Log of the USS Devil Ray. Saturday. August 12th, 1943. 21:00 hours. Commander Benjamin F. Prentiss reporting.

After an uneventful week with no sign of the enemy, we have been ordered to return to Fremantle, Western Australia, for two weeks re-fit and R&R. As a result, morale aboard ship is exceptionally good. Our new recruits are doing well, according to C.P.O. Bennett, and I can think of no better or more capable Chief Petty Officer to ship out with. We still carry three torpedoes, most of the rest having been deployed successfully during that portion of our patrol that took us past Saipan, Tinian, Guam and through the Bismarck Archipelago. We are still having some trouble with periscope No.2, and the starboard bow plane is a little stiff but operational. There’s a full moon, and it's a fine, calm night with smooth seas ahead, the type of seas I’ve heard the lookouts call midnight satin.

~ ~ ~ ~

Two hours later, after Commander Benjamin Prentiss had retired for the night, a pair of figures dressed in heavy navy overcoats stood together on Devil Ray’s fairwater conning tower.

Despite being just six months old, Devil Ray was already a grand lady of the sea in her crew’s eyes. They held a deep respect for her. She was their home and their sanctuary. Their lives depended on her more so than if they had been in any other branch of the Navy. Sleek and streamlined, at just over 311 feet long, Devil Ray was a state-of-the-art gun-metal grey beauty, and she was a weapon of war; capable of dealing death and destruction with stealth and devastating surprise.

 One of the figures on the conning tower this night often reflected on these facts. He was gruff, stocky, forty-year-old Chief Petty Officer Charles Bennett. The other was eighteen-year-old Seaman 2nd Class Louis Janssen, Devil Ray’s newest recruit. Both men were equipped with binoculars, and C.P.O. Bennett had his trained on the moon.

“As I was sayin’, Janssen, the submarine service ain't so bad except for the lack of B.D.D.”

“B.D.D?”

“Yeah, broads, dames and dolls.”

“Oh,” Janssen laughed, “I get it, Chief.”

“Still, we’ll be in Fremantle by the end of the week. Shangri-la! It’s a mighty sweet little town. The boys will show you around. You’ll have a swell time.”

Janssen scanned the horizon silently for a few minutes, then said,

“Gee, Chief, I read about the Pacific before enlisting, but I didn’t realise there was so much of it.”

“Where are you from?”

“Carl Junction, Missouri.”

“Well, just so that you know, Missouri boy, this is the Indian Ocean.”

If Janssen was embarrassed, he didn’t show it.

“The Indian Ocean, got it.”

“Don’t worry, there’s still a hell-of-a-lot to learn. You’ll fit right in. We’ve got guys from all over, all backgrounds; Polish, Italian, Greek, Cuban, Irish, all Americans and all ready to fight for the red, white and blue.”

“Where are you from, Chief?”

“Me? I’m from The Bronx, New York City, born and bred.”

“Tough neighbourhood?”

“The toughest.”

“And the Skipper?”

“Albuquerque, New Mexico. Fine man, the Skipper, a real ace.”

“You’ve known him a while?”

“Yeah, this is our fourth patrol together.”

“Say, Chief, what’s that tune he keeps on humming?”

“The Skipper?” Bennet lowered his voice and continued, “Oh, he’s been humming that for a couple of months now. It’s a long story. It’s called My Obsession.”

“Right.”

“So, remember, son, you’re not just a regular anchor-clanker sailor now.”

“What am I, Chief?”

“You’re a goddamn, honest-to-goodness bubblehead, a submariner. Now keep your eyes peeled. Rodriguez will relieve you at 01:00. I’m getting me some shut-eye.”

“Good night, Chief.”

“Good night, and remember, that’s the Indian Ocean out there.”

~ ~ ~ ~

Saturday, June 14th, 1943, 21:30 hours. The Black Velvet Club, Fremantle.

Two months earlier…

It was Commander Benjamin Prentiss’s third night in Fremantle and his first ashore. Fremantle was only the second Australian port at which he had been stationed. He had previously spent a busy month in Brisbane but had seen little of that city. His time had been consumed by getting Devil Ray battle-ready. Once that was achieved, he was ordered to take the sub along the northern Australian coast, then south to Fremantle’s submarine base.

He had spent Thursday supervising Devil Ray’s rearmament with a full complement of twenty-four torpedoes, and the previous night, Friday the 13th, had seen him cloistered in his cabin, tackling some of his seemingly endless paperwork, including the detailed reports to headquarters that were the bane of every US Navy commander.

 His executive officer, Lt. Nathan Crane, was wading through the paperwork tonight and conducting tests on the sub’s brand-new torpedo data computer. The TDC needed two crewmen to maintain and operate it, and it seemed that Nate Crane had taken a shine to the bulky, complex gadget. Crane had earlier tried to interest Benjamin in the device, describing it as an analogue computer.

