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Apprehension is running rampant, with many of us sweating from the effort of considering the Colonel’s cryptic remarks, rather than from the heat which, so far today, isn’t too bad. The phone rings again and now I am taken from the room. I’m uncertain if I am more anxious or relieved. The sergeant shows me into a room with a large table and six men seated around one end of it. The Colonel is there, of course, as is the Major who left our waiting room with him. There is a one-star seated at the end of the table and three men in civilian clothes. The stakes seem to have been increased. I’m beginning to think I’m the one who has gone through the looking glass, I certainly don’t remember following a white rabbit with a watch.

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Wednesday, 10/29/2008 - 11:02 PM.(-0400), Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 1 was revised and reposted on Tuesday, 12/01/2009 - 11:33 PM. (-0500), and now this retro classic series was pulled out of the closet, and re-presented for our newer readers to enjoy. ~Sephrena

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Chapter 01

 

As I look at the trees in the distance, wondering if they are hiding enemies who are about to visit an attack upon us, I watch the breezes moving the leaves and the clouds floating by overhead. I have been on active duty in the Army for a little over three years now, just prior to yet another escalation of the Vietnam war.

Straight out of ROTC and high school, I found myself rushing into Officer Candidate School which eventually yields the Army a brand-new Second Lieutenant destined for Advanced Intelligence training alongside numerous NCOs who seem to feel Second Lieutenants are barely above dirt in value. Can’t say as I blame them. After a few exams I find they have revised their opinion of at least this particular second looie, especially since I show them the respect many of them really deserve. That, and the fact that I aced the last four exams.

After we completed that training, I find most of my next three years of active duty have been spent here, not far outside Saigon, plying my trade, investigation and compilation of reports based upon information and photographs, accompanied by interpretations provided by yet others who have been trained for such duties, thus allowing us to provide support to Command. For richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health… we are married to Command’s needs for ‘intelligence.’ It’s greatly overrated, generally speaking.

I frequently think back to high school and my careful facade which permitted me to pass through most of my schooling unmolested. That facade peeled away like layers off an onion during the physical training I received upon entry into the Army, my 190-pound frame reverting back to 125 to 130. At five foot ten inches this reveals my very slight and quite attractive silhouette. Whenever dressed, in uniform or civilian clothing, I wear loose-fitting tops in my attempt to continue to hide this, my figure.

In another attempt to sidetrack any interest in me by others, I learned to be careful not to be at the top of any of my classes, instead residing around the 80% to 90% level of expertise among my ‘peers.’ Yes, I was still considered to be ‘a brain’ but below the level sought out for distinction. I could easily have done better, but these past twelve years have taught me, if nothing else, how to effectively hide myself from public scrutiny. My recent advanced training was a departure from this strategy, since I needed to gain a little respect from those who were schooling with me. Big mistake on my part, I wound up tutoring nearly half the class.

As I was saying, someone who is not absolutely foremost among their peers is less noticed than is someone who is at the top of the class and who inserts himself into every conversation and event. That does not mean that a popular individual is more able to accomplish things than am I; it just means that they like to be the center of attention, and therefore highly scrutinized and vulnerable. These individuals are potentially good political fodder and probably eventual candidates for General. I preferred to hide in plain sight.

Our intelligence instructors cannot understand why I don’t initially do better in my classes since the tests taken on my entry to OCS reflect a much greater potential than that which they see as a result of my class work. I attempted to hide my abilities during that testing but somehow those first tests still found me out, at least partially. After some time, the instructors simply came to the conclusion that my high scores on the entry tests were a fluke, possibly attributed to a few lucky guesses here and there. But when I reached the second level of training and found that I needed to be more accepted by my peers, that is to say…, my fellow students, I had to come up with a different plan. I could originally have come up aces on their tests — they were that simple — but my self-discipline in camouflage — which allowed me to mislead others who might want to investigate my stature and its implications — was still working, well, almost working. Somehow, they still learned more about me than I had intended to allow. Anyway, I finally wound up heading off to Intelligence School, where I completed the training at somewhat better than 95%. I couldn’t help myself; it was fun, and I enjoyed it. Besides, the NCOs learned that I knew what I was talking about but didn’t lord it over them. When we were working on a problem we all we equal in rank. Whenever we solved a major problem they would forget my officer’s status and we were all just students together. It was great.

Even though I tried to do worse on the tests occasionally, it was difficult to allow myself to mess up on as many answers and opinions as I would have needed to do in order to remain completely unobtrusive. Again, I could have done a lot better but was dismayed that I did as well as I did, although I did intentionally Ace four tests in a row just to prove a point once. As a result of displaying this expertise I found myself promoted another grade and assigned to Intelligence in Saigon.

With a little time on my hands, I watch the trees and the clouds, glancing at my watch to see that I now have only twenty minutes before I must report to my duty station. I continue to watch the shapes continually appearing and disappearing as the clouds shift their form until there’s but eight minutes remaining, then I ‘bite the bullet’ and go inside. Once at my desk I immerse myself in the analytical processes necessary for an Army at war. Yes, it is a war, but the way we are fighting it isn’t like we are trying to win.

At every turn we come up against blockades erected to prevent us from taking the country by storm. The enemy has fielded many disguised combatants who appear to be the Vietnamese military personnel and civilians with whom we deal every day. But at night…, a grenade here or there yileds an explosion which was unanticipated, since this is a ‘secure’ zone, and…. Secure zone. As if.

While these events are demoralizing and kill the unsuspecting, military and civilian alike, they are not the worst blockades to our winning the war. The worst blockades are not constructed by the enemy, at least not in the normal sense. It’s frustrating to see all of the field reports sent in by people who are taking great risk to obtain the information and to forward it to us, reports which show supplies and personnel funneling into North Vietnam and Cambodia then crossing into South Vietnam to take lives and destroy our war materials. Supplies and personnel from the Communist nations who are supporting the other side in this war.

Frustrating, because I know nothing will be permitted to stop that flow where it really matters. We are often able to track a number of prominent enemy military leaders, and we know exactly where they will be, and when, but we are not allowed to go after them. What a weird way to fight a war, we are fighting to lose.

Just after the start of my second tour I am again promoted, now to Captain. My assignments change little and I find the field information to be more and more frustrating to read and analyze. I do my best and frequently forget myself, providing more insight into what is happening for the upper echelons.

I eventually discover that if I carefully phrase my reports, I can make them appear just important enough that we are allowed to attack that particular location in an effort to neutralize it, but carefully avoid specifying any greater importance present. In this way, we manage to eliminate a few key places or munitions dumps without the ever-present hand of the UN inhibiting our actions until the enemy is allowed to withdraw their people and supplies. Oh geez, I’m sorry. It turns out there was more there than I thought. Guess we didn’t comprehend quite as much as we could have from what we gleaned off the field information provided to us. We’re certain they will still be able to wage an effective war without that particular Colonel or, possibly, those specific supplies.

My reports are coming into greater demand and I find myself presenting my briefings more and more frequently at the Command level. This affords me less time to watch clouds as I am spending more time at my desk or in briefings. Nearing the end of this third tour I have just been put on the list for promotion to Major. Unheard of, since promotions don’t come that easily nor quickly. In fact the waiting list for promotions is quite long. After all, every promotion helps to increase the costs of the war. The only way a rapid promotion might occur without increasing those costs would, usually, be due to the rotation of a more senior individual or that individual’s ‘retirement’. We are having a lot of early ‘retirements’ over here. Normally, it’s the more junior personnel who are being ‘retired,’ most often permanently.

One day I am taking a little time after finishing a particularly long day which started about 0300 and has gone until 1800. The clouds are interesting and I am making my way to the Mess for supper. I feel the slight concussion of a distant ‘whump’ which occurs twice and in a few moments I see black smoke rising from somewhere well beyond the tree line. There has been yet another attack. We are unlikely to find anyone, as the enemy has become quite proficient at delayed attacks which allows them to be long gone before we learn they have been nearby. The very nerve of them, the smoke is obscuring my clouds and I am having difficulty seeing the shapes changing in them. If those shapes could somehow provide an advance warning might be nice. Everyone run if you see a saucer shaped cloud floating east. As if.

We have been receiving hints of the possibility of a new offensive plan by the enemy, and our field agents are attempting to gain details of this possibly impending offensive. All our information shows it is likely but still nearly eight months away. We begin planning for it in the event it comes to pass. More information is needed. Several of us send our requests for more information, any information, so we can make more accurate assessments. But the information is becoming more and more elusive, lending even greater credence to the likelihood that our intelligence is correct. Planning begins to go into high gear, but it’s difficult to plan when you don’t know where the attacks will be coming from, nor when they will begin.

My days continue into the monotony, with new information becoming more and more difficult to obtain. The enemy is intimidating many of our sources, who are beginning to cease providing us with information. Why would they do this? Well, if you have a family with two sons and a daughter and the enemy takes your sons as collateral for your continued good behavior, and threatens to come back and rape and then gut your daughter and your wife in front of you, if you lapse from their idea of perfection, what would you do? That’s what I thought. Don’t be ashamed, family comes first.

One of the most galling things I have had to learn is that there are many of the enemy right here in Saigon, people well-placed in the political community who are listening to our plans and providing intelligence to the other side as a matter of course. Today is my day off, if anyone can truly believe they have a day off during war. Let’s just say I’m supposed to rest today even though my mind is still hard at work. I lay back and watch my clouds, wondering where and when the next ‘whump’ will occur. The following day I am back at work, having seen a relatively peaceful day pass by. Their ‘mad’ bomber must have been sick yesterday or he ran out of explosives for a day or two.

A couple of hours and my third report into my day, I’m interrupted as a Captain walks into my space informing me verbally that I am to present myself Thursday at ‘Oh Eight hundred’ to a particular Colonel over at Command. I ask for a copy of the orders and am told this is a verbal order from that Colonel. No paper records will be made. This sounds strange to me. But then, knowing how the Intelligence community works, it is possible. I am told that my immediate superior has also been informed I will be gone that day. I check with him and find that, yes, he has been so informed.

He asks me, “What the H— is going on? What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into?”

“I don’t know, Sir. They haven’t told me anything except to report. I haven’t done anything I can think of. I haven’t even been out doing anything for over a month. It must have something to do with one of my briefings. Some General must want me to clarify something. It would certainly help if you could find out which reports they are interested in.”

He tells me he will do some checking and dismisses me. I put my brain into high gear and finish my reports well before noon, so I have time to begin reviewing the reports I’ve already presented to Command. There must be some hint in one of them to indicate what is going on. Later that afternoon, my superior calls me into his office.

“Captain, In the matter we were discussing this morning, you will present yourself as requested. No other materials are needed. End of inquiry. End of questions. Understand?”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you for trying, Sir.”

“Don’t mention it. I certainly won’t. And be careful over there. Something certainly has the bees stirred up in their bonnets. They don’t seem interested in receiving any questions from anyone about whatever it is. Be careful, Okay? Dismissed. And good luck.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

As Alice said, ‘Curiouser and Curiouser.’ She would probably have made a good analyst. I leave his office more confused and apprehensive than when I entered. Throughout the rest of the day I quickly complete the new tasks that had found their way onto my desk, which were added to my regular ‘assignments’ for the day, affording me at least a little time to examine my past reports until something else dropped into my ‘in-basket’ during the late afternoon. I’m slowly spooning the completed papers out to make it appear I am continuing to work on them, while I spend my real time reviewing the reports and presentations which had offered to Command during the past month and a half. I concentrate on those for which my presence was commanded or which were presented by me personally, rather than the ones which wound their way up through channels. I’ve found nothing to offer me the slightest hint of any subject which might be the topic for discussion at the impending meeting.

Much of the next day is spent in the same way with a little additional interruption by more fresh work which somehow finds its way onto my desk during the early afternoon. Most of the day I spend pouring over my old material continuing to try to make sense of my orders to report tomorrow, my clouds long forgotten. I wander down and obtain a cup of coffee, bringing it back to my desk only to realize I have two cold partially filled cups already sitting there. I don’t remember them. Shows what concentration can accomplish.

If the subject is something from one of my reports, I would have thought they would tell me what they might be interested in so I could refresh my thoughts, I’m no closer to understanding what is going on than I was when that Captain first told me to report. Just before ‘closing up shop’ for the evening, a thought manages to filter its way down through my frantic search. What if it’s something new? What if it has no relationship to any of my previous material at all?

Now I figure it out. Could have saved myself two days of anxiety. I eat at the Mess and go watch clouds, well, at least until the light is gone.

Early morning comes around and pries my eyes open. I am very nervous and this is turning out to be worse than my apprehension at being discovered those times when I went out with my sister to the movies at the mall. I vaguely remember eating breakfast, eventually finding myself at Command searching for that Colonel’s office, managing to report in about ten minutes early. I am sent to another room where I find a few more than a half dozen others who are also waiting. They all turn their heads and I see on their faces that they are as puzzled as am I. They want to know if I am the one who is going to bring light to this strange meeting. I go in and sit in one of the chairs and join them in their inward reflections.

During the next few minutes we gradually round out to an uneven fifteen. Everyone is studying everyone else. The uniforms are mixed. Some Navy, some Army, some Air Force, apparently personnel from a number of different units and a mix of officers and enlisted. There hasn’t been much talking and we have nothing in common that I can see. I begin to think there has been some mistake and I am being associated with some smuggling ring for whatever reason. I recognize no one. Maybe some sort of codes were in the field reports I had seen and I’d unwittingly passed the information on somehow.

We all come to attention as a Bird Colonel, two Majors, and a Sergeant walk into the room, passing us all, as they offer no respite for our collective anxieties during their progress to the front of the room. A sense of relief begins to slowly manifest itself as it usually does when someone finally is present to ‘get-the-show-on-the-road.’ Now maybe, we’ll all find out what the H— is going on.

The Colonel says, “Be at ease. Sit down, you may smoke if you like. I know you all have a thousand questions. Well, they’re not going to be answered in here. To put you all at ease, you are not here for any potential transgression you may or may not have committed at any time past, present or future. We have a need for an individual to undertake a rather unique and dangerous assignment.”

I really wish he had selected a more appropriate word with a little less finality in it, ‘pursue’ might have been my choice.

“You have all been selected as potential candidates because of certain ‘hidden’ qualifications you each possess. Those qualifications will be discussed in more detail privately, one individual at a time. There will be no talking between yourselves while waiting in this room or after the private interviews. The Major here” he indicated one of them, “will remain here to insure the first part. The fastest way to return to your own unit is to ask questions of others in this room, but you won’t be happy about it. You may ask me while I am still here but once I am out of the room, silence will prevail. Is this understood?”

A chorus of “Yes, Sir,” flies back at him.

“Now. We will interview each of you and upon the end of your interview you will either remain alone in another room until we have more to discuss or, you will be sent back to your unit. Those who are sent back will NOT discuss anything said here. Nor will you answer questions placed to you concerning this meeting. This is to be considered Top Secret -- Eyes Only and once you each know the nature of the information you will likely appreciate the classification. No notes may be taken by you and no word of any kind will be uttered concerning these meetings. Once you leave here, these meetings never occurred. Is that also understood?”

Again, “Yes, Sir,” fills the room.

“Very well. Major,” he addresses the same officer, “we will call you when we are ready for you to send us the first man. Sergeant, you will escort each man to our meeting room and then return here to await our request for delivery of another.”

“Yes, Sir.”

The Colonel and the other Major exit the room without another word.

Everyone glances at the Sergeant and I can’t help but notice he is packing a .45 on his hip. This whole thing is strange. I think about everything the Colonel has said and wonder what kind of dangerous assignment could exist which calls for one individual and which has brought together such a strange and diverse collection of men. What could we all possibly have in common? Here we have fifteen men who have been selected out of perhaps a hundred thousand or so presently in Vietnam, about one in ten thousand.

I notice a couple of the Army officers have unit designators from the European theater and not from Southeast Asia. That increases the number of potential candidates to several millions if I include the US. Now we have fifteen out of say, four million possible? That’s very low odds, roughly one in 250 thousand. This is becoming even more strange.

The phone rings and a few seconds later the first man is selected and the Sergeant takes him out of the room. We never see him again. This is almost like being a condemned man waiting for execution. Less than twenty minutes pass before the phone rings again. A second man is escorted from the room. This continues until there are only seven of us remaining.

Apprehension is running rampant with many of us sweating from the effort of considering the Colonel’s cryptic remarks rather than from the heat which, so far today, isn’t too bad. The phone rings again and now I am taken from the room. I’m uncertain if I am more anxious or relieved. The sergeant shows me into a room with a large table and six men seated around one end of it. The Colonel is there, of course, as is the Major who left our waiting room with him. There is a one-star seated at the end of the table and three men in civilian clothes. The stakes seem to have been increased. I’m beginning to think I’m the one who has gone through the looking glass, I certainly don’t remember following a white rabbit with a watch.

The Colonel begins, “Be seated, Captain. We have a number of questions and a few answers which we will share with you. I am not going to introduce anyone as you don’t need to know who they are. Anything said in this room stays in this room, understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I thought you might. Then again, you will probably be thankful this discussion will remain in this room once you understand the nature of the information to be discussed. As I mentioned during the get-acquainted briefing, we have a very dangerous and demanding assignment impending. A mission which cannot be entrusted to just anyone, as you will shortly understand. We have your intelligence file as well as the information gathered by the FBI before you were granted security clearances. In fact some of this information is what prompted us to request your presence at this little gathering.

None of this information is negative. That information did give us a little concern about granting you clearances but then, over time, you have proven yourself to be exemplary in your abilities and in your devotion to your county. While none of us fully understands some of the things we find there, we do realize they may be an asset which we now find may possibly be of a great value. Your sister is named Janet?”

My sister? What in the H– does she have to do with all this?

“Yes, Sir. Is she okay?”

He looks up and smiles at me, “As far as I know, she’s fine, Captain. That’s not what this is all about. I was just confirming you are the correct individual. Okay, let’s get down to the nitty gritty. We have reason to believe that you, on numerous occasions, accompanied her to various social functions back home during the years 1959 through 1964.”

“Yes, Sir. I frequently accompanied her. I am uncertain of the exact time frame but that sounds about right.” I think that this is a very unusual direction for this conversation to be taking.

“I see. As you may or may not have noted while waiting, everyone in that room is of a very slight build, almost feminine in stature.”

“I…. I hadn’t made note of it, Sir.” Thinking back, I realize that most of them had loose-fitting shirts, worn in the manner which I have adopted.

“Well, we did. Captain, we have a need for someone, as I stated earlier, and due to the nature of this assignment we cannot use certain individuals. We must, therefore, choose from the few who may have the ability to carry it off, hopefully without detection. We have extensive information about your capabilities with regard to this… ‘talent’ let us call it. Further, we more recently obtained additional information filling out your dossier concerning this talent of yours with specific answers gained from your mother and your sister.”

Now I am beginning to see the direction this is taking me.

“Sir. If you intend to court-martial me for something I did as a civilian, then why go to all these lengths?”

“Court-martial? No, this isn’t about a court-martial. We have a real mission with a real problem. We are asking for your help in solving that problem.”

“Then, Sir, may we cut to the chase? Yes, I accompanied my sister while I was dressed as a young female. I did it on many occasions and enjoyed doing it. If the Army had not inserted itself into my life, I would probably be doing it yet. Now, Sir, why are we here and what is this all about? I am not going to volunteer for something unless I understand more of what it is all about, Sir.”

Everyone at the table chuckles over my short dissertation.

One of the Civilians pipes up, “When you dressed as a female, were you any good at it?”

“No one ever suspected as far as I know. Then again, my sister and I would go places where most of our close friends were unlikely to be, so the chances of discovery were far lower. Someone obviously must have blown my cover since you have learned about it.”

“If we use you on this mission, the results of discovery could be fatal.”

“You think discovery back then wasn’t dangerous to my health?”

Just then the General chimes in, “Captain, we need a woman for this assignment. Unfortunately we cannot use one in a combat zone so the next best thing must happen. Some male who is feminine in appearance must take up the slack. The assignment is likely to last six months to a year and our individual cannot be anything but a woman during this time. The more feminine, the better. There will be times when that individual will be deep in enemy territory and will have no support whatsoever from friendly forces… How’s your French?”

I’m taken aback for a moment…. “My…, my French, Sir?”

“Yes. It says here that you are able to speak French,” as he looks through the folder, “among a number of other languages.”

“It’s passable, Sir. I couldn’t be mistaken for a native but at least I don’t have an American accent.”

“And your Vietnamese?”

“About the same, Sir. I have a bit of a French accent to the Vietnamese.”

He nods his head, “That’s good.”

He continues reading, “Cantonese?”

“Passable understanding, very poor speaking it, Sir.”

“What about Russian?”

“Moscow accent, Sir.”

He looks up at me, “Ever been there?”

“No, Sir. Old family friend taught it to me and my sister. He was from there.”

He nods his head again and continues reading.

“Captain, there would likely be six or seven trips of as little as four days and perhaps as long as five or six weeks for the longest one, deep into North Vietnam and possibly even China. You would be alone for that period of time and would be expected to use civilian transport to get around. Discovery, as I mentioned, could result in immediate death or long term incarceration as a spy. We intend to whittle down the fifteen of you to just three. Those three will be given the opportunity to prove how feminine you can be and then we will select just one to receive the whole enchilada. There will be no return from there back to manhood and during the six months to a year for this assignment you will be on duty as a female. In addition to your mission you will be also be married and when in Saigon you will be expected to act as any loving wife would. Cooking, cleaning, loving…. Need I say more?”

“No, Sir. That’s fairly explicit. After that year what happens to me? If I’m the one selected, of course.”

“We will alter the records of the selected individual to reflect the fact that she is a female officer and she will, in your particular case, be given a two-step increase in rank to Lieutenant Colonel with reassignment to Intelligence at the Pentagon, at least in the immediate future following completion of this assignment.”

“So if I accept, then the first step is a test of my abilities, followed by an irreversible change from male to female, and this assignment?”

“That seems to be an adequate summation.”

“May I have an hour to think about this, Sir? I may have more questions before I make my decision.”

“Certainly. An hour isn’t a long wait. We have others to talk to, so you will likely have a little longer than that.”

The Major gets up and goes to another door, opening it and attracting the attention of an NCO outside that door.

The General speaks up, “Sergeant, would you show the Captain to a private room and see that he is provided lunch and beverages? In fact, let’s all take a break, since it is nearly 1130. We will return to interview the others at 1300 after lunch. We’ll get back to you, Captain; and to the others whom we still have on hold after we finish the interviews of those we have not yet seen. By the way, can you dance?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Let me rephrase that. When disguised, are you able to dance without detection by your partner?”

“Oh! I understand, Sir. Yes, Sir. Waltz, a few of the recent dances, couple of the older ones. Yes, Sir, with a little practice so I can remember the steps.”

He nods his head and I am dismissed. The NCO looks at us like we’re crazy.

I am allowed to leave and the Sergeant is told to take me to one of the holding rooms where I’m to wait until they are ready to see me again. Once in the room I begin to pace. I have a lot to think about. How did they find out? From what the General and the Colonel were saying they knew before they began talking with Mom and Sis. Come on Charley, you’re the intelligence expert, do some simple logic. There were only about a dozen times during those years that we were in situations which pressed me to the limits. Those civilians look and act like agency. I wonder how they play in this little game?

Of course, one of the situations was the class play where I played the ‘female’ lead, the only Sophomore in the play. That was due to an accident and if I hadn’t accepted the role, the play would likely have been cancelled. No one said anything about thinking it strange of me for doing it. Not even after the pre-performance teaser we gave in the school auditorium a week prior to the start of the five nightly performances. We did it in full costume and makeup and after the teaser we were each introduced to the students using our real names. A quick request for applause for best performance is asked from the student body each year and I got the little trophy that particular year. It’s still at Mom’s on the desk in my old room. Even during the week following the teaser, no one bugged me about playing the female lead, of course some of the more senior girls might have been upset that they didn’t get the part, but I knew the lines and there simply wasn’t enough time for anyone else to learn the part. It’s possible someone might have remembered and mentioned that. I accompanied my sister out a number of times after that and we frequently met some of the girls from school who likely remembered me playing that part and put two and two together whenever they saw us, saw me, out in public. They didn’t give me a hard time in fact it was kind of nice, like I had been initiated into a Sorority of some kind.

The only other time which was likely a possible problem was during my sister’s wedding when I became one of the bridesmaids because a company transfer had removed one of the girls without warning. The gown fit me fairly well, so Mom and Sis begged me to do it and Mom altered the gown just a little so it fit fine. That was fun and I liked it. The only possible problem there being that one guy who tried hitting on me several times during the reception which followed. Janet still has photos of all the bridesmaids, including me, together with her at the reception.

We do look like sisters. I don’t recall anyone making any special note of me, except Tony and he’s the one who married Sis. Later, when Sis and Tony went to a few of his business parties where someone he knew had come into town for a few days, I was sometimes called upon to provide the role of a female escort for the occasion and then I faded back into the woodwork again. I don’t remember anything special from those times either.

No one ever struck me as having noticed I was anything but a normal female. No one asked for another date, nor would I have accepted. I had a plan ready to say that I had a boyfriend and wasn’t interested in any other relationships, but was “just helping out.” I never needed it, though. I don’t see anything which would have allowed anyone the opportunity to detect anything untoward, nor any particular reason to think that I wasn’t a regular girl.

After Janet married, I continued to dress and go out with Mom but I went out alone only a few times and don’t remember anything special happening which could have been memorable to anyone. Enough. I should be thinking about this possible future situation. The past may shape me, but the future is where the rubber hits the road. I look out the window but can’t see enough sky to watch the clouds while I think.

The chance to be female again is enticing. I really would like to do this, however, from what they are saying it will be permanent. Do I want that? Then too, I will be married for that year and again from what was said I will be expected to engage in the sexual activity normal to a young married couple. I don’t know if I could do that. I like the clothes and the way I am treated when female, but… Permanently to become a female? Of course the increase in grade would be great.

