Marine: Outside the Wire

by Shiralyn J. Lee

  Taking slow, quiet breaths, Tabatha leaned slightly toward Gray. “Can you explain what outside the wire means?”

  “Yes, sorry; it means to be beyond the safe confines of the base.”

  Keeping her gaze in a firm but soft stare at Gray’s eyes, Tabatha asked, “And you find yourselves outside the wire a lot?”

  “We have to. The Taliban try and draw us away from the base, inside the wire, but we’re good at what we do, and casualties are lower than they’d like, as we have the upper hand in weaponry. You’re always concerned that an RPG is goanna rip through the side of one of your trucks, so you have to keep your eyes peeled and your head on a constant swivel.”

  “How do you move on when you’ve been caught in an ambush, and one or more of your squad have lost their lives, or been injured to the point they’d never return to fight alongside you again?”

  Gray slapped the palms of her hands on her thighs and sat up straight, then let out a long heart-felt sigh. “Man, you’re really going for this, aren’t you?”

  Tabatha held her pen up, indicating for Luke to stop filming for a moment. “If there are any questions you don’t want to answer, then please feel free to let me know. I think we can all appreciate what you and the other marines go through on a daily basis.”

  Gray smiled briefly, but it was a smile to cover the mental pain she felt inside. Losing a brother, whether through death or injury, was still a raw thing to experience.

  “It’s okay, I’m good to continue.”

  “Okay, Luke, we can cut and edit here.” She brushed her fingers through her hair, then gave Luke a sign to start filming again, and Gray a single nod to continue.

  “We were in a convoy and an IED hit the lead vehicle. We were in the sixth vehicle, and could see the truck was engulfed in smoke. We tried to reach them on the radio, but got a negative response from them. We just knew what the outcome was…” Her voice faltered, and she took a moment to recompose herself. She continued on, only this time her voice cracked, and her breath quivered through her words. “A moment of chaos followed, with Marines jumping out of their trucks, attempting to aid any of the guys inside the lead truck. Someone shouted for a medic, but I don’t know who, as there was too much dirt and dust kicked up. I heard one guy shout, ‘fucking bastards have killed them.’ That took us all into a dark mood. Any of us would have killed the bastard who did that, and, if given the chance even now, I think we still would.”

  “In America, we only get to see a small portion of what happens in these situations, and can’t imagine how you manage to wake every morning to fight another day after losing a member of your team,” Tabatha said gently.

  Gray looked at the wall to her left. Pinned to it was a photo of Jake when she had first handled him. “Yeah, it’s tough some days, but you have a job to do, and if your head’s not clear, you’re going to get yourself killed, or anyone in your squad. It’s game over. One of the guys just last night spoke to his little girl back in Ohio. She was crying because they’d had to have the dog put down at the vets. He was distraught for his daughter. Not that I have a maternal bone in my body, but man, I wished I could have done something to get him to her. You feel for each other, and when one hurts, you hurt. We’re bonded, there’s no other way I can explain it.”

  Skimming her fingertips along her jawline as she gave thought to something, Tabatha let out a light sigh. “I’ve just realized, we didn’t give your name and rank. Would you do that, and we can edit it into the beginning of the interview?”

  “Yeah, sure. I’m Lance Corporal Lara Grayson, Gray to the guys around here, and I’m twenty-seven years of age.” She gazed into the camera lens for a moment, and then revealed a softer side to her with a genuine shy smile. “Was that okay?”

  Tabatha glanced away and wiped a tear from her eye before Lance Corporal Grayson could see the weakness in her. “I’ve been so focused on how the women are treated over here that I’d forgotten men and women from my own country have suffered a great ordeal too. It’s quite an eye opener when you’re sat this close to someone who’s experienced so much death and sadness.”

  “I didn’t mean to upset you,” Gray said, reaching over the end of her cot to pick up a box of tissues. “Here, dry your eyes.”

  “Thank you.” She plucked a tissue from the opening and dabbed it beneath her eye. “You moved me with your stories. I apologize; you’d think I’d be used to these emotional stories by now, but each one gets me right in my heart.”

