The first plane was sighted three days after Robert had been appointed in charge of domestic duties. They were eating lunch: grilled swordfish and salad, when Ray suddenly stood up at the table.

“Shut the fuck up!” he ordered and there was instant silence.

They all strained their ears and then they heard what sounded like a mosquito in the distance.

“Go! Go! Go!” Ray screamed but the men were already on their way to their stations.

Steve Ford ran to the top of the Lookout Hill so fast that he collapsed after igniting the signal pyre. Ray, John and Craig lit smaller fires along the beach. The plane was no more than a speck on the distant horizon but surely it would see the plumes of dense black smoke coming from the small island set in the jewelled sea?

The plane got no closer but hopes ran high and the surviving crew of the PT 991 celebrated late into the night and remained extra vigilant for further sightings of rescue craft.

The second plane was sighted three days later, even further away it was just a mote on the horizon. The stench of burning diesel and tires matched the mood of the men who became dejected and forlorn over the following week when there was no sign of rescue.

Robert worked harder, preparing scrumptious meals, washing and mending the men’s clothing, folding it neatly and placing it on bunks he had made up with fresh sun-dried sheets. He went out of his way to try to lift the men’s spirits but they were crestfallen and dejected.

After dinner one night Ray put one of his precious cigarettes into his mouth. He was rationing them and allowed himself only three per day. Robert picked up Ray’s Zippo and leaned in to light it and Ray pushed him away.

“I can light my own cigarettes kid,” he snarled.

Robert became ostracised from the group. They blamed him for giving them hope and then snatching it away. They knew as well as Robert did that it was not his fault but it was easier to endure the pain of disappointment when there was someone to blame.

The harder Robert worked to ingratiate himself, the more he was rejected and isolated. The men became petty. His food was never tasty, they found stains on their laundry and the sheets on their beds were stale. They were all imaginary sleights but they hurt. Even Craig who had always been Robert’s friend rejected him.

Robert returned to his Quonset one day to find his rack overturned and his meagre possessions scattered around the room. When he complained to Ray he was told to stop whining.

Robert was serving dinner one night when things came to a head.

“What is this shit?” John Fitzgibbons pushed his food around his plate like a spoilt child.

“It’s a fish curry. Wahoo to be precise. Craig caught it fresh this morning,” Robert countered.

“Well it tastes like shit. Why can’t we have proper American food instead of this Nip crap,” John snarled back.

“I made you pork burgers yesterday for lunch and you threw them in the trash,” Robert stood with his hands on hips.

“You’re a lousy cook and even worse you’re bad luck. You’re like a bad penny, unwanted and useless,” John spat on his plate, scraped back his chair and left the mess hall.

The others followed, leaving their food untouched.

Robert went back into the kitchen to clean up. He refused to let the men see him cry.

That night alone in his bunk, listening to them men get progressively drunk and blaming him for not being rescued Robert decided it was time to do something about it. He confronted Ray the next day.

“I’m not being treated fairly,” Robert stamped his foot.

“Why’s that?” Ray glared back at him.

“It’s not my fault that the planes didn’t see our signal fires,” Robert countered.

“You don’t get it do you Bobbie? You gave my men hope. When you washed up here they naturally assumed there would be a search and rescue mission to find your plane,” Ray said.

“There was! And it wasn’t my plane. It belonged to the US Air Force,” Robert put his hands on his hips defiantly.

“So what Bobbie? The men are simple minded and single minded when it comes rescue. They saw you as their salvation and that hope has been snatched away. What do you expect?” Ray reached for his smokes.

“I expect to be treated fairly,” Robert retorted.

“You can’t earn my crew’s trust by just doing your job and whining when they don’t treat you how you want to be treated. You have to earn their respect and admiration. You’re college educated; you’ll figure it out,” Ray’s smile became a sneer.

“I went to drama school not Harvard!” Robert screamed at Ray’s back as he walked away.

That night, lying in his bunk listening to the men drinking and carousing, Robert thought about what he had said to Ray. He had been to drama school and his forte was entertaining. He hatched a plan.

Wednesday was movie night. It was Robert’s job to set up the projector and screen in the mess and play the movie. There were a total of twenty movies left behind when the island was abandoned and they were played in strict rotation. Although the men had seen the movies countless times it was their only source of contact with the outside world. Seeing the movie stars on the screen interacting with each other gave the men a sense of normalcy, an inkling of what life was like beyond the island.

Robert went to some effort, he found the movie poster that accompanied the three tin movie reels and in the old print shop he made up theatre tickets. The poster read:

To Have and Have Not. A romantic-war film based on Ernest Hemingway's 1937 novel starring Humphrey Bogart, Lauren Bacall and Walter Brennan. Directed by Howard Hawks and Produced by Hawks and Jack L. Warner; screenplay written by Jules Furthman and William Faulkner with inputs from Hemingway himself.

He mounted the poster on the wall of the mess hall where they could all see it. He went to considerable effort to make the theatre tickets as authentic as possible.

One Night Only To Have and Have Not - screening in the mess hall at 1900. By invitation only. Black tie required, canapés and cocktails provided.

Robert went carefully through the clothing he had salvaged from the C-47 wreckage and found suits that he guessed would fit each of the men. He laid them out on their bunks with the theatre tickets.