The Pentagon! Geez, I could like that, I think. Just enough rank to be taken seriously even though female. On the other hand I could never have children. I need to ask them about that. Maybe some of my sperm could be saved or maybe Janet could donate an egg or two so I could have children derived from my family. That might be nice. I need to ask about that as well.

Married. For real. As the woman. Will that marriage be annulled or will we be divorced after the year? I need to ask about that, too. Cripes, this is going to be a major change in my life if I go for it.

Ah, here’s lunch. “Thank you.”

“No problem, Sir.”

xxx

Sir…. Another thing I would need to become adjusted to. No longer Sir, but Ma’am. This sex thing has me bothered though. What if I don’t like it? What if I do??? Geez, this whole thing is making my wicky wacky, sorry, it’s driving me nuts. I wish I could talk with Mom and Sis. I also need to ask the general if I may talk with them. Clearances. Yeah, they probably won’t let me talk with them because this is a secret mission. I think Mom and Sis will be okay with my change. I’m not certain I will be. It’s fun when I know I can change back, but permanently?

Then the mission…. What could that be? They need a woman for the mission but they can’t send a woman into North Vietnam, nor to China. And alone? Obviously it’s some kind of spy mission. Who would ever suspect a woman? And why the questions about my French and Russian?

 

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To Be Continued…       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rènae Dùmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 
 

previously read:

Sir…. Another thing I would need to become adjusted to. No longer Sir, but Ma’am. This sex thing has me bothered though. What if I don’t like it? What if I do??? Geez, this whole thing is making my wicky wacky, sorry, it’s driving me nuts. I wish I could talk with Mom and Sis. I also need to ask the General if I may talk with them. Clearances. Yeah, they probably won’t let me talk with them because this is a secret mission. I think Mom and Sis will be okay with my change. I’m not certain I will be. It’s fun when I know I may change back, but permanently?

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Friday, 10/31/2008 - 3:11 PM., Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 2 is revised and reposted on Tuesday, 12/02/2009 - 7:50 PM. ~Sephrena

---

movin’ on:

Chapter 02

 

I continue thinking about the comments they made to me, surmising from what they’ve said that everyone in that waiting room has done the same sort of thing at one time or another. That was why we were selected. I still wonder how they knew? Stop that…. How they found out doesn’t matter. Whether I take them up on their offer does.

I finish lunch without really thinking about it, I’m too wrapped up in my thoughts.

It’s 1224. Still a long wait and I have a lot more to think about. I have a light beard which they will need to permanently remove. That takes time. I wonder how long we have before I need to be a married female? It must be a number of months because there will be surgery and recovery and that takes time. Of course they could rush it, but it would need to be good enough to fool doctors just in case something happens. A married Female??? That alone is scary, who needs the trips into enemy territory?

Oh God, as a woman I could be raped. Over their dead body. I’ll fight anyone tooth and nail to prevent that. Good grief, listen to me. Fighting to prevent my rape? I haven’t even made up my mind yet, and here I am thinking about how I will defend myself from a rape? I must be going off the deep end.

Then again, being married and having sex with my husband…. If he is gentle it might even be fun. What if I decide I like him and want to stay married? That could be a problem. What if I like him and can’t stay married then no one else measures up? Damn, I don’t even get to have a courtship and engagement. Just wham, slam, thank you, ma’am and we’re married. I better ask them about that, too. So many pitfalls … So many possible thrills … A possible lifetime of marriage and love … As a woman? This is scary.

This is wonderful. This is absurd.

1300, they should be back from lunch and beginning to interview other candidates once again. Let’s see, five others at say 15 or 20 minutes each that would make it about 1420 or 1430 then the second meetings with any others who are also considering this. I have some questions, but I think I might do it. It’s a heck of a change but if I survive the mission I may like the change.

Of course he said there will be three of us selected and then we will go through some sort of test before the finalist is selected. I might fail the test. I might pass the test. Damn, I don’t know which frightens me more. Geez, where does the time go?

1445. I hope they haven’t already selected the three. I just need more information and then….

"Sir? They’re ready to talk with you again, Sir. Would you come with me?"

"Et tu Brute?"

"Sir?"

"Nothing. Just nerves. Thanks, let’s go."

"Yes, Sir."

Here we have another enlisted man who probably thinks officers are a strange breed. Then again what if he’s right and we are? Listen to me. This whole thing is turning me into a babbling Theorist. I report back to that enigmatic group once again and am asked to sit.

"We have narrowed our choices down to five, Captain. If you will do it then you will likely be one of the three."

"Thank you, Sir. Could I ask a few questions before I tell you my answer?"

"Within limits. Go ahead."

"Thank you, Sir. I am concerned about having children after my surgery. I do want a family even if, or perhaps especially if, I am a female. Is it possible to save some of my sperm or could we learn if my sister would donate eggs so I may have a family which is based upon the family genetics of which I’m presently a part?

"Also, I would also like to know what my mom and sister might think about me becoming permanently female. They don’t need to know the details, just that it might happen.

"Third, after the year ends, will the marriage be annulled or would there be a divorce? Fourth, what if my husband and I like each other and we want to stay married?

"What happens then?

"Fifth, I would like a courtship and engagement however short. It… It seems kind of important to me."

Everyone is looking at each other with smiles on their faces. This concerns me and I think over my questions. They seem normal enough to me.

"Captain, those are good questions. Let me try to answer them. To answer your first and possibly second questions; Yes, we could save some of your sperm but both your sister and your mother have said they will donate eggs so you may have a family. We did go that far in telling them about your possible assignment and they are supportive but still don’t know any other details.

"Third, the marriage would be annulled. As if it never happened.

"Fourth, If you both like each other and the continued marriage would not interfere with your subsequent duties then I don’t see why you could not remain married if you both desired it. It isn’t something we had considered, but I will make a point of bringing it up.

"Fifth, I would like to allow you the time for a courtship and engagement but unfortunately that won’t work out. The husband to be, will arrive here in country in less than three weeks and his ‘wife’ will be joining him three months later. So, you see, there simply is no time.

"This next week will be spent in preparation for the test and then, if selected, you go to the States for the operations. That will allow only a week for your courtship and engagement before you are in the hospital recovering from surgery. That would depend upon you becoming the one we select, of course."

"I understand, Sir. Could I at least meet him once or twice before the surgery, or possibly during the first week in the hospital? That might help me to recognize him before suddenly going to meet a total stranger. I mean, wouldn’t it appear a little strange not to be able to recognize my own husband out of a group when we have supposedly been dating and married for a while."

The General looks at the civilians and they all come to some silent understanding, "I think that could be arranged, Captain. Perhaps a day or two during the start of the recovery in the hospital. If you are the one selected. And I think we could provide photos to be studied so recognition would not be so much of a problem."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." I take a deep breath and wish I had a year to continue to consider this, "Sir, I wish to volunteer for this duty."

"Thank you, Captain. We still need to talk again to the other four, but if their questions don’t add up as well as yours, then I’d say you are definitely one of the three finalists. We’ll get back to you. Would you return to your room again while we talk with the others?"

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."

Even before I close the door behind me I hear them all beginning to talk about my questions. I may have just shot myself in the foot. Should have just kept my mouth shut and told them I would do it.

I’m back in my waiting room and it is 1500. If everyone takes the time that I did then by 1630 I should have an answer, good or bad. Or is that bad or good? Geez, I don’t know which I want more. The assignment and becoming a woman or just to go back to my job and forget it all. I pace back and forth looking at my watch about every three minutes. I’m getting to be a mess. You’d think I’m married and my wife is about to have a baby. Geez, you’d think I’m going to have the baby.

1522, time is moving in slow motion. I could use a drink. No, not alcohol, Pepsi.

I poke my head out into the hall and almost immediately there is an MP in front of me.

"Sir, I’m sorry but you are not allowed out of the room."

"Not a problem. I just wanted to know if I could have a Pepsi?"

He smiles, "No sweat, Sir. It may be a few minutes. I can’t leave my post, but I’ll call and let them know."

"Thanks, I appreciate it." I pull my head back into the room and close the door. I don’t hear it lock so I guess I’m okay.

About fifteen minutes later there is a knock and a cold Pepsi is delivered. I pay the club’s usual exorbitant fee for a glass of Pepsi, and retreat into my room again.

Time is moving a little faster now, it is 1602, so I should hear something any minute. My anxiety level is increasing. The longer it takes the more I am certain they have not selected me and the more unhappy but relieved I become.

By 1635 I am resigned to having lost the opportunity. Oh well, I would have enjoyed the chance to make it to the test. I think that is what disturbs me most.

Not that I lost the opportunity to become female but I lost the opportunity to play the part in a test and to show them how feminine I may be without winding up in the stockade or worse.

1650, almost an hour past the time I thought it would take. Maybe they forgot about me, they found their women and just forgot to tell me to go back to my unit.

1720, Geez, it’s suppertime and still there is no one. I poke my head out into the hall again to see another MP. "Sergeant? Did they forget about me?"

"Sir?"

"I expected to go back into the briefing about 1600, it’s now," looking at my watch, "1723, time for supper and they haven’t asked me to return. Are they still having the meeting this late?"

"I don’t know, Sir. If you are part of the group here in these rooms then I’d say they have forgotten about four of you. I’ll try to learn what’s going on and let you know, Sir."

"Thanks. What about supper? Not that I’m hungry, but I would like something to eat because I may be too late for supper by the time I return to my unit."

"I’ll find out about that too, Sir."

"Thanks."

I pull my head back into the room and close the door a second time. Four of us?

That’s everyone. I wonder what they could be doing? Maybe they were called away for some problem and intend to get back to us. Supper arrives about 1755.

Ten minutes later there is another knock and the MP opens the door.

"Sir, the meeting is going long. They expect it may last until nearly 2200 at the rate it’s going. They send their apologies, Sir."

"Thanks. I was hoping they hadn’t forgotten me."

"You’re welcome, Sir. There are only three of you left here now, Sir. They are talking to one of you at the moment. May I ask what’s going on, Sir? This is a little weird."

"You’re telling me? I agree with you completely, this isn’t just a little weird, it’s a lot weird."

The MP smiles and chuckles that a Captain could be so personable and who is in complete agreement with him. He realizes that is all the answer he is going to get and pulls back out of the doorway closing the door leaving me to think some more.

About 1850 I walk out into the hall and ask about a latrine.

For the ladies out there, that’s a REALLY messed up powder room. You don’t ever want to see one. This whole thing is making me think differently. I would much rather have visited a powder room. He directs me down a few doors where I relieve myself, wash my hands then return past him to my room/cell where I continue to wait. I thank him as I walk by.

"You’re welcome, Sir."

My mind continues to wander as I try to think about all this could mean to me.

Somewhere along the line my mind latches on to a quasi poem I remember reading once when I was a lot younger. Strange how the mind works. I haven’t thought about it for nearly fifteen years or so, now I can’t get it out of my head.

A strange poem yet somehow I understand. A knock occurs upon the door and I find a different enlisted man there, also armed, who leads me back to the interview room again.

"Captain, we have been speaking to the others and checking to see how well they may do. Could you demonstrate some female mannerisms for us so we may have an indication of your ability?"

"Like this, Sir? I don’t think I can, Sir. It…, It’s like a switch, Sir. Dressed like this I don’t know if I could force it. If I were completely made up as a female then it would be natural for me. Couldn’t you let me try it like that? I think you’ll see what I mean then."

A short quiet discussion commences, "The others didn’t seem to have a problem with this request."

"Sorry, Sir. I can’t help it. That’s the way I am. Somehow everything changes when I am properly clothed and made up. You should talk to Mom and Sis, they’ll tell you. I just do terribly until I look like a female and then I can’t make myself use male mannerisms."

Again a short discussion commences.

"All right, Captain. We’ll decide tomorrow after you have the chance look female.

To make it more impartial you will be given the opportunity to mix as a female with other women and we will then see how you do while with them."

"Fair enough, Sir. Thank you for the opportunity."

"Don’t thank us yet. In fact, this whole thing could become pretty bad for you if you are selected and are ever found out."

Each of the potential candidates is removed from the area separately so we don’t see each other. I am taken to a hotel where I am stripped and measured so clothing may be obtained. A few things are rapidly forthcoming and I check out the make up, which is dismal. I ask for a number of other items, including specific makeup, none of which rapidly appears.

Sleeping at the hotel that night, the following morning after breakfast I return to my room and putter around waiting for things to show up so I may prepare myself.

The dress arrives about eight but the rest of the makeup and other stuff isn’t delivered until nearly nine. The dress looks like it was selected for a rhinoceros, why take my measurements if not to use them?

I scramble to take a scented bath and shave even closer. No wig has appeared as yet. They want me to look good then give me no support. Figures. It’s like I’m being set up to fail. Around 1100 the phone rings and it sounds like the General.

He wants to know if I’m ready. I tell him no and I tell him why. He sounds like he wants to chew steel. He thanks me and says I will have everything I need in short order.

1320 rolls around and there is an urgent knocking at the door. I am in my uniform again so I answer it to find them delivering a number of nondescript packages which, after they have gone their way and I lock the door once more, I inspect to discover most of the supplies I requested including several styles and colours of wigs.

The phone rings again about fifteen minutes later. Again the General and again I tell him about the problems. The wigs are not my size. The make up looks like it is for a street walker and is not what I itemized. There is no perfume, an important part of a woman’s wardrobe. And the second dress still looks like a sack. I tell him that if this is all the better they can do to provide for someone who is about to put their life on the line in an attempt to help them, then I want no part of it, "Thank you for the wonderful opportunity, Sir, but I’m out of here."

"Hold it, Mister," he nearly screams back at me, "I’ll be right up."

Now I envision myself headed for a stockade for insubordination. Minutes later there is a pounding at the door. I open it before it may be driven from its hinges to find the General standing there. "Please come in," I say to him and nearly curtsey but catch myself before I look silly.

His eyebrow goes up, "Say that again."

"What? Please come in?" He develops a strange look on his face but enters and I close the door behind him.

Then it hits me, I’m now in female mode. The clothes, makeup and intent have triggered me and I’m using female mannerisms and my voice is back up to normal rather than the forced tone I use as a male. I consciously make the change back to male, it’s an effort.

"Let me see this stuff they delivered."

I show him the cosmetics, explaining why they are wrong and the kind of look they would provide.

"Sir, if I didn’t know better, I would say someone wants me to fail, or else they don’t know the difference between a Lady and a whore." I explain to him, "Since I am not nor do I ever intend to be a whore, these clothes, wigs and makeup are inappropriate."

The General agrees and asks me to come with him. We go down where he chews a few b---- before we go out shopping. The selection isn’t very good. I select a dress, a nice skirt and a blouse then carefully go through the dismal selection of cosmetics available.

Whoever did the buying to stock this stuff obviously doesn’t know anything about women’s makeup.

I also point out to him the differences in hair styles present on the wives of the higher ranking officers and those of the street walkers. Also the changes in style based upon the age and shape of the individual. He is beginning to understand the differences. We finally wind up on the local economy trying to find things which will both fit and look appropriate.

I ask him the nature of the test, "Where is it to take place, Sir? Is it somewhere I may wear a dress or should I wear a skirt and blouse? The clothing matters and is dependant upon the specific conditions of the test itself. If it is formal then a gown is in order. Jewelry too, since a woman would wear nice jewelry to a formal occasion."

He thinks about that as I am looking at silk blouses selecting one which will double for a number of occasions and summarily rejecting the one I have been carrying. This one is fancy enough for dinner, but good for daytime wear. It’s difficult when a few things must suffice for dozens of different possible applications. I need to know more about the nature of the test so I may narrow the selections. Why purchase stuff that won’t be used?

"Captain, the test will be in a formal setting and, yes, a gown would be in order.

Jewelry, too, if we may find something which isn’t too expensive around here."

"Then, Sir, the first order of business is to find the gown and matching shoes and purse or clutch. After that we may look at jewelry. This skirt and blouse are good enough for a few daytime uses. I’ll need shoes to wear with this as well. Probably heels for both this and the gown, but not too high, so I am able to walk or dance if it is called for."

We waste about two hours of the general’s time which surprises me no end. He seems to be enjoying himself and he is obtaining an education into a woman’s needs. He even purchases a few things for his wife’s birthday while we are out, putting his new found knowledge into practice.

The Army, courtesy of the General, pays for the things I have selected but I still have no wig or breast forms. He tells me he will take care of that even if he has to throw half his staff in the stockade.

"Sir, the wig can’t just be the right style, it must fit properly. The measurements of my head matter in the choice of the wig."

"Son, you…. That is…, Lady, I think you may have the job sewn up. The others just put on what they were provided and they looked moderately okay but weren’t convincing. You know a lot about how to prepare your appearance and what image you want to project. I’m going to hang onto the others but I very much want to see your finished product. I think you will look a lot better than they have a hope of ever accomplishing."

"Thank you, Sir. I’m not going to put on anything though, unless I have a wig to go with it. I need a wig which fits my measurements and is long enough to fall to the bottom of my shoulder blades or further, be capable of being placed up into a French roll or in a ponytail and in a light to medium brown would be best for me.

I don’t know how you could get one here before the day of the test you talked about. I need breast forms too. Everything must conform to the measurements and colour information I gave you."

"You leave that to me. Are you certain everything you have now will work?"

"Yes, Sir. If I am selected, then the first week I am stateside I will need to obtain proper cosmetics, a lot of cosmetics since they are unavailable here. I will also obtain more current clothing. A woman wouldn’t come over here without clothes to wear. Nor would she want to look like a streetwalker. After all, I will have an image to uphold, not just as a woman, but as a representative of the United States and a lady."

He thinks about that, "All right. I’ll have your wig and the breast forms here in short order, probably two days, maybe three. That is time enough before the test. You practice and if you are selected then I’ll see you get a $5000 allowance for clothes. Do you think that will be enough?"

"I don’t know, Sir. If there are to be Embassy functions or other formal occasions then I may need a bit more. A woman doesn’t wear the same gown nor the same jewelry to every formal occasion. Think about your wife, Sir."

He purses his lips as his head slowly rises up and down once while he considers my statement then begins to shake a little more rapidly as he agrees with what I have just said.

"All right, $10,000. But I would expect you to appear to be a lady at all times, and not just a female."

"Yes, Sir. I wouldn’t want to be anything less."

I let him out of the room and lock the door once again. I think about the ‘crash’ course I just gave him into understanding some of a woman’s needs. He seems to be taking it well. This little project appears to have been initiated without anyone giving any consideration as to the necessities a woman might have.

Necessities such as a $275 wig versus a $20 wig and the phenomenal difference in appearance it offers. Well, if they are considering forcing a permanent change in sex then they need to consider the necessity of everything else which makes up the overall appearance. There is a knock at the door. I open it and find the General again.

"I forgot my wife’s birthday presents. They’re mixed in with the other stuff."

We unpack the things we brought back and find his purchases. I give him one of the carrying bags since I won’t be carrying the other stuff around town any longer.

He shakes my hand, "Thanks for the lessons. Now when Julie needs something I’ll understand a bit better. I may call on your expertise again."

I smile, "You’re welcome, Sir."

He leaves again and I sort everything, putting it away. The clothes I leave out for the moment. I still wonder how he found the time to just go shopping. I begin trying on the clothes we purchased. Everything is great except the gown, and that will be okay once the breast forms arrive. I checked my colour using the cosmetics and gave him a cosmetic colour for the breast forms which is only a little off from my own. I find it interesting that he is willing to spend nearly $1000 for clothes, wig, cosmetics, breast forms and jewelry just for a test.

I think I may have this mission sewn up. Pride wells up as I think about that possibility and it is followed in seconds by panic at the thought that, yes, I might indeed have this mission sewn up. I wish I could talk with Mom and Sis.

Sitting down at the low table which doubled as a vanity, looking into the mirror on the wall behind it, I think about how the gown fits and about the makeup I selected. I tried to find a gown and other clothing in colours which were close, based upon the selection of cosmetics available. Not exactly the right way of doing things. Geez, just finding a gown over here was a chore; glad I’m so thin.

Checking out my cosmetics and brushes, the colour selections available aren’t great, finding the brushes was a challenge too. Once I’m in the States I’ll need to buy enough proper cosmetics to last me at least six months. I will need perfume as well. General Pendleton will never recognize me once I have proper clothes, make-up, wig and breast forms. Lipstick here is for the pits. The colour I settled for is a little too light, but that’s better than too dark.

I put on the skirt and blouse after my makeup session and then whirl myself around in front of the mirror. Not bad, not bad at all, good even…. I could look a lot better with a good wig that actually fits me and is in a complementary colour.

I hope the General doesn’t run into too much opposition to the purchase of the wig and breast forms I specified. I told him where they could be purchased and exactly the colours needed so there is a chance, unless some bean counter decides another colour is cheaper. That would be just great, I can see it all now, a white chest with brown breasts and a fire engine red plastic wig to match my hazel eyes.

I slip on the lavender pumps and practice walking. It isn’t easy. A number of years have gone by but with a day or two of practice I think I’ll manage. They feel quite good so I try on the black ones and walk around in them a while. They’re okay too. The colour of the lavender pumps is off just a little but maybe no one will notice, the matching clutch is good though.

The pumps are almost the colour of the gown, and my black purse matches everything which is not formal.

I begin to worry about my legs and haven’t thought about how much they may have changed. As I walk around in front of the mirror, I lift the skirt a little and glance back at my legs from as many angles as possible. Not bad. I may even be able to entice my husband into bed with this outfit. What am I saying?

Of course, he may be the kind of man who likes to see his wife in a formal gown.

I finally remember my eyebrows and go over to the vanity. I check them out, wincing a bit, then do a little judicious plucking. Better. Maybe a little more here… and there… and there…. Good! Wish I had just a slightly darker shade of lipstick. This shade looks just a little too young for me, it will probably annoy me until I can find another shade. Maybe I could put on some that’s a bit too dark and then cover it a little with this lighter shade…. Oh, great. Well, another bright idea down the drain.

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To Be Continued…       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rènae Dùmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 
 

previously read:

I may even be able to entice my husband into bed with this outfit. Of course, he might be the kind of man who likes to see his wife in a formal gown. I remember my eyebrows and go over to the vanity. I check them out and do a little judicious plucking. Better. Maybe a little more here… and there… and there…. Good! Wish I had just a slightly darker shade of lipstick. This shade looks just a little too young for me, it will probably annoy me until I can find another shade.

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Friday, 10/31/2008 - 3:58 PM., Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 3 is revised and reposted on Tuesday, 12/03/2009 - 8:35 PM. ~Sephrena

---

moving along briskly:

Chapter 03

 

Following breakfast during the next couple of days, I spend the mornings walking around my room while wearing the pumps, rotating them each hour so both pairs, as well as my feet, will be broken in before I need to wear the shoes for real. It would hardly do to walk in the same pair all week and then wear a new pair for the test. That would be a guaranteed way to wind up with sore feet, especially if I have to dance, as they seem to have indicated.

The days are also spent in practice at putting on my makeup, then cleaning it off and putting it on again until I am satisfied for the moment. Just before the next meal, I wash it all off again so I can go to eat lunch or supper as a male. This is getting old really fast.

It’s difficult, eating as a male then coming back up here and locking myself in so I can practice some more for the impending ‘test.’ I’m getting better at it though.

I’m beginning to remember the necessary tricks of using makeup effectively, although I am still wishing for a slightly darker shade of lipstick. Of course, if it is too dark, then I am no longer a lady but am a pretender or worse.

My third day in the room, the phone rings and when I answer I am informed that a number of boxes have just arrived for me and will be brought up. I hurry to wash off the makeup, finishing just as there is a knock at the door. Checking myself quickly in the mirror, I toss the pumps into an out-of-sight corner then answer the door, towel in hand. I accept the boxes thanking the enlisted men who deliver them. Then I retreat back behind my locked door to remove the wrappings on the boxes.

I discover they contain four women’s uniforms complete with unit insignia and major’s rank on the epaulets. And surprise! They are my size. Now I know why they took my measurements. The additional boxes contain all of the necessary articles of clothing and shoes to match them. This is interesting. I try one of them on and it fits well, not perfectly. Well, I’m missing a little something up in the breast area but otherwise things look pretty good. I wonder what this is all about?

The uniforms go into the closet and the other clothing into appropriate drawers.

This is food for thought. After supper I continue to practice walking and even take a few waltz steps while in the pumps, neatly twisting my ankle and crashing to the floor in pain. End result, I hobble around the room for about an hour. The dancing isn’t coming easily, it’s been a long time.

The next day, after breakfast, I practice my makeup for the umpteenth time, still not quite happy with it but unable to fix the problem due to the limited nature of the available supplies to be found here. By now I have probably put on and washed off my makeup four or five dozen times and gone through the first and part of the second set of supplies we purchased.

Fortunately I had enough presence of mind to pick up three of everything, and five of the foundation. The General allowed it when I explained that the first and possibly even second set would be used up in a matter of days as I practiced my techniques which have not been in use for some five years. Then too, the colours are not ideal so I will also need to learn how to make myself appear good with inappropriate supplies.

He told me I was talking like his wife, “Young lady, the two of you would probably get along fine discussing makeup and dresses and cooking and….” He sounds disgusted. Suddenly he gives me a funny look for a moment before he raises an eyebrow. He continues to look at me strangely for a moment longer before shaking his head as though to clear it of cobwebs. After that day shopping, pretty much anything I asked for to help my appearance he made certain I received.

One more day has passed and I am beginning to worry about the wig and breast forms. There has been no hint of their arrival. I continue to practice my walking and dancing. A couple of times I put on the makeup, less is more you know, and then everything necessary to go with the woman’s uniforms. Checking myself out in the mirror I think it isn’t too bad. If I had a proper wig, I could probably pass, even with the present condition of my legs. They aren’t bad, but I would like them to be better. My tummy pokes out too much as well. That could be solved with more sit-ups, stretches and salads, while eating less beef and potatoes.

