Under Her Uniform

by Victoria Janssen

  “You’re too damned heavy,” she said.

  “I can walk.” He paused. “Maybe even run.”

  They’d managed at least a mile’s head start before they began to hear sounds of pursuit: a motorbike roaring down the main road, and much nearer, the distant sound of horses. The rutted path they’d chosen would be found eventually; as the sound of hooves drew closer, Southey glanced at her and indicated the nearest cover with his chin.

  They rolled, tumbling down the slope into the wide ditch, landing amid a heap of discarded brush that scraped her bare legs raw. When she gasped, Southey clapped his hand over her mouth, dragging her close to his body. She could feel his panting breath on her hair, his heaving chest against her back. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to relax against him, letting her breathing slow and deepen.

  Southey’s hand fell away from her mouth and came to rest lower, on her chest. With each breath, her breast lifted toward his fingers; she almost arched her back to bring his touch closer before she realized what she was doing and subsided. Several sticks poked her in the stomach, more irritating by the second.

  They lay in tense silence as the hollow thud of a horse’s hooves and the jingle of its tack drew nearer, occasionally pausing as its rider must have peered into the undergrowth, then approaching once more. Hailey prayed—not for deliverance, but for Southey’s hand to slide lower, to discover her secret.

  Which was foolish in the extreme, for if he did discover her womanly attributes here and now, he’d likely gasp and alert the searchers to their hiding place.

  Her foolish body didn’t care. His strong, warm palm sent heat right through her, curling in her belly and enclosing her heart. His hand spoke a language that her body understood.

  The horse came nearer, close enough that she could feel the vibrations of its hooves through the ground. She swore she could smell it, hot horse and leather, and onions clinging to its rider’s woolen uniform. She pressed her head back against Southey, biting her lip to hold her silence against the pounding of her heart.

  The horse stopped. She could hear its weight shifting, the creak of leather as its rider leaned out over the verge. Surely there was enough stray brush here that their rough passage hadn’t left an obvious trail.

  Soft pressure touched her hair. Southey’s lips, followed by a soft puff of air. Warmth eased down her limbs, and then the rider chirruped to his horse and rode away.

  Southey sagged but didn’t speak. Hailey didn’t want to speak, either; that single rider might not be the only pursuit on this road. She reached up and found his hand, grasping it hard in her own, then giving a little tug. Together they crawled and scrambled beneath the overgrown bushes as far from the road as they could manage, then set off in the direction of home, stopping only to drink at a stream. Eventually, there were no more signs of pursuit.

  As dawn drew near, Hailey spotted a haying shed. It was unguarded and empty save for layers of damp, stale hay that might have lain there since the previous summer, before the Germans had invaded. Hailey found the ladder on the floor and, with Southey’s help, lifted it so they could climb up to the bare loft, where they collapsed side-by-side in a pile of dusty grain sacks. In silence, they ate the last of the dried beef.

  Southey’s bare arm brushed hers, a prickle of electricity. She sat up, battling her skirts into submission, to rest her arms and cheek on her updrawn knees. “I couldn’t leave you,” she said at last.

  “I’m glad you didn’t. Thank you for getting me out.”

  She hesitated, wondering how to say all that ought to be said. Perhaps it would be better to say nothing. That had usually worked for her in the past. It had worked because it didn’t matter what she said, because she only spoke to get by. Now that she wanted to say something important, it was as if she’d forgotten how. She got up and found a window, opening it up to let in some air and early gray light.

  She heard Southey climbing to his knees, then rustling as he struggled out of his female clothing, layer by layer. He spread it all atop the empty sacks, outer dress first, padding, petticoats, and finally chemise. In the pearly dawn light, she could see his muscles and bones moving beneath the pale skin of his back; her mouth watered at the way his long drawers hung loose on his narrow hips, exposing a delicate arch of hipbone and a hint of the curve of his arse.

  “Why are you—”

  He turned to face her, arms flung wide. “This is who I am, underneath, no matter what clothes I’m wearing.”

  Hailey leaned back against the wall, trembling from a messy tangle of emotions. She couldn’t tear her eyes from the rounded muscle at the top of his shoulder, and the way it flowed into his upper arm. She wanted to kiss him, just there, to lick along that line from bicep to the tender inside of his elbow, and down to the blue veins in his wrist, where she would press her mouth in a fervent salute.

  Southey dropped his arms. “Hailey. Bob. I’m not wrong, am I?”

  She stared at him, mouth dry. She couldn’t stop herself from closing her arms reflexively over her chest.

  Southey advanced. She had no room to retreat. He drew her hands away from her breasts as he kissed her, long and slow and deep, tinged with the fading adrenaline of their escape.

  He lifted his head. She breathed in, deeply, lifting their clasped hands and placing them on her breasts. She looked up, into his eyes, gleaming in the pale light.

