Vengeance of Sukesh: John Mason (Legend of John Mason)

by Barbara J Robertson

  When the final week arrived, Mason sent a communiqué to Colonel Tyrone on Monday and requested two weeks’ vacation beginning at his OCS graduation. He tactfully informed the Colonel he hadn’t taken any leave in eleven years, other than one week to grieve the loss of his wife. He was approved for ten days the same day. At his first opportunity Mason called Admiral Baines, and invited her to share his vacation with him.

  “I have a days’ worth of appointments in Houston for new updated implants. Then I want to take you to paradise. Will you come with me, Admiral Baines?” He anxiously waited for her response.

  She smiled a very saucy smile at him. “Paradise? Now how could I refuse you, John?”

  “Great! I’ll take care of everything. Are you coming to the graduation?” He asked.

  “I wouldn’t miss it. I’ll be traveling with Admiral Worthington and your Commandant, by the way, John. Victor will be staying with the Baines when you come home,” she informed him, her hazel eyes twinkling. That last sentence told Mason all he needed to know.

  “Then I’ll see you in three nights and a wake-up, Admiral Baines,” Mason said, smiling a very big smile for her.

  “Look sharp, Marine,” she said, smiling her sexy upside-down smile. They clicked off.

  Last Wednesday the Officer Candidates were individually fitted by the holographic design computer for their Space Marine class A uniforms and hats. Space Marine officers wore a red hip-length jacket and black trousers. But the Prime Marine uniforms were very distinctive, enlisted or officer. Mason was fitted for his new crimson red Prime Marine officer’s uniform, a tunic-length jacket with gold buttons, with new tall black boots, black short trousers that tucked inside his boots, with red double striping down the sides.

  His uniform jacket was more ornate as an officer than his enlisted uniform, but it was still a crimson red tunic, which he loved. His lapels were trimmed in thin gold braids along the edges, down to his last gold button. His sleeves had black cuffs, and would have his Second Lieutenant’s stripe in black above them. No more chevrons.

  Mason remained devoid of his medals until after the ceremony. He felt naked without them, if the truth be told. His uniform shirt included ruffled frills, and he’d just have to get used to it. His thin tie was tied in a bow, with the long ends hanging down the perfect length. He picked up his new officer’s uniform Thursday, and it was a perfect fit. His raised bill hat was stiff, but it looked good on him. The bill was black trimmed in gold around the hat’s bottom edge; Prime Marine insignia was prominently in the center. White fabric on all sides, with a red top; what a hat, Mason mused.

  Mason barely slept all night. He ran his physical training course at 5a.m. to relax. He was showered and dressed by 0-eight hundred hours. The other candidates all were impressed by Mason’s Prime Marine uniform, and he gladly told them what it would require of them to qualify for Prime Marine training.

  0-nine hundred hours, and they all got into formation. Mason was placed in the back row, next to the other very tall men. All six companies of Officer Candidates marched in step to the drums’ cadence to their places on the parade field.

  Colonel Harding designed a special marching pattern for the Commandant and Admiral Worthington. Now, the drill instructor was worried about the intricate drill because the field was so wet from last night’s heavy rainfall. It was a patterned march with real laser rifles, featuring close-quarters drill, steps and turns in front of the grandstands. He asked Mason to give the Officer Candidates a pep talk, which he did, and it calmed them down, as well as their drill instructor.

  Ten hundred hours, and the band began as the color-guard entered; everyone in the grandstand and audience stood to salute. The parade of the six companies went well. Now for the intricate-patterned marching formations. Twelve minutes of Colonel Harding sweating bullets, while the six companies of Officer Candidates went through their rifle drills, marching and turning to the drum corps’ cadence. It was time for the big finale, the across-the-lines toss of spinning laser rifles, while twelve lines of Officer Candidates marched in between each other. Their timing was flawless. The entire gallery stood and applauded, cheering for them all. Mason was proud of them and proud for himself.

  A-Ten-Shun! The diplomas and the gold Second Lieutenant’s insignia were next. Mason received his diploma, and Admiral Worthington pinned and saluted him, then he walked off the stage. He noticed Admiral Baines was seated up there, but he did not avert his eyes.

