by Selena Kitt
In the late afternoon she woke alone in his bed. She started, wondering if she’d had a powerful dream, but then saw the crumpled sheets, smelled the aromas of sex. Slowly she unwound herself from a dream that she knew was no dream at all. Her plan was in shambles and she needed some distance to evaluate what had happened and see what she could now to reclaim some part of it.
Looking at the time shocked her. She’d slept for several hours and it was close to dinner time—she had to leave.
She showered and dressed in a fog of confusion. Never had her body been so satisfied, been pleasured so many times or so many ways. But that pleasure had cost her dearly. Her decision to trade sex for his cooperation had gone terribly wrong, even if the sex had been mind blowing in ways she never imagined possible.
It was just physical pleasure, she reminded herself, but already knowing that wasn’t strictly true. As her body tingled in the aftermath of him fucking her in ways that gave her incredible delight, she already knew that when it stopped, when the vibrations from his multiple assaults on her body faded, she would seek them again like a junkie after a fix. She had wanted to make him need her, be willing to do what she wanted if she would only fuck him. Instead, her tired and sore body craved him. She was the one who would do anything to be with him again.
Knowing you were becoming an addict, maybe already hooked, didn’t make it possible to change things. She’d miscalculated the power of her own overwhelming desire. The passion being with a real alpha male released had come as an incredible surprise to her. That made the experience of that day even more powerful, and compelling. She wanted to feel this way again, soon.
When she was ready, she went to tell Trevor she had to leave; he was sitting on the patio, staring out toward the pool. He was still naked. She stood behind him and watched him massaging his shoulder. “Does it hurt?”
He turned. “Sometimes. Just a stab of pain usually. For some reason it’s lingering a bit more than usual. I’ll ask the physical therapist to modify my exercises.”
She nodded. “I have to go now. My husband will be expecting me.” This time mentioning her husband sounded stupid and the tremble in her voice, it’s smallness, surprised her, bothered her. Was she that weak? Why did she mention Bobby again? Why not just say she had to leave?
He raised a hand, waved for her to come forward. “It’s a beautiful afternoon.”
“I have to go fix dinner.”
He nodded, then took her hand and looked up into her eyes. Looking back into his deep blue eyes made her legs grow weak. “That’s fine, but first I want you on your knees.”
She put a hand on the table for balance and knelt down in front of him. His crotch was at her face and when she exhaled, her breath caressed his cock. It began to stiffen again. He touched her chin, tipping her face up. “We are making a pact here, Tina my tiny cunt. And I want to make certain that you understand our relationship.”
“I understand.”
He shook his head. “I need to see that you really do, and aren’t just agreeing with me. So suck my cock and then go home to Bobby with my cum in your mouth. I want you to taste me while you cook his dinner.”
She glanced around nervously. They were outside. Someone could walk by and see them. “Here?”
“Yes, here.”
The situation made her uncomfortable but she wouldn’t deny him. Her hand shook as she reached for him, stroking his cock, feeling it grow hard, and then putting her lips on it. As she licked it, she was sure she was tasting her own pussy and that made her grow wet. She parted her lips, licked them, and then took the tip of his cock in her mouth. He took her head in his hands as she swallowed him, then when she began sucking him, moving her head back and forth, he guided her, set the tempo. He leaned back and she saw absolute pleasure on his face. It didn’t matter whether it was because of what she was doing, her ability to suck him off, or that she was doing what he wanted. He was pleased and somehow that was all that mattered.
He came, shooting down her throat, gagging her. His cum overflowed her mouth and onto her chin. When he was done, he put a finger under her chin and tipped her face upward to look at her. His smile reassured her. He touched her lips, rubbing the cum into her face, then wiping her chin and rubbing that into her cheeks as well. “Go home, Tina. Go cook dinner for Bobby.”
Somehow her legs got her into the living room. She licked her lips as she found her purse and tasted him; she got out her keys and left, walking down the sidewalk and then slipping into the warm embrace of her blue Audi where she sat, taking a moment to pull herself together. Then, putting the key in the ignition, hear the click as she turned it with the satisfying roar of the engine, all stabilized her, help restore a sense of control.
Go home. Her stomach knotted at the thought of being in her own place, trying to act as if nothing had happened. Doing those simple routine things, the idea of Bobby touching her all seemed wrong after the time she’d spent in Trevor’s hands, after the things he had done to her. Her elusive desire to be in control tried to reassert itself. She put her hands on the wheel, and then she cried. They were tears of dismay. Trevor had gotten everything he’d wanted. She’d given herself to him, practically begged him to fuck her. She thrown away her leverage. The worst part was that all she wanted now was for him to fuck her again.
On Wednesday Captain Trevor Foster came into Diane’s office for his first official session. Wearing a grand smile, squeezing his tennis ball, and flashing a contented smile, he took a seat and looked at her. “Let’s do this.”
