by Tina Maurine
Shooting him a wicked smile, I let the words “I want you” fall timidly from my lips.
“Louder.”
“I WANT you.”
With that, he gripped my hips firmly, capturing my mouth in a searing hot kiss. He hoisted me onto his hips, pushing himself deeply into me, ripping my breath from my lungs and leaving me senseless. He paused, looking at me tenderly for the briefest of moments, letting the realization of what I’d given him register. Then, he began a raw, hungry, animalistic and intoxicating assault that ended in an orgasm that ruined me.
Oh my God, oh my God… it took me a minute while my pulse slowed to take a mental breath, so I could think clearly. Jeezus, Ren’s amazing! I’m so glad I used him to break me in before I leave for boot camp, and damn if he isn’t the perfect guy to prepare me for all of the rest! Shit, I can’t even remember ‘what’s-his-name’ who I was seeing last, and Ren won’t remember me either—hell, he doesn’t even know my name, I thought slyly, reveling in the anonymity. And if this isn’t the perfect one night stand right before I leave? I. Want. You… Fuck that was so hot! I thought, damning my most recent weaknesses… Ren and Bacardi 151.
1
At 0600 on the nose, I dropped my pea soup and puke-green sea bag on the flight line with everyone else’s.
“… AD2 Burton…, AO3 Miller…, E2 Walker…, E2 Schef…,”
I numbly listened to muster as the squadron personnel I was flying with stood at ease. The frigid 46 degrees in Jacksonville made it hard to pay attention, especially since I’d just come from my last duty station in Puerto Rico a week earlier. I mentally chided myself for choosing JAX as my second duty station when so many billets had been available in California; after all, who would’ve guessed California would’ve been warmer than Florida?
“… AT1 Jeoff…AME3 Robins…, Airman Anders…, AE3 Christy…,”
“AE3 Christy…,”
I started at a nudge from the average-looking girl beside me. “AE3 Christy HERE!” I answered much too exuberantly. A few people snickered, and a good many heads turned. I shifted uncomfortably, looked down and shuffled my nicely worn, steel-toed flight line boots; proud of the hard work and experience those scuff marks stood for.
Sooooorry for being a little excited. Sheesh. Besides, just who do you think you are—laughing at me? I mean, it’s not as though I’m a newbie straight from boot camp. I’ve already done two years’ time… Thank God.
As I waited for the deployment attendance muster to finish, I found myself nervous as hell. Granted, I wasn’t straight out of boot camp, but this deployment was my first ride at the pony show. I was as wet behind the ears as the kids who stepped off the bus at the Recruit Training Center in Great Lakes Illinois for Navy boot camp.
“Hi, my name is Sammie Anders.” The girl who mustered right before me spoke in a voice a bit deeper than I expected. With muster ended, we began the typical military ‘Hurry up and Wait’ game.
I turned to her, smiled and introduced myself. “Hi, Sammie. I’m Tessa Christy. Have you been stationed here long?”
“I checked in about six months ago, give or take.”
“How’s it been, I mean… have you had a chance to work in your shop yet?”
“Nah, you know how it is—they assigned me to the Geedunk, the squadron snack-food shop.”
I nodded. “Yeah, I sure do. I worked in my last squadron’s ‘Dunk’ for at least that long before they assigned me as a parts driver for the maintenance division."
Sammie told her story quite animatedly, gesturing large and speaking with lots of infliction. She was on quite a roll, so I doubt she’d noticed I’d only been answering her with the nonspecific: “Wow… No Way… Hmm,” while I’d taken the opportunity to study her.
My new friend stood about 5’7”, 135-140 lbs., built like a tomboy, with a mousy brown, style-less bob, parted off center. Her clothes hung on her loosely. She seemed to have no real fashion sense and didn’t emphasize her God-given gifts. I noticed she wore no make-up.
I guess she’s a lot like me. I don’t feel like it’s necessary here at work. Besides, at twenty, she’s only two years younger than me. We don’t need it anyways.
At 5'2", I wore my long, loose, red curls, jade-green eyes and sun-kissed, freckled skin on my petite frame as well as she wore her deep blue eyes and olive-toned skin on her athletic one. Neither of us would be described as striking, at least I didn’t think so, but I’d wager she, like me, was never short of company either.