 “It’s the way of the future, Ben. Soon every home and business in America will have an analogue computer.”

 It was about then that Benjamin had checked his watch and, after a hurried reply of, “If you say so, professor,” he headed for the hatch.

Benjamin now smiled as he turned into Norfolk Lane. A few doors ahead was the entrance to The Black Velvet Club. He had heard a lot about the place from some of his fellow officers and had decided it was about time he checked it out. As always for him, the draw of live music was irresistible.

 Benjamin was thirty-two, tall and slim with a shock of dark brown hair. His large, dark brown eyes, square jaw and prominent nose gave him a somewhat Mediterranean air, as did the trim, stylish moustache that tinted his upper lip. Dressed now in an immaculately pressed uniform, he caught the attention of several officers who were talking and smoking around the door of the club. He recognised a couple of them. They were officers from other US subs based at Fremantle, along with a few Brits in the dark blue uniforms of the Royal Navy. He saluted casually,

“Gentlemen.”

Descending the short flight of stairs, he was greeted by a warm, cosy room with low lighting. The décor was late Victorian or Edwardian at best, with a modestly sized dancefloor and a more generous area to the right of it where there stood a piano and where there was enough room for a small orchestra. Just beyond the dancefloor was a podium upon which stood a highly polished, chrome microphone stand with, what he took to be, tall black velvet curtains behind it. Continental chandeliers and immaculately set tables in the English style, with polished silver and cut crystal glassware, added a welcome air of formality to the club. This was the height of luxury after weeks of living and eating aboard Devil Ray.

Already, most of the tables were occupied mainly by officers, but there were also quite a few civilians, some with very stylish female companions. He ordered a scotch and soda on the rocks and was about to peruse the menu when a young man in a white jacket and black tie stepped up onto the podium. As a filtered spotlight illuminated the man’s features, Benjamin looked up momentarily but then turned his attention back to the menu. It was an action that he would later regret.

“Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for the Songbird of the West, Freemantle’s own, Miss Kitty Carlson.”

He heard half-heard, scattered and subdued applause while trying to decide between lamb’s fry with onions, peas and mashed potato or grilled beef T-bone steak with pepper sauce and salad. But then other sounds entered his ears, melodious and seductive sounds. Sounds that would swiftly infatuate him and change his life forever.

“Come here, boy, you’re my obsession.

You’re on my mind the whole damn day.

Padre, hear my sad confession

Of how I gave my soul away.”

She was tall and elegant, honey blonde, sultry and divinely beautiful. Benjamin’s eyes lingered on her green eyes and full lips, coloured deep vermillion. He admired her prominent cheekbones and delicate, sharp chin, then, when he remembered to draw breath again, he became mesmerised by how her cascading locks framed her face and caressed her tanned shoulders - like swaying sheaves of sun-ripened grain.

“Not afraid of fire or thunder,

Not afraid of winter rain

But I’m fearful as I wonder

When you’ll be in my arms again.”

Her voice was mellow, deep and breathless, reminding him of those warm breezes that would spring up from nowhere like passing spirits and envelope ships at sea, fill the sails, then disappear as though drawn back to some higher plane of existence. Was she a sea-nymph exiled to this distant shore, a siren come to bring about his doom or the goddess that had haunted his dreams for as long as he could recall?

“Watchin’ when I see you walkin’

By my window late at night.

So glad I can’t hear you talkin’

Whispered love, her heart’s delight.”

She wore a sheer, one-piece, strapless black dress with a single string of pearls close to her throat and elbow-length black gloves. Upon the ring finger of her right hand, there glittered a sizable opal, a stone that seemed to pulse with a life of its own and move in tune with the elegant gestures of its owner.

Hey there, guy, you’re my obsession,

You’re on my mind the whole night long.

Can’t get me no sleep to mention,

Knowin’ she might do you wrong.

She swayed her hips and wrapped her long fingers around her tiny waist as the piano player beat out a long, slow, bluesy solo. Her emerald eyes scanned the crowd, and as he was sitting closest to the microphone, she eventually caught his eye. Subconsciously, he arched his back, tossed his head back and returned her glance, but only momentarily. Like a true professional, she didn’t miss her cue and sang the next verse louder and with more power.

“Just watch me make you forget her

As I kiss you with passion’s lips,

Both her name and where you met her,

Forgotten! ... as I sway my hips!”

With that, the orchestra’s brass and percussion took up the tune, and she danced around the small stage, making full use of the tight space. As she passed his table, she glanced down, treating him to a dazzling smile. Returning to the microphone, she certainly swayed her hips and flung her head back and forth as the orchestra prepared for the climax of the song.