“What’s this shit,” Ray grabbed Robert by the collar and shoved the theatre ticket in his face.

Robert was caught unaware in the shadows of the Q store tuning up the Gibson J-45 which he had restrung.

“I thought the men might like a little fantasy for one night. A little taste of what life is like at home,” Robert tried to pull himself free of Ray’s grasp.

“They don’t need to be reminded of what life is like at home. All that does is make them more melancholy. Can you imagine how John Fitzgibbons feels knowing that some stranger is giving it to his wife, raising his child? Steve Ford thinking about some lothario with his hand under his high school sweetheart’s skirt?” Ray hissed.

“I think your projecting your own bitterness and resentment on your crew. Your anger at your wife’s infidelity shouldn’t prevent the men from having a pleasant evening,” Robert glared back at Ray.

Ray pushed Robert away so hard that he fell down on the hard packed dirt.

“You leave me and my wife out of this. You want the men to play dressup and kid’s games to entertain themselves, well have at it. But I’m having none of it. This will backfire on you Bobbie. You think the men hate you now? They will despise you when they realise what they're missing,” Ray turned on his heels and stormed away.

Ray couldn’t have been more wrong. The men were excited at the idea of dressing up and going to the theatre. They turned up on time dressed in their tuxedos and evening suits that Robert had found for each of them. Robert had laid out canapés and drinks for them: shrimp skewers, fish bites and pulled pork, jugs of chilled coconut beer and cordial.

He had set up the projector in the middle of the room with four seats facing the screen mounted on the back wall. The film was loaded and ready to play. A card taped to the Bell and Howell projector said ‘just press this switch’. Robert himself was nowhere to be seen.

The men were not really surprised. Robert had mostly kept to himself since the disappointment of the rescue planes. The men treated him with distain and he was only seen at meal times or when Ray ordered a team meeting.

Ray refused to wear the suit that Robert had laid out for him on his rack. He arrived dirty, unshaved and drunk, having finished off a bottle of coconut rum before he arrived. He took nips from his hip flask while he sat waiting for the movie to start.

The others imbibed in the canapés and drinks before finally seating themselves.

“Where’s Bobbie?” Craig asked, looking around for him expectantly.

“Who the fuck cares,” Ray growled.

“Play the fucking movie Seaman Bowen,” he snarled, tugging at his flask.

Craig Bowen dimmed the lights and hit the switch to start the projector and the opening credits of To Have and Have Not rolled on the screen.

The men became engrossed in the movie. Being mariners they related to the story. When it came to the scene where Lauren Bacall approached the band in the seedy bar to sing How Little We Know the reel suddenly stopped. Robert had spliced the reel to stop at that exact moment.

The strains of a guitar filled the room and the men turned their heads in the direction of the music. They gasped when a beautiful young woman who looked similar to Lauren Bacall entered the room through the side entrance.

The woman was stunning. She was wearing a tight-fitting satin evening gown split at the side to reveal her long shapely legs sheathed in the sheerest nylon. The gown cinched her tiny waist and emphasised her pert bottom. Her breasts were not overly large but were in proportion to her lithe frame. It was her face that was striking: her shoulder length brunette hair was styled into a wave on the right side then started to curve at the corner of her eyebrow sloping downward, ending at her cheekbone. Her green eyes were feline, hypnotic, enhanced by the dark eyeliner and mascara, purple and burgundy eyeshadow embellished her eyelids. Her full lips were graced with dark red lipstick.

She sauntered into the centre of the room and stood in the bare light of the projector which acted as a spotlight. Bobbie’s voice was perfect for the song, dark and sultry. Her red nailpolish glistened in the light as she fingered the chords but all eyes were on her pretty face and her long legs. She moved sensually on her high heels.

The men were speechless. Mesmerised. Besotted.

When Bobbie finished the song she bowed demurely and for a moment there was silence. Then the room erupted with applause and whistles. This was the trigger for Bobbie Bingham to rip off her wig for the big reveal when she performed the act on stage but tonight she didn’t. She raised her head and smiled at the men then she waved at them and exited through the door from which she had entered.

The men weren't stupid. They knew that it was Bobbie in that tight fitting dress, high heels and makeup but she was so fully transformed that they allowed themselves to be deceived. They were delighted and clamoured amongst themselves, laughing, joking and complementing Bobbie for putting on such a brilliant performance.

Bobbie waited outside the mess her heart pounding, listening to the applause and the accolades, waiting for the right moment to return for her encore.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing,” Bobbie was startled.

She hadn't heard Ray Millward creep up on her.

“I’m entertaining the troops. That what I’m trained to do,” Bobbie said petulantly.

“You think what you just did was a good thing?” Ray leaned into her and Bobbie could smell his sweat and the alcohol on his breath.

“You’re drunk and you’re a boor Ray. I tried my best to make an evening’s entrainment out of it, god knows the men could use the release,” Bobbie snapped.

“You dumb cunt! You don’t know what’s good for my men or what they need. And I’m not Ray, I’m Chief!”

“They’ll carry on for a while tonight. If you go back in there they’ll congratulate you, maybe even fawn over you if they're drunk enough. But tomorrow all you will have done is ignite in them the sorrow and longing they feel for the comfort of a woman,” Ray hissed.