“So, Sammie,” I nudged her and waited while she took off her headphones. “I’m bored,” I said, smiling sheepishly. “Entertain me; tell me about home and your family.”
“Shit, Tessa, there isn’t too much to tell. Hmmm… well, I come from a pretty dysfunctional family. My dad told my mom he was into his assistant when I was about nine. I think my mom would’ve taken it better if his assistant hadn’t been a guy in his twenties.”
My eyes widened. “Wow! No shit? I bet that was a hard pill to swallow.”
“Yeah, it wasn’t just, ‘Hey hun, I’ve found someone else that I want to be with.’ It was also “I’m gay and not into women anymore.’ My mom felt like the last two decades had been a lie.” She shifted her position. To everyone else our body language looked as though we were sharing some pretty good secrets.
“Did she ever remarry?” I asked, hoping Sammie’s childhood story wasn’t all doom and gloom.
“Eventually, but my mom hopped around from guy to guy for a few years. She always had a different date. I hated that she was such a ho, but I’ve since forgiven her.”
“Wow! Good on you! I am not so sure I’d be able to do that,” I said sympathetically, patting Sam’s leg. “So, then she remarried, and you all lived happily ever after?”
Sammie frowned, eyes tightening in the corners. “Hah! I wish. She remarried when I was about twelve, and a year later Jason was born. He was one of a set of twins; my sister Sarah didn’t make it past her second week in the NICU.”
“Oh, my gosh! Sam, I am so sorry. I had no idea.”
“How could you? It’s okay, since she was severely disabled… her cord had pinched off the blood to her brain, and there was a lot of brain damage. Plus, she had the same markers for autism that my brother had.”
“Oh, wow…” My voice was tight, and I choked back tears. “The unimaginable pain you and your mom went through.” I just couldn’t imagine having two babies and one of them dying right away.
“Yup. So… after that Mom pretty much shut down. I basically raised my brother for six of the last seven years
“I bet it was hard leaving Jason.”
“Yeah, mostly for him though, ‘cause like I said before, he has autism. Right before I left the state for college, I finally had the nerve to tell mom Gary had been making advances. She understood my need to get away from him, and not long after, she divorced him and came out of her depression. She’s been a pretty decent mom for the last year, not that it mattered much because I wasn’t around, but at least Jason’s getting the attention he deserves now.”
“You had to grow up pretty fast, huh?” I waited for her to answer.
Sam shrugged.
“I’m over it now. I’m just truly glad Gary got the boot.”
“So, he like, came on to you and stuff?” I whispered, fearful that someone nearby would hear, and also half worried I was asking too much too soon in our friendship.
“That’s, like, the understatement of the year. I’d be showering when Mom wasn’t home and Jason was already down for bed… and he’d try to join me.”
“Ewww, that is so disgusting!” I reached out and supportively squeezed her hand.
“Yeah, and that’s just one example. He never did anything to me, but still, he did enough.”
“Holy Shit, Sam! You’ve been through so much. I feel for you, I do. Abuse just plain sucks. That sicko pedophile shouldn’t be allowed to keep his balls!”
Sam’s eyes met mine and held them for what fel
t like minutes. I felt her searching for a reason for my impassioned response, but in truth, I didn't want to share my story. After all, I barely knew her. On the other hand, she was the only friend I had here, and she had just opened up to me.
I took a chance. “Yeah, I seem to be a victim of serial emotional abuse.” I looked back up at her, trying to gauge if she counted emotional abuse as ‘real’ abuse.
It's probably nothing compared to what she’s been through with her mom’s neglect and Gary’s advances.
Encouraged by the pure acceptance I saw from her, I continued.
“My dad was very strict. I wasn’t allowed to date until I was eighteen, and I was seventeen for my Senior Prom, so I missed it” I shook my head, remembering the night vividly.
“That sucks!" she commiserated. “You’d think he’d have given you a pass for the night.” Sammie leaned forward supportively, her wide, guileless eyes trained on me.