  They threw their hats in the air, and Mason could at long last breathe a sigh of relief. He caught his own hat, replaced it on his head, and walked towards the stage. The Commandant was walking down the steps with Admiral Baines. He stopped in front of Mason and said, “Put these on, Prime Marine. Let them know who you are!” He pinned the entire block of medals on Mason’s chest. Then he placed the URE Medal of Honor around Mason’s neck, and they all saluted him, including Colonel Harding.

  Mason was taken to the shuttle holding Admiral Worthington, the Commandant, and Admiral Baines. They went to the Quantico airport and boarded the transport, all of them in first class. Commandant Richardson made Mason sit next to him for the entire three hour trip to Houston, and showed him his first assignment, commencing three weeks from that day.

  Mason soon discovered “Special Liaison to the Joint Chiefs” really meant black ops; clandestine operations anywhere the big guns sent him, all top secret. They found Mason capable of keeping secrets and trustworthy, even when threatened with life in prison. After his ten-day vacation, he would be trained on a long range fighter for one week, and sent on Operation Clean Sweep. One week to learn long range fighters—okay, no problem, no pressure there. New fighter pilots were in training for six months. He was a licensed shuttle pilot, familiar with sub-space flights and aerodynamics, but inter-planetary fighters were another matter entirely. At least they gave him the technical training manuals early to study.

  Another shuttle took them home to Admiral Baines’ house. Victor and his grandparents were there waiting for them. Mommy got the first hug, and then Mason. “John Mason, are you here to stay with us now? Let me see your new hat. It doesn’t have any braids. I’m glad they gave you your medals back. When can we fly again?” Victor blurted out at once, hugging him. Mason laughed with the boy.

  “I’m here, shuttle pilot. Did you take good care of your Mommy? Were you a good boy?” This continued for several minutes until Mason chased him all over the house and into the backyard. Victor climbed up on his shoulders and Mason ran around the yard with him.

  They visited for a couple of hours, and then Victor left with his grandparents. It was just after 6p.m. Mason asked, “May I take you to dinner tonight? I’ve made reservations at Le Jean Restaurant for us at eight o’clock, if you’re interested, Dr. Baines.”

  “I’m starved, and it sounds wonderful. Would you like bourbon, first?” She asked him.

  “I’d like you to kiss me first,” he said, smiling at her. She smiled her sexy smile and went into his arms, held him tightly and kissed him. He picked her up and cradled her in his arms, and let passion briefly consume them.

  “Welcome home, Marine,” she said in a low voice, kissed him again, and he put her down. She pulled away, touched his lips, and went to get ready for dinner.

  Mason looked at himself for the first time as an officer in the full-length mirror. A Second Lieutenant, Lord help him. His old Master Sergeant would’ve called him “laser fodder.” I did this for her, he reminded himself, so we could be together, and not jeopardize her career. He committed to work hard to make them both proud of him. He was still first and foremost a Prime Marine, and he would excel. It was the way of the warrior.

  He showered and shaved, and put on his new charcoal designer suit. He bought three new suits before leaving for OCS: the gray one he wore in Cape Cod; a dark blue suit with mini pinstripes; and the charcoal one, his favorite. Splurging on his clothing for the first time ever, he bought designer suits and shoes. After what he’d been throu
gh, he felt he deserved them.

  Mason put his black silk shirt on, tucked it into his charcoal trousers and put on his new thin belt, fancy socks and Italian shoes, all black. Then the tie that the gay salesman insisted he buy with abstract colors, and “Subtle undertones of silver and purple.” It seemed to change colors, and that’s what Mason liked about it. He admired his new suit in the full-length mirror, and hoped she liked it. He was ready for a night to remember; maybe the night of his life.

  While he waited for her, he opened the front door and finished his bourbon. Dr. Baines walked out of her bedroom and saw his silhouette in her front doorway, the moonlight streaming all around him. He looked electric, his suit reflecting the moonlight. Was this the same man she knew so long ago? The handsome young man she favored, but could not and would not have as her own; the man who saved her life many times. The man she waited for; the man she wanted. He was right in front of her at last. Please God, she silently prayed, please make it work out; please make it work for the rest of our lives.