Hey there, guy, you’re my obsession

From Maine’s fair coast to old Shanghai,

Watch me make you my possession

And love you till the day I die!

“Yeah, watch me make you my obsession

And…love…you… ‘till the… day…I die!”

Once again, a few scattered, slow applause were heard, but Benjamin was totally deaf to these. He sat stunned, staring at the most beautiful and alluring woman he had ever seen. As Kitty bowed and smiled good-naturedly, he was transfixed by her eyes and the svelte, black brushstroke that was her dress. But it was her hair, brushing against her perfect shoulders, that now sent shivers up his spine as she turned dramatically, parted the curtains and disappeared.

Benjamin now heard vague, muffled words. It was as though he had just been swimming, and his ears were filled with water. He turned his head towards the side from which he thought the sound originated.

“Are you ready to order, sir?”

Suddenly, the fog cleared, and he focused on the card in his hand.

“Er…Yes, I’ll have a T-bone steak… medium-rare… pepper sauce.”

“Very good, sir and here's your scotch.”

“Huh?”

“Your scotch on the rocks, sir.’

“…Oh, thanks.’

"Very good, sir."

 Fastidiously, the waiter wrote the order in his notebook and was about to depart when Benjamin raised his hand.

“Oh, and waiter, who was the young lady that just sang?”

“Miss Kitty Carlson, sir.”

“Will she be back… later?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ok, thanks.”

As dinner began to be served, the piano player returned to play selections from the works of Artie Shaw, Cole Porter and Glen Miller as well as several other tunes with which Benjamin was unacquainted. As he listened, he found himself staring at the curtain, wishing that Kitty would reappear. His steak dinner eventually arrived along with a jug of water. As he poured himself a glass, wishing that she would show, turned into willing, especially since the piano player began to play Arlen and Koehler’s Stormy Weather, one of his favourite songs.

 He sighed deeply and then became conscious that his stomach was growling. The steak was delicious and perfectly cooked, living up to the fine reputation of Australian beef about which several of his colleagues had raved upon learning that he was to be based in Australia.

Benjamin tried to relax. He looked around and took in the warm, cosy ambience of the club again, but inevitably, his attention returned to those mysterious black curtains which remained disappointingly still. He contemplated calling the waiter to ask when Miss Carlson would next perform, but stopped short when he saw him serving a table full of British officers. There was nothing to do but have another sip of scotch. No sooner had he raised the glass to his lips than the spotlight shone on the stage, making the chrome microphone glow like it was made of sterling silver.

He took a gulp and put the glass down, then fixed his eyes firmly and hopefully on the disc of white light. Suddenly, a black glove emerged alluringly from between the velvet folds. As soon as it did, the orchestra struck up the opening bars of Cab Calloway’s Minnie the Moocher. 

Goddammit, she’s been reading my mind, he thought as Kitty slowly emerged from the inky folds of the curtain like a fox from a forest of deep shadows. She had kept the gloves and pearls but changed her earlier outfit for a smart, figure-hugging green satin cocktail dress. She moved like a cat, graceful and supremely confident in her ability to seduce the crowd with her performance. Her every moment on the stage entranced him.

“Oh, now hear the steamy tale

Of wild Fremantle Fanny.

She left her Daddy’s fortune

And her old English nanny,

She came to our little town,

She found it rough and boozy.

We folks all know her now as

The Golden-Hearted Floozy!”

She had changed the words, but he quickly found himself tapping his feet nonetheless. He was too self-conscious to join in the chorus, as was traditional. Neither were any other members of the audience brave enough to do so. Still, it didn’t seem to bother Kitty at all.

“Too dell-oody too del-oo!”

Too dee loo dee too dell-ee.

Fanny came to Fremantle town

Dressed in mink and a Paris gown

She caused quite a storm in these parts,

She paved the streets with broken hearts.”

He drank in her sounds, and the sight of her was more intoxicating than the mezcal they brewed from the blue agave back home.

The end of the song was again met with sporadic applause, causing Benjamin considerable surprise, but he figured that the tune was probably little known outside of the States, even though it was twelve years old, and besides, he doubted that it was to British or Australian tastes. He remembered how his parents had disapproved of his love for jazz, and it had remained a guilty pleasure of his well into his adult years.

 Kitty took her bow, letting her honey-gold hair catch the spotlight and reflect in the eyes of everyone watching. She then flung it back, making it fall perfectly in place behind her shoulders. With that, she glided away to the bar. Benjamin fought the urge to watch her pass, failed, and pretended to be looking at the stairs, as though on the lookout for anyone from Devil Ray’s crew who might be drifting in.