“You looked awfully pleased with yourself.”
His grin grew even bigger. “Well it must be a combination of all this great therapy and hero worship I’m getting. I feel great.”
“I’m glad to hear that.”
He rubbed his hands together. “Excellent. Since we are all on the same page about how great my attitude is, how about signing the papers that say I’m all ready and willing to go off to war and slaughter our country’s enemies by the thousand with nothing more than a slingshot and a bottle of bourbon?”
His boyish grin made her laugh. “Not quite yet. Not even tomorrow. I’m a good therapist, and reasonably efficient at evaluation, but it still takes me more than one hour to determine how you’re doing. Sometimes we hide problems from ourselves well enough that even a good therapist needs to pole around a bit.”
“Okay.” As he slumped back in his chair she noticed a twitch of the muscles around his eyes making her suspect he was forcing his smile. The muscles were overtired. It could be something else, but part of her job was to make sure these wise guys didn’t con her.
“Are you sleeping well?”
He laughed. “Not really. The girls keep me awake.”
Not one to waste time, he was already playing her, trying to see if he could get a rise. It was the teasing of a confident man, using the fact that he was attractive to other women as a lure. “I see. And you are trying to make me think you are honey for women. Why do you want to do that?”
Her dig produced an embarrassed schoolboy grin. “Just a stupid joke. And I’m smart enough to know it’s not really about me. Not really. It’s the war hero shit that draws them.”
She caught a serious glint in his eye that time and decided to dig it out. “Not you though? You think they go for the uniform?”
“Sort of like that. It isn’t all women, of course, but for a lot of them, I guess the idea of bedding a celebrity of any kind is a big deal. The Army is working hard to make me a celebrity in uniform and that seems to be a double whammy.”
“Which you love.”
“The sex is great. The bedroom isn’t the problem and it isn’t always women. I’m not thrilled with the prefabricated idea of who I am that the Army is selling. Most people buy into it. Of course, they don’t care if it isn’t true because it’s all really external. They shake my hand and we all pretend I’m something special.”
“If that bothers you, you could send them packing.”
He looked up at her. “Are you kidding? I’m shallow and superficial enough to enjoy the sex. My hero attraction won’t last forever.”
“So that part of being a celebrity isn’t a serious burden for you?”
“If it is, it’s one I bear gladly.” He gave her a suggestive smile. “The truth is that I’d enjoy increasing the load even more if it was for the right woman.”
“So the canned pitch sucks, but the sex is okay?”
“Look Doc, I got zapped by things that were outside my control. I thought I’d die and I woke up feeling like I’d seen the edge. I’ll be damned if I will let any chance to feel the zest of life get by me. I’m done with being a nice guy. Not that I was particularly nice to begin with. I enjoyed acting out, as they say, and now I can say that was probably the smartest thing I did. Now I see a woman like you and if I sense a flicker of interest, I intend to reach out to see if I can kindle the spark and get the fires of passion roaring.”
There it was, the personal pitch. If she wanted to get in line, he’d see what he could do about getting her a seat at the table for the feast that was Trevor Foster. But how much of that arrogance was fabricated? She sat back, realizing that his obvious ploy actually appealed to her. Well, he appealed to her. “So, besides an unrepentant bad boy, who are you really, Trevor?”
“Nobody. A guy who struggled hard to get a worthless degree in general science from a mediocre school while doing ROTC, then joined the Army, got trained in how to hide and shoot and crawl on his belly, then sent to war, where he got beat up like all the other men and women over there. A guy who followed orders until he found himself in serious shit, and then was lucky enough to survive it.”
“That’s it? You are sitting her alive, talking with me because you were lucky?”
He shrugged. “It seems to be my story. No matter how my personal flack spins the story, the truth is that when things started going bad I didn’t turn out to have amazing super powers. At least two of the guys with me were a hell of a lot stronger and some were smarter. Every one of them did his best to stay alive while all hell was breaking loose and I was the only one that managed it. Most of them were standing in the wrong place when bullets and shrapnel came flying through us.” He hesitated. “One of them caught a blast that, if he’d ducked, would’ve killed me. So yeah, luck was a big part of it.”
“You kept your head.”
“Cannons to the right of me, cannons to the left of me volleyed and thundered…”
“I think we can leave Tennyson out of the analysis of your experience.”
“Why? I don’t see any reason psychological conditions shouldn’t be expressed poetically.”
“It doesn’t fly. Take my word for it. You’d need to meet my thesis professor to understand. Anyway, so you think the hero persona is bogus.”
“Only totally.”
“Fine.”
“Fine?”