“Yeah, you’d think. Instead, I had to babysit two of my younger brothers. My other brother Ansel was sixteen, and that night he was working as a bagger at a grocery store, so he couldn’t do it.”
“… And your MOM couldn’t do it, or your dad?”
I could hear the judgment in her voice. “No. They had plans to attend a benefit dinner. Besides, she’s not my mom.” I shrugged and looked around the hangar, wondering if any movement would be forthcoming.
Shit, absolutely nada is happening. Still hurry up and wait.
I continued, “Then, the summer after high school, I went to Alaska and worked in the fish industry. That’s actually the first time I came close to losing my virginity… to Mirek, the nephew of a Czechoslovakian boat captain.” I laughed uncomfortably, embarrassed I’d shared that fact. “Then I came home with some money and went to Wazzu—Washington State University. I pretty much ditched school to rush as a Tri-Delt. Lots of dates, sleeping around—frat guys are assholes and the sorority chicks are so superficial and bitchy—in truth, I didn’t fit in there, so I joined the Navy. I met Teddy in school, right after boot camp, and he was a sweet, nice guy. Well… I fell hard for him.”
“So, let me guess. You married him, and then he either beat you or cheated on you?”
I laughed at her stereotypical ideas of married guys in the military.
But she's right. God, Teddy is a world class piece of shit.
“Yes, he did—cheat on me that is—and with my three best friends no less," I admitted, sadly shaking my head. “There was a whole slew of other stuff that contributed to our not making it, but I eventually couldn’t trust a single word he said. We didn’t even make it a year. Our divorce was final a few months before I came here."
“Damn, that must have been hard. How old were you, twenty?”
“Yup, I was twenty and he was nineteen. I wasn’t a saint either after I found out… I went through my own phase, but I’m okay now.”
Sammie laughed, “Yeah, don’t we all? I bet the only girls who don’t are the tight-ass bookworms who live for school.”
“Hey! Now, wait a minute," I protested, pretending to be offended. “I was one of those in high school. I couldn’t date, so other than dance, what else was there to do?”
“You danced?” Sammie's eyes bugged out. "You mean, like, seriously learned how to dance at like a school or something, or like just for fun with friends?”
“Yup, I trained in ballet since I was eight. I loved it.” I looked off, reminiscing. When I spoke again, my voice was hushed and heavy with emotion. “It was probably the only time in my life I felt pretty and graceful. So then, during my senior year, the San Francisco and Boston Ballet Companies came scouting. They passed me over because they said I didn’t have the right body type. Probably another reason I dated so much in college—trying to convince myself I wasn’t as bad as they’d said. My ego took a real bruising.”
“Shit, Tessa,” Sammie said as she reached for my hands and held them out wide, “there isn’t anything wrong with you. Those companies were stupid for even saying that. I mean, you’re even smaller than me, and I’ve never been considered big.”
“Yeah, well, it was still a hard pill to swallow.”
I stood up, pushing away from the hangar wall. My ass hurt from sitting on the hard floor for so long. I stretched and gave a final brush off to remove the last of the blueberry muffin crumbs scattered across my lap. Looking around, I noticed that, in the last few minutes, the vibe in the hangar had changed. Now, as though someone had flipped a switch, our shipmates began standing up, grabbing their bags, and listlessly shuffling their feet as though they were being sent off to do hard time.
People were hugging everywhere. Those not embracing stood next to their loved ones in awkward silence. Many held hands limply, overcome by the impending six-month separation.
Then, it was time.
As Sammie and I joined the boarding line, I playfully grabbed her shoulders and gave them a brief shake to let her know I was excited.
“Military life is something, isn't it?” I asked as we made our way across the tarmac towards the plane.
“How do you mean?” Sammie asked, glancing over her shoulder and wrinkling her nose in confusion.
“You know, how everything moves at a different pace. I mean, we just met, and yet, I already feel like you’re my sister.”
“I know, right?" Sammie agreed. “Here we are, headed off to some godforsaken place, and I was worried about having a good friend."
I nodded, confirming I was in the same situation. "It must be a coping mechanism. I cast the friendship mold..."
“And I filled it.” She smiled genuinely at me, and I returned it, excited to be boarding, heading to Iceland, and now with a new best friend.