  “Yeah, they get me too.”

  Tabatha turned to Luke and rolled her eyes as if to say she was annoyed with herself. “I need to harden up. So, did you get all of that interview?”

  Luke pressed stop on the camera, and switched it off. “Yep. The footage will be sent off later to be edited. This is good stuff. Not that it’s going to be used to promote us for fame, I can see where Tabatha’s going with this. You have a story to tell, more than a story, you have to show the world what’s happening to their own. Make the people understand that you’re not here for the glory, but to keep them safe. Even though we’re in another country, the world has evolved, and we can be harmed wherever we are at a moment’s notice.”

  Gray lowered her gaze to look at Tabatha’s boots, and, without showing it, she giggled. “You need to speak with Mark Easley. He’s a man to be on the right side of. He can get you some boots to fit your size, those look huge on you.”

  Looking down at her own feet, Tabatha displayed a wide grin, then tapped the toes of her boots together. “Yep, they’re definitely a few sizes too big.”

  Once Luke had packed up the equipment, he went to replace the shades on both of the lamps, but Tabatha intervened and asked him to take the equipment, and send the footage off to be edited at the station.

  “He’s a quiet man,” Gray mentioned, once he’d left the room.

  “Yes, he is. He just does his job. I noticed you didn’t talk about Zabba in your stories. Is there a reason for that? It’s what you do, and yet you left that out.”

  “If you’re going to follow me around, then you’re going to get plenty of footage with him. I think today, I wanted to share with the world how it feels to be out here, away from familiarity, and the safety of what we know and understand. That’s what I wanted to get across, anyway.”

  “And rightly so.” Tabatha stood and accidentally brushed past Gray’s knee, as she moved to throw her tissue in the garbage bin. “Oh, I’m sorry.”

  The muscles in Gray’s body relaxed, and a rush of heat ripped through her, as fast as a bullet released from a gun. It was the first time she’d become aware of her own heartbeat, and a pleasurable shiver made her conscious of her bodily cravings. Pleasure’s all mine, she thought.

  Chapter Seven

  Gray hated early morning starts, mainly because, in the middle of nowhere, only pitch black presented itself outside the camp, but she needed to fit in the time to exercise in the gym, and then, as soon as daylight broke, she’d be on the shooting range, practicing her aim at the cutout targets.

  Without informing Gray, Luke had woken early and followed her around, filming her when he thought she was at her most relaxed temperament. Only Gray knew he was filming her. It was in her training to know if someone else was around, but she played along with it, secretly feeling a little like a celebrity.

  She placed a pair of protective glasses on her face, fed a belt of ammunition into the magazine well on her M249 SAW, and placed the rifle butt to her shoulder, then looked into the hooded sight and rotated the elevation knob to 800 meters. She pushed the safety from right to left in the trigger housing to ready the weapon to fire, then shot at the target, leaving holes in the head and chest areas. Once she was satisfied with the results, she pushed the safety from left to right.

  •••

  Although taking a shower was far and few in between for Gray, as she preferred to be like her male counterparts, she’d taken one after her morning ritual of exercise and shooting practice. Tabatha had
been on her mind. Her skin pale, like a porcelain doll, and pale-pink lips excited, but also confused her. Tabatha Steel was a woman known to the world, and presented herself well; even when she had no makeup and was wearing army issue clothing, she’d still managed to make herself appealing to the eye. She had made Gray feel less empowered, and that scared the marine. Using a white jumbo towel, she dried herself and put on a white t-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts, then sat on her cot. A fitness magazine was spread open on her pillow, and her open laptop lay at the foot of the bed. She’d been checking Tabatha’s social networks out, and found her to be quite an interesting person away from her journalism job. A light tap on her door interrupted her moment of peace.

  “Who is it?” she asked, closing the laptop.

  “It’s me, Tabatha. Can I come in?”

  Gray looked directly at Zabba. “What do you think?”

  He raised his head, then lowered it again.

  “I’ll take that as an okay, then. Come in.”