While I have a little fat and could afford to lose a few pounds, like ten or fifteen, I’m actually in fairly good shape. Lots of fruit and salads will help. Found some vitamins at the PX, that’s the Post Exchange…. You know, the military Walmart?

Never mind…. I went shopping yesterday, as a male!

The wig and breast forms finally arrive. The wig fits well and looks good.

Fortunately someone listened, so the adhesives and cutting agents are also in the packages. I try on the gown with my breast forms, wig and makeup in place.

Checking the mirror I find a young woman, who could easily have been the girl I remember from my previous years, staring back at me. I might actually survive an evening date. I could go dancing looking like this. I’ll change back into masculine clothing after I try on one of the skirt uniforms…. Geez, nice uniform. I wouldn’t mind dating her except she’s a Major and I’m a Captain.

Just then a knock occurs at the door. I bite the bullet, check myself in the mirror again and go answer the door while wearing the skirt uniform with my full major’s insignia and all. The general is standing there and he gives me a quick look and apologizes for having knocked at the wrong door. He is just considering a double take when I reply; “That’s fine, Sir. Come in. You are not at the wrong room.”

He is still flustered but enters obviously looking for someone, and attempting to resolve a female being in the hotel designated as a male billet.

“How do I look, Sir? Is this test enough?”

At that comment he stops like he is frozen, then turns and looks carefully at me.

He shakes his head like he is clearing cobwebs again and looks at me some more.

“I think I need a drink.”

“What would you like, Sir?” My voice and mannerisms are definitely feminine. I walk across the room to the built in bar and feel his eyes watching my legs and the skirt swinging back and forth as I go.

“I shouldn’t do this, Julie will have my liver.…. Scotch. Make it a double.”

I return with his drink handing it to him, “Would you care to sit down, Sir?”

“After you.”

He again watches me walk to the table where I sit on a chair as he appraises my every move.

“I don’t believe it. I know who you are, but all I see is this woman. How do you look in the gown?”

“About the same, Sir.”

He thinks about that, “I’m going downstairs for about an hour. Is that enough time for you to change to a gown?”

“Change, Yes, Sir. But if my makeup or hair need to be adjusted, then I may need a little longer. Also if I get made up in a gown then I’m stuck looking female for about five days to two weeks because I will need to fasten the breast forms and wig in place, which will take extra time to accomplish.”

“I see. Your hair may be down, it doesn’t need to be up. You may wear a woman’s uniform whenever you need to go out from now on. If you can be ready by, he checks his watch, say… 1750, then we will go pick up my wife and all go together to an embassy function. Consider this to be your final test.”

“Yes, Sir. I need to hurry if I am to be ready by 1750. I hope this won’t get you in trouble with your wife, Sir.”

“It won’t. I’m going to call her and tell her the test date has moved up. You were going to go with us Saturday but we will do it impromptu tonight. Let’s see your gown again.”

I show him the strapless gown in lavender. Again his eyebrow shoot up as he looks at me as I hold the gown against me so he may get an idea of how it might look when I am wearing it.

“I hope you know what you’re doing Capt…. I mean Major, ‘Ma’am’,” he smiles as he says it. “If you are able to pull this off then I think you may do most anything we need.”

He walks over to the phone and calls his wife. He explains that he thinks the little test he has mentioned will occur tonight rather than Saturday and we will simply say his niece has arrived in country earlier than expected.

“What colour? It’s purple. What kind of purple? Here you talk with him, I mean her.”

He hands me the phone as I look at him like he’s crazy, “Hello?”

“How do you do? This is Julie Pendleton, I was wondering what colour gown you intend to wear tonight?”

“It’s lavender with matching pumps and clutch purse. I have pearls to wear or I might wear imitation diamonds. My hair is light with thin streaks of medium brown and my eyes are hazel. My fingernails are in a pale bluish pink. Is that enough information?”

“Certainly. Phillip has explained to me the nature of this ‘test.’ We will be calling you Lucy as that is the name of our niece. Lucy Ann Jackson. I trust you look good enough that you won’t cause her or us any embarrassment?”

“I shall endeavor to be a lady at all times, Aunt….”

“She calls me Aunt Julie.”

“Thank you, Aunt Julie. I look forward to meeting you. I need to change out of my uniform and into my gown so I’ll be ready to go. Do you need to talk more with Uncle Phillip?”

“No, just tell him he’d better be right. Oh! Wear the pearls or no jewelry at all.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Nice to talk with you. Bye.”

“Good bye.”

I take a deep breath and turn to the General, “Uncle Phillip, she said ‘you’d better be right.’ ”

He smiles and starts laughing as he walks to the door. He is still chuckling as he goes into the hall, closing the door behind him. I go lock the door and then start changing like mad, wishing they had asked me to do this when I was just out of high school. My own hair was eight to twelve inches long then, instead of a quarter inch, so I might have been able to pass without a wig. I do like the long length the wig offers though. I might be able to grow my own hair back.

I think about how quickly it grows as I draw the water for a quick bath, adding some scented oil as it begins to fill. I go hang my uniform and prepare my cosmetics then check on the bath. I know my hair grows about three to three and a half inches a year. That means in ten years I could have my own hair in this length. Water’s ready, so now for a fast scented bath. The wig is off so it won’t get wet.

I finish my quick bath, dry and put on my undergarments, slap on a bra to help situate the breast forms and, after applying adhesive to them, slide them into place quickly adjusting them before the adhesive prevents me from moving them. Now they will remain in place while I apply my makeup, giving the adhesive the opportunity to set while I accomplish something else. Once the adhesive ‘grabs,’ a little makeup manages to hide any telltale edges which were barely perceptible anyway. The bra has long since come off and the bustiere and my other undergarments and hose go on.

Finally the gown covers it all, as I make some adjustments while continuing to fasten it. Checking my appearance in the mirror, hmm, not perfect but better than average.

Someone I might like to meet if I were a boy. I prepare the wig with adhesive after considering my own hair which sticks up like a pin-cushion when it is this short. I fasten the wig to my head managing to find skin for it to adhere to rather than hair.

After allowing some time for the adhesive to set, a little brushing brings it all into line and my appearance is good. It had better be good. Now I’m stuck with it even when I sleep for the next five or six days. With long hair capable of hanging straight it will be easier to care for than if it was in curls. I check myself in the mirror again. Not bad at all. I guess the final verdict will be from Uncle Phillip and Aunt Julie.

A touch of perfume, then I pack my clutch with my ID, my room key and a little scrip/money, lipstick and touch up cosmetics. Damn, I forgot, I have no fur. Oh well, can’t remember everything. Now for the Pearls, earrings (that’ll be a shocker for him if he even notices, they’re pierced), necklace and bracelet. A cheap ring that looks good and could be believed to be an engagement ring goes on my finger, a small gold plated watch on my other wrist. The General is at the door again. I am beginning to recognize his knock. I grab my clutch and answer the door.

“Hello, Uncle Phillip. I’m ready.”

His eyes fall out of his head as he motions me back into the room. His jaw drops and I am visualizing a cartoon character with the jaw dropping to the floor along with the tongue and the eyes bugging out at me like binoculars while the mouth goes into a wolf whistle siren. All that’s missing is the thumping foot.

“I don’t believe it. I see it and I don’t believe it. Turn around.”

I do a slow pirouette just as any red blooded American girl would for her Uncle and then stand there the picture of femininity waiting for him to say something.

“Julie will never believe this. All right, let’s go.”

“Sir. If you don’t treat me like I’m your niece then everyone will know something isn’t right.”

He stops in his tracks. Turning toward me, “You’re right, Lucy. Pardon me.” He offers me his arm, leading me to the door before opening it to allow me to exit as he locks it asking, “Do you have your room key?”

“Yes, Uncle Phillip.”

He smiles and snorts, then appears reflective of some thought, closing the door behind us and once again offers me his arm. We walk to the elevator. After we exit the elevator, and as we cross the lobby, I feel hundreds of pairs of eyes watching us, me, as we walk to the door and out to the car. The driver does a double take and opens the door for me. I enter and carefully swing my legs in then my uncle goes around and enters from the other side. The driver takes us to the home the Army is leasing for the General and his family. There the whole thing occurs in reverse and he leads me, on his arm, into the house.

“Have a seat, Lucy. I’ll let Julie know you’ve arrived.”

He walks off chuckling as he goes.

A few minutes later an attractive older lady enters the room and stops cold. She looks at me, “Lucy would you get up and turn around for me please?”

I do as she asks with another slow pirouette. She just looks at me, dumbfounded.

“May I look a little closer at you? I’m not quite believing this.”

We walk over to each other and she examines me from head to toe.

“Who are you really?” she asks, “What kind of joke is this?”

“Joke? I don’t understand.”

“Phillip said this was to be a test to see how well a man could look like a woman for some special assignment. You are hardly a man.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you think so, Aunt Julie.”

“Phillip. Come in here this instant. I don’t know what game you are playing at mister, but you’d better explain it pronto.”

The general comes into the room a confused expression on his face, “What’s wrong, Julie?”

“Don’t you ‘what’s wrong, Julie?’ me. You explain who this bimbo is right now.”

“Captain, would you please use your normal voice for a moment and explain to my wife what this is all about?”

After a few faltering tries my voice drops to a masculine normal, “Yes, Sir. Ma’am, this is to be my test to see if I may pass as a woman for a special undercover assignment. The assignment is quite dangerous, or so I have been led to believe, so a real woman cannot be used. I can prove I’m male if it’s necessary. But for tonight my appearance is female so we can see how well I do. Apparently I do okay so far.”

She looks at me some more and she says the same thing the general said, “I don’t believe it. All-right, Miss Smarty Pants, prove it.”

Once again in a feminine voice, “Yes, Ma’am. May we go into the bedroom? I don’t want to undress in front of a man.”

The general breaks out into laughter, putting his hand up across his eyes, as his wife grabs my hand, half leading, half dragging me to the bedroom while he continues to laugh.

Five minutes later we are out in the living room again. The General has calmed down and his wife is still muttering, “I don’t believe it,” then she says, “You make a beautiful young woman.”

“Thank you, Aunt Julie.”

“You had best be careful at this function, young lady. There are a lot of predators who attend these things. Don’t get out of sight. And don’t drink anything someone hands to you. Date rape drugs are widely available over here, and many think that a young American female is great hunting.”

“Yes, Aunt Julie. I’ll try to be careful.”

“You don’t have a wrap. Will you be warm enough later?”

“I forgot to purchase one,” I agree. “It will only be for a short time and the nights are not all that cold, so I should be all right.”

“Nonsense. Here, borrow this one.” She hands me the short wrap, “I’ll take my coat. White goes well with your gown. We’ll be checking them when we enter the embassy so they’ll stay clean.”

“Thank you.”

“Not at all. I expect my niece to look like, and be, a lady at all times. Don’t make me sorry we are taking you with us. And don’t drink. Lucy doesn’t drink, so neither do you.”

“I understand. I don’t drink anyway. Thank you for allowing me this opportunity to experience an embassy function.”

“It’s about time you decided to attend these…. Sorry, I actually began to think of you as my niece. It’s uncanny. You look a great deal like her. That’s part of the reason why I thought Phillip was up to something.”

“Thank you, Aunt Julie.”

“Don’t thank me. That was hardly a compliment. She is a spoiled brat.”

“But, Aunt Julie, you didn’t say I acted like her, you said I look like her. I take that to be a compliment.”

She smiles and reaches out to pat my cheek, “Indeed. That much of it is a compliment. She had best take care of her position as my niece. I may disown her and name you as my niece instead. We’ll see how you do at this evening’s function. I don’t expect perfection, since you have never attended one; but I do expect you to follow my lead and to be charming and reserved.”

She stresses the word ‘reserved’ almost with a growl. She makes me feel like a fawn being eyed by a cougar, even the General winces.

“Yes, Aunt Julie.”

As we are going through these rituals, someone knocks at the door which is eventually answered by a hired servant who admits an Army Sergeant. The Sergeant informs the General that the car is outside and he will wait there with it.

He takes an eyeful of me as he leaves and Aunt Julie turns to give me a reproachful stare.

“Aunt Julie, I just stood here quietly. I didn’t do anything to attract his attention.”

“Sometimes just standing quietly causes attention, Lucy. Keep in mind what I said earlier about date rape drugs.”

I have a lot to learn. Somehow it was much easier when I was younger. We go out to the car and once again I am ogled by the sergeant.

In my most military feminine voice, “Eyes front, Sergeant. Haven’t you ever seen a Major before?”

“No, Ma’am, I mean, yes, Ma’am, I mean…. Sorry, Ma’am.”

He drops his gaze about four octaves and we finish entering the car before he starts around to the driver’s side.

“Very well done, Lucy,” Aunt Julie tells me.

At the embassy I find things to be interesting to say the least. I have picked up on all sorts of good Intel. It’s surprising how people will talk about so many things when they don’t know you speak their language and they think you are simply a pretty woman wandering around the room.

Whenever the General walks by, they shut up until he’s past, but they ignore me. I continue to wander around the room collecting data while sipping the cola I ordered at the bar. Every so often I check in with Aunt Julie who introduces me to whomever she may be speaking with at the time. They, of course, are ‘enchanted’ or ‘delighted’ to meet me. A few grasp my hand, then kiss it, always in the case of the Frenchmen, sometimes others, while they are ogling other areas of my anatomy.

I continue to wander the room listening here and there while noticing one young man seems to be following me around the room. I vividly recall Aunt Julie’s warnings about date rape and prepare to refuse anything he might offer me. I continue around the room and he continues to follow until I can’t stand it anymore.

“Are you following me?”

“Ahh, you are American?!”

“Yes, I am the niece of the General over there.”

“I see. And they allow their young women to just walk the room?”

“Why not?”

“There are some who would try to take advantage of this.”

“Well, if they try to take too much advantage, I suppose I could scream, and if that didn’t work then I could break their arm for a start.”

“You could…? Oh. It is a joke.” His first reaction is one of stunned inconceivability which is followed quickly by a smile and an amused expression.

“Not at all. I am a Taekwondo third degree black belt and have defended myself upon several occasions.” I somehow neglect to tell him that I was a male at the time.

“American women are not defenseless?” he asked, with some surprise and disbelief showing both on his face and in his voice.

“Hardly. Many of us study martial arts,” thinking back to one of my classes which was comprised mostly of women. “In fact, many of us are quite proficient in many forms of combat. We simply allow our men to fight the wars since they seem to need to do that sort of thing. It helps keep them calm.”

The look on his face is absolutely priceless. “I see. Oh, they need me over there. Thank you for interesting conversation.”

“You’re welcome,” I reply in what I believe is his native tongue, “It was nice meeting you.”

He gives me a little bow as his face turns ashen then he hurries off to a group of people who could be the same nationality. I hope I haven’t committed some faux pas. I quickly search for Aunt Julie and quietly rush over to her.

As she wraps up her conversation, I ask, “Aunt Julie, could I have a few minutes of your time? I need to learn something.”

She looks at me as though curious and we depart the room going to the ladies’ room.

“All right, Lucy. What trouble have you gotten yourself into this time?” She must still be confusing me with her niece.

After checking to be certain we are alone I begin to explain what has happened.

She thinks about it and says I should probably tone down my responses a little but that this one time was probably not terribly inauspicious. She tells me to notify Phillip of the encounter while she does a little judicious checking. “Also tell him I will let him know more after I check around.”

“Yes, Aunt Julie.”

“Lucy.”

“Yes?”

“Relax, you’re a big girl now. Enjoy it.”

I smile, “I’ll try, Aunt Julie.”

We go back to the ball room and mingle some more as I begin my search for Uncle Phillip. I eventually locate the General and wait until he finishes his conversation. “Uncle Phillip, may I speak with you? Aunt Julie says it’s important.”

He nods his head and we are off to a more secluded area where we can talk privately. I relate my encounter to him and what was said. Then I tell him what Aunt Julie said. More quietly, I let him know I have picked up a lot of good intel since, as a female, I am mostly ignored, and I understand most of the languages spoken here.

He tells me, “Good, we will discuss this further after we return home.” Suddenly more loudly, “Well, young lady, I’m glad you are enjoying yourself. We will probably leave in about an hour. Would you let Julie know?”

“Certainly, Uncle Phillip.” I turn and see several people standing behind me.

One of them indicates me and asks, “And General, who is this delightful creature?”

“This is my niece, Lucy. She is in Saigon for a few days visiting. She is returning to the States from a tour in Thailand.”

Now I think this is another Frenchman. I don’t remember the French having an Embassy in Saigon any longer, but who knows.

He takes my hand, bows, and kisses it.

Oh, he’s French all right. Another kiss of my hand, almost devouring it. They begin to speak to each other in French saying things no one should hear about potential plans for a young succulent dish.

“I need to get back to the party, Uncle Phillip. I find it exciting.” I turn to the French and give a slight curtsey as I say, “Excusez-moi, je trouve le divertissement fasciner ici, et je ne veux manquer rien,” then I swept past them as their mouths drop open and they watch me return to the ballroom where I begin to look for Aunt Julie.

“My niece speaks fourteen languages, fairly fluently,” Uncle Phillip said. “I hope you weren’t saying anything at which she might take offense. I wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of her wrath, nor that of her Aunt.” He follows me out into the large room leaving the French standing there gaping at us as we walk away.

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To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rènae Dùmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 
 

previously transpired:

“I need to get back to the party, Uncle Phillip. I find it exciting.” I turn to the French and give a slight curtsey as I say, “Excusez-moi, je trouve le divertissement fasciner ici, et je ne veux manquer rien,” then I swept past them as their mouths drop open and they watch me return to the ballroom where I begin to look for Aunt Julie.

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Saturday, 11/01/2008 - 9:30 AM., Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 4 is revised and reposted on Tuesday, 12/05/2009 - 10:04 AM. ~Sephrena

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Let's move along now:

Chapter 04
 

After being sidetracked en route a number of times I finally locate Aunt Julie and deliver Uncle Phillip’s message, telling her it is likely to be more on the order of forty minutes, due to the delays I experienced.

Eventually Uncle Phillip shows up and claims us, having experienced a few delays of his own in the process. We return to obtain our wraps and go out to await the car. A minute later it pulls up, we are once again on our way now to ‘home.’ As we arrive, a team of Army Specialists is walking out of the house.

Their leader delivers a report to the General as we ladies continue into the house.

“Well, Lucy, how did you like the event?”

“It was a lot of fun, Aunt Julie. I especially enjoyed the French.”

She rolls her eyes. “A bigger pack of wolves there never was,” she replies sarcastically.

“I know. Several of them came up as I was talking with Uncle Phillip. They were behind me. When I turned around, they began to undress me, in French of course.”

“Did he stop them?”

“Does he speak French?”

“No. I don’t suppose he does.”

“Well I do. So I let them know I speak French.”

“You seem to have had an interesting night. Be careful you don’t say something to the wrong person, landing us in some difficulties.”

“I’ll try. I just don’t like the way many men treat women.”

“I know. We are all second class citizens or worse. I enjoyed having you with us tonight, my dear. Please don’t be a stranger. Stop by and visit me once in a while.”

“If I am able to do so, I would like that, Aunt Julie.”

The General walks in and motions for me to follow him. I give Aunt Julie the borrowed wrap before I turn to follow him into the study.

“Close the door, Lucy.”

He reaches down and clicks a little switch which causes an annoying buzz to begin in my ears. He says, “We may talk freely now,” his voice understandable to me but with a strange overtone caused by that buzz. The room has just been swept for bugs, and the noise generator is likely to take care of most anything which may have been missed. I relate to him the information I overheard listening to various conversations throughout the evening.

“Write it all up tomorrow and present it as a report. By the way, here is a set of orders which I had faxed here to me. Go have more copies made of these and then have new ID cut in the name of Major Lucy Ann Jackson. You will wear a woman’s uniform since you will, of course, be female commencing now. The orders also call for the cash disbursement we discussed for your ‘necessary’ expenses. You will be moved from the present hotel over to one occupied only by women in order to avoid complications prior to your departure for CONUS.”

(That’s the US for those of you not in the know — CON tinental U nited S tates).

“These orders also give you a week at leave in CONUS during which I expect you to purchase more civilian female clothing to wear during your assignment. Most of that assignment will require civilian clothing. Clothing specific to the missions themselves will be issued at the time of your preparation prior to mission implementation. After your week’s leave, report to the location in the US stipulated in the orders and on the date so indicated.”

“May I visit Mom and Sis during the week?”

He pauses to think about that one before answering, “Yes, but you will need to do it as a female. Remember you cannot tell them anything about your assignment.”

I nod my head. This might be difficult if I remember Mom correctly. Mom heck, Sis has always been able to pry stuff out of me. I’ll just have to be a better woman than they are. This’ll be fun. Mom will have a cow when I walk in dressed in a uniform skirted suit.

“How do I get back to the hotel? Everything I need is there.”

He has to think about that one.

“All right, we’ll go together and move you out of the hotel. While we are there, you may change to your uniform then… No, now that I think more about it, instead of taking you to the other hotel we will bring everything back here. You may stay here until you fly back to CONUS. Tomorrow, after you obtain your new ID, you may go to work and prepare that report. I’ll provide you with orders which will permit you to use the intelligence facility for the next couple of days. On second thought, there is an unused office close to mine. You will use that so I may keep an eye on you. You will not be subject to any orders except my own. If anyone gives you grief then you will refer them to me.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Lucy, I wish you would stop calling me Sir. I’m Uncle Phillip.”

“What of the times I am in uniform, Uncle Phillip?”

“Well…, no, I guess not. But here at home I won’t tolerate it, especially not from my niece.”

“Yes, Uncle Phillip.” I lean up just a little and kiss him on the cheek.

That grants me an interesting reaction. Nothing at first but a smile, then the shock of realization sets in and he blushes.

“Uncle Phillip, You’ll have to get used to that. After all I am your favorite niece, am I not?”

His eyebrows raise and lower and he gives one of those ‘I give up’ shrugs men subconsciously give to a woman when she has won a discussion.

We leave the room and I immediately go to Aunt Julie, “Uncle Phillip has asked me to live here the next couple of days when I’m not out working. Is this all right?”

“You’ll do,” she says.

“What?”

“You’ll do. Just like any other woman you seek out the lady of the house to ask permission rather than accepting the man’s word for it. Yes, we have a spare room. You may use it.”

“Thank you. I need to go collect my clothes and cosmetics, then I’ll be back.”

“Why don’t we all go? We can collect everything then return here. Phillip and I might be able to offer moral support for you during your transit of ‘the gantlet’ at the hotel.”

“Thank you. That is very kind of you. I really wasn’t looking forward to it.”

“Phillip. Phillip, where have you gotten to now?” she calls out to him.

“I‘m on the phone, just a minute.”

A few minutes later he walks out of his office and Aunt Julie tells him we are all going to the hotel to retrieve my things. The enlisted driver takes us to the hotel.

Uncle Phillip tells him to park the car and come in with us. The four of us go up to my room and in less than ten minutes we have everything and are back down in the lobby. Uncle Phillip returns the room key and we go out to the car then return home.

“Aunt Julie, Uncle Phillip, when I’m to be married would you both come to the wedding?”

“The wedding will be mostly paperwork, Lucy. There won’t be an actual wedding performed.”

“Oh.”

“Phillip. What wedding? A wedding is an important event for a young woman.”

“Julie this is a wedding for the purpose of creating a cover. It isn’t real, or at least it will be annulled as soon as the assignment is completed.”

Tears begin to form in my eyes. I can’t help it.

“Phillip, now look at what you’ve done. Come on, Lucy. We’ll go have a little talk.”

The General just stands there, confused.

Aunt Julie and I talk for about half an hour and she understands more about exactly what is going to happen to me, i.e., become permanently female. She tells me that if my ‘marriage’ is annulled then they will attend my next wedding.

“If this wedding remains in effect, then after your assignment we will plan a real wedding and the young man will be married to you a second time so you may have your wedding and pictures and everything.”

I think about that happily and my thoughts turn to wondering if I will like him.

What if we’re not right for each other? Geez, I could be stuck for ten months.

“Lucy, will you have any time available to go around with me and meet some of my friends here?”

“Tomorrow will probably be very busy, but the next day I hope to have some free time. Would that work out?”

“I’ll plan for it. I think I’ll let Phillip know I am stealing you that day. He may simply think of it as additional practice and exposure for you to the political community here. You will need to know the other wives since we tend to provide many of the decisions taken by our husbands. It will be good practice for when you return with your husband. My dear, please don’t think badly of me but I would like to know…. When you are married, will you be sexually active as a female with your husband?”

I must have looked shocked for she apologizes quickly.

“No. No. It’s all right. As I understand it, yes, I will be sexually active with him. I will be unable to have children but I may have sex. My sister has said she will donate eggs to allow me to have a family of my own.”

She smiles at me, “You are more a woman than either you or Phillip thinks, Lucy. I need to give this some thought. Thank you, for being so honest with me.”

“Why do you want to know?” I asked.

“Oh, just a wild idea. I am thinking…. Well, I have a number of eggs frozen and we have no grandchildren or grand anything. I was just wondering if in addition to two children from your sisters eggs if you would also raise two derived from mine. That way we could claim grand nieces and nephews and I would know they will have a chance of being raised properly. Somehow I doubt you would tolerate the use of drugs.”

“I would like that, Aunt Julie. I would really like that.”

We hold onto each other crying our happiness for about a minute or so.

“I’m afraid I must clean up and unpack. Tomorrow I need to go to the unit and process paperwork, prepare and file a report and then I’ll be back. Aunt Julie, I wish I really was your niece.”

“So do I, child, so do I.”

We hug each other for a moment before she leaves my room, closing the door behind her. I begin preparing for bed, undressing and putting on a robe before I unpack everything else, first hanging all my clothes in the closet, then placing my odds and ends into the dresser. My cosmetics go on a small vanity which is over near the window. That will be good. I will have sunlight to check my makeup. I finish everything and then begin a quiet search for the bathroom. There I clean my teeth and wash my face to remove all of the makeup. I need to make arrangements for a time to use the bath when I will not interfere with their normal household routine.