“Well I can be that women for them tonight. I can entertain them. I can at least make them happy for a while,” Bobbie replied.

Ray leaned in further, his face almost touching hers. He could smell her perfume, he felt like he could drown the pools of her eyes. Bobbie radiated femininity and he reached for her. He pulled her close, his lips almost touching hers.

Bobbie closed her eyes. All of the times that she had gone on stage as Bobbie Bingham she had never felt really comfortable, never felt centred, and now she knew why. In this instance she really did feel feminine, any vestiges of Robert were gone, she was fully immersed in the psyche of Bobbie. Bobbie the entertainer, Bobbie the singer, Bobbie the woman.

She waited expectantly for Ray’s lips to touch hers. How would she feel about that? Is that what she wanted? Is that what she yearned for?

Ray’s lips brushed hers briefly and then he pushed her away violently.

“You disgust me! Go and take that shit off. I don’t want to see you like that,” he groused, taking a long draught from his flask.

“Really Ray? Is that how you really feel?” Bobbie stepped back into him and when he reached for her she spun out of grasp.

“Fuck you Chief,” Bobbie spat and turned away from him.

She sauntered away into the night. Ray was mesmerised by the way she walked, her bottom swaying, her tight waist, her long legs striding one in front of the other, her heels accentuating her gait and pushing out her buttocks. She turned to him briefly and once again he was taken with her beauty and then she kept walking away.

Ray was furious. He was livid. He was hard.

The next day Bobbie made herself busy in the Q store. She had laid out a cold breakfast buffet for the men; she didn’t want to see them, to speak to them. She was torn between the success of her performance and Ray’s disdain and admonishment.

When Ray slinked into the store she deliberately ignored him.

He sidled up to her, his head bowed.

“I owe you an apology,” Ray mumbled.

Bobbie avoided making contact with him, she concentrated on her clipboard, taking inventory of stock that she didn’t need to. Bobbie could pretty much tell you exactly what remained of their precious stores and project how long it would last.

Ray’s eyes flashed with anger briefly and he caught Bobbie and held her by her shoulders at arm’s length.

Although she was dressed in her seaman’s uniform Bobbie was still thinking of herself as she. Last night she had become fully immersed in her femme persona for the first time. She was not Robert Bingham playing at being a female impersonator; she had fully embraced the character. She felt genuinely feminine and the feelings remained. Bobbie still had the remnants of her eye makeup and lipstick on her face and it softened her features, Ray could smell the vestiges of her perfume.

Her breath was fresh and she had washed her body with a cool damp cloth but she liked what she saw in mirror and decided to stay that way for the rest of the day. She would stay away from the men who despised her; she did it for her own gratification.

Ray gazed into these emerald green eyes and memories of last night returned. Even without the wig and gown, dressed in navy fatigues, Bobbie looked alluring.

“I said I owe you an apology,” Ray gently squeezed her shoulders.

“Well apologise and go Chief; I have work to do,” Bobbie tried to shake off Ray’s grasp but he squeezed her shoulders tighter.

Ray smiled. His smiles were rare but wonderful. They lit up his handsome face and for a second Bobbie forgot that she was angry at him.

“You know you caused a mutiny last night,” Ray moved his hands from Bobbie’s shoulders to her upper arms.

She looked at him quizzically.

“The men threatened to throw me in the sea if I didn’t say I’m sorry and ask you to perform again,” his smile widened.

“I doubt they would do that Chief. The men respect you too much,” Bobbie tried to shuck out his grasp but he held on.

“Look I was wrong. The men like having Bobbie around. It’s nothing depraved or immoral. They like having a woman amongst us. You softened them, made them realise that they are not alone on this rock. They want Bobbie around more often. They want a sister, a companion, someone they can feel affectionate and protective about,” Ray explained.

“And you Ray?” Bobbie searched his eyes.

“I want my men to be happy. Whatever it takes,” Ray took his hands off Bobbie and stood with his head bowed.

“Well I hate to disappoint the men but I’m not here to make them happy. I’m the bad penny. I’m the civilian who will never be a crewmate of the PT 991. I’m the person who is only fit for domestic duties,” Bobbie replied staidly.

“Bobbie. I can’t make you become… well Bobbie… the woman I mean. But if you could find it in your heart to bring her out now and then I know the men would greatly appreciate it,” Ray sighed.

“And you?” she asked again.

“Like I said, if it improves my crew’s morale then I’m for whatever they want,” Ray avoided the question.

“Let me think on it Chief,” Bobbie said glancing down at her clipboard and returning to the task at hand.

Ray left the Q store and Bobbie refused to look up at him to watch him leave.

Bobbie had gone through the salvaged USO stores yesterday to find the necessary things she required to transform her into the Lauren Bacall lookalike. Once she found the makeup palette, the wig, the dress and heels and toted them to her quarters, transforming into her stage character had been easy. It was like riding a bike.

She still had most of the trappings she had used to change her persona in her quarters. She put down her clipboard and returned to the shelves where the costumes and stage attire resided and started to carefully go through them. Later she went over the commissary to see if there was anything left on the dusty shelves that might be useful.