Kitty ordered a drink, then turned in his direction. He avoided her eyes, taking a long swig of scotch instead, but a moment later, he found her standing right next to him and leaning down with a glass of crème de menthe in her hand.

“I didn’t see you clapping, Commander. What’s the matter? Didn’t you like my singing?”

He looked up into her mesmerising green eyes and longed to kiss her full, red lips. But all he managed to do was mumble,

“It was swell, just swell,” then he added, “but you did change the words.”

“I’m sure Mr Calloway will forgive me…plus there’s a little thing called international copyright.”

“I guess so. Take a seat. Have you had dinner?”

“Oh, what a gentleman you are, Commander. I accept, and no, I haven’t eaten.”

Benjamin raised his hand with as much executive authority as he could muster and luckily caught the attention of the waiter. The thin, middle-aged, balding man sauntered over, smiling.

“A menu for the lady…please.”

Kitty then hurriedly added, “It’s all right, Clarence, I’ve finished for the night.”

Clarence bowed and strode off. Meanwhile, as Benjamin listened to her reply, a thought struck him.

“I could have sworn you were an American, the way you sang your version of Minnie. Now you sound as …Aussie as can be.”

Imitating a Southern belle, she replied, “Why, thank you, kind sir. I’ve been practising my elocution.” In her normal voice, she added, “Besides, you Yanks seem to like it…and it annoys the Poms.”

“Poms?”

She smiled slyly and nodded towards the far table, “That stuffy lot over there, the British officers. Oh, the enlisted men are all right, but we’ve got quite a few toffee-nosed mi’lords over yonder.”

He smiled as Clarence returned with the menu, then departed to serve a couple at another table.

“Thanks, Clarrie, you’re a mate. And you, Commander, was that a hint of a smile I just detected?”

“It’s Benjamin.”

“I’m Kitty,” she replied, then frowned at the menu, “My, how the food around here has improved since the submarine base opened.” Then, in a feigned whisper, she added, “Ooops! But I’m not supposed to know about that, am I?”

“Er, no.”

“Ok, buster, but I’m warning you, I’m well connected around these here parts. If ya’ run me in, State Parliament will hear about it.”

He grinned and shook his head, “Are you always this funny?”

Her tone changed, “There’s a war on. If we can’t live and laugh, we’ll die crying…” He nodded sadly. “Besides, the last comedian we had here is now fighting Rommel in North Africa. I’m the best we’ve got!”

She pursed her lips in an adorable pout that made his heart melt.

“Ok, I won’t call in the Military Police just yet.”

“Good!”

She glanced up from the menu and smiled, warming his heart yet again.

“Say, by the way, that first song you sang…”

“My Obsession.”

“Yeah, who wrote that?”

“I did, words and music. You liked it?”

“Liked it, I’d say you have a hit on your hands.”

She rolled her eyes and tilted her head towards her shoulder, “Not around here, I don’t, that’s for sure. Half of these guys are still listening to Dame Nellie Melba.”

She asked Benjamin what he would recommend from the menu and ordered medium-rare steak with salad. Clarence soon brought her dinner and another glass. She ate the steak with gusto, asking Benjamin all sorts of questions about his background and family.

“My father, God rest his soul, was a big cheese in the Labour Party up north.”

 Finally, her questions touched upon matters naval, and he shook his head gently.

“How do you know I’m a submariner? We were told the base here was secret.”

“Oh, come on, those cute little pins you guys wear with the two little dolphins are a dead giveaway. Where can I get one by the way?”

“You’ll have to write to Admiral Lockwood, care of the US Navy, about that, in triplicate and make sure you include a stamped, self-addressed envelope.”

She giggled, sweetly and girlishly, taking his breath away yet again.

As the evening wore on, the club slowly started to empty; the British officers left, as did several of Benjamin’s fellow submariners - officers and their dates. After the band packed their instruments up and he paid their bill, he asked her,

“Can I walk you home?”

Momentary anxiety that she might turn him down was ousted from his mind by her dazzling smile.

“Why, of course, Commander, but it’s not far.”

“I insist.”

“Okay, but I have to leave through the staff entrance, them’s the rules, see.”

“Jimmy Cagney?”

“The very same!”

He picked his jacket up from the back of the chair and draped it around her bare shoulders. She drew it closer to her skin,

“Hey, I only asked for the pin. Now you’re giving me the whole jacket.”

“C’mon.”

Laughing and joking, they made their way through the service area, past the kitchen to the staff room. There, Benjamin was surprised to find three of his crew sitting and eating at a table by the back exit. He knew them all well: Seamen Ellis, Parker, and Spottiswood, his three black crewmen.