I have no alarm clock so I guess I will just need to rely on household sounds to awaken me at the right time. I’m removing my robe to go to bed when the door opens and the General walks right in. I give a shriek of surprise, grabbing my robe and holding it before me, as he beats a hasty retreat out the door.

“Uncle Phillip, you surprised me. I didn’t expect you to just walk in.”

“Sorry, Lucy. I’m just used to going anywhere. Are you decent?”

“Just a moment.” I quickly don the gown and check myself in the mirror. “Okay, I have my robe on. Come on in.”

“Sorry. I’ll try to remember to knock.”

“Thank you. I’d appreciate that.”

“We will be leaving tomorrow morning about seven. You may ride in with me and complete the things you need to have done. You may receive your new ID, confirm the arrangement for immediate travel to CONUS, draw your funds, and you may prepare your report of tonight’s activities using that empty office near mine. After you complete the report, remove the typewriter ribbon so it may be burned. Julie tells me you are both going out the following day. I think you had best carry your new ID with you, but you might want to wear civilian clothing.”

“I was planning to do just that.”

“Ok. I’ll have someone awaken you about five. Is that enough time to prepare and to eat breakfast with us at 0630?”

“Yes. That will be plenty of time, thank you.”

“Fine. Goodnight, Lucy. See you in the morning.”

“Good night, Uncle Phillip.”

Geez, if he just walked in like that all the time with his real niece, it’s no wonder they’re estranged. Aunt Julie is right. I’m more female than I thought. I didn’t think…. My shriek was automatic.

I awaken when I hear the household activity level increasing. Putting on my robe, I go make a short visit to the bathroom. When I return, I begin to ‘put on my face,’ lightly of course, as a female in the military, I wouldn’t use much makeup. I still need to appear feminine however, so for me, slightly more may be necessary, at least until I am able to obtain the real stuff when I return home. After I put on my face, I begin to get dressed.

Eventually I finish and add a little, not a lot, of perfume, basically a hint rather than a two-by-four approach. I need to obtain several perfumes when I go home so I have a light scent for my work days and something a little more provocative for my evening excursions. That might cause me to appear to be a bit more interesting to males near me. Of course I’d best be careful around the French.

Wolves indeed. They seem nice but then again? Of course, it could simply be cultural differences…. I’m certain our cultural taboos seem just as strange to them.

Checking myself in the mirror on the back of the closet door I find my appearance is okay. Not great, but okay. What do you want for improper cosmetics and a military uniform? I leave the jacket on the bed with the black purse, awaiting my return from breakfast, then go out to greet everyone.

“Good morning, Aunt Julie, Uncle Phillip. It looks like it’s going to be beautiful today.”

“Good morning, Lucy. Come here child, and give me a kiss.”

Aunt Julie seems to be old school. I could learn a lot from her. Hope I have the opportunity. After our good morning kisses on our cheeks I sit down and begin to dish out some eggs and a few, very few, potatoes plus some bacon.

“Good morning, Lucy.” Uncle Phillip is somewhat more formal. How these two ever got together is beyond me. Whatever attraction was there when they first met continues to be present. It seems to be a good, but strange, match.

As I pour myself coffee, I check Aunt Julie’s cup which is still full then I notice Uncle Phillip’s is empty.

“Would you care for more coffee, Uncle Phillip?”

“Yes, please.” He holds his cup over and I pour, refilling his cup. He seems very absorbed in the papers he is reading.

He returns his cup to the saucer as I add a touch of sugar to my coffee before starting in on my eggs. Aunt Julie and I chat as Uncle Phillip reads. I notice he raises his cup and sips some coffee then blanches and stares at his cup. Putting it down he adds a little cream and a spoonful of sugar, then absentmindedly begins to stir it as he continues to read. After about a minute of this he finally realizes he is still stirring the coffee.

Aunt Julie and I finish our breakfast and are still chatting over our coffee as Uncle Phillip finishes reading and downs the remains of his coffee in nearly one gulp.

Half his breakfast is still on the plate, cold. No wonder he stays relatively thin. He only eats half the food he has before him. I like to cook, I hope my husband will like to eat it.

“Lucy, bring your jacket and we’ll head for Command.” He was very abrupt and businesslike.

I look at Aunt Julie and she just shakes her head and rolls her eyes. We kiss a ‘have a nice day’ and I’m off to retrieve my purse, hat and jacket.

As I exit my room, Aunt Julie takes one look at me and says, “Turn around, child. Let me see how you look.”

I do a slow twirl and she nods in approval. We kiss ‘goodbye, see you later’ and I’m out the door with Uncle Phillip. Now we are all business. Typical military protocols as we enter the car and ride to the buildings used to house the large part of the local Command structure here. I receive directions to go obtain my new ID card. There I tell them my previous card was lost en route to Saigon and give them a copy of my orders for a new card. While in the building I also have another fifty copies made so I have plenty for everyone during all the transport, leave, hospital and every other kind of minor requirement which demands copies from an officer in transit.

After the copies and ID, I go to arrange to receive the disbursement of funds.

They look at the amount and believe it is a clerical error. I tell them to call Uncle Phillip. No, I give them his name and rank. They actually do call his office.

They are going to try to give me military scrip but I tell them I need good old American currency since I am going to be using it in the good old US of A. They inform me that I should wait until I’m in CONUS. Again I tell them to call Uncle Phillip. After a few minutes on the phone and a few seconds with an irate General behind them they are trying to come up with real money. Ten thousand in American cash is hard to come by, evidently.

“That’s strange, since the CIA and the rest of the South East Asian theater seem to be able to do so quite readily,” I mention to them.

They aren’t happy. I tell them I’ll be back about 1500 for the funds and I depart to prepare my report at Uncle Phillip’s offices.

We break for lunch about 1300, walking together to the officer’s mess. Uncle Phillip seats me and a young enlisted man waits on us. Every so often some other officer comes over for a quick conference with Uncle Phillip. Of course each time there is an introduction and we exchange benign pleasantries.

After more than a half dozen of these interruptions, “Uncle Phillip, is this how you usually spend lunch? Someone comes over every few minutes so your food grows cold?”

“No, Lucy. Everyone simply wants to know who you are. That’s all.”

“Excuse me, but I’m going to end this so I may finish my food before it grows any colder.” I stand up and ask for everyone’s attention, “As it seems many of you wonder who I may be, I shall tell you all at once. I am Uncle Phillip’s niece Lucy. I am passing through Saigon on my way back to the States, and now that you all know who I am, may I finish my luncheon before it grows any colder? Thank you.”

I sit down again and look at Uncle Phillip who has a surprised look on his face and then an amused smile begins to spread across it as he shakes his head up and down.

“Very good, Major. You’re very self-assured, aren’t you?”

I look around the room at everyone else and see astonishment, smiles, a few appreciative nods and a couple of men who give me a ‘thumbs up’ or a salute. I quietly lower my head and return to my lunch. We are undisturbed for the rest of the meal.

After the luncheon, I finish my report turning it and the typewriter ribbon over to Uncle Phillip.

“I need to go back to collect the money since they didn’t have it this morning. I’m afraid I would have the same problem in the States so it might take my entire free week just to get the money and I would have no time remaining to actually purchase the things I will need.”

“Wait a moment. I’ll have a couple of MPs go with you so you aren’t mugged during your return here.”

A few minutes later, a jeep pulls up and we are on our way. I walk in and again present the orders for funds. Again we go round and round until I demand to see the officer in charge. He comes out of his office, notices me and blanches, then comes over, “We have about $8000, Ma’am. We are having a hard time coming up with the rest. American cash just isn’t used much here.”

“I suggest you contact the CIA, Captain. I think you will learn they have a nearly unlimited supply of American currency.”

“That may be true, Ma’am, but we aren’t allowed to touch their funds.”

” In that case, I will accept the $8000 and a bank check for the remaining $2000 which I can cash in any bank in the States Monday.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He begins issuing orders and within minutes the cash and the bank check are in my hands. I thank him and suggest he slowly build up his American cash supply so he has enough on hand to accommodate sudden needs by Command for actual American currency.

The MPs drive me back to Uncle Phillip’s offices via the post exchange where I purchase a small hard sided briefcase. As they drop me off at Uncle Phillip’s office I tell them they may return to whatever it was they were doing before they rushed over here to help me.

Once again in Uncle Phillip’s offices and away from prying eyes, I begin to sort the money before stuffing it into the briefcase along with two copies of my orders.

Stuffing the briefcase is a bit difficult, for the money is in ones, fives, and tens, with an occasional twenty found here or there amidst the random confusion. Somehow it all manages to fit and I close the lid and lock the case after changing the combination and checking it prior to actually closing the lid.

The bank check goes into my purse. After I am home, I will try to reorganize the money so it fits a little better thus allowing me to keep most of my orders and my new 201 file in the case as well.

My new 201 has all the information my old one had, but with my new name, Lucy Ann Jackson.

The name was placed on all my records against my service number and social security number. The service number will be changed after the assignment is completed. The records also reference a hidden set of orders. They don’t want any easy trace that a woman might have in any way been placed into a heavy combat location.

When I complete the assignment, my service number will also be changed to one appropriate for a female officer. Tomorrow I will be going around with Aunt Julie to visit with her friends, and the day after that I will be on my way back to the States.

At home that evening, after I reorganize the briefcase and place a little of the money into my purse, the briefcase with the majority of the money, the check and my 201 file is placed into Uncle Phillip’s safe for ‘safe’ keeping…. Sorry, no pun intended.

As the next day wraps up, I enjoy visiting with everyone and I think Aunt Julie was glad I was along. I dressed in summer casual, skirt and blouse with flats, while putting my hair up in a pony tail. Aunt Julie’s jaw dropped when she first saw how young I look that way. We had great fun and I think I came the closest to becoming fully female emotionally during that day. I had a wonderful time just being myself. Half a dozen of us went out to a late lunch about 1330, sorry, I mean about 1:30, we chatted and laughed and carried on as women do when they are with friends. Everyone asked me to come back and visit again. I promised I would try.

After we return home, I tell Aunt Julie that I was glad she asked me along, “I enjoyed every minute.”

She smiles at me and reaches out, placing her hand against my cheek for a few seconds as if considering something.

She nods her head, “I’m glad you were along, Lucy. It’s nice to have you finally taking an interest.”

She is halfway to the door before she realizes what she has said. Turning, she cocks her head and raises an eyebrow, giving me a momentary stare before continuing on out through the door of my room.

I think she forgot who I am for a moment and was thinking I really am her niece.

That afternoon, before Uncle Phillip returns home, I take a luxurious bath and wash my hair. I have dried myself and wrapped my robe around me while patting my hair dry with a clean towel as I walk to my room just as Uncle Phillip returns, entering the house.

“Hi, Uncle Phillip. Aunt Julie went to the base exchange. She should be back in about half an hour.”

“Hi, Lucy. Thanks, I’ll be in my office.”

“Okay, Uncle Phillip.”

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To Be Continued...        © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dáºmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 
 

previous:

Aunt Julie smiles at me and reaches out, placing her hand against my cheek for a few seconds as if considering something.

She nods her head, “I’m glad you were along, Lucy. It’s nice to have you finally taking an interest.”

She is halfway to the door before she realizes what she has said. Turning, she cocks her head and raises an eyebrow, giving me a momentary stare before continuing on out through the door of my room.

I think she forgot who I am for a moment and was thinking I really am her niece.

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Saturday, 11/02/2008 - 7:02 AM, Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 5 is revised and reposted on Tuesday, 12/06/2009 - 8:16 PM. ~Sephrena

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Ever onward – charge!!

Chapter 05

 

This evening I find I am becoming nervous and wind up eating only a salad, a small piece of chicken and a half glass of milk for supper. Conversation at the dinner table is fairly quiet, apparently none of us wants to mention my impending departure.

The next morning is Saturday and the three of us are off to the airfield. My flight is at 10:00 and we show up an hour and a half early so I can hand over three copies of my orders and my baggage can be delivered to the Air Force. My orders call for nine pieces at a maximum of 660 pounds, and if you count my briefcase and purse, which I am carrying on board, then I have five at about 160 pounds, well under my limit.

We wait for the flight to be called so everyone can pile on. My seat is up in officer’s country so I don’t need to go aboard immediately. Several times officers or enlisted personnel come by to check my orders and each time they are dissuaded by the presence of a General standing there with me.

Finally a Captain comes over and salutes us, “Ma’am, I’m sorry to interrupt, but it’s time for you to board. The aircraft is about to depart.”

“Thank you, Captain, I’ll be right there.” I give Aunt Julie a hug, “Thank you, I had a wonderful time.”

“I did too, young lady. I did too. Please don’t be a stranger.”

I smile at her and then turn to salute Uncle Phillip, “Good bye, Uncle Phillip. Will you be here when I return?”

“Yes, we’ll be here. I expect you to come visit us once you’re back.”

“Count on it. Well, I guess I’d better be going. I…. I love you both.”

I give them both hugs again, then turn and run to the aircraft, tears forming in my eyes which I wipe away with my hand before entering. It won’t do to allow enlisted men to see a grown officer crying. An Air Force Sergeant gives me his hand to help me into the plane. He smiles at me and offers me a handkerchief which I accept gratefully. As he closes the door, I blot my tears away.

“Ma’am, you can check your makeup in there. Hurry, though, you only have a minute or two before you need to be up front in your seat.”

I thank him, returning his handkerchief, repair my makeup quickly then go up to find my seat moments before we start moving for the runway and take off.

I find myself surrounded by brass, the only woman in officer’s country. There are a few senior to myself but most of us are Majors, Captains or Lieutenants.

With no in flight movie or refreshments, the flight is a long one. We land somewhere en route to take on more fuel. Looking out, there is a whole lot of nothing outside the aircraft.

We disembark, going to a “terminal” to wait and about an hour and a half later we are on our way again, finally arriving in Northern California. I go through military Customs, declaring the cash which causes some upset until they see my orders include the cash.

I find it hard to believe, but I miss Aunt Julie and Uncle Phillip already. My luggage is loaded into an Air Force bus along with that belonging to a number of enlisted men. I told them I would forego a separate car; it’s easier that way and in this case probably faster. We are given a ride to the civilian airport located about thirty minutes away.

With two months worth of pay in my purse plus a few hundred in cash from out of the briefcase, I am carrying more than enough for my airline tickets. This way I don’t need to open the briefcase while in a public place. At the airport I purchase a ticket for home and my luggage is checked. I have a copy of my orders and my home address in each checked bag.

They ask for a copy of my orders since I am in uniform and I tell them I am not flying standby even as I give them my orders. I want no delays so I pay full fare.

The charge isn’t that much more so I even bumped it to first class.

With a two hour wait and my stomach complaining at me, I have time for some food so I find a snack machine and pick up a little something to eat. Most of what is available is fattening so I am careful of what I purchase and how much I eat.

The days of restaurants at or very near the terminal have yet to arrive, if ever. If I had the money to invest right now, I’ll bet I could make a killing from a restaurant located inside the terminal.

After eating something (I think that describes it best), I find my gate and sit down to wait for my flight. I slept on the plane as we returned from Vietnam but for some reason I am still exhausted. Then too, the day is all messed up for me, as we left yesterday at 10:00 a.m. and arrived here at midnight. After several hours processing and then riding to the airport here, I am looking at about 4:00 in the morning, local time, while my stomach says that it’s about time for my evening meal.

My flight isn’t until 5:50. Checking a newspaper to determine just which morning this happens to be throws me into a little confusion. I seem to have arrived before I have departed. After about twenty minutes I realize this offers me an ‘extra’ day before I need to report. My week has become eight days.

I am sitting here, my head nodding, when I finally notice the noise level has increased. Opening my eyes and looking around reveals several dozen people sitting, waiting for the same flight. I check the time and reset my watch to local then advance it an hour for the time at home. I still have about twenty minutes before we are to board.

The stewardesses are just arriving with their little carry on luggage cases trailing behind them. That’s a great idea. I should purchase one of those. Never seen them before but that would be nice. We smile at each other as they begin to walk past. One of them stops and calls the others.

“Are you going to be boarding the next flight? If so, could we leave our luggage here with you for a few minutes?”

“Of course. Take your time. I’m not going anywhere until the plane arrives.”

They continue to the passenger counter where they begin going over the passenger list with the girl who just came up from downstairs. Now I see the plane pulling into the gate. It will be necessary to unload passengers and then clean the aircraft before we board. Still looks to be about twenty minutes.

I close my eyes and nod off once more. I hear a nearby sound and open my eyes to see a young girl staring up at me. I smile and she smiles then runs back to her mother. I close my eyes once more but again the sound changes so I again look around. The passengers are leaving the aircraft and entering the terminal. I close my eyes and again nod off.

“…Jackson. Major Jackson.”

I open my eyes and finally focus on one of the boarding attendants.

“Are you Major Jackson?”

“Yes?”

“It’s time for you to board, Ma’am.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I guess I’m still pretty tired.”

I look around and note the stewardesses have just retrieved their luggage and are taking it toward the aircraft. About half the people are getting up to line up before the boarding counter. I thank the boarding attendant and take my briefcase, purse and ticket up to the first class counter where they check me against their manifest and allow me to board the aircraft.

The boarding attendant who alerted me follows me aboard to do the passenger count as people are seated. The first class cabin is empty so I have my choice of a seat. The rest of the passengers are boarding and finally there are two more who show up for first class. I selected a seat near the only window on the left side and once again nod off to be awakened by the offering of a pillow by a stewardess.

“Thank you.”

“Would you like a blanket?’

“No, thank you. I’m fine with the pillow. Will a meal be served during the flight?”

“Yes. Breakfast will be about ten minutes after take-off.”

“That sounds wonderful. Would you awaken me?” I smile up at her.

“Certainly. Have a nice nap.” she crinkles her nose with a smile back to me as she goes on her way. I drift back to sleep.

I become vaguely aware of someone saying Lucy and once again become cognizant of my surroundings. Breakfast is available, so I sit up and quickly pull down my tray holder to prepare for my meal. There are eggs and bacon, plus a slice of toast and the usual beverages. I ask for milk rather than coffee. The meal is welcome. I guess what I needed was food. Now that I’ve had breakfast, I’m more alert.

After breakfast I pull one of the magazines out of the pouch on the seat before me and settle down to read. The dishes are collected about ten minutes later and I put the tray holder back up into the seat before me. Deciding to seize this opportunity to visit the restroom I take my purse and briefcase with me.

Checking and repairing my makeup once again, I then avail myself of the plastic ‘porcelain’ device in the room. After I complete everything and wash my hands, I return to my seat.

The stewardess, her duties completed for a minute or two, sits down next to me to quietly chat. She wonders if I am a nurse.

I tell her I work in Intelligence as an analyst, and occasionally as a field agent.

“A spy?”

I laugh, “Oh, no. Nothing like that. I mostly attend social functions where I listen to everything and then report anything which appears to be related to other things in which we have interest.”

“Isn’t that difficult? I mean how do you know what they are saying if they aren’t speaking English?”

“I speak and understand fourteen languages. You would be surprised how much information you can overhear, since men don’t believe women are worth worrying about. I can stand and listen to an entire conversation, but if my uncle walks past, they shut up until he is gone again.”

“Your uncle?”

“Yes, he is also in Intelligence and most of the rest of the community knows it so they are careful when he is near. They ignore me. Their mistake.” I give her a shrug and smile.

“Fourteen languages. How long does it take to learn fourteen languages?”

“I have a gift with languages. I knew parts of all fourteen within about two years and two years after that I was fairly fluent in them all. I may not be able to pass as a native speaker, but I can usually make myself completely understood.”

“Wow. I’m saving my money so I can go to medical school. I want to be a doctor but I doubt I’ll have enough money to go that far, so I’ll probably become a nurse.”

“Nurses have it rougher than the doctors. If you can make it as a nurse you could probably complete the studies and become a doctor. If your grades are good, you may even obtain a scholarship. You might think about the Army’s or the Air Force’s college program. They will pay for you to become a doctor if you hold your grades up and then you work as a doctor for the Army or the Air Force for eight years or so.

You should look into it, but don’t sign anything until you find out every little detail of what they are offering and what you must do in return. You might check out the Air Force first. I hear they have a great program just now. It is still worth examining both though. Unfortunately I haven’t heard anything about the Navy’s offerings in that area, so I’m unable to offer any guidance there.”

“Thanks for the information. I think I’ll check it out. My money might go a lot further that way, and I might be able to start my studies more quickly.”

“Another benefit, you would become an officer once you complete your training. With really top grades you could obtain Captain right out of school.”

We give each other a little hug and she is off again. That’s kind of nice. Girls will seek out another girl with whom to talk even if they don’t know each other, but they are unlikely to ask for the same information from a man. Yeah, we’re landing.

Must be Denver. My layover is only twenty minutes so I’ll need to rush. Hope my luggage makes it.

After the larger aircraft this twin engine prop driven aircraft looks rather small. Geez, all of twelve seats, glad there are only eight of us going on to Cheyenne.

We take off on time and, after a short flight, are soon landing once more. We have to walk a little more than sixty yards to the terminal, from the fifty yard line all the way through the end zone if the landing field were a football field. The luggage truck is trundling toward the aircraft even as we disembark.

Those of us who are waiting for luggage are crowding around the short conveyor belt which just goes around over and over until all luggage is claimed. I see most of my bags arrive, but the bag I have my gown in seems to be missing. I seize the opportunity to find the skycap and drag him and his cart inside to claim my luggage.

“The missing piece holds my gown, so it is long and flexible,” I tell him.

We continue to wait and finally it comes in on the conveyor belt. The porter checks the ticket and they match. Since everything made it, he puts it all on his cart, along with the luggage for two others as well. He takes it all out to the curb, where the taxis are beginning to arrive to wait for the passengers who disembark each time an aircraft is scheduled to land. Pretty smart, that porter, three tips for one trip.

My luggage is loaded into the cab and I tip him three dollars. Giving Mom’s address to the driver, we make hasty tracks for her house. About thirty minutes later we arrive and he unloads my luggage, I pay him, giving him a tip also.

Now I go to the front door and ring the bell. Nearly a minute goes by before Mom opens the door, saying, “Sorry, I was in the middle of….” She suddenly stops talking as she sees me standing there. Her face goes pale and fear begins to appear as her hands come up to her face.

“Mom? Mom? Are you okay?”

Now confusion prevails upon her face as she struggles with who she sees before her and the words she has heard in a female voice.

“I…. Who are you?”

“It’s me, Mom. I mean, It’s Charley. Mom, are you okay?”

“Charley? My Charley?”

“I hope so. I don’t remember being anyone else’s. Except the Army changed my name. Now my name is Lucy.”

“I…. You…, Charley?”

“Mommm.”

Just then our golden retriever comes loping up the drive toward the door. I stoop down and call him, “Come on, Happy. How’re you doing, fellow?” Happy comes over with a puzzled look on his face, as if he wanted to ask, ‘Who are you? How do you know my name?’

After a few seconds of scratching his back and patting his head, he remembers my scent from the times I wore girl’s clothes before, even though I’m wearing a uniform now.

His tail starts wagging like mad and he stands up on me. “Down! Down, boy.” He sits, then watches me carefully.

“That’s a good guy. Good Happy.” Happy goes into his normal excited mode as he dances around in circles coming back each time around for more pats.

“That’s the happiest I’ve seen him since before you went on active duty. How long may you stay?”

“I have a week’s leave, Mom. I need to spend some of it buying new clothes for my next assignment and cosmetics. A lot of cosmetics. The stuff they have over there is pitiful.”

“Come on in. I need to get back to the cooking. Janet and Tony are coming over this evening.”

“Okay, Mom. You go on back, I’ll bring my stuff in and change, then I’ll come help. You remember how I like to cook.”

“Yes, I remember. I hope you learned not to burn roasts.”

“Aww, Mom. I only did that once.”

“You sound so feminine. And you look feminine.”

“I know. I can’t let up for a minute. If I let up here then I might accidentally let it slip when it matters. I don’t think you want a telegram from the Army. Is my room still available?”

“Yes. There are a few things in the corner but there is plenty of room. There’s no vanity though, so maybe you should use your sister’s old room.”

“Oh…. Yeah…. Good idea. Thanks, Mom. I’ll be down as quick as I can.”

“Don’t rush, there’s plenty of time, and with both of us everything will be done much more quickly. I think I’ll call your sister and let her know you’re here.”

“Wait, Mom. Let it be a surprise. By the way, call me Lucy, Lucy Ann Jackson. That’s the name the Army gave me.”

“Lucy Ann? Where did they find that? That was my maternal great grandmother’s name. Your great, great grandmother.”

“Really? Interesting. I’d better bring everything in, Mom. Thanks for letting me use Janet’s room.”

Happy follows me back and forth as I bring everything into the house. Then we are a twosome going up and down the stairs as I carry everything up to my new room. He lays on the bed watching as I change clothes. I put my hair into a ponytail and slip on a pair of flats then go back down to help Mom in the kitchen.

I wash my hands and put on an apron then go to her for my assignment.

“Would you shell the peas…, Lucy? You may put them into a bowl in the refrigerator until we are ready to cook them. After that, pull out the recipe for that chocolate layer cake Tony likes and start mixing it.”

“Okay, Mom.”

I pull out a medium bowl from the dishes and begin to shell the peas. It’s a lot easier now that my fingernails are just a little longer. When this started about a week ago I didn’t cut them back again. They’re not as long as I’d like them to be, but that will change with a little time. When I’m in uniform they can’t be too long anyway.

Since I will be wearing civilian clothes most of the time during my assignment I may be able to let them grow and get away with it. I finish the peas, place the bowl into the refrigerator then take the shells and dump them into the garbage.

Now I rinse, dry my hands again and begin to rummage through the recipe box.