CPO Ray Millward, PO John Fitzgibbons, Seaman Craig Bowen and Seaman Steve Ford sat at the dining table ready to be served their dinner that night.

Bobbie came out of the galley, plates in hand and served them. She was wearing a white six-gored skirt, a white blouse and dark blue tie. Her jacket was single-breasted and she wore plain white pumps and flesh-toned, seamed nylons. Her makeup was perfect, her green eyes enhanced by dark eyeliner and mascara and her plump lips defined by bright red lipstick. She was wearing a shoulder-length brunette bob with bangs.

No one said a word about Robert wearing the WAVE uniform. They were scared that if they made a comment she might feel uncomfortable and race away and change back into dungarees and wipe away her makeup.

When she had finished serving and pouring the men their drinks Bobbie made a plate for herself and sat between the two Seaman.

“How are you finding the fish gentlemen?” Bobbie asked in a sultry voice as if it was like any other dinner they had sat down to.

The men realised that it would be easy to burst the bubble; to ask Robert why he was dressed as a WAVE, to ask him anything related to his male identity. It was exciting having Bobbie sit with them, talking to them. She was attractive and feminine and it was almost like being at home having dinner with a sister or cousin.

“You look nice tonight Bobbie,” Craig broke the silence.

“I’m not sure if the uniform is appropriate; I’m not really in the military,” Bobbie replied, topping up Craig’s beer.

“I think we can afford you honorary enlistment in the navy and assign you to the PT 991. What do you say Chief?” Petty Officer John Fitzgibbons spoke for the other enlisted men at the table.

Ray just grunted and pushed his food around his plate.

“To Seaman First Class Bobbie Bingham,” John smiled and raised his glass.

Bobbie entertained the men with stories about her performances in the USO shows. She stayed well away from any tales that involved Robert and recalled only those stories where she had performed as Bobbie. She kept any references to her past gender neutral and it was easy for the men to forget that Robert had washed up on their shore as a half-drowned young man and think of only of Bobbie the WAVE.

To anyone looking into this world it would appear bizarre but these were four men who had seen no one else for five years and they yearned for companionship, especially female companionship. Bobbie was attractive and feminine and the year she had spent portraying her character on stage meant that she could take on the role easily and with grace. She was convincing and very welcome.

For all intents and purposes Robert Bingham disappeared that day and was replaced by Bobbie Bingham.

The furthest out into the Pacific war theatre that women had been allowed to serve in the military was Hawaii but in the closing stages of the war they were stationed at bases that were considered ‘safe’. Mirrocau Island was just such a place and there had been a contingent of Women’s Army Corps and Women’s Auxiliary Volunteer Service stationed there. There had been nurses, clerical staff and cooks and Bobbie found women’s uniforms in the Q store and accessories in the commissary.

She selected an appropriate wardrobe: the uniform white skirt and blouse for everyday wear, khaki fatigues for dirty work and when she was entertaining the men and on weekends she wore civilian attire. She was always stylishly dressed and wore full makeup. The warm weather and sandy soil were not conductive to the wearing of nylons so she wore them only in the evenings and on weekends.

As strange as the situation might seem, within a few weeks it had become normal. Bobbie was their token women, their mascot, their darling who they adored and protected. She always felt safe around the men except for Ray when he was drinking.

Ray had begrudgingly allowed the men to have their way and to let Bobbie present as a woman, even he began to think of her as a lady although he still didn’t like her. To him she was driving a wedge between him and his men. She didn’t belong. He preferred it when it was just the crew of the PT 991 on the island; everyone knew their place and he was in full control. Bobbie was breaking down five years of learned obedience and strict discipline.

Bobbie grew out her hair and within six months had a neat bob that she wore when in uniform. When she dressed in civilian fashion she usually wore the Lauren Bacall wig which she carefully maintained.

Things changed quite dramatically one day when Bobbie was taking inventory in the Q store. The rest of the men were busy. Ray and Craig had gone hunting on the other side of the island looking for a pig to shoot to stock up the meat larder and John and Steve were supposed to be tending crops and conducting some maintenance on the quarters.

Bobbie saw John and Steve enter the old radio shack. She wondered why they would go in there, the radios and code machines had been ripped from their mounts and taken away when the base was abandoned. Anything of use had long been salvaged.

Bobbie knew that she should probably just leave well enough alone but her curiosity got the best of her. She crossed the runway and approached the radio shack from the shade of the encroaching jungle. As she got nearer she took off her low heels so she could walk easier in the sand.

She heard murmuring coming from a missing window. It came from deeper in the building and Bobbie stepped inside, carefully avoiding any trips or snags in the abandoned building. She didn’t know why she was sneaking around but she knew that there was something secretive in John and Steve’s behaviour so she felt justified in doing so.

Deeper in the building was a small office that looked like it had been set up as a love nest. There was a made-up cot against the wall, some rudimentary furniture that appeared to be well looked after; small trappings of comfort.

Bobbie saw all this by easing aside a privacy curtain that hung over the doorway. She opened the curtain only a crack so she could just see inside the room.

What she saw next shocked her. John Fitzgibbons and Steve Ford were naked. They were embracing each other, kissing each other passionately. They each had their hand on the other’s privates, caressing and stroking each other, fingering their penises to full tumescence.