  He didn’t speak, only bent down to kiss her again, his hands shifting gently atop hers, spreading delicious warmth down her chest, through her belly and deep into her cunt. Her shoulders relaxed, then her back; she slumped against the wall, limp with relief as much as with desire. When they stopped to breathe, she put her arms around his waist, drawing him closer. She tipped her forehead against his bare chest, drawing in the scent of his skin.

  “You could’ve told me,” Southey murmured. “I know why you didn’t, but I want you to know I won’t tell anyone else.”

  “How?”

  He shrugged. “When you stood up, in the dress, with the knife in your hand. I know what a man looks like in a dress. I knew all at once you weren’t a man. A lot of things made more sense as soon as I realized. Little things I’d noticed.”

  “Would anyone else—”

  “No. I was watching you more than the other fellows. More than I should’ve been, were you a man, because I’m not that way. But I couldn’t help myself.” He lifted one hand and laid it on her cheek. He grinned. “I should’ve realized before. But with my family, we didn’t have any girls to play breeches parts. It was mostly us boys playing girls.” He paused. “What’s your real name? Will you tell me?”

  “Bob truly is my nickname,” she said. “My mother named me Isobel, though.”

  “Which do you like?”

  “I’m used to Bob, I suppose.”

  “Bob, then. Isobob.” He grinned at her, and ruffled his hand through her hair.

  Hailey couldn’t think what else to say. She didn’t have any words just now, only exhaustion. She wanted to lie down on the floor, in his arms, with the new knowledge they both had. She rubbed her nose against his chest and laced her fingers more tightly at the small of his back. She wanted to have him, here and now. She wanted him to have her. “You make a pretty girl,” she said.

  “You think so?” He posed a moment, batting his eyelashes, then kissed her again, this time moving from her mouth to her jawbone and up to her ear, which set her trembling all over again. “We need to get some sleep,
I think. Though I’m a bit twitchy for sleep just yet.” His hand traced her side, her waist. “What do you think?”

  She uncurled her fingers, tracing shapes in the smooth hollow of his spine, then letting her hands wander down to his arse, pushing the drawers down lower. “Don’t tease me just now. I want you so much I can’t think,” she said. “I’ve been wanting you even though I knew I shouldn’t.” She stretched up and kissed the hollow of his throat, lingering there a while.

  Southey caught his breath, smiled at her and kissed her nose. “Isn’t it nice things worked out as they did?”

  “But…what will we do? After tonight?”

  “I’ll think of something. I’m good at that, you know. And you’re pretty good with thinking of solutions, yourself. You got me out of the worst scrape I can remember.”

  “I’m not fond of killing,” she admitted, “but I’ll do it if I have to. I couldn’t leave you there. Not you.” She laid her hand on his unbruised cheek, stroking with her thumb, looking into his eyes. “You have such pretty eyes.” She tugged his face a little lower down and kissed him, sliding her other arm around his neck. His hands wandered up and down her back, long smooth strokes that made her want to purr and beg all at the same time. She dragged her mouth away from his and said, “If I took this damned dress off, we could add it to the bedding, there.”

  The floor beneath the grain sacks was just as uncomfortable as she’d thought, but as Southey pointed out, “It’s better than a wet ditch!” and soon she wasn’t so focused on the thought of splinters and mouse dung. They lay side by side, but close, so she could feel the warmth of his skin even where they didn’t touch.

  She smoothed her hand down the length of his side and his lean flank, stopping to circle his hipbone with her thumb. “I love that part of a man,” she confessed.

  “Admire it all you like,” he said, a little short of breath. He nuzzled at her throat, spending a while there teasing her with tongue and teeth, while his hands found her breasts. Gradually, he rolled and then Hailey was on top. “I can reach you better this way,” he murmured into her cheek, and nipped at her ear.

  “If you want splinters,” she said, on a gasp, squirming a little atop his length. She reached down and found his cock, which prodded her insistently. “This part’s not so bad, either.”

  “Not so bad?” He laughed.

  Gently, Hailey curled her fingers around his erect cock and stroked from base to tip, where she paused, circling her palm over the head. Southey made a gratifying noise, let his breath out in a long sigh, then dragged in air again. She said, “What I’d really like is to have this inside of me.”

  He sighed again. “I don’t like to tell you this, but I don’t have a condom.”

  Hailey sat up a little, looking down into his face. “I can’t have children,” she said. “I’m willing to risk the rest, if you are. I’m in a position to know you don’t go visiting whores.”

  She kissed him again, hard. He tasted good, familiar. His warm hands on her back sent pleasant shivers over her skin. A little breathless, she said, “If you don’t want to risk it, I won’t be angry. We can do something else.”

  “If you’re sure—”

  “I’m sure. This might be our only chance.” She paused. She hadn’t meant to say the words out loud, the words they were both thinking. “I want to be as close as we can be.”