“Which chocolate cake, Mom? The marble or the fudge?”

“The fudge, honey.”

“Okay. I’m on it.”

I check the list of ingredients and go through everything we have. We need more cocoa for the cake mix and more bittersweet chocolate for the icing, plus a little butter, but everything else seems to be okay.

“Mom, I’m going to walk down to the store, we need more cocoa and bittersweet.

Is there anything else you need?”

“I don’t know off hand. Tell you what, call me from the store and if there is anything else I’ll let you know so you can pick it up at the same time. Do you need any money?”

“No. I’m fine. Call you in a few minutes.”

I go upstairs and grab my purse, then Happy, and I start out the door, “Bye, Mom. Happy is coming with me.”

“All right. Bye, honey.”

We walk down to the grocery and I look through the aisles before calling home.

Mom answers and gives me a list of a few more items she needs. After picking them from the shelves, and adding some milk bones for Happy, I take it all up to the register.

“Mornin’. Nice day isn’t it?”

“Yes. How are you, Mr. Carwell?”

“Doin’ good, young lady. Doin’ good. Glad to see you shoppin’ here instead of that new market down the street. I ’preciate it.”

I give him my best ‘I wouldn’t shop anywhere else’ smile as I wonder about the ‘market down the street’ reference. I pay him then open the box of milk bones so I can give one to Happy when I go outside.

“Bye, Mr. Carwell.”

“Take care now, youngin’.”

Mr. Carwell is a fixture around here. When I go out, Happy gets up and starts dancing around.

“Sit, Happy.” He does so promptly and I reward him with the milk bone which he crunches down before we start back.

Ten minutes and a few greetings later we are home again. A few people mistake me for Janet but they are across the street. Sis and I look enough alike that people were always confusing me for her if they didn’t see us together, so I just wave back.

Happy’s claws are clicking on the hardwood floor of the breakfast nook as he follows me as far as the edge of the kitchen before laying down. I give him another milk bone before I start unloading the bag I carried the groceries in.

“Good, Happy. That’s a good fellow.”

He accepts the milk bone and lays it across his paws as he soaks up my praise and pats. When I finish, he lowers his head to his paws, covering the milk bone with an obvious assertion of doggy ownership.

I remove everything from the bag and start putting it all away, but first pick up the new container of cocoa and add enough from it to bring the amount in the mix up to what the recipe calls for. Then I add another teaspoon for the oven and put the container away in the cupboard. Now I mix all the dry ingredients together, including the baking soda and baking powder, running the mixer until they are well blended before grabbing another, larger, bowl to start on the eggs, milk and other wet items.

Mom and I continue our conversation, bringing me up to speed on the goings on in town and some of the latest gossip and two major scandals which, somehow, the local politicians never seem to avoid. In the meantime, I’m still working, so I add a touch of vanilla and the rest of the liquids until finally it is time to take my dry mix and slowly blend it in.

The mixing continues for a minute or so, until the batter is smooth, then I pour everything into the two cake pans I prepared, carefully using the spatula to scrape out everything stuck to the sides of the bowl. I’m really enjoying myself. I taste the small trace of batter which remains stuck to the side of the bowl. It seems about right, but maybe a little too much sugar.

Mom, meanwhile, has been telling me about Tony’s business and how he and Janet are beginning to make something of it after the first three long lean years.

I consider the effect the extra sugar will have on my cake and decide it’s okay. It isn’t like making bread where the yeast would go crazy with this much sugar.

Considering bread, I think I’ll make some Portugese Sweetbread while I’m home.

The oven has pre-heated to 350 degrees as I prepared the cake mix. I pop in the cake pans checking the time.

Now it’s time to melt the bittersweet chocolate in the double boiler so I can prepare the icing. With a couple of pats of butter and two tablespoons of milk to start, I begin to add more bittersweet and twice more I add two tablespoons of milk then one more pat of butter. As the chocolate thins I add the last of the milk called for by the recipe while continuing to stir the mix.

I put in just a little vanilla, then begin to add the sugar.

Gradually, the mix is thickening and I continue to add the sugar until I have what I want in the mix. Lifting the boiler and placing it on the counter to begin to cool and thicken a little while, I take a toothpick to check the cake. Not quite done yet.

I begin to reconsider the amount of sugar which goes into a cake and its frosting, then vow not to eat much as I still need to lose some weight. I give the cake five more minutes and check it again. Pretty good. Five more minutes then I pull the pans and turn down the oven to save gas. As the cake and icing cool I think about making the bread.

“Mom, would you like me to make some Portugese sweetbread for supper tonight?”

“I’m sorry, honey. I made rolls while you were at the store. They’re in the upper oven rising until we are ready to bake them.”

I say, “Okay, Mom. I can make it another day,” as I check on the rolls. “I have nearly a week before I need to go and report in.”

“That gives me an idea. Would you wear your uniform this evening?”

“My uniform?”

“Yes. I want you to wait until they arrive, then you can go out through the back and around to the front. Wait a minute or two before you ring the bell and I’ll have Janet answer the door. I want to see her reaction. You look so good, honey. I thought you were here to tell me Charley had died. I had no idea it was you until I began to realize you look like Janet. You are so cute. This is how you will be for your assignment?”

“From now on, Mom. They tell me they can’t change me back. I’m Lucy from now on. Is that all right? They said they talked with you and Janet. They knew things about my dressing that they could only have learned from you two. They said you would donate eggs and so would Janet so I could still have a family….” I have a sudden feeling…. “They… didn’t talk with you at all, did they?”

“Yes, they spoke with us. They didn’t say it would be permanent. I…. It’s permanent?”

“Yes…. Mom? Could you still love me like this?”

She comes over and hugs me tight, “Of course I can, honey. I was just surprised that it’s permanent. I remember when you were a little girl…. I mean….”

“I know what you mean, Mom.”

“I still have photos of the two of you together. That one summer when you went for a month, I couldn’t get the two of you to separate. You made great sisters. I don’t know why I let you do it. I guess I just wanted two daughters for a while.”

“I’m glad you did, Mom. It was fun and I never told you but I really didn’t want to be a boy again. But, then again, I did. It’s different when I know I can change back. Now I don’t have a choice. Once the surgery is completed then I’m stuck, so what you see is what you get. Of course that’s not a bad thing. I just want a family. If I can’t mate with a woman and have one then I want to be able to mate with my husband and have one. I don’t think I will be able to do that and that’s what scares me. If I could be completely female and be able to have babies I think it would be so great. At least I’ll look completely female, even in X-rays. Anyway, here’s your second daughter.”

Mom hugs me tight again, holding her hands away so she doesn’t get food on my clothes.

“I’m sorry, baby. I wish you could have babies, too. It is such a blessing. A pain, but a blessing. At least there is one pain you won’t be having.”

“What pain, Mom?”

“A monthly period. Sometimes it can be quite a bother, and others it is quite light.

“The discomfort and hormonal imbalance for that short period can be difficult as well. Be thankful for small favors, Lucy.”

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To Be Continued...       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 
 

previous:

“I’m glad you did, Mom. It was fun and I never told you but I really didn’t want to be a boy again. But, then again, I did. It’s different when I know I may change back. Now I don’t have a choice. Once the surgery is completed then I’m stuck, so what you see is what you get. Of course that’s not a bad thing. I just want a family. If I can’t mate with a woman and have one then I want to be able to mate with my husband and have one. I don’t think I will be able to do that and that’s what scares me. If I could be completely female and be able to have babies I think it would be so great. At least I’ll look completely female, even in X-rays. Anyway, here’s your second daughter.”

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Sun, 2008/11/02 - 7:58am., Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 6 is revised and reposted on Mon, 2009/12/07 - 01:38 PM ~Sephrena

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moving out:

Chapter 6

 

Mom steps away as she continues looking at me, “You were always so pretty. It was easy to tell you were sisters. I have photo albums of you both ways. Whenever you were a girl you and Janet would have so much fun playing together. I remember when the two of you made up a tea party for my birthday. That was the first cake you ever baked. I was so surprised, you had never cooked before. I still have photos of that.” She smiled wistfully.

“You left quite a mess in the kitchen, but your cake turned out great. That was one of the best birthdays I ever had. You were dressed up in one of her older party dresses and you both were clean and happy. I got home and you both met me at the door and took me into the dining room where the candles were lit and the cake was sitting there as you both yelled ‘Happy birthday.’ I remember a lot more times….” She begins to sniffle and her eyes are tearing.

“Mom…. I love you, Mom,” wrapping my arms around her and hugging close.

“I love you too, Honey…. What’s your name now? Lucy Ann something….”

“Lucy Ann Jackson.”

“Jackson, that was my maiden name. They seem to have selected your name from my side of the family.”

“When is Sis going to arrive?”

“They’re planning on coming over about three.”

“That’s only an hour and a half, Mom. I’ll need half an hour to change and get ready. I wish I had better cosmetics. Remember to leave a space for me at the table but don’t put anything out because you know Sis. She’ll figure it out in a heartbeat if there is an extra place setting.”

“Yes. She was always like that. We couldn’t keep anything from her. She just seemed to know.”

“Yeah. I think she’ll figure out it’s me in nothing flat. Maybe I can throw her off guard by asking for you. You know, like you nearly fainted when I arrived. Like I’m from the War department about to tell you about Charley.”

“Now that’s just mean. I don’t think she’ll figure that out. Let’s try it. I still want to see her face.”

“They won’t arrive early will they?”

“Uhmm, they might…. Maybe you’d better go get cleaned up now and change just in case.”

“Are you okay here, Mom?”

“Honey, you made the cake. If you will take the time to frost it first then I can handle everything else.”

“You’d better hide the cake when I finish. She was always able to look at my cakes and know I made them.”

“You’re right, she must sense it somehow. We never could keep secrets from her.”

I bring out the cake platter and begin to frost the top of the first layer then add the second and continue until the cake is completed. The small amount of remaining frosting is transferred to a smaller bowl and covered with saran wrap. I pop it into the refrigerator and put the dirty bowls and utensils in water in the sink. “I’ll help you clean up after supper, Mom. Okay?”

“That’ll be fine…, Lucy. That will take a little getting used to. You’d better go get dressed so you’ll be downstairs ready to go out the back way when they arrive. Maybe you should tell Happy to stay with me or he will give you away.”

I laugh and tell her I’ll talk to him just before I go out, then I hang up the apron and go upstairs to get ready. Happy jumps up and grabs his milk bone carrying it up as he follows me. Again he is on the bed and drops the milk bone. Still saving it I guess.

Once we gave him a couple of milk bones only to find them hidden in the cord pocket of the VTR and Happy next to it moping and whining around trying to extract them from the deep narrow compartment. They had slipped under the opening into the mechanical portion of the machine so I had to take it apart to get them out. It still played okay though. Happy crunched them up as quickly as I gave them back to him. He had hidden them for a ‘rainy day’ and then couldn’t get them back out. That was the only time he ever tried placing them in the VTR. He learned his lesson.

I take off the clothes I was wearing and hang them in the closet. Turning on the vanity lights, I check my make-up and decide to remove it and start over. In the bathroom, I cleanse my face well and rub in a little moisturizer, then return to the bedroom, patting off the excess with a couple of tissues before pulling out my cosmetics and starting in.

Since I will be in uniform, I can’t use a lot or Janet will figure it out right away.

When I finish I take a good look and decide this is the best I have done yet. I’m slowly improving. It will be easier when I have the right stuff. I dress in the skirt and blouse then try my jacket on again.

I must be eating too much as it seems a little snug. That’s okay for now, but I’d better watch it. No cake tonight. I slip on my shoes and take a look in the mirror.

Oops! I’d better take down my pony-tail and put it up in a bun. I don’t think the pony tail would meet with Army approval. I put my hair up so my cap will go on okay and my hair isn’t hanging down my back then check the mirror again.

Turning to Happy, who has watched the whole process, I ask, “Well, do I meet with your approval?”

“WOOF.” He’s wagging his tail so I think it means I’m okay.

I pick up my purse and briefcase and go downstairs, following Happy who is carrying his milk bone and leading the way.

“Okay, Mom, how do I look?”

She turns and stares at me, “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you are almost your sister’s twin. I think you should really have been a woman. Even in a uniform you are stunning. You’d better start carrying a bat with you.”

“A bat?”

“Yes, to keep the men away.”

“Aww, Mom. Quit joking, I don’t look that good.”

“Lucy, the lady after whom you are named was a knock-out and you are too. You’d better be careful. I don’t want to hear about my little girl on some solve-a-murder police show. I hope your husband appreciates you. If he doesn’t then he’s a fool.”

“Aww, Mommm.”

“Don’t you ‘Aww, Mom’ me, Lucy Ann. You be careful and I’m not kidding.”

“You really mean it don’t you, Mom? You really think I should have been a girl all along.”

“It’s hard not to think so when I see you here before me. You looked okay as a boy but you were always pretty as a girl and now you are just drop dead gorgeous. I wish I looked that good at your age.”

“Mom, you always look good.” Just then the doorbell rings and I bolt for my purse and briefcase.

“Happy, stay here. Stay with Mom.”

Happy, looks back and forth at us then follows Mom toward the front door as I slip out the back.

I don’t recognize the car I see parked in the driveway but I hear Happy barking his scratch me, play with me barks so I figure it must be Janet and Tony. I listen carefully as Happy’s barks move further into the house and I can hear conversation. One of the voices sounds like Janet so I give them a few minutes before I go to the front door.

When I ring the bell I hear Mom ask Janet, “Will you get that?”

I wait for Janet to come to the door but it is Tony instead.

“Is this the Mason residence?”

“Yes. May I help you?” His voice sounds puzzled.

“I’m looking for a… Mrs. Laura Mason. Is she here?”

“Yes. Come in. They’re in the kitchen. Wait here, I’ll go get them.” Now his voice sounds alarmed. I hear him telling them there is a lady from the Army outside asking for Mrs. Laura Mason.

Mom says, “The Army?”

“Yeah. She has a briefcase and she’s a Major. Do you think maybe something happened to Charley?”

Sis comes bursting out of the kitchen with Tony in hot pursuit and Mom following. I am still standing there with the outside light behind me so it is hard for Sis to make out my features until she is closer.

She is looking at me with concern on her face and she seems to be preparing herself for the worst, “I’m Charley’s sister, is he okay?”

“Just fine, as far as I know.”

Her face shows relief as Mom calls to her, “Who is it, Janet?”

She raises her voice to reach back down the hall, “Some lady from the Army, Mom. Charley’s Okay.”

“Why are you here? Has this something to do with the questions those men were asking last month?”

“Could we go sit down and I’ll explain.”

“Oh, yes, of course, come on in. We just were surprised. In here, have a seat.”

Mom hasn’t said anything more. She is letting Janet dig her own hole. We go into the living room and sit down, the three of them facing me. Mom is trying hard to keep a straight face and Happy wanders over to me and is about to sit when Janet tells him, “Happy, come here. Leave the lady alone.”

Happy looks at me and at Janet then walks over to her before sitting. Tony is sitting there but doesn’t seem quite comfortable. His eyes seem to say he’s a million miles away. Must be having problems at the business, he obviously isn’t here.

“You’re quite right. This has a great deal to do with the questions those men were asking. In fact this is pretty much the result of those questions, Sis.”

It takes a split second before it sinks in, then she gives me a careful stare, “Is that you?”

“Hi, Sis.”

Mom breaks out in laughter, “She arrived late this morning. She helped prepare dinner and then I thought we might see if your reaction was similar to mine. Oh, by the way, her name is Lucy. Lucy Ann Jackson.”

“Lucy? She’s named after your Mom and great grandmother then?”

“Yes. Isn’t she cute?”

“CUTE? She’s a knockout. I’m jealous. Tony, this is my sister Lucy.”

Tony comes to for a moment, his mind replaying what Janet just said before he looks at me and at Janet, “I can see the resemblance but you didn’t tell me you had a sister.”

“Tony don’t be dense. Remember I told you about those men and the special mission Charley was going on?”

“Yeah. So?”

“So this is Charley.”

“Charley? You’re kidding, right? That can’t be Charley. He’s…. She’s…. That can’t be Charley.”

“Here, Happy,” I call.

Happy rushes over to me and sits beside me holding his head up for me to pat and scratch, as Tony continues to sputter. Finally he takes a hard look at me and still doesn’t see it. Mom steps in and asks Janet, “Did you figure it out before she told you?”

“I didn’t have a clue. That’s the first time you ever caught me, Char…, Lucy. I can’t believe how good you look. I wish you had looked this good when we were going out. I would have had more dates if we could have double dated.”

Mom throws in her ten cents, “I glad she didn’t. I had enough trouble handling your dating, much less trying to keep boys away from both of you.”

“Will somebody tell me what’s going on?” Tony said.

We all break out in laughter at Tony’s question. He obviously still doesn’t quite grasp my change.

Janet tells him, “Some day I’ll explain it all to you. You know, right after the birds and the bees. Mom, I’m going to set another place at the table. Next to me, so Lucy and I can get reacquainted. God, you’re absolutely gorgeous. I’ll bet you need a bat….”

“…To keep the men away.” We say at the same time and start laughing again.

We all get up and start to walk back to the kitchen when I say, “I’d better go upstairs and change so I don’t get something on my uniform. Be right back.”

I head on upstairs with Happy hot on my heels and Sis not far behind. In the room she closes the door behind us as I begin to remove my uniform, hanging it in the closet.

“God, you ARE gorgeous. The army better appreciate you. Is that your hair? And how long did it take for you to grow those?” She points at the breasts.

“No, this is a good wig. And I grew those in about five minutes.”

“They’re implants?”

“No. Breast forms.”

“You’re kidding. May I look? They’re so real.”

She examines the way the forms fit and shakes her head.

“They must have cost a fortune. The wig too. Don’t you get tired of having it up all the time?”

“That’s why I’m going to let it down after I put on the skirt and blouse.”

I change into something more civilian and add a little jewelry…, Earrings and a bracelet anyway. Slipping the flats on again, I release my hair and shake it out, then brush it into shape again. “How do I look?”

“Like I never had a brother. My sister was always hiding there. You’d better not think about taking Tony. You’ll have a fight on your hands.”

I start laughing and she joins in a moment later. We’re sisters again and are able to talk with each other as sisters more than we ever did as a sister and brother.

“I love you, Sis. Tony is all yours.”

“Me too. God, I’ve missed you. How long are you home?”

“A little less than a week. I have orders to buy a lot of women’s clothes and some formal gowns for Embassy functions. Then I also need to purchase about six or eight months of cosmetics. The selection available in our exchanges overseas is pathetic. I need more shoes, purses and jewelry too.”

“Sounds like a shopping spree to me.”

I nod happily.

“Who’s paying for all this?”

“The Army.”

“God. I need to get a deal like that.”

“I don’t think you would like the catch clause.”

“Which is?”

“The assignment is pretty nasty from what I’ve been told. It might even be lethal, especially if the enemy figures out that I’m spying.”

“Spying? You’re not a spy, you’re an analyst for God’s sake. Are they trying to get you killed?”

“No. It isn’t quite like you envision. The spy will be my husband,” her jaw drops as she hears that, “My job is just to listen to conversations while he is elsewhere. Uncle Phillip…. Oh sorry. I can’t talk about that.”

“Uncle Phillip? We don’t have an Uncle Phillip.”

“Well, for the purpose of my assignment, I do. He and Aunt Julie are nice people. Sorry, that’s more than I should have said.”

“Will you ever be able to tell me anything about it?”

“I hope so. Maybe I’ll even be able to introduce you to them sometime. I would like that.”

“I think I might too. You certainly have a knack for getting into interesting situations. Come on, Mom is probably ready to send out a search party.”

“Geez, if I know Mom, she probably has Tony washing the dirty pots and pans.”

We are both laughing, as sisters do, when we go downstairs and through the dining room into the kitchen. Happy leads us in as far as the kitchen door then he stops and sits staring into the kitchen from around the corner of the doorway. Janet and I go in to find Tony washing dishes and I gently poke Sis in the ribs.

Mom looked over at us and said, “It’s about time. I was going to send out a search party for you two.”

Tony turns away from the sink to take a look at us. His jaw drops for a moment, “My gosh, Janet. You two look almost like twins.”

“You’d better remember which twin is yours.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m not interested in anyone else but you. Now what’s all this shit about her and Charley?”

We look at each other and then at Mom, then we all look at Tony who begins to act like he has put his foot in his mouth.

I go over to him and softly pat him on the cheek, “Don’t worry about it. We were just joking.”

He stops and thinks about that for a few seconds, “Oh. I get it. Charley really is okay though, isn’t he?”

“Yes. He’s okay. He’s just away on a special assignment.”

“Yeah. I heard he was going to be doing something dangerous. He’s kind of a klutz. Really smart, but a klutz. You think he’ll be okay?”

“That’s a toss-up. He’ll probably be all right as long as he keeps his cool.”

“Then he’ll be okay. I’ve never seen anything that could faze him. He may be a klutz but he sure does think things out and always comes out on top in the long run. So long as he stays cool he’ll be all right. None of you need worry about him. If things get too bad he’s smart enough to bail.”

Sis goes over and kisses Tony, “I never knew you liked my brother.”

“He’s okay. Like I said, he’s a klutz, but he’s smart enough to know it and to keep his mind on everything around him. He’ll be okay, you’ll see. Don’t worry, Janet.”

“I won’t. My sister Lucy is only here for the week then she’s off on another assignment. I think I’ll grab a little time off at work so I may spend a couple of days with her before the week is out. We haven’t seen each other in a long time.”

“Sure. Not a problem. Being practically twins I could see where you both would need a little time. Her personality is different than yours though. She reminds me more of Charley and the way he thinks about things. She sure doesn’t look or act like him though. If I was just meeting you two for the first time together, I almost wouldn’t be able to tell you apart.”

Curious, Janet asks, “But now you can?”

“Oh sure. She may sound and act and look similar to you but the moment she starts to think about something I can see the difference right away. I want you to go home with me, not her. Nothing against you, Lucy. It’s just that I love Janet.”

“No offense taken. She’s all yours, well, except if Mom needs her help or I come to visit once in a while.”

“See. That’s what I mean. Charley would have added the exceptions too. I’ll bet you get into some pretty interesting situations. You and Charley both. You know, if you all don’t mind, I’m getting kind of hungry, I haven’t eaten since Janet fixed breakfast.”

We all smile at him. Janet leads him out sitting him down at the table before she puts out a place setting for me to join them. Mom and I finish putting the food into serving bowls and take it all out placing it on the table. I check the rolls again popping them into the lower oven which is still fairly hot, resetting the thermostat for a higher temperature.

Next I turn to mixing the tossed salad, checking back on the rolls every so often.

While I’m making the salad, Mom mixes up a couple of quick dressings and pours them into serving dishes. The salad is ready and the rolls aren’t far behind. Mom takes the salad and dressings out to the table as I recover the rolls, placing them into the basket with its heated piece of marble under the cloth folds. The warm marble will keep the rolls warm for almost an hour. Neat idea. I’ll need to buy one of these for my home.

Hanging my apron up again, I carry the rolls following Mom to the dining room.

“What would you all like as beverages? The water is in the pitcher so you may fill your own glasses, but does anyone want coffee or tea or….” I ask, mostly pointing at Tony.

“Coffee.” he says.

Janet agrees with Tony, “Coffee.”

Mom, of course, says, “Tea, Honey.”

“OK, be back in a minute.”

I turn up the heat on the burner for the kettle, then check the coffeepot. It’s warm and full. I pour just a sip and taste it. Okay. Mom must have started it brewing just after Janet and Tony arrived.

Going to the cupboard, I pull out a tea bag, then place it carefully on a folded paper towel covering a saucer for Mom. A short search finally rewards me with the teapot, which Mom now keeps in a new place. I fill it with the boiling water out of the kettle off the back burner before adding a little more water to the kettle and turning the flame down low, just enough to keep the water warm and a short heating away from full boil.

Going to the refrigerator I pull out the carton of milk and pour a glass for myself.

Placing the coffee cups on a tray, along with Mom’s hot water, cup and tea bag and adding my glass of milk, I carry everything out to the table. Setting Mom’s drink where she may begin to steep the bag in her cup with the hot water. She thanks me as I give Sis her cup of coffee and Tony his before placing my milk and returning the tray to the kitchen, finally coming to sit at the table.

Mom asks Grace and we dig in.

After dinner Tony retires to the living room as Mom, Sis and I clear the table. I tell them to go ahead out to be with Tony and I’ll save the leftovers and put them in the refrigerator. After that chore is finished I begin the pre-wash of everything then stack it for washing.

About that time, Sis pokes her head in, “Lucy, are you going to be all night? Come on, we have a lot of catching up to do. The dishes can wait until a little later.”

I dry my hands and hang the apron joining everyone moments later. In less than ten minutes we are all in animated discussion. I’m catching up on things here in town. Tony wants to introduce me to a couple of his friends.

Fortunately I have an excuse not to do it, “I don’t think my fiancee would like that idea.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were engaged.”

I hold up my left hand and tap the forefinger of my other hand on the engagement ring I have been wearing.

We continue talking and finally Mom and Sis want to know a little of what I’ve been doing.

“Mostly reports. It’s infuriating really. We know so much about where the enemy supplies are coming from and how they are getting into the country, we even know the names of a number of the enemy commanders and where they are but we’re not allowed to do anything about any of it.

“Why on Earth not?” Tony asks, eyebrows raised sceptically.

The politicians here, or those at the UN, are preventing it, mostly because it is beyond an imaginary line on a map. Any time we want to do a major strike to take out some major dump of those supplies, we must submit it through the United Nations. Then it’s debated and all the countries who are providing those supplies are notified by the UN that we are going to destroy the munitions dump so it all gets moved away before we are allowed to do anything. By the time we are allowed to destroy the place, everything is gone. This isn’t a war, it’s a farce.”

