“Raise your hand if you have an image in your head of what you need to be and how you need to act in order to make it through BUD/S.” Leaper tapped his foot, waiting. “Be honest.”
Slowly, every single man raised his hand. At least they were stepping up to the question. If they hadn’t answered honestly, Leaper had considered taking them outside to do two hundred burpees. Seeing trainees do these deep squat thrusts and rising quickly into a standing position made him happy. But the trainees avoided that fate…for now.
“Okay, okay. You can lower your hands.” Leaper waved his hand in front of his nose, indicating the amount of body odor released in the room with this many armpits open to the air.
“I’ll be honest with you,” Leaper continued. “This image of a SEAL or some kind of Hollywood version of a Spec Ops operative—from television, books, comics, cartoons, games, or whatever your entertainment of choice is—is a false expectation. This bullshit is designed to trip you up, to provide unrealistic hurdles. Let’s face it, kiddos, it’s something you think you need to be, this Hollywood hero. It’s a creation outside of reality, and it will not serve you. Let go of any and all expectations and choose reality.
“So…” Leaper began pacing back and forth at the front of the room. “Can you imagine if every time I wanted to kiss a woman, I needed to do twenty push-ups, six lip puckers, and turn in a circle four times? This is bullshit expectation—what you think needs to happen to make a goal—and it’s all a fantasy. Whatever your dad or your mom or social media said, fucking let it go!
“Enter this training process with a clean slate. Don’t dwell on yesterday’s memory, or what may come tomorrow. Be here. You need to be here and now. Get your shit together, be aware, and react. By leaving behind these mental distractions, there’ll be more room in your mind for action and response. Remember our adage: ‘The only easy day is yesterday.’ So today is brand-new, unknown, and waiting to be conquered.”
Leaper paused and tapped his temple. “Do societal expectations count when you’re holding a 9 mm a foot from a bad guy’s face? Are you thinking about being a big hero or getting out alive with your Team intact and the mission complete?” When there was no response, Leaper added, “Are you going to answer my question?”
“Yes, Instructor. Getting out alive.”
“Good.” Leaper nodded. “Any unfocused calisthenics of the mind are useless. Keep your mind as clear and razor sharp as your body. When you are holding that gun, it’s shoot or don’t. Are you going to pull the trigger, knock him out, don’t pull the trigger, or let him go? Fuck, you need to make a good decision. Which choice will keep you alive and your Team safe? Do you know the answer? Hell, you better! But none of that will happen unless you are awake, aware, calm, and present.”
Leaper rolled his fingers into fists. “Being part of a Team means letting go of the individual expectation of self; learning your physical, mental, and emotional limits and how to move past them; and in its place building an understanding of what you’re truly capable of, what your Teammate is capable of, and how to successfully complete your mission. Can you swap expectation for capability—dream for reality?”
“Aye, aye, Instructor,” the sailors in the room swiftly replied.
“Good. Let’s get to work. Clean slate.” Leaper nodded. There was enthusiasm in the eyes of the recruits again. He could see smiles, albeit somewhat reserved ones, on several faces, including those of his men. Good. These trainees were back, and they were eager to learn. “Tonight’s event was a fucking fiasco. The next time we have a Life Fire event, there will be improvement—warriors doing their fucking jobs.”
“Aye, aye, Instructor,” replied the trainees.
Next, Leaper gave them several pointers on how to improve their techniques and told them how he set the bar for himself. He challenged each of them to improve where they were weak and hone where they were strong, and then learn to maximize both actions. “Break it all down. SEALs use the ‘chunk it’ process. Make each action a reflex and commit it to muscle memory.
“Now,” Leaper continued, “an assignment for tomorrow. In your notebooks, write a list of each of your problem areas and where you excel. After that, you will know how to proceed. Being in Special Operations means constantly improving your reaction time, your capability, and your capacity for achievement. Got it?”
“Aye, aye,” the trainees said again.