  Southey took her face between his hands and kissed her. She kissed back, letting her hands roam a little farther. This time, when they mutually drew apart to breathe, she changed position a bit, enough so he could reach her breasts with his mouth. He grinned at her, suddenly so handsome she could hardly stand it. The light outside was growing brighter, and so was his face in her eyes.

  “Are those a gift? For me?” he said. He flicked one nipple with his tongue. “I’ve had this dream before, many times, and it was nothing as good as this. Come down here a bit more so I can—”

  Hailey leaned closer, propping herself on her hands and letting him have free access. She nearly swooned when, after endless teasing with lips and tongue, he sucked a nipple between his teeth and drew on it, strongly, a pulse that went straight down inside her and wrenched, almost like a little orgasm. She groaned deeply and closed her eyes tightly, riding the sensations for all she was worth. She scarcely had any chance at all to touch her own breasts, much less have someone else, someone skilled, to pleasure them.

  “Holy God,” she said. “Andrew—don’t bloody stop.”

  He seemed to understand he wasn’t meant to reply to this, and renewed his efforts, suckling one nipple until it was so tender she cried out, then switching to the other with dedicated intensity, letting the cool air wash over the wet streaks left by his mouth. He seemed to know exactly how hard she wanted it; when he stopped for a moment to breathe, she realized he knew because she’d been telling him, without even realizing she’d been speaking. She’d never done that before, talked so much during sex. She’d never lost herself so far, so fast.

  All the while she could feel his cock, harder even than before and standing out a little from his flat abdomen. When his mouth had brought her so close to coming she thought she would scream, she wordlessly grabbed his cock and drove herself down onto it.

  Southey moaned, his cheekbones going scarlet. “Warn a man, next time!”

  “I could stop,” she said, bending forward, grinding her clit against him as hard as she could. She was so close.

  “Perish—the—thought.” He seized her hips in his hands and thrust up, biting his lip. Hailey came hard, in a series of little cries, her fingers digging into his rib cage.

  After she’d finished shuddering, she collapsed forward, her hands planted on his chest. His lungs heaved as he strove for control. “Bob. Jesus Bloody Christ.”

  She rubbed her face against his. “Fuck me.”

  “Not arguing. How do you—”

  “I like what will make you feel good,” she said, stroking his eyebrow, touching her fingertip to his half-open mouth. “You feel really, really good inside me right now.”

  Southey looked into her eyes as he thrust upward. “You are beautiful, did you know that?”

  Hailey blinked, distracted from the sweet sliding sensation of his cock in her cunt. “You don’t have to say that,” she said. He was the beautiful one, with his pale hair and bright complexion, his startlingly blue eyes, his even, clean-cut features. Even his ears were nicely shaped. Hers, she knew, stuck out a little, more evident with her short haircut than when she’d worn it long, when she’d dressed as a woman.

  “I wish you could see your own face right now,” he said. “Your mouth is so soft and pink, and your little nose—”

  “It’s the inside of me that’s making you think that, right now,” she said, wishing he would stop talking.

  “Oh, that’s perfection,” he said, holding his thrust for a few extra seconds, until she thought she would never breathe again. “Don’t argue with the man who’s fucking you, all right?”

  His expression was so grim as he said this that she laughed, which made peculiar flutters inside her cunt, which led to him groaning and digging his fingers into her hips, which led to her swiveling herself down on him even harder and holding him there while his forehead beaded with sweat.

  She lost track of time as they strove together, tension winding tighter and tighter. Southey came on an upward thrust, his arms wound tight around her back, clinging there as he shuddered, as she felt him jerking inside
of her. They lay still for a long time like that; she held his cock inside of her for as long as she could, while her head rested comfortably on his sweaty shoulder.

  The sun was well up by now, and a beam from the high window moved inexorably across the floor as the long day progressed. As they were already filthy and had neither food or water for distraction, they had another go around midday, then slept until dark. At last, they judged it safe to slip out. They’d need water, food, some new clothes and preferably a wash. But they had the maps. And they had each other. Hailey decided that, just now, she lacked for nothing.

  * * *

  Back at the regiment, Hailey wasn’t able to forget about her encounter with Southey the way she had, sometimes, been able to ignore thoughts of Meyer and Daglish. Her daily round of duties dragged monotonously.Sshe missed the daily exercise she’d had, walking into occupied territory, and the constant attention she’d had to spend on both her surroundings and her disguise. In contrast, keeping Meyer’s boots in good repair seemed a waste of time instead of a soothing habit.

  Also, there was the discomfort of knowing she’d have to tell Meyer, sooner or later, that she’d met someone else. That for now, she’d prefer to go on leave with Andrew Southey. She thought Meyer and Daglish would get along all right without her. Perhaps better.

  They were not her responsibility. They were grown men, who could take care of themselves.

  A few days after their return to the British lines, Hailey sought out Southey at his lonely sniper post.

  His grin at her was melancholy. Mindful of listeners, he said, “Bob. It’s good to see your face.”