I shake my head and complain, “Just last Thursday I attended an Embassy function in Saigon. As I walked through the room I heard all kinds of information being discussed by people who are providing support to the enemy and even dates and places concerning that information. I reported it all but we won’t be allowed to do anything.”

Tony looks at me incredulously, “You mean the enemy will just talk about what they’re doing like you’re not even there?”

“Certainly. Very few Americans in Saigon speak more than one, maybe two other languages and most of our agents are known or suspected by the other side so as they walk past the discussions change until they are gone again. The only reason I was able to hear them is they don’t think a woman is smart enough to know other languages nor to be a good intelligence conduit. During the one Embassy function I heard no less than four conversations regarding supplies being brought into South Vietnam from North Vietnam or Cambodia. About the only other thing I learned during the gala was to be careful of the French.”

“The French are our enemy too?”

“Oh no,” I answer, rather irately, “not unless you’re a woman. No, they were simply discussing the various things they would like to stick into me and the various places they would like to do it. At least until they discovered that I speak French.”

“Sort of like locker room jocks, but right out in public?” he asks in a sort of empathy with the French.

“Sort of,” I agree with him reluctantly.

“God. That is sooo gross,” Sis chimes in.

“Their culture is different than ours. Things that we find disgusting are accepted by them and vice versa. It’s just the way things are. No big deal. It’s just culture shock,” I say.

---

To Be Continued...        © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dáºmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 
 

previous:

“Certainly. Very few Americans in Saigon speak more than one, maybe two other languages and most of our agents are known or suspected by the other side so as they walk past the discussions change until they are gone again. The only reason I was able to hear them is they don’t think a woman is smart enough to know other languages nor to be a good intelligence conduit. During the one Embassy function I heard no less than four conversations regarding supplies being brought into South Vietnam from North Vietnam or Cambodia. About the only other thing I learned during the gala was to be careful of the French.”

---

 
Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Sun, 2008/11/02 - 11:12am. Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 7 is revised and reposted on Tue, 2009/12/08 - 09:57 AM ~Sephrena

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Don't look now but:

Chapter 07
 

The rest of the evening’s conversation is equally interesting.

Janet and Tony leave for home about seven. Mom and I go in, wash the dishes and clean up a bit before we settle down to watch Walter Cronkite on CBS. After the news is over, I grab a book from the family room and say goodnight to Mom.

We hug and kiss each other’s cheek then I go off to my room.

I’ve prepared for bed and am sitting there with my pillows propped up behind me reading. I’m nearly a quarter of the way through the book when I realize the book I selected is a romance novel. It’s something I would never have picked as Charley, but right now I like it. Aunt Julie must be right about me.

Somewhere around chapter twelve, I fall asleep. The next morning, I awaken just before the sun pokes its head above the horizon. Checking the clock, I find it’s five in the morning. I had best continue the military early rising habits I’ve been following for so long, since I’m only on leave. I hunt through my cosmetics and bathing items to find my bath oils. I put my hair up so it won’t be soaked and try to draw a tub of water without waking Mom but only partially succeed.

I am soaking in the tub when she comes in, “Good morning, Mom,” I said.

“Good morning, Lucy. I knew you were here, Happy’s just outside the door.” She does a double take and then openly stares at me.

“Lucy, are those real?”

“What? Oh. Not yet Mom. These are breast forms, but I will have real ones in a few months. I don’t know if they will be as nice as these but they’ll be mine.”

“This is still a little strange for me,” she said.

“Me too, Mom. Even what I read seems to have changed. A lot of what I say and do is completely automatic now. I don’t give it a thought, it just happens. I don’t know what’s happening to me, Mom, but I think of myself as a girl…, no, I think of myself as a woman now. The same things which are insulting to women, are insulting to me. About the only thing women have that I am not beginning to acquire is the ability to have a baby. I wish I could have that too.”

“I wish you could too, Honey. If you wind up with a good husband then your sister and I may help you have children. At least you may have that blessing.”

“Thanks, Mom. I…. I really mean it. Thanks. I will really like that.”

She smiles at me and leaves. My water is cooling so I drag myself out and pat dry as the tub drains. I quickly clean it and flush the remnants of my oils with fresh water scrubbing them off the sides of the tub.

Wrapping my robe around me I call out, “Mom, I’m done. The bathroom’s yours.”

“Thanks, Lucy. May I borrow some of your bath oils?”

“Be my guest, Mom.”

I go back to my room, getting dressed for a day of shopping, then place my hand towel over my skirt and start in on my makeup. After about fifteen minutes and I am finished, as well as disgusted. Today I’ll purchase new makeup.

Putting on my blouse, I walk out of my room calling, “Mom, what do you want for breakfast?”

“Something simple. Scrambled eggs, a little of the ham, toast, and tea is fine, thanks, I’ll be down in about twenty.”

“Okay, Mom.” Going down to the kitchen, I put the kettle on after filling it with fresh water and then begin breakfast. I whip up seven scrambled eggs with a touch of milk and melted butter mixed in, adding just a little pepper and some parsley. They are cooking even as the oven is warming. Placing them half and half onto two plates, I pop the plates into the warmed oven and turn off the gas.

I slice two medium sized pieces of ham, cook them, and then drop one slice onto each plate to keep warm, I’m just putting the bread into the toaster as Mom comes in and she begins preparing her tea.

“What do you want to drink, Lucy?”

“Tea is fine.”

As the toast pops up, I take the slices and plop them onto one of the plates in the oven, then start two more in the toaster. I set two places at the table while the toast is browning, I am back just as it pops up and quickly arrange them on the second plate, then, using two pot-holders, I lift the plates out of the oven and take them into the dining room, situating them on the mats on the table. Mom brings in our tea as I add butter and peach marmalade to the table.

We chat as we eat. I tell her I can’t stand it any longer so I am going to rush out and purchase real cosmetics. She laughs and stops to think a moment.

“Lucy, I think Macy’s has someone doing makeovers in their cosmetics department this week. Or maybe it’s….”

“Why don’t we look at all of the stores? I need to purchase a lot of clothes, so we will have a chance to discover which store has the makeover lady.”

“That sounds good to me. What sort of things do you need?”

“Everything. Including at least three more gowns, maybe four. Jewelry, a lot of jewelry, both good and everyday. Perfume, several bottles of at least two different fragrances. Under garments, hose, lipstick in a colour which looks good. Maybe several close shades so I have both day and evening colours. The gown I have now is lavender and strapless and the others should likely be other colours. Then I need shoes and clutches to match.”

“Good Heavens, Lucy. That will cost a fortune.”

“I have an $8000 disbursement to buy all this, Mom. I have to get everything now, because I won’t have a chance later. My assignment will be overseas again and the selections over there are in the pits. Even Aunt Julie said so.”

“Who??”

“Aunt…. Oh! Sorry, it just slipped out. That’s part of my cover, Mom.”

I look around the room and at the windows, “Promise you won’t tell anyone? You too, Happy.”

“Woof!”

“I’ll take that as a yes. Mom?”

“I promise, Honey. Whatever are you getting into now?”

“I can’t tell you, Mom. It’s important, but if word gets out and I’m found out then you may never see me again. Anyway, Uncle Phillip and Aunt Julie are the General and his wife. They are part of my cover. I’m their niece Lucy. They have a real niece named Lucy but she’s here in the States somewhere and they seldom see each other. They, sort of, don’t like each other.

Anyway, Aunt Julie said the selection of clothes, makeup, perfume…, most of the things a woman needs are just terrible over there. I agree. That’s why I need to obtain all I can here and take it with me. Lots of perfume and makeup. If I can find the scent Aunt Julie likes I think I’ll pick up a couple of bottles to take back to her.”

“Wow. I don’t know if $8000 will be enough. You’d better purchase the necessities today and then after you see how much you have left go tomorrow for the rest.”

“That’s a good idea, Mom. The clothes are the first problem, then the jewelry, cosmetics, perfume and nail polish. I will need your help with a lot of this. I need some perfume which is light, to wear when I am in uniform, something a little heavier for civilian dress, then the knockout punch to wear with my gowns.”

“Honey, after breakfast let’s go up to your room so I can see what you have. I will be able to help better once I know where we are starting and how you look in the clothes you have. Have you thought of having your hair done?”

“I can’t do that Mom. This is a wig and I don’t want to damage it. The way it is now I may wear it up or in a ponytail, a french curl, down like this. I have a lot of choices. If I have it permed or cut then I’m stuck.”

“I understand. Let me see your hands…. We need to have those taken care of.”

“Okay, but the nails can’t be too long because the Army regulations will require me to cut them.”

“What a waste. You look so pretty, nice nails would really enhance your image.”

“I’m supposed to be a working girl, Mom. I need shorter nails. They may have a nice polish to them but they can’t have too much colour when I am in uniform.”

“Pity. Come on, let’s wash the dishes and get upstairs. I want you to model everything you have.”

As soon as the dishes are done and put away, we go up to my room. I feel I am losing a lot of valuable time but Mom says, “Once I have a feel for the look you need, we’ll be able to shop a lot faster. We can skip the stores that have nothing to offer you.”

I pull everything out and she make comments about each item. One she tells me I should, “never ever wear, it just doesn’t do anything for you at all.” She continues to critique my clothes and when I finally change my under garments and put on the gown she nods in approval, “I see why the French wanted to undress you.”

“Mommm!”

“Lucy, you look scrumptious in that.”

Just then, we hear the front door open and Janet calls out, “Hi, Mom. Where are you?” Happy scrambles up and charges out the door and down the stairs.

“Upstairs, Janet. Lucy is trying on her clothes for me.”

Moments later, Happy is charging into the room again and Janet is only a few seconds behind him.

“Oh my God, Lucy. I have a bat you can borrow. Where did you buy that. I’m going to go get one.”

“I don’t know. The Army got it for me to wear to the Embassy ball.”

“Wow. How do you keep from being raped wearing that?”

“Janet!” Mom admonishes.

“MOM, she looks wonderful. I never looked like that in a strapless.”

“Yes, you did, dear. You just didn’t think so. Why do you think I was so upset when you went to the Prom in a strapless gown?”

“Mom, she’s a knockout.”

I accept Janet’s praise with a slight curtsey.

Then Mom says, “She is, isn’t she?”

“Geez, Mommm.” I complain both in happiness and in embarrassment.

“And she doesn’t believe it, just like you didn’t. Okay, Lucy, I’ve seen everything.

Change back to your shopping clothes and let’s get the show on the road. Janet, will you come downstairs with me?”

Janet gives me one more appraising look and a thumbs up, then follows Mom out the door. About fifteen minutes later I’m ready to go, everything is put away once more and I am wearing the things I will need if I am to try on other gowns. I stuff a couple of thousand into my purse, wish I had a larger purse, and hide the briefcase under the mattress. I duck into Mom’s room to smell her perfumes, but none of them strike me as being the kind of fragrance I am looking for, so I go on downstairs. Mom takes us in tow to the garage and we back out in the station wagon.

The remainder of the morning is spent looking at sensible everyday clothing which is still feminine enough for the image I am trying to convey. About a dozen of everything so I may mix and match for a lot of outfits. More shoes, both flats and low heels plus several pair of black high heels to match those I have. It wouldn’t do to have my only black high heels break down and be months away from replacements. At the next store we again purchase sensible everyday clothing and a few hats. Now I’m certain I have enough for every possible situation. We also purchase some slacks, and jeans, just a couple of each, for emergencies or dirty situations. Why soil a nice skirt when jeans will work?

Now we go for socks and sneakers and all kinds of under things. More hosiery of course, a lot more, maybe fifty pairs since the overseas selection is so limited. We stop for lunch between our visits to stores. As the day drags on, it is approaching four and Janet says she has to go so she can prepare supper for Tony. We drive back home and I thank her for her help, then she kisses us both on the cheek and rushes off, saying, “See you tomorrow.”

Mom and I take everything inside. I don’t know how I’m going to get all this to Vietnam. I well exceed nine cases, although I think I’m nowhere near the weight allotment. However we don’t yet have the gowns and all the other necessities. I don’t have enough closet space so I move some of it into my old room. Checking my purse I total the receipts at $1122.17, a lot of money. I’m beginning to feel a little overwhelmed.

Mom decides we may go out for supper and selects the dress she wants me to wear, then leaves to get ready herself. I touch up my makeup and put on the dress. After a couple of minutes of dressing for human combat, I ask her to come back in, “Mommm, can you zip me?”

She comes in, also in a dress, wearing pearls and white pumps. She's just fastening her earrings as she steps up to me and quickly slides up my zipper, then fastens the placket hook. My own dress is a hue of blue-green so, after she zips me, I put on the Sapphires and she gives me the once over. Dragging me into her room she sniffs each of the perfumes she has. Finally she grimaces and says, “I don’t have the scent you need, so this will have to do,” and spritzes me on my chest and at each pulse point…, the ears, throat and wrists.

“Tomorrow, we need to purchase the perfumes you need and your makeup and jewelry.”

“Don’t forget the gowns, Mom.”

“They come first. The jewelry must match the gowns. Then when you are in everyday clothes you need inexpensive jewelry so you look nice. Those sapphires don’t look right, not even for everyday wear. You need to dump them. The style of them says expensive but the sapphires say fake, so they are either cheap or imitation. Believe me another woman would know. I wouldn’t wear them. Since they were all you had there was little choice. Let me see the jewelry you have.”

She looks at my pitiful collection and critiques it just as she did the clothes I have.

“Mom. If everything is so poor why didn’t anyone say anything?”

“Lucy, when you were in that gown the men were too busy looking at certain parts of your anatomy to notice your jewelry. The ladies likely didn’t say anything since you are young and inexperienced. Your mother would be expected to help teach you how to select more appropriate things to wear. That is what I am doing now.

Consider this a ‘crash course’ in femininity. I wish we had a month. You remember things so well, but I need a month to teach just the basics of everything you really need to know. It can’t be done in just a few days. I’m surprised your Aunt Julie didn’t say something.”

“She sort of did. We didn’t have any choice, since this is what the Army was willing to purchase at the time and we didn’t want to spend a lot of money just for a test. Now it’s the real thing so I need the real stuff.”

“Okay. Then you had best carry more money tomorrow than you did today. For now, we better get a move on; the restaurant will be filling.”

Mom takes us out to one of the popular and slightly more expensive restaurants where we wait for about twenty minutes for a table. During that time a few people who know Janet come over to say hi and then realize I’m not she. Mom introduces me as her other daughter Lucy and they usually remark that they could tell I was her daughter and I look a lot like Janet. We exchange ‘nice to meet you’ pleasantries before they go back to wait for their table. Finally we are seated and place our orders.

“I’m pleased to see you have adjusted your food intake to suit your present stature. The way you used to eat won’t work at all if you want to keep your figure.”

“I know, Mom. In fact I’m gaining a little weight now and don’t understand why since I’m eating about a third to half as much.”

“You need more exercise. How did the Army get the weight off you in the first place?”

I nod my head, “Exercise. And a restricted diet.”

“That’s your answer then. Cut out potatoes and desserts, donuts, cookies, high-fat foods like french fries and reduce your milk intake adding vitamins and calcium. That will help.”

“I need to buy something, then. Enough to last ten months at least.”

“We may do that the day after tomorrow. When you eat your supper tonight, leave a little. Don’t stuff yourself. Don’t diet, but watch what you eat and how much. Keep the balance, but in lower proportions. Your body will adjust the rest. And eat more fruits, vegetables and greens.”

Mom watches my every move and gives me pointers as we eat. “Sit up, women don’t slouch, at least the one’s who want to be thought of as ladies don’t slouch.” or “hold your fork and knife like this when you cut your food.” and “Lucy, shoulders back, stop hunching over. Remember you’re a lady not some uneducated scullery maid.”

Every few minutes there is some other little adjustment to the way I do things.

They’re not much different than I usually do things but then, they are….

“Keep your head up, lower it only to watch what you’re doing then raise it again. A woman doesn’t keep her head down like a man except maybe during a short period when she’s shy or embarrassed. Maybe if you think of it like this, be proud you’re a lady. I’m going to check some movies out from that new video store and you need to watch them each evening. Watch how the women walk and act and hold themselves when they want to present different emotions to a man. You’ve seen movies.

Why hasn’t any of it sunk in? Shyness, anger, joy, fear, sorrow, happiness, love….

They all are portrayed in what you do and how you act. You may tell someone you are interested in possibly going on a date without saying a word and without being obvious about it. You must learn all this in just a few days. Girls have ten years or more to learn how to get it right. You don’t have that luxury so pay attention every second.”

“Geez, Mom. You make it sound like I don’t have a chance.”

“If you want to get it right and never be discovered then you need to pay the piper and start doing it properly right now. You won’t have an opportunity later. There are only about five days remaining, so start now. You need to learn three years worth of practice each day.”

I never realized how smart Mom is. She taught Janet all this stuff and I never even noticed. Not even when I was going out with them. We just concentrated on how I looked with little emphasis on how I acted. I guess that was because it wasn’t something I needed to know since I wasn’t staying as a girl. Now I’m in trouble, and need the information and the practice.

“Lucy, either bring your legs together or cross them. Ladies don’t sit like that. If I notice, so will everyone else.”

“Dainty. Don’t shovel your food into your mouth. Small Bites.”

“Slouching.”

“Flirting.”

Flirting? All I did was look around the room! Geez, this is hard. I thought I was doing pretty well until now.

“Chew your food, Lucy. Don’t gulp it down. Not like that…. Watch me.”

You know something, if I take small bites and the time to chew well before swallowing then I feel full before I finish everything. I don’t want to finish my meal. No more super size burger meals for me. Besides, they’re too fattening.

“Slouching again.”

I look at the ceiling and once again adjust my posture. Girls have it pretty rough, every second they need to concentrate on how they look or act. Well, maybe not that rough. Over ten years I could see where it would become automatic. I’d better learn this though, and not just for my own sake; I will need to teach it to my girls.

Now that’s an eye opener.

“Mom…?”

“Don’t talk with food in your mouth.”

I finish chewing and swallow, take a small sip of water, “Mom, will you help correct me the rest of the week? Maybe each time I come home too? I just thought of something important and I really need to know all this stuff.”

“What’s so important, Lucy?”

“My daughters. If I don’t know all this, how can I teach them?”

She smiles, “Well, I guess their grandmother will need to help too. We have a long way to go. You will never make it into finishing school the way you are now.”

“Do I have a chance, Mom? We only have five more days.”

“A chance. Slim, but a chance. If you are finished, I think we will go see if the movies are available so you may begin with them tonight. Head up.”

She takes us to the movie store and we look through everything. She only finds three of the movies she has in mind and asks if the others are available. They don’t stock them, just the newer stuff and a few of the older classics. They show us where the classics may be found and Mom finds one more movie.

She also locates an exercise tape and tells me to purchase it. “In the next five days you will run this one into the ground.”

We leave the store and once back in the car I mention, “Mom, could we stop at a store where they sell TVs and VTRs? I don’t want to wear out your machine and this way I could watch the movies and exercise in my room.”

“That sounds like a good idea, Lucy. Be certain to leave your window open while you exercise so the air in your room doesn’t start to smell. You will need to clean your room more as well. The perspiration in the air will settle on everything and make the room smell even though the window is open.”

Now I understand why Mom had the windows and doors open all the time. Just the screens stayed closed to keep out the bugs.

We stop at an appliance store and I purchase one of the new big screen TVs, a 21 inch, and an AKAI player. As an afterthought, I also purchase (a lady purchases a man buys) a window fan. Not too bad I guess, $793.87.

Back home I carry everything up to my room and set it up, the TV weighs a ton. I try on my uniform jacket and it is tighter yet. I’m getting fat. Stripping down I put on one of the swim suits I purchased, check to be certain I’m flat, my tummy is fighting me, and place the fan into the window aimed out so I don’t blow my perspiration into the rest of the house. Now I have a problem. The cord isn’t long enough to reach the socket.

Charging downstairs, “Mommm. Do you have an extension cord? The fan won’t reach the outlet.”

I stop cold. One of the ladies from across the street is sitting there with Mom.

“Come here, Lucy. This is Mrs. Cavendish from across the street, You may remember her from one of your other visits. I think she gave you the orange flavored cookies one Halloween.”

I think for a moment, “Yes, I remember. That was the Halloween I wore the blue Cinderella costume wasn’t it?”

“I think so.”

Mrs. Cavendish adds, “I remember you. That is what you wore. You and your sister were there, she had on that harem girl costume. She looked cute but I’ll bet she was cold. My goodness, you must have been about ten then. How time flies.”

She nods her head and continues to mentally reminisce as mother quietly tells me, “The cords are in the kitchen, in the broom closet.”

“Thanks, Mom. It was nice to meet you again, Mrs. Cavendish.”

“A pleasure, young lady. My goodness, you turned out to be quite a looker haven’t you? You’d better watch out, some young man will be trying to grab you away.”

“Thank you, I’ll be careful. Bye, Mrs. Cavendish.”

“Bye…, Lucy.”

---

To Be Continued...        © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dáºmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 
 

previous:

Mrs. Cavendish adds, “I remember you. That is what you wore. You and your sister were there, she had on that harem girl costume. She looked cute but I’ll bet she was cold. My goodness, you must have been about ten then. How time flies.”

She nods her head and continues to reminisce as mother quietly tells me, “The cords are in the kitchen, in the broom closet.”

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Sun, 2008/11/02 - 6:43pm., Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 08 is revised and reposted on Wed, 2009/12/09 - 01:39 PM ~Sephrena

---

now:

Chapter 08
 

Carefully extracting myself from Mrs. Cavendish’s unfocused stare, I go to the kitchen. After I find an extension cord, I rush back up to my room and plug in the fan. Turning on the TV, I drop the exercise tape into the VTR and start it after the TV warms up. Turning the fan on low and the volume on the TV up enough that I can hear it, I begin my ordeal. I leave my door open to allow air circulation, so I hope the sound doesn’t disturb them downstairs. The girl appears on the screen and in a minute the exercises begin. Girls flow even when they exercise.

I find myself trying to exercise with the tape and at the same time hold in my tummy and keep my head erect and shoulders back. Am I ever out of shape. I thought I was doing pretty good, but the women on the tape run circles around me.

I need to do this two or three times a day. The tape is only half an hour long but by the time it finishes, so am I. I’m soaked.

I take my robe and go into the bathroom. Putting my hair up, I try to get a shower cap over it, then decide it needs to be washed as well. Peeling off the suit and dropping it into the sink I step into the shower and begin scrubbing myself down.

After ten minutes, I’m feeling pretty good. Now I concentrate on my hair. That isn’t so easy, I have a lot of it and washing, rinsing and conditioning it takes longer than it did to clean the rest of me. I finish and dry the hair enough that it isn’t soaking me as I dry off. My skin dries quickly as I pat myself with the towel, but there’s still a trickle of water dripping down my back. My hair is still very wet.

“Lucy?”

“Yes, Mom?”

“Are you decent? May I come in?”

“Come on in, Mom.” I turn toward her as she enters and ask, “Mom, how do I dry my hair? It’s soaking me and I’m afraid to use a dryer because I don’t want to damage it.”

“Here. We wrap a towel around it like this, to catch most of the water then, in a few minutes, we’ll brush it out as we allow it to dry. Lucy, take that stinky bathing suit out of the sink and put it downstairs in the wash. Have you no sense at all?”

“Sorry, Mom. I wore it into the bathroom and threw it there just before my shower. I didn’t plan to leave it there.”

“I should hope not. Head up, Lucy.” I raise my head again and throw my shoulders back, sucking in my tummy.

“That’s better. Every second, Lucy, every second.”

“Yes, Mom. Mom? Could I borrow some deodorant? I forgot to purchase any and I need one with a feminine fragrance.”

“All right, just this once. But tomorrow you purchase your own. Also, since tomorrow we are purchasing the gowns, you will need to carry a bit more money with you.”

“Maybe we could come back just after lunch to get more?” I don’t have room in my purse for more than what I carried today.”

She thinks about that and gives her okay. “Tomorrow we will purchase your gowns first thing, so there is time to have them altered before you need to leave.

“You had best wear your uniform. That will lend more urgency to our requirement for rapid alterations. Once we have the gowns, matching shoes and clutches then we will see about furs. If we are careful we may be able to get away with only two furs. The four additional gowns and two furs and accessories are likely going to be somewhere around two thousand or so.”

I suck in my breath when she says that.

“Don’t be surprised. You’re trying to buy everything in two or three days that a woman acquires over four to ten years or even more. You’re just feeling it more since the money is going out all at once. The Army will just need to understand that. They must have had some realization since they gave you $8000 to do this.”

“They were going to give me a lot less but I told them it couldn’t be done for less.”

“Good for you. With any luck we may find gowns which are appropriate but are on sale or discounted. That will help. The gowns and jewelry will be the greatest expense and will be used the least. We’d better pick up a lot of inexpensive jewelry so you have a good selection to match into the mood of various situations as well fitting whatever outfit you intend to wear at the time. Real jewelry will need to be worn with your gowns. Pearls and diamonds are the basics. I need to see you in a red gown. You look good in the red blouses and sweaters so a red gown might be….”

She is looking at me and I see the wheels turning.

“What, Mom?”

“Take off that skirt and blouse and come into my room.”

She goes out headed for her room and I wonder what she has on her mind. I hang my blouse and step out of the skirt hanging it as well before placing the shoes in the closet next to some of the others I have in here then I’m off to Mom’s room dressed only in my undergarments and hose.

As I enter I see she has one of her gowns out on the bed. She gives me a red satin slip to put on and then I try on the gown. It’s a little snug but zips. The length could use some improvement, I stand about eight inches taller than Mom. She has me turn around several times as she looks at my appearance. This gown is not strapless and covers most of my chest while leaving my arms exposed. I catch a glimpse of myself in her mirror. Not bad, but I don’t like the hue, even though I remember it looks great on Mom.