  The door knob turned, and then the door opened gradually, with Tabatha slowly stepping into the room. “Hi,” she said, quietly closing the door behind her.

  “You fixed your shirt.”

  Tabatha looked down at the front of her shirt, then smoothed her hands over it. Glancing around the room, avoiding direct eye contact with Gray, she answered, “Oh, this old thing? Megan helped me fix it. She’s really good at sewing.”

  “Is everything okay? You seem different?”

  Tabatha crossed her arms over her chest, then uncrossed them and shook out her hands. “God, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” She looked at the photo of Jake, then glanced down at Zabba. “He’s a beautiful dog, they both are.”

  Gray pushed her laptop aside and stood. “What’s wrong?”

  “Luke filmed you this morning. In the gym, lifting weights, and then he followed you out to the shooting range. I just went over the footage. You look really good when you’re relaxed.”

  “Just good?”

  Tabatha trembled all over, and her breathing accelerated to the point where her words came out shaky. “It’s hot in here, isn’t it, are you hot, you must be, you’re in shorts and a t-shirt, why wouldn’t you be?” She clasped her hands together in front of her, still keeping her focus on the wall to her left. “I mean, we are in a hot country, what was I thinking, sometimes I don’t think. Why am I rambling, I am rambling aren’t I, I think I should go now?” She turned around and grabbed hold of the door knob, but before she was able to open it, Gray had acted fast and stepped right up behind her and placed her hand over Tabatha’s.

  With the front of her body pressed up against the back of Tabatha’s, she whispered into her ear, “It’s okay, I understand.”

  Tabatha pressed her forehead on the flat of the door and angled her head so she could see Gray’s eyes. “You do?”

  Gray let go of her hand, by sweeping her fingers gently up her arm until she reached her shoulder. She brushed her hair away from her neck, and lightly pressed her lips on the porcelain skin. Tabatha hadn’t rejected her advances, and relaxed a little as stimulation started to take over her body. Gray kissed her neck again, pressing her lips firmer to the soft, clean skin. Inside Gray’s mind, she was ripping Tabatha’s clothes of and fucking her like a whore, but this wasn’t how it was going down. She was gentle with this woman, touching her lightly, as though she was fragile and would break if she put too much pressure on her. Tabatha placed the flats of her hands on the door, and slid them up above the height of her head, while Gray untucked her shirt from her pants and ran her hands beneath the material, feeling her way to unbutton the waistband. She prized them open, then tucked her hands inside and pushed them down Tabatha’s thighs.

  Tabatha’s breath rushed in quick, soft gasps as she went to turn around, but Gray gently guided her to stay facing the door. She whispered into her ear, “I want to make your mind explode,” then she placed her knee into Tabatha’s thigh and guided her legs apart. “Your skin’s soft, I like it.”

  Tabatha gulped, then whispered back, “I’ll tell you my secret later.”

  “I like secrets.”

  A moan escaped from Tabatha’s lips as Gray moved her hands further down, and with her tender touch, Tabatha jolted as her hormones became intoxicated with animalistic want. Her long blonde hair cascaded to the small of her arching back, and her fingertips pressed firmly into the door, while her body transitioned into a frenzy of static tingles.

  Again, Gray whispered into Tabatha’s ear, “I’m going to make you so wet.” She guided her hands downwards, until she reached the opening between Tabatha’s legs, and then slipped her fingers into the warm wetness. The reporter inhaled loudly, and then let out a slow release of breath as Gray inserted her fingers. Her entire body trembled with excitement, while she processed the spiritual pleasure, and images of kissing and fucking flashed through her mind like snapshots, intensifying her senses, and any nerves she had had moments before melted away into oblivion.

  With her one hand, Gray touched over Tabatha’s flat stomach and brushed over her ribcage until she found a soft, small breast, then massaged it while she thrust her fingers inside, using her thumb to circle over Tabatha’s clit. She pressed firmly against Tabatha’s back, wrapping herself around the delicate, trembling body.