“How long do we have?” Steve whispered.

“Long enough honey; now do that thing you know I like,” John pushed down gently on Steve’s shoulders, encouraging him to kneel on the rug.

To Bobbie’s amazement Steve took John’s phallus into his mouth and began to suckle it. Steve was obviously accomplished because John threw back his head and groaned as Steve used his lips and his tongue on John’s hard cock.

John put his hands on Steve’s head and guided him, slowly fucking his moist mouth while Steve slathered at the engorged appendage with delight. Bobbie could see that Steve was rock hard and a string of silvery precum hung from his glans, he might be the submissive in the act but he was relishing it.

To John’s dismay Steve got back to his feet but John was soon appeased when Steve kissed him lovingly and fondled his throbbing organ.

“I’m not going to last long honey, it’s been a while,” John gasped.

“Then do that thing you know I like,” Steve smiled longingly into John’s eyes.

He led John to the cot and climbed onto it, offering his soft pale buttocks to his lover. Bobbie supressed a gasp when John lubricated his engorged manhood with Vaseline and slid it into Steve’s tight anus. He took Steve’s hips in his hands and began to fuck him.

Bobbie carefully let the curtain fall back into place and tiptoed out of the radio shack. She put on her heels and ran across the runway to the Q store and disappeared into the dark cool depths of the racks. She hiked up her khaki skirt and freed her hard cock from her non-regulation pink satin panties. She only just touched it and it erupted, streams of hot semen spattered on the hard packed floor and Bobbie fell against the racks to stop herself from fainting.

When she had cleaned up and regained her composure Bobbie went to her little office and sat at her desk and pondered what she just witnessed. Over time she had sensed that John and Steve had a special bond, they often did things together and were quite inseparable.

But this! What was this?

The longer she thought about it the more it made sense. Being in the world of the theatre, homosexuality was not something new to her. She had seen older actors leaving the dressing rooms of younger good looking men. She had even caught two chorus girls together; one with her head under the other’s skirt. But these men were military men! They were disciplined, rugged and manly. But did that really make any difference? John was married with a kid but that really matter?

Five years with no other form of companionship, relationships were bound to develop. She just wondered why she hadn't noticed before. It certainly explained to some extent why neither John nor Steve had hit on her. Craig Bowen was besotted with her and sometimes followed her around like a lost puppy but she only felt brotherly love for him and slapped his wondering hands away when he’d taken a drink too many and fancied his chances.

Ray just despised her, she was sure of that and she doubted he had a romantic or sensual bone in his body.

She supposed the men had to find solace, companionship and gratification somehow. Craig had his girly magazines and the crusty stocking that he kept hidden under his mattress which she found more times than she wanted to when she made up his rack. Ray had his booze and his hatred for his wife and John and Steve obviously had each other.

She wondered if Ray knew? How could he not?

Over the next few days Bobbie paid more attention to John Fitzgibbons and Steve Ford. Why hadn't she noticed before? They were almost inseparable, unless their duties required it, otherwise they did almost everything together. There were also little glances and little discreet touches. It was obvious that they were being very discreet but now that she knew about their relationship, behaviour that before had appeared innocuous took on a new light.

Ray had to know!

Bobbie finally couldn’t stand the suspense and she approached Ray one day while he way on Lookout Hill attending to the signal pyre.

It was Sunday and she was wearing a light summer dress and sandals, her makeup was not quite as heavy as she usually wore it in the evenings and during her weekly performances. It was a beautiful summer day and she was carrying a basket she had woven out of palm fronds. She wore a sun hat of woven pandanus leaves. Bobbie had become quite adept at weaving.

“Lovely day,” Bobbie approached Ray who was stacking dried limbs on the pyre.

He was wearing khaki pants he had cut down to shorts, work boots and a peaked cap, his shirt hung on the branch of a nearby tree.

His tanned muscles were sheened with sweat and perspiration dripped into his eyes and he wiped them with a crumpled handkerchief and turned to look at Bobbie.

His face broke into a scowl.

“What do you want?” Ray concentrated on moving a limb into a better position on the pyre.

Bobbie was used to him being surly around her. She shrugged it off.

“Why are you working on the weekend Chief?” she asked, smiling pleasantly.

“The Army doesn’t recognise weekends, there could be a passing flight any time and we have to be ready to signal the aircraft,” Ray continued to rearrange limbs that didn’t need to be rearranged.

Bobbie had told them that US Air Force had been established in 1947 as a separate arm of the military but Ray refused to be educated about the military by a civilian.

Bobbie knew that Ray was performing nugatory duties just so he could be alone. He had always been a solitary man with his thoughts and emotions but since Bobbie had started presenting enfemme full time he had withdrawn further.

“I think you just like your own company Ray. I think you like to be alone,” Bobbie challenged him.

She didn’t know why she did this; probably because the other men adored her and Ray ignored her. Was she that insecure? Whenever she thought about it, it gave her a headache so she tried not to.

Ray leapt down from the pyre and approached Bobbie. He saw how beautiful she was in her summer dress. The men were tanned and leathery but Bobbie went to great pains to keep her pale skin out of the sun and her skin was smooth and creamy, today tinged pink by the sun. Her hair had grown out nicely and framed her face in a layer-cut bob with bangs, it was a rich brunette colour that suited her striking features. Her strong, thick brows were expressive and she could express anger with a faintly menacing arch. Her bones were exquisite, her mouth was wide and full and she possessed a glamour that was womanly never girlish.