As soon as they saw him, all three rose to attention and saluted. Gently, he said,

“At ease, men. Are they taking good care of you guys back here?”

Seaman Elijah Spottiswood answered, “Yes, Sir!”

“Good. Well, it’s almost closing time. Make sure you’re back on the boat before sunrise, 06:00.”

“Yes, Sir. Our only regret is that we missed your show, Miss Kitty.”

Kitty smiled graciously and said, “That's another thing I’ll have to talk to Admiral Lockwood about.”

Benjamin then produced his wallet and picked out a five-pound note. He placed it on the table and saluted casually,

“As you were.”

“Yes, Sir, thank you, Sir.”

Kitty took his arm and they exited, leaving bright eyes and toothy grins all around. As they stepped out of the door, she said,

“That was very kind of you, Commander.”

“They’re all good men. I’ve known Moe Ellis and Eli Spottiswood for years. It’s a shame that they must eat back there, but it’s Navy rules.”

The night was cool and still, with a bright moon hanging high in the sky. They walked arm in arm for two blocks until they came to a pleasant-looking Victorian townhouse.

Benjamin looked up and saw a dim light upstairs. He was about to ask Kitty if she lived alone when he felt the pressure of her hands on the sides of his head. Her lips met his, and he drank in her sweet honeysuckle perfume. Initially surprised, he drew back only to see her mouth grinning and her green eyes sparkling with mischief.

She put her arms around his waist and drew him closer.

“Now that I’ve got you in my periscope sights, Commander, I’m not letting you slip away.”

“I surrender.”

They kissed again, tenderly at first, then with increasing passion. Passion that surprised Benjamin and did much to lower his natural inhibitions. Kitty stepped back gently and opened the door. They then climbed the dark stairwell to a small, comfortable bedroom on the first floor. Here Kitty switched on a small lamp that illuminated the room just enough for Bemjamin to admire her ravishing beauty once again.

She stepped up to him and gripped his belt, kissing him again with mounting desire. Gentle but irresistible voices in his mind told him to let go, and let go he did, finding his uniform trousers at his ankles while she pushed him back onto the bed.

 Next to come off were his shoes and socks. His boxers capitulated under the assault of her remarkable strength and dexterity. Throwing them dismissively over her shoulder, she knelt above him and regarded his muscular, naked flesh with obvious approval. She looked deeply into his eyes and slowly wound her hand around his shaft. Her southern belle accent returned,

“I do declare, Sir, you’ve discovered my secret addiction. This fine, upstanding cock of yours.”

He laughed, and indeed, the sheer thrill of the situation he now found himself in, along with Kitty’s overwhelming presence, had given him the beginnings of a sizable hard-on. Kitty was, of course, quick to capitalise on this, pumping and massaging him from the base by his balls to the area under his head. She noted with approval that he had a loose foreskin, and she took full advantage of this, rolling it back and forth as she watched him grow under her sensitive guidance.

“Oh, you divine babe, that feels so, so good,” he whispered. To which she replied, “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet buster.”

When she decided that he was hard enough, she stood up and removed her clothes, making an alluring show out of shedding each item. This had the desired effect, and soon Benjamin could admire her perfect form. His gaze travelled from her angelic face with her emerald eyes to perfect breasts that hung like delicious apples ready to be picked. Her hips, her taut waist, and her perfectly trimmed golden mound were drawn with lines such as those of Botticelli brought to life.

 He was mesmerised and totally entranced, so potent was the spell she had cast upon him. Quickly, he shed the remainder of his uniform and lunged at her, catching her wrist. Kitty’s momentary surprise turned into sweetly girlish giggles as he pulled her on top of him and pinned her down with hungry kisses, and hungry indeed they were for never in his life had he felt such powerful lust and desire as at that very moment.

Kitty soon returned her attention to his shaft and made him sit on the edge of the bed. She knelt between his legs and looked up with fierce eyes,

“Oh, Benjamin, you're in for a real treat.”

She gave him no opportunity to reply, and soon he was throwing his head back in ecstatic bliss as her lips, tongue, and mouth unleashed volley after volley of the most exquisite sensation upon his loins. She worked his shaft, balls, and head for what seemed like a timeless aeon of pleasure. Never in his thirty-two years had he experienced greater or more intense desire for any woman. On and on she worked until, at last, her intuition made her stop and look up with a wet, glistening chin.

“Now, hold your horses while I milk my prized bull.”

He only had a few seconds to laugh at the absurdity of this statement before she returned to her task with renewed ferocity. In no time at all, Benjamin found himself gritting his teeth, swaying his hips, and thrusting his cock deeper and deeper into her drooling mouth. The deeper he thrust, the more effort she devoted to exciting every inch of his flesh. Soon, with delicious inevitability, he felt his hips tense and his head swim with delight. Right on cue, Kitty gripped the base of his shaft and pumped against his tingling balls. He unleashed a torrent of juice into her mouth, followed by three or four perfectly timed spurts. She massaged him the entire time with deft fingers and drank every drop of his ambrosial seed.