Leaper’s eyes scanned the men in the room. “Before we move on to the next set of comments, I’m dismissing you for”—Leaper checked his watch; he had thirty-five minutes before the next instructor came in—“thirty minutes. Be back before then. Dismissed!”
The men filed quickly out of the room as Leaper continued to speak. “And may none of you experience the intense diaper rash I did. Seriously, I have scars.”
The men were gone before he could offer to drop his drawers. Not that he would have. Well, maybe. It had been a long day, and mooning someone might have been a hoot. Christ, he needed a breath of fresh air.
Oh, Leaper, you ole sweetheart. You might be making a decent impact on these lives. Knocking his fist against his chin, he murmured, “Aw, shucks.”
Yeah, he felt good. Now, this was a good way to kick off the live-fire chat. He hoped the other instructors stepped up and gave a few useful words too.
He wondered what Gich would think of him now, a trainee who became a SEAL who was teaching trainees now. Guess this was the circle of fucking life. Frogmen forever.
Whistling to himself—Hoyt Axton’s “Joy to the World,” a.k.a. “Jeremiah Was a Bullfrog”—Leaper walked out of the classroom and onto the First Phase Grinder. He placed his feet on top of a pair of white-painted fins, a place where he had stood as a trainee and so many others had stood before him. He stared up at the sky, wondering what else the next few hours would bring. One moment at a time. Be present. Keep moving.
He continued whistling softly to himself as his eyes tracked a seagull circling above.
* * *
She paced around and around the living room. Waiting for a lover was nerve-racking. Kerry had cleaned and primped and checked the mirror about ten times before she began her nervous pace and now she was forcing herself to sit down. Her mother had once told her that eagerness in a lady is not a pleasant sight, and yet she couldn’t quell her natural exuberance.
Leaper had agreed to spend the night at Kerry’s condo, and she could barely contain her nerves. It wasn’t as grand as Leaper’s home, but the bare necessities worked for her. When the doorbell finally rang, she sprinted to the door and greeted him. She wore a form-fitting T-shirt, a lacy thong, and a smile. Screw it! She was happy to see him.
Making a show of leaning her arm slowly against the doorjamb for a sultry effect, she said, “Are you coming in, or are you going to spend the evening out there, staring at me?”
He gulped. “Let me lift my tongue off the ground and I’ll be right with you.” He stepped inside and closed the door behind him. “I’m like the wolf from one of those old cartoons—my eyes are popping out of my head, and my tongue is dragging along behind me. You’re the pinup doll that I’m drooling over.”
Heat climbed Kerry’s cheeks. “Leaper, I’m not even wearing lingerie.”
“You look good in everything, Kerry, and especially beautiful when you’re out of it.”
“That’s sweet. Thanks.” She took his hand and led him to the small patio. There were light rattan shades down on the sides, and though it was easy to see out, no one could see in. Pulling her T-shirt over her head, she said, “I have a few naughty fantasies. I’m going to play out a few of those tonight, if that’s okay with you.”
“I’m yours. Do with me what you will, as long as it doesn’t involve needles or blood.” He sniffed childishly. “I get squeamish.”
“Really?”
“No, but I don’t need my recruits asking any weird questions a
bout my wounds.” He winked at her. “Bite marks, on the other hand…I can handle those.”
“Cheeky,” she said slyly. “Are you hinting?”
“Come find out.”
She pushed him onto the lounge chair and climbed into his lap. After wrestling his shirt over his head, she ran her hands up and down his muscled torso and his thick biceps. She could see his pulse thudding in the side of his neck. “You like it when I touch you, don’t you?”
“Yes.” His eyes had a mischievous twinkle, and she liked it.
She unbuttoned his pants and pushed them down over his hips, wiggling them all the way off until he was naked on her lounger. She’d read somewhere that SEALs don’t wear underwear because of the fabric twisting and torquing their tender parts into painfully odd and sometimes dangerous angles. She was glad he was commando; it was a pleasing and titillating sight.