The one thing Ray tolerated about Bobbie was that she didn’t present herself as a helpless girly-girl. She was confident and relaxed in her femininity, even though he knew that underneath her lipstick, powder and skirts she wasn’t all woman. He stepped in close to her and smelled her flowery perfume.

“I keep telling you, it’s not Ray, it’s Chief,” he growled, but he couldn’t hide a wry smile.

He knew that Bobbie deliberately tested him, trying to get under his skin. Over the last few months it had become obvious that they were competing personalities, the men being fiercely loyal to both of them.

“Even on weekends?” Bobbie gave him a cheeky smile.

“Every day of the week Seaman Bingham,” Ray returned her smile.

“But I’m not really am I? Seaman First Class Bobbie Bingham is an honorary rank the guys made up,” Bobbie gave him a coquettish smile.

“And I go along with it to keep them happy. I confirmed you in rank as a navy WAVE. As ranking navy representative at Harris Field I guess I have the authority to do so… Seaman Bingham,” Ray rose to the challenge.

“Then I guess, as a member of the Women’s Auxiliary Volunteer Service I should bring something to your attention,” Bobbie eased into her segue.

“Although I doubt there is anything that happens on Mirrocau Island that you don’t know about,” she said provisionally.

“Get it off your chest Bingham,” Ray grunted.

Then they both laughed at the unintended gaffe.

Bobbie was flat-chested. She wore the smallest size brassiere that she could fit into which gave her a little shape but she refused to wear the cosmetic prosthetics breasts except for when she was performing to entertain the men.

“Look Chief, I don’t want to be branded a tattletale but I saw something in the old radio shack last week while you and Craig were out hunting,” Bobbie suddenly became serious.

Ray suddenly tensed.

“Let me stop you right there Bobbie. You’re right. There is nothing that happens on Mirrocau Island that I don’t know about. John Fitzgibbons and Steve Ford have developed a special friendship that I don’t know how to describe and don’t want to,” Ray sighed.

“If we weren't where we are, living like we do, I would have them both drummed out of the navy. I would have them dishonourably discharged,” a mild look of disgust crossed his face but quickly disappeared.

“But we live in a unique situation and have done so for years. Chances of rescue are slim and grow slimmer every day that we remain on this rock. You were possibly our last chance,” Ray said.

Bobbie was about to counter with her usual excuse that it wasn’t her that the Air Force was looking for but Ray pressed a finger to her lips to silence her.

“Craig and I know about John and Steve. They have what they have and we don’t judge them… but we don’t condone it either. They keep it out of sight… they don’t flaunt it and we certainly don’t speak about it. We don’t ask and they don’t tell,” Ray rumbled.

“Stay away from the radio shack and keep what you know to yourself ok?” Ray surprised her when he reached out and gently stroked a stray bang out of her eyes.

Ray Millward confounded Bobbie Bingham. He was an angry drunk who could be surly and hateful but he genuinely cared for his men. He treated Bobbie with disdain and loathing but then he could take the time to explain a delicate situation to her and express an affectionate gesture.

“Thanks for explaining that Chief,” Bobbie smiled at him and took the hand that he used to stroke her hair.

He snatched it back and his pleasant demeanour soured in an instant.

“Anyway Bingham, who are you to tattletale? You're… I don’t know what you are. You're certainly not a woman even though you present yourself as one. I tolerate you like I tolerate those two faggots,” Ray snarled.

As much as she wanted to be angry, Bobbie knew that Ray was right. What right did a transvestite drag performer have to call out two men who were having an intimate relationship? There was nothing overtly sexual in how Bobbie presented herself but she dressed provocatively to titillate the men when she performed.

“I’m sorry. You’re right Chief,” Bobbie bowed her head and picked up her basket.

“Get your ass off my hilltop Seaman Bingham; I’ve got work to do,” Ray growled and climbed back on his pyre and began to rearrange limbs on the wooden pyramid.

Bobbie actually felt relived. Now that she knew she was not keeping a solitary secret, a weight had been lifted off her shoulders and she made her way down the sandy path and took the turnoff to the freshwater pool.

She stopped in a clearing to pick some papaya and put it in her basket. A yellow and red variegated hibiscus was in full bloom and she sat down in the sand and made a delicate garland out of the sweet-smelling blooms and removed her sunhat put it on her head.

She heard a rustle in the bushes and tensed. The wild pigs on the island usually ran away when humans approached but the boars could become aggressive. She sighed with relief when she saw Ray Millward making his way down one of the adjacent paths that crisscrossed the island. It looked like he had the same idea and the thought of swimming in the cool clear water suddenly didn’t sound so inviting. She was hoping to have the pool to herself.

“Fuck him!” she whispered and continued on her way.

Robert’s path came out on a small sandy beach on the southern side of the pool whereas Bobbie’s path came out near a rocky outcrop next to the waterfall. This was her favourite place on the island and she put down her sunhat and her basket and kicked off her sandals, feeling the warm white sand between her painted toes. She ducked behind a copse of bushes and shucked out of her sundress and shimmied out of her frilly white panties and matching bra.