Outside the cabin door at the top of the rickety rolling stairs placed on the tarmac adjacent the plane, the boarding line came to a complete. I leaned against the plane doorjamb and looked out over the sea of shipmates embracing their loved ones. It was a somber sight: these incredibly intimate good-byes forced to be held in public. Everywhere, I observed an outpouring of emotions. Couples cried while embracing tightly. Many exchanged deep kisses, as if stealing each other’s last breath. Even though they knew they’d see one another again in six short months, there was always uncertainty, so the scene unfolded before me more like final goodbyes. Wives felt it. Husbands felt it. Kids, boyfriends, girlfriends, brothers, sisters, parents, friends… they all felt the HARD goodbye. These six-month deployments are no laughing matter.
As heartless as it was, I was glad to be completely unattached. The only person that I even had the slightest feelings for was my person, Wes, whom I’d left in Puerto Rico.
Wes… My thoughts of him led me back to our final days and a single tear slid down my cheek. I truly missed him and his friendship..
The line began to move, and Sammie reached back to hold my hand as the seating arrangement came into view.
“Here we go!” Sammie glanced back at me, gave me a wink and quickly squeezed my hand. I squeezed hers back. I felt awash in nerves and excitement.
There were three rows inside the plane: two seats on either of the airplane cabin and four in the center. Not many seats remained, as this was a government contracted flight and seats our squadron didn’t fill would be filled with “non-essential” personnel… those on leave, reservists, retirees, dependents, etc.…
Sammie and I took two seats on the left, way, WAY in the back. I stowed my bag, grabbed my water, and settled in against the bulkhead, closing the shade so the sun-glare coming off the wing wouldn’t continue to blind me.
“Are you ready for this?” I teased as I watched her try to get her act together. I made a mental note to add clumsy to the list of adjectives that I had been building to describe her.
She smiled at me as she tried for a third time to get her carry-on and jacket to stay stowed in the overhead compartment. “Ugh!?! Why won’t you just go home?” Sammie grumped playfully, making a reference to to one of the only movie quotes I knew; Adam Sa
ndler's “Happy Gilmore.” It made me smile, and again I realized how lucky I was to have met her just before a long, eight-hour flight that included a two-hour layover in Norfolk.
A Navy attendant rose to his feet at the front of the cabin and began to give us the emergency exit talk. The jet engines screamed, and we taxied down the runway for take-off. Sammie slouched into her seat, placed her headphones on her ears, and hit play.
I settled back and closed my eyes, just as I felt my weight lift off the seat as we screamed into the air.
God, I love flying!
I came to with Sammie leaning across me to open the shade. “How’d you sleep?”
Realizing my state of disrepair, I immediately became self-conscious and wiped the drool from the corner of my mouth.
Oh my God, how embarrassing. I must have been out hard to have been drooling as much as I was. God, I pray I wasn’t snoring!
No such luck.
“Damn girl, you were dead to the world,” she teased, covering her ears to imply I’d been breathing loudly.
“Yeah, whatever…” I answered, but my attention had been on checking out my surroundings, no longer engaging with Sammie as she made fun of how I slept.
THIS.
What I saw around me was utterly bizarre. Weren’t these husbands and wives just crying and kissing their loved ones? Weren’t they passionately hugging and whispering sweet somethings in their lover’s ears?
WHAT THE FUCK OVER?
Why the fuck do I still say that military slang saying? It makes no sense…
My thoughts shifted immediately to my childhood, and hearing my dad say it. He’d been a Communications Operator on Navy Submarines for three separate tours of duty. Every time I’d ever asked him what it meant, he simply answered it was Navy slang—so I just assumed it was—and apparently it had stuck with me.
Tuning back into my surroundings, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It looked like we were on an airplane destined to some tropical, couples-only resort for an intimate retreat. Men and women held hands, talked intimately, laid their heads on each other’s shoulders, shared drinks, and gave shoulder and neck massages. It looked like these “couples” had been together for a long time. Granted, many of the men and women worked together in the same aircraft maintenance shops, so obviously some were good friends… but, well, SOME were definitely not just friends.