Kerry climbed back into his lap. His skin was warm against hers, and she wiggled her nether regions against his.
His hands caught her hips. “Kerry.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Is that a warning tone?”
“I want to be able to entertain you for a long time.”
She leaned in. “Maybe that’s not what I want. Maybe I want it hard and fast, so it takes my breath away and I…”
He caught her mouth, and she didn’t get to finish her sentence. His tongue pushed through her lips and pillaged her soft recesses. Then he lifted her, his fingers playing over her clit with delicate strokes that brought her breath in short pants of excitement. His touch brought her to the edge, and then he slowed. He did it again and then pulled back.
She broke the kiss. “Fuck me, Leaper.”
His cock pierced the softness of her sheath, filling her almost to bursting. The pleasure and pain line played back and forth until her body was shaking with mini climaxes. Just as she was about to climax, he lifted her and turned her around so she was facing away from him, and then he lowered her back onto his waiting cock.
Her back arched as she took him deeper, her body trying to hold him in one place. But he lifted her hips, setting a frustratingly slow rhythm. “Faster. Please, Leaper.”
She was hungry for him, but she could feel his smile as he kissed her shoulder and neck. “Watch outside. See what I see. Give in to the cool salty air, listen to the sound of people outside. Use your senses to feel every inch of my cock pulsing in and out of your body.”
Doing as he suggested, Kerry slowed her desperate want and her mind stretched, alive with additional sensation. She wanted to tease him too. Show him that turnabout was fair play.
Pushing her bottom back, she rotated her hips and heard him sigh. She did it again, changing the rules. This time she set the pace.
He took his hands from her hips, and she saw him grip the armrests on either side of the lounger. His fingers held tightly as his knuckles went white.
“Come with me,” she whispered as she gyrated on his cock, her fingernails lightly grazing the inside of his arms for added sensation.
“Kerry,” he ground out, his voice rough and jaw tense as he came.
The explosion of juices brought her to a huge climax. Her body shook and shuddered, milking him dry.
He wrapped his arms around her as if he planned to keep her there, perched on his cock.
She leaned her head back and said, “I suppose we both had our wicked way.”
“I can think of a few more ideas.”
“Do tell,” she said. “Curious minds want to know.”
“Thank goodness, satisfaction will always bring the cat back.”
* * *
The sun was still slumbering, but the happy couple was awake. Even after a full night of lovemaking, neither one of them wanted to sleep. They enjoyed each other’s company as they sipped coffee and gazed into the darkness.
“I’ve never been with someone who enjoyed long silences as much as talking,” admitted Leaper.
“Me either.” She tilted her head. “It’s companionable, like I can share all the silly stuff in my brain without criticism.”
“Yeah. Speaking of which, I’ve been mulling something over. Do you want to help me with a little unsanctioned plan?” asked Leaper as he drank deeply of the rich brew.
“Oh, this sounds good. Of course! Lay it on me.” She shifted her body toward him.
“In the early days of the program, it was customary for Frogmen—the predecessors of SEALS—and rescue swimmers to work with the Marine Mammal Program. I’m not sure when that all changed, but I can’t see what harm a simple exercise would do. Matter of fact, I’m hoping the programs will start working more closely together again. They had huge successes in their work.”
“Yeah, I’ve read about a few of the operations,” she said.
“Well, I know that demonstrations are done regularly at the Marine Mammal base for all sorts of groups, and we could consider it along the same lines, except you bring one of your dolphins to meet my trainees.”
She pondered the request, biting her lower lip, and then said, “My only rule is that it doesn’t endanger the mammals.”
“Agreed.”
“Great. I’ll ask one of the dolphin trainers if they have time to do a demonstration, something basic like Swimmer Invader. Can I text you with a time and place?” Kerry checked her watch. “Let’s keep this demonstration on the down low, being unsanctioned and all.”