“You might look good in red, no make that burgundy. Yes…. If we are able to find it, I think Burgundy would be a good choice for you. The rubies might be hard to find. I wish we had more time, like about three years. I could have you ready to marry a prince with that much time. This husband of yours, is he a diplomat or a military liaison or what?”

“I don’t know, Mom. They haven’t told me much yet. I won’t be briefed until sometime after the surgeries. The test was conducted on the spur of the moment when Uncle Phillip and Aunt Julie took me to the Embassy as their niece. He’s a general over there so he gets invited to the various functions.”

“So you basically were there as the niece of a Military Liaison.”

“Why. What difference does it make?”

“All the difference in the world, sweetheart. A wife of a high ranking Military man would be likely to be shunned by the other women more than one who is the wife of a diplomat. As a result she would need to look more enticing, be more friendly with the other wives and would be more likely to be approached as a possible source of military information.

“The wife of a diplomat would not necessarily need to look as enticing but would be expected to have more expensive gowns and jewelry. She would likely be approached as a source of political as well as possible military information. As the niece of a General you were expected to look beautiful but not be a source of any information, someone who likely has no intelligence background at all, and is an unlikely source for any useful information.”

“Geez, Mom. How do you know so much about all this?”

“Been there, done that. Remember, your father was Air Force, and when we were in Europe, we would frequently be invited to various State functions, since he was the adjutant on one of our bases over there. When you are out, it’s important to keep your wit’s about you, even if you are just shopping.

“For instance, someone might say something so innocuous as ‘The Rhein is beautiful this time of year’ and an answer given automatically might be, ‘my husband mentioned he might have a chance to see the Ruins of Castle Rheinfels next week when they are there on maneuvers.’

“With that short sentence, a great deal of information has just been given to a potential enemy. The place and approximate time a military unit will be present.

“You must guard everything you say, and listen to everything however unimportant it might seem.”

“Geez, Mom. You just made me think of something I overheard at the Embassy get-together. I need to go to my room and prepare a report. Please unzip me.”

I write up the additional information which a few days ago had not seemed all that important to me, but has just now ‘clicked’ into place stipulating what was said, to whom it was said and which American wife made the error. The response, as well, which was returned to her and which now has taken on far greater importance in my mind. I am just beginning to connect how some of the Intel which is obtained in the field is learned and sent on for me to analyze.

Geez, being a field agent is really different from being an analyst. Mom’s smart.

I’m about five pages into my report when Mom comes in. I turn the sheets over and she kisses me good night, “See you in the morning, Lucy.”

“Night, Mom.”

I finish the report and haven’t quite decided how to get it to the General. It must happen though. Now I prepare for bed, move the TV and VTR so I may watch from the bed. I push Happy over to one side, out of the way, then turn on one of the movies to watch as I lay there.

The next morning I awaken to find the TV quietly hissing at me and the VTR stopped. Somewhere during the movie I fell asleep. I guess that accounts for my dreams all night. I was sucking in my tummy and throwing my shoulders back all night giving ‘come hither’ glances to some unseen individual, undoubtedly a male.

I find I have a slight hint of beard so I shave it off while I am in the bathroom.

Carefully cleaning my face after I shave and smooth again, I begin dressing in my nice stockings, underwear, shaper and bustiere. The only reason I need the shaper is to lift my derriere a little and to tuck the little there is of my male organ. I guess that won’t be necessary in a few weeks.

Sitting at the vanity I begin my makeup, but then remember I will be in uniform today, so I go wash my face and start over. I must be much more careful today and barely use any makeup. Finally brushing off the excess and adding a light touch of mascara I lean back to check my appearance. I NEED the proper cosmetics.

TODAY!

Finally, I put on my uniform skirt and pat it down to lay flat in front. Head up, shoulders back rings in my mind as I attempt to achieve a more feminine appearance. Slipping my feet into the shoes I sit once again at the vanity mirror and begin brushing my hair. After fifteen minutes, it seems more under control. I carefully put it up into a French curl then check that my cap will sit properly. This will do. I slip my way into a blouse, then place my jacket and cap on the vanity chair to prevent hairs from Happy finding their way onto the jacket.

Examination of my uniform purse shows me I have room for more money than my civilian purse will hold. I am able to put three thousand in this purse. That should be plenty.

I go out to see if Mom is awake but she is still sleeping. Quietly I take my tape downstairs and turn on the TV, select channel three, and then start the tape. It had wound out last night when I didn’t shut the VTR off, so it was necessary to rewind it this morning. Searching through the tape, I find that I really didn’t see much of it before I fell asleep. I rewind it to start at the beginning again.

Geez, a woman may place so much expression into her face. Small physical changes yield big changes in meaning. Looking from the corner of her eyes while raising only one eyebrow just a little and with a slight hint of a smile on her cheeks but not her mouth shows subtle interest in possibly meeting the male and perhaps a date. Bring the smile to her mouth and make it more pronounced on her cheeks while lightly squinting her eye just a little and she’s asking for a sexual liaison in some quiet motel room. Finesse is terribly important.

“Good Morning, Lucy.”

“Oh. Hi, Mom. Geez, I never realized how much expression a woman may place into her face and the way she holds her body. I feel like I’m a neophyte.”

“In a way you are, sweetheart. Watch the tapes and place what you learn into careful action while I’m around to get you out of trouble. That will give you some practice which you desperately need. By the end of the week you may be able to remain undiscovered but you will need many more months of practice before you will be accepted as an educated and practiced lady. It will take a lot of work. Keep at it every minute. Head up, Lucy.”

I lift my head once again and hold my shoulders back and my tummy in.

“Improving.”

We go out to Denny’s to eat breakfast. Mom says Janet will meet us at Macy’s at 11:00 but first we are going to Gowns Plus to see what they have. This afternoon we will look at jewelry. We finish breakfast about 8:30 and each take a few minutes in the powder room before driving across town to G.P. to check things out. I gained a few stares while in Denny’s, mostly from other women.

At the store we are browsing and while I like almost everything, Mom doesn’t see what she is looking for, everything is too young or too old. We speak with a sales girl about my needs and after a minute of conference she goes in back, returning less than five minutes later with a roll-around rack with gowns hanging on it.

Mom spots a rich green one right away and after checking the size (one too large) tells me to try it on to see how it looks. I nearly faint at the price tag ($300). I try it on anyway. I like the colour and as we figured, it is too large. Doing my best to hold it properly in place, I go out to show Mom. She has me turn around in it a couple of times before asking how quickly it may be altered. The sales girl says two weeks, “Take it off, Lucy. We are going elsewhere. The embassy ball will be done and gone before they may finish it.”

The sales girl asks us to “wait a moment please,” and rushes into the back to find the owner. A minute later they are both out and the discussion continues. The owner hasn’t seen me nor my uniform since I am still changing out of the gown, meanwhile the owner and Mom talk. Finally I exit the changing booth carrying the gown which I hand to the sales girl. Now the owner turns and notices me.

A surprised look and smile comes over her face followed by, “No, you aren’t Janet. Who are you?”

“I’m her sister Lucy.”

The discussion commences once again until the owner understands I am leaving in only a few short days but I need a gown or two for embassy functions and that I am leaving the country at the end of the week. What? Well, it’s a good cover story.

The owner asks, “May I have a few minutes? I’ll see if we can rush this. Take a look around and see if there is anything else you like.”

Mom goes back to the rack and looks several times at another gown which tends toward the magenta. After checking the size she has me hold it up so she may look to see how the colour goes with my skin tone.

About this time the owner returns and says, “Yes, they will charge an additional $25 to have it done in two days but we can do it. The seamstress said she will charge extra since she has a number of other things going right now. By the way you don’t want that gown,” pointing to the one I’m holding before me, “The colour doesn’t go well with you at all. I have something in back which might look better if you need something near that colour. Hold up the green one, would you?”

The sales girl gives me the green one and the owner takes a look, shaking her head up and down.

“The one in back is much better. Let me bring it out so you can try it on. If it fits, then we will mark both of them to be altered. What size do you wear?”

I tell her the size and she goes to see if they have it, returning a couple of minutes later with a gown landing nearly squarely in maroon. I hold it up and Mom nods her approval, “take it in and try it on, Lucy.”

Mom is dickering with the owner about shoes and handbags to match the colour of the two gowns while I change again. Finally I return to the showroom and look at myself in the mirror. Not terribly good, kind of baggy here and there. The owner call the seamstress out and she pokes and pins and pulls and pins and generally makes the gown look like something other than just material. It transforms under her hand to become something really nice. I twirl in front of the mirror, gently so I don’t dislodge any pins, and decide I like it. Turning to Mom, I see she is smiling also.

The owner will have the shoes and clutch dyed to match. I try on shoes until we find a pair which fit nicely then they take two boxes down since they will need to dye another pair to match the green gown. Mom asks for a small swatch of the coloured cloth from each gown so we may match the jewelry. I change to the green gown and we repeat the pinning process with the lady poking and pulling here and there again transforming a gown from simple material into something really nice. We discuss price. The green gown, shoes and all comes to $350 including the extra $25 charge. The maroon one is $75 less since it had been unsold on the bargain rack and was about to be returned. I now have two new gowns, accessories and petticoats for $650 including tax. Scary.

Nearly a quarter of the cash I am carrying has now been spent for just two gowns.

I give the sales girl $600 down leaving just $50 due in two days. I move the $50 to one of the zippered pouches so I will remember it is allocated. They give me a receipt which also goes into the pouch and Mom and I are on our way to the next store. We have about half an hour available to shop before meeting Janet so we go check out perfumes.

I fall in love with one fragrance and Mom says it will be okay to use as my main fragrance for all situations. This simplifies my life a bit.

“Just use it sparingly when you are in uniform and go a little heavier when you are in your gowns. It’s a good fragrance for you.”

The bottles are 3.2 ounces. Mom tells me, depending on use, that amount will probably last me, “about two to three weeks, maybe more.” I figure the amount I need for ten months and come up with roughly 20 bottles. At $19 each that is another shocker.

The sales girl tells us the manager won’t let her sell us that many because it will deplete too much of their stock in just one sale of that fragrance. She looks like she is about to cry. She must really want the sale. Mom asks to talk to the manager for a minute and tells the girl she is not going to complain, “not to worry.” The manager comes out and we try to explain my departure problem plus the lack of nice perfumes and cosmetics on bases overseas.

After a minutes the manager catches on and has the girl check to see how many bottles they have of that fragrance. While she is back doing that I ask if they have the fragrance which Aunt Julie likes. Turns out they have four bottles but it is not called for much. They are going to put it out on clearance just to get them out of the store. The girl returns and tells the manager there are twenty bottles in the back and three up front so he decides he will let the twenty go at $16.50 a bottle. He offers me the four bottles for Aunt Julie at the same price. They were marked $30.

Before Mom says anything, I tell him, “Sold.” He has the girl bring up twenty bottles of my perfume and they dust off the boxes of the four I am giving to Aunt Julie then package them all. I count out $411.84 (including the tax) obtain my receipt and we are on the way to the car with my treasures.

Everything goes into the back after I pull one bottle, then we drive to Macy’s to meet Janet. As we reach Macy’s parking lot I liberally spritz myself with my perfume. “I love it, Mom. I won’t normally use this much when in uniform but I need to feel a little more feminine just now.”

“It’s a good fragrance for you, Lucy. There’s Janet’s car. Now we need somewhere to park.”

“Hold it, Mom. There in the next row. Let me out and I’ll go stand at it so you may go around.”

I rush over to the spot as Mom drives down the aisle and then turns coming back up to me.

I move out of the way so she can pull into the spot. She locks the car and we go in to find Janet. As we browse the gowns I find one I like, however, the sticker shock is too much for me. The sales lady says the price includes the petticoats, matching shoes and handbag. It also includes the alterations. The three of us go into a huddle. Even though the gown is nice (very dark blue almost black) I don’t like the $449 price tag.

“Mom, that’s a lot more than I paid for either of the other gowns even if I include the cost of the accessories and the extra charge for alterations.”

“Lucy, go try it on and then we’ll decide.”

“At this price, it had better look stupendous.”

I reluctantly take everything in to try on. I don’t like the idea because if I like it then I might purchase it and I simply don’t want to spend that much money on one gown. I still have furs to purchase, expensive jewelry, cosmetics and more. I finally have changed and go back out to the sales floor. Checking the mirror I note it really does look good. Mom and Sis confirm that. And that’s before the alterations.

“Mommm.”

“I know, Lucy. It’s quite a dilemma isn’t it. It does look good. Too bad we can’t get a discount because we are also purchasing a fur or two.”

“You can,” the sales lady tells us, “Let me hold this, and if you find a fur you like then the combination of the two is 15% off. That’s just today. Didn’t you see our sale in the paper?”

“No, we were out early and didn’t look. Is there a coupon?”

“No, you just have to tell us like you just did and the price of the fur must match or be greater than that of the gown and we will take 15% off both. Go up and look at our furs then return and we’ll have the floor manager ok the discount.”

I think about that, the gown will still be more than I just paid but I will have about $70 knocked off the gown and maybe about the same from the fur.

“It won’t hurt to look, Lucy.”

“I know, Mom. What if I purchase two furs and two gowns. Is it 15% off everything?”

“Two of each? No, then you are likely into another category and if they are roughly the same value as this gown then you would receive 25% off everything.

It depends on the total price. The discount pricing places slightly more weight on the value of the furs, since gowns are usually less expensive.”

I do some quick thinking. “Wow. Mom, let’s go look, I think I have enough with me to do it. Afterward we may have lunch then I’ll pick up more of my savings so we may finish shopping.”

Turning to the sales lady again, “How much extra to have the gowns altered in two days. I’m leaving the country and need the gowns quickly for embassy functions.”

“I don’t believe there is any extra unless they are falling behind, two days is our normal turn around. If you need them in one day then it is $50 extra for each gown.”

“Good, let me change to my uniform and we will go look at furs.”

I rush the change while Mom and Sis are looking for another gown. Mom finds a white one which looks fabulous with very small metallic silver beads all around the upper torso with fine sprays down into the upper skirt. I ask for it to be held along with the dark blue one. The price is $100 less than the blue one we already selected.

Upstairs, we tell them we have two gowns selected downstairs and are up to look at furs. They call down and receive the tentative ticket number and total value of the gowns. Then we begin.

“Have you owned a good fur before?”

“No. These will be my first. I need them, as I will be attending a large number of social functions during the next year.”

“I see. Perhaps we should look at the various furs and learn the differences in texture and care before you make a decision as to those you would like. We should also go into the styles in which they are available, such as capes, jackets and coats, short or long.”

We spend the next half hour receiving an education into the world of furs. Mom and Sis are listening as intently as I am.

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To Be Continued...        © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dáºmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 
 

previously read:

Upstairs, we tell them we have two gowns selected downstairs and are up to look at furs. They call down and receive the tentative ticket number and total value of the gowns then we begin.

“Have you owned a good fur before?”

“No. These will be my first. I need them, as I will be attending a large number of social functions during the next year.”

“I see. Perhaps we should look at the various furs and learn the differences in texture and care before you make a decision as to those you would like. We should also go into the styles in which they are available, such as capes, jackets and coats, short or long.”

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Mon, 2008/11/03 - 7:47am., Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 9 is revised and reposted on Fri, 2009/12/11 - 08:23 AM. ~Sephrena

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More than I ever wanted to know, so here we go again:

Chapter 09

 

We look at the various types of furs they have available and the sales clerk continues to explain their pros and cons. I try on a few capes and jackets but would really like to have coats, like I saw on some of the ladies during my test.

We begin to look at the full length coats. I hold up several white furs before finding a white mink. The price is $899. It feels delicious.

Mom gives me the ‘look,’ which she always would give us as we were growing up, as though I am about to commit some terrible error.

“Mom, I don’t care, I’m purchasing it.”

“I get borrows,” Janet pipes up.

The sales clerk smiles and Mom laughs at us, “All right, it’s your money.” Mom says. “Now you need something in a mild red or beige.

We look through the selections and find them to be a little limited. I’m now in a toss up between a red fox and a beige fox full length coat. They’re both the same price at $549.

“Lucy, the beige is probably better just now. If you have enough money later then you could come back at the end of the week for the red fox, but you only have one gown it would match unless you also wear it with your white, which might look nice. You could also wear it with your everyday clothes in the winters or with your uniform. It looks nice over the uniform.”

“They won’t allow that, Mom.”

“Then, for now, stick with the mink and the beige fox.”

I sigh, “Okay, Mom.”

The two furs are added to the tally, as is the $100 one day alterations charge for the gowns. Now we traipse back down to have the gowns fitted. The furs will be boxed and brought down for my final check out. After another hour the two gowns have been marked and I’m back in my uniform looking longingly at the dark blue gown as it goes into the back room. I get to pick it up first thing in the morning, day after tomorrow. Now it is time to pay.

The floor manager checks the prices and decides they are close enough he will allow the 25% discount. They total everything and apply the 25% discount, adding tax and the $100 alterations charge. The total comes to $1751.88. I count out my money stopping short by about $100. I offer them the $1651.88 as the deposit with $100 due when I pick up the gowns and I ask that I may take the furs with me now. The manager quickly agrees and I wait as they prepare the receipt. In a minute they give me a receipt showing the total amount paid and balance due. I happily walk away from the gown department carrying one of my furs while Sis is carrying the other.

Stopping for a moment to look in my purse I have plenty of money for the moment but need to go home so I can be prepared for the purchase of the good jewelry.

“Mom. I need to go home before I may do any more shopping today. I need to total my receipts. I’m spending at a horrible rate.”

“True, Lucy, but you have all your gowns, the two furs you need. Perfume, all of your civilian clothes and most of your accessories. The only big expenditure you have remaining is the jewelry, cosmetics and your fingernails. You’re doing quite well actually.”

“Lucy, when we go home, may I try on the mink?”

“Certainly, Sis, both of them if you wish.”

On the way out we check to see if the makeup expert is there in cosmetics. She is and we ask, “How long will you be here?”

“Until five. And again tomorrow.”

“We’ll be back today. I need to see how I look with a makeover and pick up enough cosmetics to last ten months.”

“Ten months? We carry the cosmetics all the time. You won’t need to purchase that much.”

“I’ll be out of the country for ten months so I want to pick up as much as I can.”

“I don’t know if we have it on hand. I’ll check after we do your makeover. When will you be leaving?”

“In four days.”

She rolls her eyes and says, “Ouch.”

I promise her we will return after lunch and we make tracks for the cars and home. At home I transfer all my remaining funds to the purse after checking to be certain I still have the bank check for $2000. I do, thankfully. As I’m arranging my funds, Sis opens the first box and drags out the mink, putting it on about the time Mom walks into the room.

“OHHH. I could get to like this.” She rubs against the fur with her cheek and looks at herself in the mirror.

“Well, Sis, all you have to do is take the assignment and all this could be yours.”

“No, thank you. Borrowing is more my speed.” She carefully puts the mink back onto its box then pulls the fox out of its box.

After I check that I have $150 in the zippered compartment, so I may pay off my gowns, I count my remaining cash reserves. Just over $2850 remains to purchase the cosmetics, all of the jewelry and have my fingernails done. It’s going to be tight. I really want to hold onto the bank check so I can show Uncle Phillip that I didn’t spend it all.

Janet is in bliss as she tries on the fox.

“Uhmm. This one would go so nice with some of my clothes. If you ever decide to give it away, would you think of me?”

“Sure thing, Sis.”

Sis leaves her car at the house and we all pile into Mom’s and drive to a nice restaurant near Macy’s, where we go in for lunch. The wait isn’t bad, only ten minutes. We are finally able to order and about twenty minutes later we have our lunch. I remember to take small bites and to hold my knife and fork properly. My legs are together, my head is up and my shoulders back.

“Mom….”

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, honey.”

I finish the bite I’m chewing and try again. “Mom, how much do you think the jewelry will cost? I mean both the real and the fake.”

“That depends on what we find. A pearl necklace, earrings and bracelet…, probably $275. Diamonds in the same perhaps $450. Rubies, sapphires, and emeralds in the same about $275 to $350 each set.”

“Geez, Mom that’s $1775. That doesn’t leave much for the cosmetics or everyday jewelry.”

“Well, at a guess, your cosmetics will probably be around $500 to $700. How much does that leave for your everyday jewelry?”

I think about it, “About $350 unless the good stuff and the cosmetics are less.”

“Well, we’ll just have to see.”

I think I’m in trouble. We finish lunch and each pay our way then drive to Macy’s, walking in about 2:00 p.m. The lady is still there and she remembers us. She has me go over to a chair where they have everything set up for the makeovers.

She asks if we have a VTR before she starts the Video camera. I explain to her that, “We have an AKAI which uses the same reels of tape. By the way, when I’m in uniform, I can’t use much makeup, but when I go out in civilian clothing or to Embassy functions I’m allowed to wear whatever I wish. At the formal affairs, I will normally be in a strapless gown.”

“Wow. You just had to bring me a challenge didn’t you?”

She talks to me as she cleanses my face and proceeds to do the makeup. The first makeover she is going to do will be light makeup for when I’m in uniform. She goes through everything and finishes in about ten minutes. Very little is used but it makes me look great. She writes down everything she used and then quickly cleans it off, proceeding to step two, my everyday civilian look.

This time it takes about twenty minutes and my face looks wonderful. Again you can’t tell I have makeup on. She writes down everything that was used for this transformation. Much of it is the same as before such as the foundation but she uses some blush and also shadows my features more. The camera is still recording. She, once again, cleanses my face and proceeds with step three.

Again, the foundation is still the same and as she works she is asking the color of my gowns. I recite the list and she takes notes.

“I’m going to be doing this as though you are wearing the green, but the color will change to lightly reflect the color of your gown while still matching into your skin tone, eyes and hair.” She continues applying the makeup and after about twenty minutes my face looks fantastic once more. She makes the notes, placing asterisks at the cosmetics that would be altered to lightly reflect the gowns.

She cleanses my face and allows me to try to do the first step by myself but under her direction. It comes out pretty well. I don’t think it is as good as when she did it but she says it is “excellent” for now. She stops the recorder then rewinds the reel and removes it to go with the cosmetics.

“We charge $12 for the tape, I’m afraid. It isn’t like audio tape.”

“I understand. That’s all right. The tape will continue to give me a lot of help.” Now with a list of the cosmetics I need and with a little thought I weigh the time I’ll be spending in uniform versus the everyday civilian time versus the ball gown time and we come up with my needs.

She was right, they don’t have enough here, but then she said, “I can have it all here by tomorrow afternoon. After we talked earlier I called around and made the arrangements to bring it in from other stores. I guessed at the needs but I was right on for the items you will need the most. Let’s see what it will cost.”

She comes up with $485 plus tax. I say, “Sold.” She writes up the ticket selling me only what they have on hand right now and promises to have the rest by tomorrow around 3:00. I will pay for the remainder then. She drops the video tape into my bag with the makeup she has on hand and I happily thank her and we are on our way to look at jewelry. We still have an hour before we need to let Sis go home, so we head on over to Kay’s to see what they have.

We quickly find the pearls, selecting a three strand necklace , two strand bracelet and drop earrings in an off white, slightly pink color for just $230, the diamonds hurt a bit at $820 but they look great, the 48 small stones found on the bracelet are 9 points each, just under a tenth of a carat, and the large ones which are the earrings are 1 & 1/4 carat teardrops. The necklace is mostly 18 carat gold but has two rows of 20 stones at 15 points apiece. The whole set is less expensive since the color is just off white and the clarity is not absolutely perfect, but against my skin tone you can’t see it.

The rubies are a little high, I think, at $275 but will match the dark maroon gown almost perfectly. The emeralds are almost the color of my other gown (we checked both them and the rubies using a small piece of fabric from each of the gowns). These go for $190. The sapphires are really dark and appear to be a close match for my dark blue gown. They are a paltry $225. I now have all my fine jewelry and still have enough money to have my nails done, purchase my everyday jewelry, pay off my gowns, pick up the rest of my cosmetics and maybe still have a little left to use for incidentals. Now we rush home so Sis can get on back to her house to prepare their supper, then Mom and I go in to sit and relax.

“May I try on the mink, Lucy?”

“Sure, Mom. Try them both.”

“Thanks. Your father was going to purchase me a mink a long time back, but then we needed the money because I was pregnant with Janet. After that you came along, and we just never managed to do it. I always wondered what it would be like. Uhmmm. this is nice, isn’t it?” as she buries her face into the fur.

“I wish I could afford to get you one, Mom.”

“Now don’t be silly, Lucy. What would I ever do with a mink coat? I don’t go to special embassy parties or to a diplomatic get-together. I have no use for one.

Maybe whenever you come home, I may just borrow it for a few minutes like this just to feel it. Here, go put on your gown from the closet and then put this on over it I want to see how you look. In the meantime I’ll just warm it up for you.”

“Okay, Mom.” I strip off my uniform and hang it in the closet, then carefully remove my gown and the petticoats. Mom is enjoying herself burying her face into the mink and rubbing her cheeks against the fur. I don’t know why she needs to warm it up. It isn’t that cold in here. Ten minutes later I’m dressed and I dig into the jewelry to put on the new sapphires. Mom was right these look really good, and the others just look terrible. I let my hair down and give it a few strokes of the brush before Mom hands me the coat and I slip it on. Suddenly I understand…. I make a note to myself to buy Mom a mink jacket as soon as I may afford it.

Lifting my hair out from under the coat, I allow it to hang down the back and look at myself in the mirror, then realize what I’ve left undone. “Aww, Mommm. I forgot to purchase lipstick.”

“We’ll get it tomorrow.”

“I’m tired of shopping, too.”

“I know, but it was fun, wasn’t it?”

“Yes. It was fun, but I don’t believe I could do that very often. Oh, no!” I exclaimed in dismay. I'd just thought of something.

“What’s wrong?”

“I need luggage to hold everything.”

“I remember a seven piece set on sale in one of the newspapers. I’ll see if I can find the ad. Come on down to the living room, I want to take your photo. Maybe in your uniform too.”