Naked she was stunning. Her svelte figure emphasised the curve of her hips and soft buxom buttocks. Except for not having any cleavage to speak of and having contrary genitalia she had a body that any woman would envy.

Bobbie had found only three ladies swimsuits left in the commissary and one of those was a bikini which just wouldn’t work. The remaining two were one-piece. One was two sizes to small but the other fitted her perfectly. It was white with pink polka dots and the top of the swimsuit resembled a full-coverage bra. It was snug fitting around the hips then flared into a swing skirt which covered her backside completely. The suit enhanced her figure and the skirt hid that part of her that she didn’t want to display.

Bobbie wriggled and waggled into the tight fitting swimsuit, hung up her dress on a convenient branch and neatly stowed her sandals, sunhat and tote bag under the same tree.

She carefully picked her way between the boulders and approached the water’s edge. She loved the sound of the small waterfall that supplied the pool but it meant that the water was cold. She dipped her toe in and shivered. Bobbie knew better than to try to edge carefully into the water, it was best to dive in and swim out to the middle of the pool where the water was warmer.

She did exactly that and delighted in the feel of the warm water that caressed her upper body. She pulled her legs out of the cooler layer below and lay floating on her back. She could hear Ray splashing and braying on the other side of the pool near the beach and she deliberately ignored him.

Bobbie did a few laps across the pool swimming east-west so as to stay away from Ray who also seemed to be intent on ignoring her. It went quiet for a while and she stole a glance in his direction.

Ray was lying on the beach sunning himself, his muscled body already brown as a berry. He was toned, fit and she couldn’t help but admire his washboard stomach, well-defined pectorals and his strong legs. He was naked and his long thick penis lay across his thigh. Even flaccid he was enormous and Bobbie snatched her eyes away before he saw her looking.

To counter the thoughts swirling in her head she dove deep down into pool. The warm layer of warm water disappeared as she broke through the colder layer of water that lay below it. She swam deeper and suddenly found herself in an icy band of water that was frigid. This was the water that collected under the waterfall spread across the bottom of the pool and was never warmed by the sun.

Bobbie knew that she was in trouble when her legs began to cramp. She began to strike for the surface but her legs were useless, she was pulling herself through the water using only her arms. She looked up at the glittering surface which looked so inviting but seemed so far away. Her chest began to burn and she needed to breathe but the more she struggled the more oxygen she burned.

Bobbie’s peripheral vision began to narrow, all she could see was the surface of the pond but it seemed impossibly remote, unattainable. She opened her mouth and a stream of bubbles escaped and she inhaled water. She had nearly drowned once before at sea and she remembered the acid bite of the seawater, at least this water was fresh. She knew that she was giving up and that was the worst thing she could do. She could not surrender. She mustered the last of her strength and struck out for the surface, trailing her useless legs behind her.

She woke up on the beach with Ray’s concerned face hovering above hers. She felt déjà vu, recalling the tall, rangy, shirtless, heavily tanned man towering over Robert when he washed up on the beach. So much had changed since then.

Bobbie coughed and spat out a freshet of water. Not very ladylike she thought and realised that the reflection was entirely incongruous given that she had nearly drowned. She felt the warm soft sand on her back and the sun warming her body and she smiled.

Ray’s face broke out into a rare smile when he saw her do so.

“I guess you’re going to be ok kid,” Ray grinned and eased a stray lock of hair from her eyes.

“It’s Bobbie Chief, remember,” she grinned back at him.

“It’s just as well Bobbie because who else is going to cook, wash and sew and entertain the troops,” Ray stroked her forehead.

She felt his hand on her flat stomach. He had used it to compress her chest to expel the water and hadn't moved it. It felt comforting.

“Glad to be of some use,” she beamed.

When Ray went to take his hand away from her body she held it there.

“You saved me,” she sighed.

Ray gazed down at Bobbie. Even with her hair in disarray, her eyeliner and mascara running, lipstick smeared on her full red lips she looked beautiful. Her long legs stretched out on the beach, her curvaceous body enhanced by the tight-fitting swimsuit, with her alabaster skin, her feline green eyes, she was an extraordinary beauty.

The skirt of her swimsuit had ridden up and Ray saw the V between her legs and he wondered briefly how she did that.

“Yeah I guess I did. Like I said, who else is going to do the domestic chores around here,” Ray grimaced at his attempt at humour.

“Don’t do that Ray,” Bobbie whispered, searching his steely blue eyes.

“Don’t deflect,” she held him in her gaze and he leaned into her.

They kissed.

It was soft, their lips barely touching. They could feel each other breathing but the rest of the world was shut out. Bobbie raised her arms and put them gently around Ray’s shoulders and he put his arm under her neck and lifted her face to his. She felt a rush of helplessness when he kissed her more firmly, his lips open just slightly. She took in his breath and she was helpless, sinking, yielding, surging on a tide that recalled the dreamlike experience of her near drowning.

Her head rested on his arm and as the kiss intensified, his tongue probing her mouth tentatively, she clung to him. He was lying side on to her and she wanted to feel his body against hers, to feel his warmth, the suppleness of his toned body on her soft delicate flesh.