Panting, she climbed on the bed and looked down at him, wiping her chin on her arm, then nestling comfortably by his side. His arms entwined her, and his palms absorbed the heat of her skin like it was sunlight. She rose after a few minutes and took a silver hip flask from a bedside drawer. She took a swig, swished it around in her mouth and swallowed before offering it to him. He accepted and found it to be good bourbon. He then embraced her again,

“Where did you learn to do…that?”

She laughed, “Sydney. I lived there for a while, in an arty part of town. You know, creative. I shared a few houses with painters, writers, poets, musicians, that sort.”

“Mmmm, right. And you ended up back here?”

“Home is where the heart is.”

“You said it, darling.”

She rose and let her honey-blond hair fall over one eye,

“Now, I must ask you a serious question. If you had to choose between me and say, Veronica Lake…”

His answer was to grab her shoulders and kiss her deeply. Following her lead, he learned to use his tongue to explore her mouth, and after several long, delicious moments, he swung his hips towards her. She immediately cupped his cock in her hand and skilfully pumped it back into hardness.

 She leant down and bit his neck lightly several times, sending pulses of sensation down his spine. This was yet another new experience for him; indeed, he imagined himself on the verge of an exciting world of discovery, a world that revolved around the goddess that now straddled his hips.

Kitty looked down at him with hooded eyes. As the room was lit by a combination of the dim lamp and the bright moonlight, her face took on a nocturnal and otherworldly radiance. She took a step forward on her knees until her pussy hovered right over his rigid, curving cock. She smiled and let her hand slide behind her back. With two fingers, she gripped his cock just under the head.

“Now, Commander, you might be thinking that Australia is full of bad girls like me. But, let me tell you, there’s no bad girl in this sea-girt land like me.”

Benjamin laughed and mumbled his agreement, then tucked his arms behind his head. He flexed his muscles and parted his thighs as Kitty lowered her wet pussy and easily enveloped his entire shaft. She purred and cupped her breasts as she started to bounce up and down, giving him the most exquisite vision of a woman transfixed that he had ever seen or had ever imagined.

As she moved faster and ground into him harder, he finally tore his eyes away from her face and body and proceeded to thrust back. Soon, they had developed a perfect rhythm, and his cock seemed to penetrate deeper into her warm, velvet flesh with each and every stroke. She arched her back and met his upward thrusts with equal downward power.

Time and space seemed to fade into meaninglessness for Benjamin until he felt the welcome sting of her nails making contact with his chest. She rode him like he was a rodeo bull until his breathing told her that her efforts were again about to bear fruit. She then ground her clit furiously against him. With the added pressure of his adamantine cock bearing up into her from below, she began to feel radiant waves of pleasure course up her spine and through her limbs.

She sighed and moaned as though she was about to burst into tears, then threw her cascades of honey-blonde hair back. She came with the fury of a thousand desert thunderstorms; her favourite metaphor, a precious relic of the bygone day when she had lost her virginity.

 She was then still for several seconds, recalling her feelings from that first night long ago. She smiled and opened her eyes at last, finding her eager lover poised deep in her tropic depths and awaiting his reward. He was about to speak when she put her hands on his lips to preserve the silent sanctity of the moment. She then slid off him and onto her back, parting her legs immediately. In an instant, Benjamin was on top of her, and she grabbed his slick head and fed it back into her. Wrapping her arms around him, she kissed him furiously and encircled his hips with her legs.

“Fuck me, Commander!”

Benjamin could only utter a low growl by way of an answer. His rational, restrained self was gone; Dionysus had ousted Apollo. With desire at a level he had never experienced, he fucked Kitty like a man possessed, and he marvelled at how alive he felt; senses sharp, blood coursing through every cell and fibre of his body, a wolf bearing down for the kill. Yet Kitty was not his prey; rather, she had become the instrument of his liberation.

 They kissed and fucked at the same time, bringing all their senses into the heady mix. Kitty then rested her brow against his, letting her hair frame his face as she savoured the relentless thrusting of his cock. She purred and whispered in his ear, calling him darling, sweetheart and lover over and over again, each time with greater emphasis and conviction.

 As Benjamin fucked her with growing abandon, somewhere in his mind a tiny voice told him that he could never live without her. As ocean wave after ocean wave of pure pleasure coursed through his every nerve, he finally fired salvo after salvo of his seed deep into the mystic depths of this divine woman, a woman with whom he was now totally infatuated.