  Tabatha had nothing to clutch on to. She needed to dig her fingertips into something, anything, but the flat door had to suffice for now. The side of her face pressed against the wood, she closed her eyes and bit her lower lip, while a rush of heat traveled through her like bubbles fizzing from a popped Champagne bottle. Gray had acted faster than an intoxicating drug, and succumbing to the power of the marine’s fingers, she released her orgasm, whimpering in little short bursts as her insides jolted and tingled at the same time. Her brain couldn’t function properly—her thoughts flickering through the action to extend the moment of her climax, and her limbs weakened by the sheer intensity. It took a few moments for her to slow her breathing and normalize her body’s behavior, and when she was capable of breathing at a regulated pace, she slid her hands down the door, then pushed away, and turned around. “I—”

  Gray immediately leaned in and pressed her lips over Tabatha’s mouth, kissing her with light butterfly touches, both of them breathing long, deep, heavy breaths, and lapping their tongues in a dance of seduction. Tabatha’s heart beat with an excited flutter, and warmth filtered throughout her body.

  “I think I lost myself,” she managed to say, her voice rasping with passion.

  Gray not only smiled, but a look of satisfaction filled her eyes. “I think I found you.”

  Chapter Eight

  Shuffling in the line-up, Gray slid her food tray along the chrome-railed counter, opting for a barbeque pulled-pork burger, with onion rings, dill pickles and a side of fries, and, to wash it down, she picked a bottle of sparkling water.

  The chow hall was a basic room, with long tables running symmetrically and chairs placed on each side, with barely enough room for elbow space, and a TV mounted on each of the four walls, not that anyone who wasn’t within three feet could hear them over the amount of chatter that went on.

  Gray seated herself in between Iggy and Blake, it was their usual seating procedure.

  Iggy forked his mashed potatoes, then scooped a dollop into his mouth. As he chewed his food, he said, “So, did anyone hear about Mark Davis?”

  “Mark? No?” Gray answered.

  “So, what happened to him?” Blake asked.

  Iggy swallowed his potato, then glanced to his left at Gray, and to his right at Blake. “His unit were on an overwatch mission, three klicks outside the wire.” He put his fork down on his tray, closed his eyes and shook his head.

  Gray turned her face away, and closed her eyes tight. “Fuck! He’s got two kids, and another on the way.”

  Blake rested his elbows on the edge of the table and stared at the TV, not really taking in what program was on. “It just makes you realize what you
’re here for, you know, fighting to take out the bad guys.”

  On the opposite side of the table, a tray was placed down and a chair pulled out, and Tabatha sat in front of Gray. She glanced quickly at Gray, then at the others, before sheepishly looking down at her tray of food.

  Gray, who had kept her head low, slowly glanced upward at Tabatha, trying to keep it discreet that she was doing anything else other than eating her food.

  Tabatha picked up her cutlery, and again, without wanting to bring any attention to herself, she turned to look to her left, but didn’t follow through with her eyes, just clipping sight of Gray in her peripheral view.

  Gray sensed Tabatha’s purposeful action, and a warm glow of happiness rushed over her, causing her to reveal a shy smile. She raised her eyes to catch Tabatha gazing at her, and with each quick glance, they communicated through their eyes, sharing their sordid secret, and replaying the moment in their thoughts.

  Iggy stopped pushing his food around with his fork, and picked up his can of coke, and as he drank from it, he caught a glimpse of the shy looks that were being shared between the two women. It was as if he was reading a book from the romance section. He played it cool, and placed his coke down on the table, then tapped his fingers on the side of the aluminum can, while he considered what was going on. He leaned in close to Gray and whispered in her ear, “You two seem to have stopped being snippy with each other, and both of you have the blush of shame on your faces. Have I missed something?”

  Gray nudged him in his chest with her elbow, and keeping her voice low, she answered, “My attention’s been taken away from your sister, that’s all you need to know right now.” She lowered her head again, and dropped her gaze, but she knew her unspoken connection still held strong with Tabatha.

  “If you’re caught having sexual relations, you know you’ll be paying hefty consequences, don’t you?” Iggy informed her.

  “Don’t ask, don’t tell, Iggy. You don’t know what’s going on, so keep that in mind, okay.”