  “Let me look at you, John,” she said softly. He turned and went to her. She was wearing a cerulean blue dress. The fabric draped across her breasts invitingly.

  “Positively stunning!” He told her. She knew she was a knock-out in that dress. She wore the platinum earrings he gave her.

  “John, your suit is gorgeous! The fabric is so rich. It feels so soft. So nice to touch,” she said, running her fingers down his lapel, and his chest.

  “I hoped you’d like it,” he said, looking at her. The taxi shuttle pulled up, and they left.

  “Le Jean” was on the top of the tallest skyscraper in Houston, up 125 floors. It was very chic, intimately designed, and very expensive, but Mason didn’t care. It was a special night. The host showed them their table by the window. The fare was classic French.

  Admiral Baines ordered her dinner in French, and helped him order his. There were over fifty pinot noir wines to choose from. Mason called for the sommelier, who recommended a pinot noir priced under a month’s pay. It was superb, and she loved it.

  They dined slowly, and talked about everything. Between dinner and dessert, she confessed she’d had one brief affair since her husband died. “It was at a conference. I was very lonely, John, and it was before you came to me. It was a less than satisfactory experience, and I left his room. It was a mistake. There have been no other sexual encounters, John.”

  He listened to her closely, felt her pain and loneliness. He reached for her hand and she squeezed it tightly. “I also made one mistake after my DNA re-engineering.” He told her about the mixed martial arts tournament, defeating Motumbo, and “Pantera.” He did not elaborate about their rough sex, but he did tell her about seeing the Space Marine officer’s uniform. “When I saw the uniform, I got out of there. She never told me she was an officer.”

  “What was her rank, John?” She asked.

  “A Colonel. I bolted out of there, and she just laughed. That was definitely a mistake, I’d say,” he admitted. She didn’t ask for more details, and neither did he.

  Dr. Baines was so easy to be with and talk to, just like always; genuine, charming, a good conversationalist, and flirtatious. After dinner, he asked, “Would you like to go up top? It’s supposed to have a full view of Houston from there.” She agreed. Mason paid the bill, and did not faint. They went upstairs to the observation deck.

  She pulled her shawl around her bare shoulders as they walked onto the roof, looking out at the city, and all the shuttles flying about. They watched a small squadron of fighters rise vertically from the Earth Command base, then launch away like rockets. She pointed out several landmarks to him, and he saw her shiver. Mason unbuttoned his jacket and wrapped her inside, next to him. “Better?” He asked, holding her in his arms.

  “Much better, John,” she answered, turning around inside his jacket to face him. Her thick auburn hair was blowing lightly in the night breeze.

  Mason held her tight, and for the very first time, he said, “Rachel.”

  She smiled, and put her arms around his neck and kissed him passionately. They stood on the roof top overlooking Houston, completely lost in each other’s kisses, while the people came and went, and the minutes ticked away. Rachel breathlessly pulled her lips away from his, and said, “Take me home, John.”

  The taxi shuttle home seemed to take hours. When they arrived at her home, she asked him to get the bottle of cognac and meet her on the couch in a few minutes. The couch?

  Okay, she wants to play first. He got the bottle of cognac, two snifters and napkins, and took them to the couch. He removed his jacket and folded it on his bed in the guest bedroom. He took off his tie, and unbuttoned the top couple of buttons on his silk shirt; it was very warm in there, or maybe he was very warm. He went and opened her front door to get some cool air, and rolled his sleeves up.

  Rachel finally came out, barefoot but dressed. She wanted to make it last, and enjoy every second tonight. “Let’s have a drink, John.” She poured hefty amounts of cognac in the glasses. He closed her front door and went to sit with her. She sat down, tucked her feet underneath her, and was all smiles for him. Mason took his glass and sat next to her, as they crossed arms and sipped, and she kissed him. She told him how handsome he looked tonight, thanked him again for the wonderful dinner, and their exquisite wine.