Hours passed in serried ranks, and still they made love. She taught him how to give her pleasure with his fingers in just the right places. He became accustomed to the savour and spice of her body, and he was gladdened when she finally let go of his head, only to again collapse into a writhing, orgasmic mass of pure beauty. She taught him to enjoy the tingling of his balls under her tongue and the toothsome delight of her fingers massaging the sensitive area behind his sack.

They kissed, licked, sucked, and fucked by the window in the moonlight, then up against the wall, taking it in turns until their tingling flesh could take no more. Returning to Kitty’s bed long after midnight, they melted into each other’s arms, and Benjamin enjoyed the most profound and contented sleep that he had had since the war began.

The next morning, he awoke to the splendid vision of her smiling, dressed in an oriental silk robe and carrying a breakfast tray.

“Rise and shine, Commander Benjamin, Sir. It’s Sunday and we’re going to church.”

He sat up and grinned, his well-defined thoracic muscles framed rather comically by her pink bedclothes. As she set the tray on his lap, he asked,

“Why, have we got something to confess?”

“No. Why bother? Besides, I’m Church of England.”

 ~ ~ ~ ~

USS Devil Ray, Monday, August 16th, 1943, 21:00 hours.

Three days before returning to Fremantle…

As most of the submarine's operations staff were busy tracking a distant tanker and its escorting destroyer from the control room on the upper deck, the nearby corridor just past the officers’ quarters was deserted. At 21:10 hours, Chief Petty Officer Charlie Bennett passed the radio room and the galley on his way back to his cabin. He made a mental note of the state of the decking in this part of the boat, as safety on board was one of his responsibilities.

 A slight sound ahead of him made him look up, and he saw the back of a slim crewman wearing a baseball cap. The cap was dark blue and definitely not Navy issue. It also seemed unnaturally large. He frowned and increased his pace as the seaman passed through a bulkhead into the area where the officers' cabins were located. The man seemed to hesitate as Bennett drew nearer, then he saw a lock of honey-blonde hair slip out from under the back of the man’s cap. As Bennett strode up to the figure and lifted the cap off, a riot of that same honey-blonde hair tumbled out, and the figure turned.

A guilty look momentarily played upon Kitty's emerald-green eyes, then she gave him a sly smile. For an instant, Bennett was uncharacteristically at a loss for words.

“Where the hell did you come from?!”

“Fre…mantle,” she answered as though it was a trick question.

“What!”

“Honestly… Chief… Bennett. That is your name, right?”

“…and how do you know who I am?”

“Benjamin…Commander Prentiss filled me in. He always speaks very highly of you.”

Bennet now slowly moved to the other side of her, blocking her way.

“Commander Prentiss? You mean to tell me that the Skipper brought you aboard?” Suddenly, he put two and two together, “You must be that nightclub singer he’s absolutely crazy about, Carlson, Kitty Carlson!”

She looked at him gravely, then raised her hands and put her wrists together.

“Guilty as charged, Chief. Now, are you going to take me to the brig?”

“Sad to say, sister, we don’t have a brig.”

“Ok, Chief, if you’re not going to arrest me, get outta’ my way…please.”

“Where ya’ goin!?”

“To pee!”

He was instantly disarmed, “Oh, ok. Lead the way.”

“You're coming with me?”

“I can’t let you run around the boat by yourself, it’s… dangerous.”

They stopped by a door marked Officer’s Head, and she ducked inside.

Chief Bennett crossed his arms, leaned against the wall, and stared at the ceiling.

“There’s no paper,” came a plaintive voice from the other side of the door.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” puffed the Chief. “Locker to the right of you, top shelf.”

“Got it!”

An instant later, he heard her flush, and she emerged from the tiny room smiling.

“Thanks, Chief.”

“Don’t thank me yet. Now, exactly how long have you been aboard?

“Two weeks. Benjamin, I mean Commander Prentice said it would be a quiet mission, reconnaissance, I think he called it.”

“A quiet mission! Holy mackerel.”

She looked at him as though she were a naughty schoolgirl up before the headmaster.

“I’ve been staying out of trouble. I’m a singer-songwriter. I’ve been writing songs. I…I can show you if you like.”

The Chief stared at her, unimpressed. Quietly, he said, “Have you any idea how many Naval regulations you two have broken?”

“Oh, c’mon Chief, have a heart, we’re very much in love, Ben and I, and we… well… we just can’t bear to be apart. Besides, we’re all on the same side, ain’t we?”

She poked him playfully in the shoulder, and he couldn’t help but admire her sparkling green eyes. The hint of a smile had just begun to appear on his lips when Gunner Victor Tarnowski appeared, carrying a crate of 5-inch shells. Upon seeing Kitty, he stopped dead with an open-mouthed stare.