“Yeah. I get it. I appreciate this. I know I’ve talked your ear off this morning about my trainees. They just need to see something else to push their dedication to the next level—they need more real-life experiences. Witnessing something like a dolphin capturing an invader would be useful. I can try out some of our new camera tech, too. It’s easy to drop over the side of the boat and film underwater.”
“We have something like that. It takes video and stills. We use it for training, like for athletes, so we can see where we need improvement.” Kerry took a sip of coffee. “If a dolphin doesn’t perform, it’s the trainer who takes the heat, not the mammal. So we repeat actions in certain orders over and over again.”
“Yeah, practicing,” said Leaper. “That’s a SEAL thing. You’ll hear that word associated with us a lot. It’s probably a holdover from when SEALs—well, Frogmen—ran the Marine Mammal Program. The owner of the guesthouse, the one I live in now, was a Frogman and part of the Marine Mammal Program when it was in Hawaii. If he and his missus weren’t on vacation in Japan, I’d introduce you. Maybe when they get back.”
“I’d like that.” Kerry added, “I think the program was over at Kaneohe Bay, Oahu, back then.”
“One of the places, ’cause I think they were all over the coastline, but that name sounds familiar.” Leaper stood and scratched his chin. “Sorry, I’m itchy. I need to shave at some point. The stubble fairy has visited me. Do you have an extra razor?”
“Medicine cabinet, top shelf. There’s shaving cream too, if you don’t mind smelling like coconuts.” She watched his muscles ripple as he stretched and moved. So sexy.
“I like coconuts. Remind me to tell you about the time I spent doing survival training on an island—what a blast. Coconut is delicious, but too much can do funny things to the body unless you add water into the mix. And, uh, thanks for helping me out with my guys. I’ve learned that veering away from the lesson plan can be useful at times. It can provide extraordinary insight for trainees.”
He leaned over and kissed her. His mouth was just inches from hers as he spoke. “Who would have ever dreamed that making plans is best when done naked?” Leaper gently nipped at her shoulder. “I’m done talking. What about you?”
She stroked his chin. “Oh, baby, I’m not. I still have a lot to say. Come here.”
“I’m itchy. My stubble will scratch you.”
“I can tough it out, if you can.”
He smiled and caught h
er lips and laid an intensely sexy kiss on her mouth. “Kerry, I like what you have to say.”
“We have to be quick. I want to get to work early and do rounds. I’m taking the afternoon—well, most of the day—off.”
He touched a button on his phone, and music filled the air. The Violent Femmes sang “Please Do Not Go.”
“Mmm, good song. That’s one of my favorites,” Kerry said. “Sweet hands, Leaper.”
“Mine too.” Leaper dropped the phone on the floor, and then he lifted her and took her back to the bedroom. He laid her on the bed, ignoring the blanket and sheets.
Kerry squealed as he pulled her underneath him, kissing and caressing his way down her body. As he reached the junction between her legs, she said, “I love where you are…staying…” Then she sang softly to him, “Please, please…” Too soon, the rest of the lyrics were lost as she sighed with pleasure and arched against him. Oh, Violent Femmes, you are amazing…
* * *
The sun was just barely over the horizon, but the bases on Coronado were already buzzing with activity. Cars filled the lanes and moved in long lines, pouring into parking lots as personnel hustled to their duty stations.
Leaper had gotten word from Kerry on his ride over that the dolphin demonstration was all set. He asked Declan for two hours of free time with his group for a special outing. Leaper had gotten an “I don’t know what you’re doing, but have fun,” and that was good enough for him. He didn’t want to put his buddy in a bad spot, so he’d fall on his sword if he had to. Not that it should be a big deal. The Marine Mammal Program did unofficial demonstrations off the Ferry Landing in Coronado all the time. As long as everyone kept it low-key, it would work out.
He’d woken his crew hours before their usual time, given them power bars and water, and loaded them into the boat. Leaper had contemplated Tang and Pop-Tarts, his favorite breakfast growing up, but the trainees were working muscles and burning calories like crazy, so he ventured down the protein-and-hydration path.
The Power of a SEAL Page 12