She tapped her notebook with her pen. “Remember that what we are doing is evaluating you, trying to establish if the trauma you went through has any repercussions that might affect your ability to serve. What you think, or want me to think you think, isn’t really that big a deal. But just for the hell of it, I’d like to point out that there’s no commandment that says being a hero should be fun or anything at all in particular. Heroics are something other people see in you. It doesn’t matter whether that sits right or not. It’s like believing in something. It doesn’t have to make sense, cause it’s belief. A hero is someone who does something that scares or impresses other people. It would help you move on if you could just accept that you are one and see where it takes you. It’s s form of celebrity, and I know it can feel unearned, make you ask what you did to deserve it. Of course, some people skip the question or decide it doesn’t matter if there is an answer, and just takes advantage of the situation.”
“That’s me. Unable to resist the ladies throwing themselves at me even if I don’t deserve the adulation.”
“Now you’re baiting me.”
A thin smile told her she’d struck a vein. “I suppose I am.”
“My guess is that you are finding it a rather shallow victory, a reward for your suffering that doesn’t really do much for you beyond short term gratification and that makes you angry.”
She watched his breathing, saw the tension in his shoulders. “Something like that.”
“So how do you want things to be? Do you want the women to leave you alone?”
“Not really. It’s confusing.” Suddenly Diane saw a serious side of him. “Maybe it’s a matter of it being the wrong ones who throw themselves at me. Maybe it’s that I want women to like me for me without the hero costume. That makes them all sound like idiots and that’s unfair. It’s just that…”
“If it’s being a hero that bothers you, that will pass. Let them make a fuss over you until you fade into old news or some greater hero conquers a more fascinating villain.”
“A washed-up hero is worse off than a current one. He’s lost his relevance and isn’t really anything but a memory that everyone really wants to forget.”
She let the words hang there for a time. “That’s a good insight, Trevor. You’ve given this serious thought.”
“And it hasn’t helped. As you say, I’m a hero, and I can’t change that, and have no interest in being an ex hero. Where does that leave me? In the Army my medal will mean something toward promotion, but at this point I don’t even know if the Army, you and the Army, will let me stay in. An ex hero on disability is pretty sad.”
“Is it? Well, if a person doesn’t like who they are or the path they see ahead of them, my advice is usually to change things. Do something entirely different.”
“What do you mean?”
“The way you said that about your medal getting you a promotion—you didn’t sound particularly enthusiastic. I get the impression that getting promoted doesn’t mean much to you.”
“You act as if I was making a choice. The way I see things, I’m killing time being put on display while other people decide my fate.”
“If the future looks dismal, you could take the initiative.”
“Such as?”
“That depends on what you want. You have the power to shake things up. If you asked for a medical discharge, said that you couldn’t deal with this any more, I expect you’d get it. You’d have a small pension that would keep you alive while you did something else.”
He laughed. “Let’s see… Why don’t we review my skill set? I am well trained in killing people, maiming others, marching with a heavy pack, setting up machine guns and mortars. Oh, and I dig a mean latrine. Maybe you could help me put together a resume. I understand there are mercenaries hiring.”
“You could go back to school. Maybe the Army didn’t train you for useful civilian jobs but that doesn’t mean you have no aptitude for something that you’d enjoy.”
He ran his fingers through his short hair. “To be honest, just starting to think that way wears me out.”
She stood up. “Then we should call it a day. Think about what I’ve said. I’m not suggesting you do anything about any of this right now, but I’d like to hear your considered thoughts on my ideas next time. And I don’t expect you to say I’m right or wrong, just see if my thoughts trigger ideas of your own.”
“I thought you were evaluating my fitness for duty, not acting as a career counselor.”
“Call it a professional reflex to want to do both. And there’s no extra charge for military men. Besides, your answers to my questions, hearing how you feel about my ideas will tell me a lot more than you think about whether you are fit for duty.” She looked him over as he stood and thought she’d never seen anyone more fit, physically anyway. She certainly understood why he had women crawling all over him.
She forced herself to ignore the images that conjured up.
“How is the shoulder doing?”
He shrugged. “It’s recovering. It hurts once in a while, but they tell me that’s
just normal and I’m being a wimp.”
“Really?”
“No. They don’t say I’m a wimp. They tell me how brave I am. There’s a piece of shrapnel in the shoulder and my body is getting used to it, which, seeing as they intend to leave it in, seems like a good thing.”
“Are you taking anything for the pain?”
“It doesn’t hang around that long. Does all this relate to my evaluation too?”
“Everything about you is relevant.”
“Then I’d like to make a suggestion. I’ve heard that to get to know a person’s mental state you should observe them under various conditions.”
She watched him, saw that he was going somewhere with this. “That depends on what you’re trying to determine.”
“Since everything about me is relevant, I suggest you observe me closely over dinner. Then you could see me in my natural habitat.”