“Gee, Chief, have I died and gone to Heaven?”

“No, if I’m here, you’re in the other place!”

“I don’t know who you are, ma’am, but welcome aboard USS Devil Ray.”

He nodded a salute but continued to stare at her until the chief admonished him.

“All right, Tarnowski, there’s still a war on. Get those shells below and don’t say anything about this. Not a word!”

“Yes, Chief.”

Kitty smiled, and he walked off, but he couldn’t resist sneaking a last look behind him before she was out of sight. Bennett shook his head,

“Ok, toots, here’s the deal. Stay out of sight until I’ve spoken to the Skipper. Don’t worry, I’ll be discreet.”

“You’re a darling, Chief.”

She started down the corridor towards Benjamin’s cabin, then turned back,

“Oh, and do you think I could have some clean towels?”

~ ~ ~ ~

The secret of Kitty’s presence on the boat lasted for at least forty minutes. By 22:10 hours, the fact was known to all but a few of the officers. One of these was Executive Officer Lt. Nathan Crane, who looked up from his copy of Moby Dick as Benjamin’s voice came over the intercom.

“This is the Skipper speaking. Any personnel not on duty are invited to the Crew’s Mess in twenty minutes for an impromptu musical performance. For those of you on duty, the performance will be broadcast live over the intercom. All attendees must, I repeat, must maintain exemplary behaviour. That is all.”

Intrigued, Nathan put the book down and made his way to the Crew’s Mess. On the way, he joined two of the torpedomen in time to hear one say,

“This better not be Brodribb with his ukulele again.”

In the Crew's Mess, a crowd quickly gathered, all talking animatedly and wondering what was going on. Benjamin then appeared and raised his hand for quiet.

“Men, it gives me great pleasure to present The Songbird of the West, Miss Kitty Carlson.”

There was stunned silence until, from the direction of the radio room, Kitty appeared carrying an electric guitar.

“Ok, boys, I’ve got my good old Gibson Spanish-Electric 150 here. Who wants to plug me in?”

She held up the guitar’s electrical cord to thunderous applause, wolf-whistles, and cheers. Nathan looked on, astonished as Benjamin plugged the instrument into its amplifier. The X.O. then tapped the Skipper on the shoulder and stared at him quizzically.

“Don’t worry, Nate, it’s not worth the paperwork. Relax, enjoy yourself.”

Kitty glanced down modestly, then looked up and ever so slightly shook her hair, “Now this is a little song I wrote for you all… while I’ve been aboard."

There were further cheers, applause, whistles and laughter. And then she played and sang.

“Watch out, boys, the admiral’s here

And there’s a scandal in DC.

Now let me whisper in your ear,

That scandal is little ol’ me!

Don’t tell Hallsey, don’t tell Chester,

Wastin’ time they can’t afford.

Paperwork can only pester,

Don’t tell ‘em there’s a broad on board.”

She then played a long and intricate jazz improvisation that had the entire room swinging, swaying and clicking their fingers. Even C.P.O. Bennett was all smiles with his arms crossed and shaking his head in amused disbelief.

So, listen boys, now here’s the score,

I’m a woman on a ship of war.

Make me some room, ya’ bunch of boobs,

I’m manning those torpedo tubes.

Old FDR don’t need to know,

Let him enjoy his cup of Joe.

In all his years, he’s never seen

A broad aboard a submarine.

Get Doug MacArthur on the line

And tell him we’re all doin’ fine.

Soon, he’ll know the name and fame

Of Devil Ray, our fighting dame!

We’ll be in Empire waters soon

Then ol’ Tojo will change his tune.

We’re full of spirit, guts and class,

We’re gonna’ bust his sorry ass!

Kitty lost count of how many encores she performed and how many bows she took that night. The applause, cheers, and wolf whistles she got were several orders of magnitude louder than anything she had ever heard before. Although the lookouts on the fairwater conning tower could hear the music clearly, they found themselves repeatedly glancing down into the open hatchway, trying to work out what was going on below.

Kitty was pleased to see Ellis, Parker and Spottiswood again, sitting with all their crewmates. She smiled at them and blew them kisses, receiving rapturous applause and three bright, toothy grins in return.

Later, she took a few requests and ended her show by singing My Obsession. By the end of the performance, well after midnight, each and every man present was entranced by her, especially one man whose obsession she truly was.

For two more years, the men of USS Devil Ray would see the strengthening of their camaraderie. They would revel in their growing effectiveness as a fighting unit. They would see tragedy and ultimately triumph. Above all, they would remember that perfect night on the edge of the vast Indian Ocean, a night that they could justly call midnight satin.