His kiss became more insistent and he withdrew his hand from her belly which disappointed her briefly but when he mounted her she was rewarded with the sensuousness feel of his flesh pressing onto hers. She could feel the heat of him through the thin layer of nylon and taffeta as the world swayed and she became dizzy.

His mouth parted her shaking lips and his tongue snaked further inside, evoking feelings she had not known she was capable of experiencing. Ray’s body pressed harder against her and she rose up off the sand to meet him, she locked her ankles around his calves and her arms around his back.

It was then that she realised that Ray was still naked.

She could feel his manhood on her belly like a thick python. Bobbie was confused. Had she longed for this to happen? Was Ray the faceless man she fantasised about when she sometimes late at night put her hand inside her panties to release the sexual tension she occasionally felt?

All she could think about was the wet heat of Ray’s mouth on hers, his muscular body pressing on hers, his strong arms holding her tight. She hadn't dared open her eyes but she knew that his deep-blue eyes were glazed with lust and for an instant she felt a scintilla of power, she had evoked these feelings in a man she had thought of as ice-cold.

Something was happening. Ray had his hand between their bodies and he was repositioning his penis. He impatiently brushed away the taffeta skirt of her swimsuit, exposing the nylon-elastin V of the panty. He pressed his erect penis there and began to grind.

Suppressed memories returned: William Brindle drunk in the locked dressing room, refusing to let her leave… “You were wonderful tonight Bobbie, here have a drink,” “Don’t be ungrateful Bobbie. You owe me!” … his insistent hands on her, forcing her to do things that she didn’t want to.

The romance was gone. Was she to surrender to Ray simply because he had saved her from drowning?

Bobbie squirmed under Ray who at first thought she was encouraging him and he ground his sensitive organ against the moist silky fabric between her legs. He kissed her harder, driving his tongue into her mouth as she struggled beneath him. He felt her claw at his back with her nails and he smiled; she was a wildcat. He gripped her wrists and forced them back behind her head, holding her down in the sand as she writhed beneath him encouraging him to rub his cock against her harder and kiss her passionately, chasing her mouth with his when she shook her head from side to side.

Bobbie clamped her legs shut in a vain attempt to keep Ray’s throbbing cock away from her pubis but she had inadvertently caused the opposite effect. She had effectively locked Ray’s pulsing manhood between her soft creamy thighs and the silky fabric covering her crotch.

Ray groaned and she felt the sticky heat of his issue squirt onto her thighs. He pulled his cock from between her legs and Bobbie felt a warm spatter on her belly before Ray fell on top of her and ground his cock against her flat stomach. It felt like a fat throbbing serpent spitting on her belly.

Ray let go of Bobbie’s wrists and kissed her deeply and lovingly as he panted into her mouth. She put her arms around his neck, but only so that her head wouldn’t fall back into the sand. She raised her back up off the sand and pressed her body against him, but only so that his semen wouldn’t spread any further. She locked her ankles around his legs, but only to prevent him putting his cock back between her legs.

All these things she told herself.

Ray’s semen soaked through her swimsuit and she could feel the warmth of it on her tummy. She could smell the musky reek of it.

Ray gasped as the last of his issue dribbled from his hard cock. He broke the kiss and sighed.

Bobbie opened her eyes and looked up at him. His hair was soaked with sweat, his face flushed and he was struggling to breathe. But his eyes were soft and his lips were formed in a beatific smile.

He lowered his face to hers to gently kiss her but Bobbie turned her face away.

“What’s wrong?” Ray whispered; the concern evident in his voice.

Bobbie turned to face him and her emerald eyes were cold.

“To the victor go the spoils,” Bobbie sighed.

“What?” Ray was very confused.

“You saved me so you get to use me,” Bobbie said flatly.

“Oh come on Bobbie, you wanted that as much as I did. You’ve wanted that for quite a while I think,” Ray had that smug look on his face that Bobbie loathed.

“Get off me you oaf!” Bobbie struggled beneath him, pushing against his shoulders.

Ray laughed when she couldn’t budge him. Then he obligingly rolled off her which infuriated her more.

“You think I liked that, you lug-headed moron!” Bobbie sat up in the sand bringing her knees under her chin and crossing her arms across her legs.

“You didn’t seem to be complaining,” Ray grinned as he gathered his towel and his belongings.

His semi-erect penis swung freely and Bobbie had to force herself not to stare at it.

“You overpowered me. I felt obliged. You had just saved my life!” Bobbie screamed.

“You just keep telling yourself that sweetheart,” Ray gave her his infuriating smile and disappeared into the bush.

His head reappeared briefly from between the palms.

“And that’s Chief lug-head, Seaman Bingham,” he called sarcastically and Bobbie wished she had something to throw at him.

She sat on the pristine white sand and fumed.

“How dare he!” she snarled.

“He forced me! He made me! He used me!” she cried repeatedly to justify her actions.

But if Ray had forced Bobbie to do something she didn’t want to, why had she had experienced the most incredible orgasm when his semen spattered on her belly? Why was the crotch of her swimsuit sodden with her own juices?

Bobbie leapt to her feet and ran down the beach and dove into the pool. She swam back to the waterfall hoping that the warm water was washing away the evidence of her complicity.

To be continued