! I never would have pegged you as military. The way you entered..." Jace stopped abruptly.

"Like a prostitute looking for a customer?" I smiled to let him know I wasn't insulted.

"Well, yeah. I admit that was my first thought."

"I get that a lot in bars," I confided.

"Well, looking over the room," Jace leaned closer. His eyes looked past my shoulder. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial tone. "I don't think I'm the only guy who thought that."

Jace lined up three shot glasses on the bar.

"So, where's the lucky guy who was with you at the pool?"

"He's at some titty bar with some of his buddies."

"He left you to go to a stripper joint? He's an idiot."

"I know! And he didn't even think to invite me," I sighed in mock disappointment.

"Truly an idiot. So, what do you do in the Navy?" Jace asked, changing the subject.

"Logistics. I count paperclips," I replied with my usual answer. I couldn't help noticing Jace had a nice ass when he turned to stretch for a bottle on a shelf almost out of his reach. I nodded in approval when he showed me the label. I stopped him before he could pour and waved a finger over the shot glasses.

"These are the only glasses you have? They seem pretty puny. Pardner, I thought everything was bigger in Texas."

Jace smiled and made the one-ounce glasses disappear, replacing them with taller two-ounce shot glasses.

"You're living dangerously tonight."

"Danger's my middle name. In fact, line up another glass, I hate odd numbers," I grinned. I was enjoying myself. Jace had other orders to fill at times, but he never had to cease our mildly flirtatious back-and-forth.

"Whoa... Sailor, your ship either sank or your ship came in," he observed as another glass appeared and he began to pour.

"Nope, neither sad nor happy," I said, handing over my room card for Jace to start a tab. "I've crossed so many time zones, I don't know if I'm coming or going. I've decided to drown my confusion in alcohol."

I picked up a shot glass and looked at it.

"This ain't fit for man nor beast. Thank God I'm a woman," I said solemnly and tossed it down. Jace laughed at my scrunchy face and strangling noises as I tried to draw a breath past the burning in my throat.

"Smooth," I managed to croak as Jace continued to laugh.

Instead of handing back my room card, he held it up between two fingers.

"The owner's suite? I didn't ask at the Tiki Hut, but now I gotta because the last time I saw Mr. Harrington, he looked nothing like you."

"I know a guy who knows a guy who does me the odd favor now and then," I replied. The whiskey was still burning. I asked to see the whiskey bottle again. This time, I read the small print.

"A hundred proof! Oh, shit," I moaned. I looked at the three full shot glasses still on the bar. "I'm so fucked."

"Not yet, but the night is young," Jace replied as he mixed a drink for another customer while his eyes roamed over the room. "In fact... I count three big, bad wolves circling who would love to huff and puff and blow your panties down."

"Joke's on them," I leaned in and whispered. "I'm not wearing panties."

Jace grinned, looking decidedly wolfish, but he let my revelation pass without comment.

It had been a long time since I'd been able to enjoy back-and-forth, tit-for-tat, easy flirtatious banter. Before Jace could think of a comeback, I picked up another shot glass and tossed it back.

Drumming my hand onto the bar, I was the one huffing and puffing as I tried to breathe again past the fire in my throat. Jace had to do bartending things, but when he came back...

"Two down, two to go," he observed. "Maybe exercise some self-control and slow it down a bit."

"I'll have you know I have plenty of self-control. I didn't smoke my first cigar until I was nine, and I never have anything stronger than gin before breakfast."

For some reason, I channel W.C. Fields when I drink.

"Don't worry, Jace. I'm not going to drink and drive. You won't have to wrestle me for my car keys. I only need to stumble out of here sober enough to remember where my room is."

Which might be difficult, I realized. I hadn't had anything to eat since lunch. Two large shots on an empty stomach were already going to my head.

"Then maybe we can wrestle just for fun then," Jase's voice deepened. He leaned on the bar to bring his face to my level. "I'd love to find out if you were truthful about not wearing panties."

"Why, suh," my Southern accent was back. "Ah, you flirtin' wit' me?"

"If you have to ask, Ma'am, then Ah ain't doin' it right."

"Oh, I'd say you're doing okay," I replied. Now I lowered my voice and leaned forward across the bar to bring our faces even closer. "In fact, after two more shots, you just might have a chance to find out, cowboy."