  “It felt like liquid silk on my tongue,” Mason said. She liked that; her eyes lit up. He’d play with her, if that’s what she wanted; he’d play with her good.

  He touched the strap of her dress and ran his big fingers down it, and across her chest. “I like the way the fabric folds over your breasts, so inviting,” he said, moving his fingers across her chest, just above her cleavage. She unbuttoned his shirt and caressed his pectoral muscles, her gray-green eyes twinkling, as her lips parted.

  Mason leaned in slowly to kiss her shoulder, her neck and up the side of her lovely face, and he lightly caressed her waist and upper side near her breasts. She loved his touch. He brushed his lips against her cheek and ear. She kissed him softly, darting her tongue tip between his lips. But Mason was not through playing with her. He touched her bare thigh, and moved his hand up her thigh slowly, deliberately, pushing up her dress, until he touched her panties. Mason slipped his fingers underneath the elastic and traced it around her leg, and moved his big fingers inside her panties, barely touching her labia. She gasped, and started to squirm. He kissed her mouth gently and rose up on his knees.

  “Lay back, Rachel,” he said. She looked at him, the fire building in her eyes, as she reached for his belt. “No, not yet,” he said, and gently pushed her down onto the cushion. He untied her dress at the waist, and parted it. She had taken off her bra and stockings to make things easy for him. He held onto the back of the couch and kissed mouth deeply, holding his body up over her, to tantalize her.

  Mason moved down to her breasts, perfectly round with hard nipples, and gently licked and sucked them, as she held his head. He moved his mouth down her stomach to her panties, while she caressed his head and neck. He took the panties off her swiftly, ran his big hands inside her thighs, spread her legs, and put his mouth and tongue on her.

  Mason slowly teased and tantalized her as she gently pulled his hair, and brought her to orgasm. She thrashed her head back and forth and cried, “Oh God, John, oh God!” She pulled away from him.

  He filled their glasses again, and handed her glass to her. “God, you’re good at doing that to me,” she said in a very low voice. She drank her cognac, and managed to sit up after several minutes. She took off his shirt and laid her head on his chest, caressing his tight muscles. Mason sported a full erection. She carefully unzipped his pants.

  “My God, John, you’re huge!” She exclaimed, looking at him.

  “Now, Dr. Baines, I know for a fact you’ve seen me naked, and more than once,” he said.

  “Not like this, I haven’t,” she admitted, taking his erect cock and gently touching him. Rachel drove him wild with he
r tongue and fingers, taking her sweet time. She brought him to orgasm, then embraced him, stroking his torso.

  After a few moments, Mason scooped her up in his arms and took her straight to bed. Mason made love with her the entire night, touching her, kissing her, caressing her body all over. She was exciting and very responsive, and she loved his touch, his embraces. They fell asleep in each other’s arms, satiated and completely spent. Their sixteen week waiting period ended. Not only sixteen weeks; over ten years of desire, buried and subdued longing for each other culminated in total ecstasy and satisfaction. They were star-crossed lovers no more.

  Later in the morning, Rachel awoke alone. She got up and found a note, “Gone for a run.” She heard him jump over her fence, stretch out, and do his kung fu routine. She put on her silk robe, got a bottle of cold water and a clean towel for him. She stood in her patio doorway, watched him sweat and pant, and take off his shirt. He did his flying kicks, and his jumping splits. Then he dropped to the ground for his push-ups. Mason’s back, biceps and pectoral muscles were fully pumped, red, and inviting to her.

  Rachel’s left hand went to her collar bone, gathered up her robe, and she moved her fingers in the fabric. He saw her standing there, at last. She handed him the bottle of water, and he quickly drank half of it down. He poured the rest over his face, shoulders and chest. As the steam rose off his body, she could stand it no more. “No sit-ups today,” she said, and took him into her shower and started the side water jets. She jumped in his arms, and put her shapely legs around his hips. Rachel had him, and would not let him go. He relished her fire, her hungry kisses and her drive as she went crazy wild on him. He satisfied her with a strong orgasm, and let himself finally go, then leaned against the wall, staring into her eyes.