"Really," Jace drawled. He pushed the two remaining shot glasses closer to me.

I picked up a glass with a smile and tossed it down.

"Really," I drawled when I could speak again. "But I gotta warn ya, cowpoke, Ah ain't cheap. It's a whole dollar for my time."

"A whole dollar! Hoo-wee," Jace drawled back. "Ma'am, that's a whole day's pay for a poor cowboy that rides the range."

"Yep," I lowered my voice further and stared into Jace's eyes. "But ridin' me is a whole lot more fun than ridin' a horse."

"Pardner, you know how to deal the cards," Jace drawled slowly, leaning closer to stare into my eyes. "But can you play the hand you're dealt when the game gets... Rough?"

"Cowboy, when I play..." I replied slowly, leaning in, not backing down or breaking eye contact. "I take everything that's dealt to me with a smile."

Just then, the waitress came with orders from three tables. Whoa! The room wasn't spinning, but I definitely felt lightheaded while watching Jace as he made drinks. The more I watched, the more interested I became.

Jace wasn't bad-looking. He wasn't muscular, but his body was trim and his ass... Mmm, his ass looked tight in the black slacks that were part of his work uniform. I imagined digging my fingers into those tight buns while...

'A quicky might be just what I need,' I thought and tossed down the last shit... I mean shot!

Choking and coughing as the alcohol burned its way to my stomach, I slid off my stool and pulled the hem of my dress down aggressively. A little too aggressively, as the top was pulled down to expose more than just a hint of the areolas around my nipples. I pulled up and down on the stretchy material to the amusement of all in the bar until I decided, Fuck it.

I caught Jace's eye as I passed in front of the bar. I gave him a sly look and a discreet head nod towards the hallway that led to the restrooms. I hoped he'd take the not-so-subtle invitation. Inside the ladies' room, I checked my makeup in the mirror, then leaned against the sink counter, content to wait for a while to see if Jace...

He did. I accepted his body against mine without hesitation. There was no wasted time on pleasantries. His hard body pinned my ass against the counter. Lips pressed against mine. Our tongues dueled in a wet, sloppy kiss as greedy hands roamed over my ass and tits. I put my arms around Jace's neck and slid a leg behind his thighs to pull him closer.

The hardness that moved against my mound felt large. I doubted any woman Jace had been with had complained about size. My dress top was pulled down. Jace pulled away from my lips to watch his hands mold my bare, heavy tits. Lips found my nipples. Enthusiastic wet sucking sounds were loud in the small restroom.

I closed my eyes while my hands pulled his face tighter into the large softness of my breasts. My nipples grew so hard between his lips that the feeling was almost painful. But even as my tits were devoured, a hand was raising the hem of my dress over the curve of my ass. A finger slid into my ass crack. There was an appreciative hum in Jace's throat when he discovered I'd been telling the truth about not wearing panties.

The Dress was now just a band of material around my waist as fingers followed my ass crack to between my thighs. Fingertips explored my pussy as much as they could from behind while my hand rubbed the hard shaft hidden inside his pants. One hand continued to maul my tits while the hand on my ass moved to push between us to cup my pussy instead.

My own appreciative throaty hum signaled my approval as fingers roughly squeezed my tit as teeth bit my nipple. Fingers already wet from my copious lubricating wetness rubbed and circled over my excited and erect clit. My thighs parted to allow Jace's hand and fingers better access to my pussy.

But my hands hadn't been idle. They'd worked the buckle of his belt and opened the zipper of his pants. I grasped the waistband of Jace's pants and pushed them down to his thighs. I pulled the elastic of his underwear down enough to hook it behind his large balls. I couldn't see past Jace while he continued to suck on my tits, but the shaft I began to stroke felt long enough for satisfaction: thick enough to stretch my pussy deliciously.

All of this was happening fast. Both of us knew we didn't have much time. Jace brought his lips back to mine to continue our kiss as hands on my ass lifted me to sit on the counter next to the sink. I bent my knees and spread my legs wider to invite Jace between my thighs. I aggressively met Jace's tongue with my own and moaned into Jace's mouth as a finger slid inside me.

I moaned louder when another finger pushed inside me to join the first. Jace began slowly fingerfucking me. Pulling and rimming, stretching my pussy... Oh God, it all felt so good! My fingers were still stroking the cock I wanted inside me. I was wet... Jace was hard... We both wanted the same thing as my hand pulled and guided his cock the short distance remaining between my open pussy and his cock tip.

Fingers stopped fucking me and withdrew to grip my tit as a fat cock tip pushed between my labia to replace them. My hand guided and rubbed the bulbous head between my pussy lips to wet it. I moved my lips from Jace's just far enough to meet his eyes.

"Oh, my God... Oh fuck, I want you inside me..." I moaned softly as I put the tip where we both wanted it. Both of us were anticipating Jace's thrust that would claim me. My other hand gripped tight ass cheeks hard enough to feel them tense, ready to...

That's when we heard the waitress knock on the nearby Men's Room door and call for Jace to hurry because orders were backing up.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck..." Jace whispered as I felt the muscles of his ass relax. I didn't release his cock. I waited with my legs spread wide, my thighs open and inviting. His cock tip remained between the folds of my pussy, not quite inside me. I didn't need to look to know that my small-ish inner lips were swollen... My erect clit throbbed in time with my rapid heartbeat... My pussy was dripping in invitation.

"If I didn't need this job..."

I waited. Watching while Jace wrestled between his need for a job and his desire for my pussy. I didn't argue. I didn't plead for him to ignore the call. Being in the Navy taught you how duty can interrupt pleasure. I let go of Jace's shaft as he slowly backed away from between my thighs.

He backed away but didn't stop looking. Eyes moved from my face to my exposed tits, to my open thighs. They lingered on my pussy. The pussy his still wet fingers had been inside only moments before.

Jace closed his eyes to help master his desire. He was muttering 'shit, shit, shit' to himself as he opened the restroom door and left quickly. I could either laugh or curse. I put my hand over my mouth to muffle my laughter so I wouldn't bruise Jace's ego as I slid off the counter.

I used paper towels to clean and wipe my juice from my pussy. I rearranged my dress to cover myself as best I could. After washing off my smeared lipstick, I applied more.

Smiling, I looked at my reflection in the mirror. I found the whole episode damned frustrating but also hilarious. To me, spontaneity is the cherry on top of life. Was it the alcohol or my natural lack of good sense and love of spontaneity that had made me dripping wet for a quickie with a stranger in a public restroom?

'Well, it wouldn't have been the first time,' I thought and laughed quietly while remembering that time in a filthy NYC subway restroom stall.

The alcohol had hit me hard by now. The world swirled if I moved my head too quickly. My gait was a slow procession of carefully planted stiletto heels as I weaved my way past tables to the bar. I sat on my barstool and caught myself just before I slid off the other side. I leaned against the bar top for balance while Jace caught up on the drink orders. I handed him a napkin when he came over.

"You'll want to wipe my lipstick off."

"Oh, shit," Jace said as he wiped his mouth. "Was it very noticeable?"

"Only to anyone who looked at you," I giggled.

"Damn! No wonder Alice was laughing," Jace said. Then his eyes slid towards the hallway where the restrooms were.... "God, you're killing me here. I can't believe what we... That I... And then... And now I've gotta work as if nothing happened."

"What time do you get off work?"

"Don't tease me. God, don't tease me."

"What time... Do you... Get off work?" I asked again, reaching out a fingertip to boop his nose. "BOOP!"

"Bar closes at 1:00. Then I've got at least thirty minutes of cleanup and prep work for tomorrow. If I hurry..." Jace looked at the clock. It was 10:45 pm. "Damn, at least another three hours."

"Let me have one more for the road."

I knew I'd pay for this later even as I tossed it down with barely a reaction. I leaned forward over the bar.

"You know my room," I said and booped Jace's nose again. I found that hilarious and booped it again while I giggled. I put my hand behind his neck and pulled his head closer so I could whisper in his ear. "Why don't you come up and shhee... See! Me sometime if you wanna know what it's like to ride the tail... Trail! With a real Oklahoma cowgirl, Pardner?"

I gripped the bar edge to steady myself as I slid off my stool. I looked around and found my destination. Slowly, I began making my way towards the door to the lobby, one carefully placed stiletto after another.

"Are you serious? Do you mean it? You aren't serious... Are you serious!" Jace called after me.

I didn't answer, slow or turn from my course. I only gave him a lazy, backward wave of my hand. Let him wonder and go crazy for a few hours.