“Okay, Mom. I’m going to put on the matching pumps if you’re taking pictures.” I change my shoes and grab the clutch, then go down to find Mom, who is searching the papers from the last week.

“I know it’s here somewhere. Ah, here it is. Two large, two medium, one small suitcase, a folding dress carrier and a cosmetics case for $97.”

“Do they sell them separately?”

“It doesn’t say.”

“I could probably use at least four big cases, four folding dress carriers for the gowns and then one medium one for my cosmetics and perfume. I have a large weight allowance, but not much of a….”

“What?”

“I don’t really need a lot here, since I’ll be spending most of my time in the hospital or in recovery from the surgeries. I could get really good trunks to ship most of it to Aunt Julie and they could hold it until I arrive. They probably won’t have it very long since shipping by boat takes six to eight weeks. I should be back over there by the twelfth or thirteenth week. I need to try to call them. It should still be morning there, may I use the phone I’ll pay you for the call so you aren’t stuck with the expense.”

“Wait, Lucy. If you have a large weight allowance. Why couldn’t you use trunks and just take everything with you when you go?”

“Maybe I could. I didn’t think of that. My flight allowance is 660 pounds and my shipping allowance is 2600. Maybe I could purchase a trunk and pack it then see what it weighs. If it is less than…. Oh say 90 pounds then I could use 7 trunks.”

“All right. We best find the trunks today. That will also take money away from your everyday jewelry and anything else you might discover you need. So we need to know just how much it will cost.”

“I want to change to a blouse and skirt first. Are you going to take the photos?”

“Yes, just a minute. Let me get the camera.”

She returns and has me stand over by the fireplace then takes a couple of snaps.

Now I remove the fur and carefully lay it on the sofa as Mom takes two more of me in my powder blue gown.

“I’ll keep the camera here and take two more after you change. Would you mind putting on your uniform first, so I can take some of you in uniform before you change to civilian clothes?”

“Okay, Mom. Be back down in a jiffy. Happy, stay with Mom.”

Up until now he had been following us all over the house. This time I needed privacy so I could change quickly without tripping over him. The gown and petticoats go into the closet and the uniform comes out. Once again I’m Major Lucy Jackson. I put my hair up yet again before placing my cap. Downstairs, Mom snaps more shots of me in uniform then I finally go up to change again.

This is tiring. Selecting a skirt, blouse and flats, I then take my sapphires off the vanity and put them away in the boxes provided by the jewelry store. Finally, I go down to leave with Mom to look for trunks.

After an hour’s search, we’re coming up empty. I ask Mom if we can’t look for the everyday jewelry now and then use the phone to hunt down trunks tomorrow. I explain I have a $2000 check I didn’t want to use, but if necessary the money is available.

She looks at me with a ‘Keeping secrets are we? Welcome to the girl’s club’ expression, “Okay, Lucy. I know a good place for nice jewelry which doesn’t cost an arm and a leg.”

She’s right. I now have more than ten pairs of earrings and a nice CZ necklace and bracelet, many other bracelets with imitation gemstones, and a few simple pendants and necklaces. I also pick up a nice set of imitation rubies for Mom, which she says match her gown, plus a moderately expensive birthstone pendant she has been thinking about.

The whole kit and caboodle comes to about $230 plus tax making it $237.73. I still have enough for at least one trunk, lipstick, vitamins, etc. plus the money to pay off my gowns and the cosmetics. We call it a day and go home.

I change again. This time to my second bathing suit and I collect my dirty clothes to go in the wash this evening. Turning on my exercise tape after opening the window and starting the fan I pant through my workout, ending up soaked again.

I lean over the rail shouting down to the first floor, “Mommm? I’m going to the shower. Do you need the room first?”

“No, honey. Go ahead,” she calls back.

Again, I throw the bathing suit in the sink before scrubbing myself clean in hot water. Washing my hair and conditioning it again. This time I know how to wrap my hair in a towel and then pat myself dry before starting to dry my hair. I throw on my robe and grab my suit, padding my way over to my room where I dry my hair some more before brushing it out. I put on some panties and a bra then one of my new blouses from Sunday’s shopping. I dig through everything and finally find the shorts, then slip on a pair of sneakers and carry my dirty bathing suit and undies down to do my wash.

“Mom, I’m going to do wash. Do you have anything you want to go in?”

“Not really, I’m fine. Go ahead. Supper will be about ten minutes.”

I put everything in the washer and find my other suit, putting it in also. I borrow one of Mom’s delicate’s bags for my hose and start the washer going on warm delicate cycle. That chore begun, I wander out to the kitchen again.

Did you enjoy your workout? I could just hear the TV going.”

“It was okay. I can’t believe how tiring it is though. I thought I was in better shape.”

“You probably were, for a man, but now you’re exercising different muscles or some of the same ones but not the same way. It will be rough for a while, but you’ll get used to it. Just those two sessions and your legs are already showing improvement. Not that they weren’t attractive to start. That’s a nice outfit on you. Those are from the new clothes aren’t they?”

“Yeah. They fit pretty well, but everything is getting just a little tight in the chest and I can’t figure out how to lose the weight up there.”

“Maybe it isn’t fat. Maybe you are finally beginning to fill out. It might be the combination of your mental acceptance of your feminine gender, the support of proper women’s clothing, and your new exercise regime.”

“Whoa. You mean maybe I’m developing my own breasts?”

“Maybe. After supper let’s measure you and then again when you are about to leave Saturday. If that’s the case, you may need to buy new breast forms, made for someone who already has small breasts. I don’t think you would look good in a D-cup. Too much breast for your size. Those are C’s aren’t they?”

“Yeah.”

“Young ladies say ‘Yes,’ not ‘Yeah.’ ”

“Sorry. Yes, Mom. I’m a C-cup.”

“Full or just barely?”

“Just barely, Mom.”

“We’ll know more when I measure you. You know, honey, I was thinking. You have that check for extra funds. I think you should cash it and go back to Macy’s.”

I anticipated her suggestion, “And purchase the red fox fur?”

“No. I think you need to get two fur capes or jackets. They should be in the same fur as you have in your coats but shorter, since a coat is not always the best choice for every situation.”

“Oh. May I wait to do that? I’d rather find out if the trunks will solve my shipping problem and pick up the other things I need first.”

“Certainly. We still have several days and by then we should have a good feel for how everything is going. What do you want to drink?”

“Sounds good to me, Mom. What do I do if I’m growing breasts? I mean, what if they don’t fill out enough but are just big enough to notice. Do I wear breast forms the rest of my life? And tea is fine.”

“Some women do, honey. Not usually as young as you are though. Let’s not worry about it until the time comes. Help me carry.”

We take everything out to the table in several trips and sit down. Mom asks Grace again and then we eat as we talk, but not when my mouth is full.

After supper I help Mom clean up and we put the dishes away. I look out and there is plenty of light. The air is warm so I tell Mom, “It’s pretty nice out, I think I’ll take Happy out front and give him a bath. Is everything still in the garage?”

“Yes. You may fasten the hose to the sink so you have mildly warm water to spray on him. That way he won’t get a chill from the water.”

“Good idea, Mom. Come on Happy, it’s time for a bath.”

“This, I’ve got to see.”

I go to the garage with Happy following and take down the tub and hose. The moment he sees me do that he wants to make tracks. I grab him quickly and leash him to the fence so he can’t run off. After removing the nozzle from the hose and stretching it out into the yard from the garage sink, I start the water running and adjust the temperature to warm before attaching the hose. As the water fills the hose then begins to pour out onto the lawn, I place the end of the hose into the tub to allow it to fill while I collect Happy, who is anything but.

“Come on, Happy, the sooner we do this the sooner you will be clean and you may go roll in the dirt again. You know you like a bath after it starts.”

Happy is putting up a valiant struggle but I lift him into the half full tub. He tries to get out a couple of times before settling down. I wet him down and start washing with the flea shampoo.

Mom decides to go in and get another cup of tea, but not before saying, “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes. Now who’s washing whom?” as Happy splashes a load of soapy water all over me.

I shriek and then get back to business. “Happy, hold still. SIT!”

He looks at me like I’m crazy, ‘who me? Sit in this muddy water? You must be nuts.’ He is being more difficult than usual. The dirt is coming off of him in waves. So are the fleas. I should have worn my bathing suit.

The hose flops out of the tub and I hold Happy with one hand and reach for the hose with the other. Happy takes this opportunity to make a break for it but I corral him again and lead him back to the hose and begin to rinse him off. Finally the shampoo is gone, Happy is clean, and I’m nearly soaked. He picks this time to shake off the excess water, so by now I may as well have gotten into the tub with him.

“Happy, SI…!”

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To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 
 

previous:

The hose flops out of the tub and I hold Happy with one hand and reach for the hose with the other. Happy takes this opportunity to make a break for it but I corral him again and lead him back to the hose and begin to rinse him off. Finally the shampoo is gone, Happy is clean, and I’m nearly soaked. He picks this time to shake off the excess water, so by now I might as well have gotten into the tub with him.

“Happy, SI…!”

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Mon, 2008/11/03 - 10:07am, Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 10 is revised and reposted on Sat, 2009/12/12 - 05:54 PM ~Sephrena

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Marching down the road with new material:

 

Chapter 10

 

Something attacks my derriere and it stings. I shriek, swat, and spin, figuring I’ll find a bee or wasp or something as I see this looming hulk about to swing at me again. Grabbing the nearest part of whatever it is, I do a back flip with my foot against the perpetrator, throwing him halfway across the yard before I even think.

An instant later, I’m flying after him screaming, “MOM! MOM! Call the police!”

I collide with him as he is getting up, giving him a quick chop as he swings at me, which drops him to the ground again. A couple of easy jabs and he is subdued, gasping for air.

Mom comes out to see why I’m screaming. The moment she sees what I’m doing, she says, “Lucy, stop that! Stop that this instant.”

“Mom, he attacked me when my back was turned.”

“Lucy Ann, you help him up. That’s a friend of Tony’s.”

I turn to the man who is prone at my feet, his eyes bugging out like a fish out of water. “Oh, sorry,” I say. I help him up and press a couple of pressure points to help him breathe again.

After ten or fifteen seconds he gasps out, “Janet, why the h– did you do that?”

“I’m not Janet. Janet’s my sister. Why did you attack me, even if you thought I was Janet?”

He’s still gasping but doing better. “I didn’t attack you; I swatted your behind.”

“That was awfully hard for a swat. And it feels like a cut.” I reach back and rub myself when I bring my hand forward there is a small amount of blood on it. “I’m bleeding! Like I said, why did you attack me if you thought I was Janet?”

“I always do that. It makes her scream,” he mumbled.

“Want me to swat you again so you will scream? I think I’m going to teach her how to do what I just did to you. Maybe then you’ll learn we don’t like it.”

“Okay, Okay. I won’t do it to you again.”

“Nor to Janet,” I reply forcefully.

“Okay, not to Janet. Cripes, who are you, some kind of martial arts instructor?” he complained, half in anger and half in fear.

“How did you ever guess?” I curtsy.

“You mean you are?” he said in stunned surprise.

“Third degree black belt,” I say modestly.

“Cripes. You sure look like Janet, but you don’t act like her. She’s a wuss.”

That ticks me off, and I step towards him. “Do you want some more of it?”

“No, no. Sorry.” He backs up.

“You’d better not do that to my sister again or I’ll come hunting for you.”

“I won’t. Sorry. Cripes. Janet never mentioned a sister. I saw you washing the dog and thought you were Janet. I was going to ask if Tony is here.”

“Then why didn’t you just ask?”

“I…, I….”

“Because you like to hurt girls?” I snarl, getting angrier.

His eyes are wide with fright. “No. No, I…. I guess I just didn’t think. Sorry.”

“Right. You’ll be sorry until you’re out of the yard. If I ever hear about you doing anything to Janet that I don’t like, there won’t be a hole deep enough to hide you, understand me?”

“Yeah. Cripes, all you had to do was tell me you don’t like it.”

Mom jumps in at this point, “Janet has told you. She has told me about you many times. You never stop, even when she tells you to. In fact, you do it even more when she tells you to stop.”

I spin, and he finds himself flying across the yard again, falling to the ground, with me advancing towards him in hunting tigress mode, my eyes fixed on my quarry as….

“LUCY ANN! Stop it.”

“But this creep has been hurting Janet, Mom.”

“That doesn’t mean we have to be as stupid as he is.”

“Aw, Mom, let me break his arm, just this once.”

“LUCY ANN JACKSON!” she yells loudly enough that the neighbors poke their heads up to watch. “You get inside this house right now, young lady! And YOU,” she points at my sacrificial lamb as I figuratively lick my chops again, “You’d better leave. I’m calling Janet and Tony, and telling them what happened here. If Tony won’t do something to stop you, then I’m going to let Lucy go after you each time you hurt Janet. Now get out of my yard. And I expect you to apologize to my daughter.”

“Yes, Ma’am. I’m sorry, Lucy.” He is out the gate and into the street as fast as he can limp. The neighbors across the street and next door are still out in their yards watching the whole thing.

“Not this daughter, my other daughter, Janet.” Mom yells after him.

“Yes, Ma’am. As soon as I see her.” He continues to limp away.

The neighbors watch him as he goes to his car and quietly drives off.

“LUCY ANN, you get out here this instant.”

I’m in for it now. I know that voice. I demurely open the front door and step onto the porch.

“Yes, Mom?” I say innocently.

“You clean up this mess out here and put everything away. I’m not going to say I’m happy with what you did, but he did have it coming to him. If he really stops giving Janet a bad time, then it will have been worth it. By the way, where’s Happy?”

I look around, no Happy. “I finished his bath, Mom. I guess he seized the opportunity to escape in the confusion.”

“Lucy Ann, you look a mess. Are you certain you gave Happy a bath, it looks more the other way around.”

“I look down at my soaked blouse and shorts, now complete with grass stains and mud. I begin to wipe off the mud I discover on my arms and legs. I sigh. “I need to do more laundry…, and take another bath,” I say, as I discover mud in my hair.

Mom starts laughing and assists me in putting things away. The neighbors go back inside; the show’s over. Mom phones Janet as I go up for another shower and clean clothes after putting my things from the washer into the dryer in preparation for handling my new contributions. The two bathing suits I carry up to hang over the tub where they can drip dry. Selecting another blouse and shorts, I carry my robe to the bathroom, strip everything off, and throw it into the sink.

I go for a hot shower again, first rinsing off the mud and cleaning myself, then carefully wash my hair again. I pull fresh towels from the bathroom closet and wrap my hair, then pat myself dry. Finally, I’m clean and dry again, except for my hair, and I put on my robe and grab all my dirty clothes from the sink, rinsing the dirt down the drain with plenty of water. My shorts are ruined. There is a gash in them on the right rear portion….

Upon inspection I find the gash in me isn’t all that bad. Curious how it could have happened, I think back to what I saw and realize that he was wearing some kind of ring on the hand that did this. I should have broken his arm. I finish drying my hair and get dressed then take everything down to wash and to show Mom.

“Mom. Look at this. This is where he hit me.” I show her the gash in my shorts. It went all the way through and ruined my new shorts. He was wearing a ring. That’s what did it. I should have broken his arm. Tony has been letting him do this crap to Janet? What’s the matter with him?”

I start my new load of wash and Mom tells me to bring my shorts. We go out to the car and drive to Janet’s.

“That’s the creep’s car, Mom. He must be inside.”

We get out and head for the house. About the time we reach the door I hear a shriek from Janet and I’m through the door and in hunt mode with Mom not far behind me. I find the creep beating on Janet and I play bowling ball with him, the walls are the ten pins and his head is the ball. After two or three strikes, Mom manages to attract my attention. Janet is crying, Tony is nowhere to be seen.

Mom manages to calm Janet down enough to learn Tony has gone back to work for a few hours, some kind of special project that needs finishing. Janet has several cuts on her face from the creep’s ring. She says he would never have tried it if Tony had been home. He starts to wake up and before Mom can stop me I have made two more strikes. Mom says she is going to take Janet to the hospital.

I ask Mom what she wants me to do with the creep.

“Why don’t we take him to the hospital too? The police can handle it from there.

Mom gets on the phone and alerts both the hospital and the police, then we drag the problem to the car and head for the hospital. Janet is holding a washrag full of ice cubes to her face to slow the bleeding.

I occasionally shake my prey, hoping for some sign that he is coming to, so I can work on him some more. We reach the hospital and Mom takes Janet to the emergency room as I drag the creep from the car and start in that direction. He picks that time to try to take me and I quickly put him under, after playing with him for ten or fifteen seconds. He’s a little large for a mouse, but I can’t be choosy. This is the only big game to come along for the last few weeks.

Huffing and puffing, I reach the emergency room doors after a difficult pull of several minutes. He must weigh a ton. A policeman opens them for me. I look at him, “Where were you when he came to?”

“You looked like you were having fun with the lowlife, so I decided to stay out of the way.”

I smile and give him a gentle pat on the face, “I’ve finished playing with him for now, so you can have him.”

The officer laughs and slaps handcuffs on the unconscious creep as I go in to sit down and rest while waiting to find out how much damage he has done to my sister.

A few minutes later Mom comes out and says, “They’re going to take X-rays.”

We sit there waiting together. The creep finally begins to come to and starts yelling and screaming at the officer.

I get up and start in his direction and the officer starts to walk away like he doesn’t see anything. The creep looks and sees me approaching, and suddenly decides it might be better to just be quiet. I almost think he doesn’t like me. I always play nice with my toys. I don’t kill them until they don’t want to play anymore. I stand there trying to decide if I should start playing again and the creep starts pleading with the officer to come back. Finally, the officer turns around and pretends to notice him, while I’m still standing there thinking about all the things I could do to him without causing him permanent harm.

I lean down and quietly say, “A little jab here, a little jab there.… It would only take about twenty minutes of standing by before you would be a permanent vegetable. Just think, you could have the rest of your life to piss and shit on yourself.”

“LUCY ANN, you stop talking like that. I don’t care if you are an Army combat instructor, you will keep a civil tongue in your head, do you understand?”

I attempt to appear contrite, “Yes, Mom. May I just play with it a little longer?” as I reach out and pat his face lightly while he tries to back away through the wall.

The officer has been joined by two more and they all break out into laughter before packing up the creep and taking him out, much to his relief. As they take him past me, I can smell the stench of fear from him.

I can’t help one last nudge, “Merrowww, hissss,” as I wave my hand at him, “Mommm, they’re taking my toy away. I want it back.”

The officers begin to laugh harder and the creep’s face again shows fear. Most of the people in the emergency room also start laughing, having seen Janet’s condition and having heard Mom’s explanation of what happened. They have difficulty comprehending a 220 pound bully’s fear of a possibly 130 pound female, so the little display of his fear they witnessed and Mom’s contrived explanation of my abilities tickled their funny bones more than they could suppress.

I put on a pained expression as I watch the departing officers and criminal.

“Lucy Ann, behave yourself. You’ll just have to find some other toy.”

“Yes, Mom.” I throw one more glance at them as they turn the corner at the end of the hall.

Again everyone breaks out in laughter and some applause. About twenty minutes later the doctor comes out to tell Mom that no major harm has been done. They sutured the cuts as carefully as they could to minimize any scarring. I’m about to get up to commence hunting for the creep but Mom’s hand slams down onto my leg restraining me.

“Mommm,” I whine, “he hurt Janet.”

“Lucy…. I’m only going to say this once. Don’t! If he gets out of jail and comes back to hurt any of us again then you have my permission to do whatever it is you military people do. I don’t want to know. But… right… now… you… will… stop. Do you understand me?”

She used her voice again. I know she means it.

“But, Mommm…,” I whine.

“LUCY!” A number of people who witnessed the fear on the creep’s face and laughed at my previous antics continue to chuckle at this continuing saga.

I frown for a moment, dejected, “Yes, Mom.”

“Now let the Doctor finish that which he is telling us.”

“Yes, Mom.” I sigh and still don’t think it’s fair, but Mom has overruled me. I think the officer would turn his back again just like he did here. I didn’t do any lasting harm to the creep except maybe to his pride. I quickly glance down the hall only to receive a light pinch on my leg from you-know-who. I straighten up and begin listening, trying to appear unconcerned at my lost opportunity to rid the world of a bully.

They let Janet leave about four hours later and we take her home to get a few things, then we all go to Mom’s for the night. Happy is back. He is laying on the porch and when Mom drives up he bounds down to the car, his ordeal with the bath forgotten. Mom tells Janet to use my old room and I clear out the things that I stashed there.

Somebody blabbed. The next morning a reporter from the local paper is at the door and wants to talk with Janet, Mom, and myself. We go into the history of repeated gender-based intimidation and harassment he’s heaped on Janet over time and surmise that there are probably other women to whom he has done it as well. His big mistake was trying it on a black belt. Then we go into how he left this house and went right to Janet’s where we found him beating up on her. After I subdued him, we took Janet to the hospital and brought him along for the police to take in. End of story.

The reporter says the creep tells a different version, saying he was attacked by the three of us and he was only trying to defend himself. We all get a good laugh at that, telling the reporter we have dozens of witnesses who saw his actions on many occasions and more who saw what happened here at this house. We tell him we bet there are many women out there who would testify against him confirming him as a chronic abuser of women.

The reporter thanks us and leaves. Tony finally calls, asking if Janet is here. We tell him yes and tell him why. He is over in less than five minutes. He takes one look at his wife and is ready to go hunting.

“Sorry, I paid for the only remaining license,” I tell him.

Tony tells us that the creep’s, “entire family, the father and two older brothers, are like that. The only thing they respect is force. Any woman who can’t protect herself is subject to their abuse.”

That means Janet is their victim until they are stopped. The phone rings, and Mom answers. A few moments later she hangs up.

Janet and I look at her , “What?”

“That creep made bail.”

“Who was on the phone?”

“They didn’t say. They just said ‘be careful, he made bail’ and hung up.”

Now I’m with Tony, I’m in favor of going on the hunt. Tony says he wants Janet to stay with us for the next few days while he tries to resolve this. We agree.

Life must go on, and I’m running out of time, so we go shopping again to find my trunk, lipstick, and the few other things I still need. We make tracks for the bank where I cash the check. I show my military ID and they compare my photo with myself and my signature with that on my ID. Finally they can’t think of anything else and they give me the cash after a more than valiant attempt to have me open checking or savings accounts. The cash goes into my purse. It is a lot easier since these are $50 and $20 bills instead of $1’s, $5’s and $10’s.

We pick up the lipstick I need (five to eight tubes from each of five different stores), as well as a box of deodorant tubes (one store). Tomorrow we will try for more lipstick, I’m looking at roughly a tube and a half a week just to be safe. I was able to purchase a case of deodorant which is 24 applicators. Both probably far more than enough. I also purchase eight packages of ten soft cotton handkerchiefs at the same store.

Finally! We find my trunks. They have six and they are pretty big. I purchase one for $23.00 plus tax and tell them that if this works for me, I’ll be back for the others.

They look sturdy. Expensive, but sturdy. I’ll try jumping up and down on it a while to see if it holds up, maybe toss it out my bedroom window and see if it survives impact with the ground. They are rated at 350 pounds. That is likely more than sufficient. Then again…. I’ll wait and see, it depends how much I am able to put into each one. At least they are not thin plywood like the Army footlockers, these are made of welded eighth inch aluminum and have aluminum ribs to help give strength.

We drive home. Happy greets us, tail wagging, and we go into the house. I take everything up to my room, put on a movie to study and begin to test pack my new trunk. It holds a lot, so I’m still packing an hour later, when I finally finish. I have about a third of my everyday clothes in the trunk, AND it closes just fine. I start jumping up and down on it to see what happens, which is nothing. After thirty seconds or so I give up, just about the time Mom and Janet come through the door to see what I’m doing.

The trunk is pretty heavy. It’s all I can do to lift it. I’m afraid to weigh it but I need to know. Rather than taking the trunk to the scale, I bring the scale to the trunk. So I’m a wuss — I call it thinking the problem through. I put the scale down and lower the trunk onto it, adjusting it so I can read the scale. 102 pounds, not as bad as I thought. If I can get everything into the six trunks then that would be about 612 pounds. Still well below my flight allowance of 660. Not only that, but after the trunks I will still have an allowance limit of three more items. Neat.

-o~O~o-

Whoa, let’s back that up a little…. Okay, now play again. Ah, raise the eyebrow and lower it again…. Passive face…, indifference…. I know something you don’t. Let’s see that again. Rewind, now play. Oops, not far enough…, rewind…. Play.

Too far, let it play out. Okay, she knows something, he is guessing, but not knowing. He goes to act on his guess and she knows the truth and knows he is spinning his wheels. I like it. Need to remember that one for sure.

“What, Mom?” I call back as I mute the TV.

“Lucy, we called you twice. It’s lunch, come on.”

“Be right down, Mom,” I say, turning off the TV and removing the reels of tape so I can continue later. I try out my ‘I know something you don’t know’ face on Janet later. Her reaction isn’t anything like I expected.

“What?” she throws in my face.

“Nothing.”

“Come on, you look like the cat that ate the canary. What is it?”

“I don’t understand.”

“MOMMM.”

Mom comes into the room, “What’s going on?”

“Lucy is making weird faces at me and won’t tell me what’s going on.”

“Lucy Ann, show me.”

I do, and Mom gives me a strange look. I try to explain the tape and my attempt at duplicating the expressions of the actresses. They want to see the tape.

After I play that portion, Janet tells me, “You need a LOT of practice.” Mom just starts laughing and walks out of the room. Janet then gives me the ‘look’ like the lady did on the tape. I don’t understand. I check myself in the mirror and it looks the same to me. That’s when Janet gives me a woman’s ‘I can’t believe you don’t get it’ look and also starts trying to help me learn.

Quite some time later, “That’s better. At least it’s passable.”

Happy comes in and burrows his head onto my lap under my hand to receive scratches as Janet and I watch the tapes together and she critiques my attempts. It isn’t as easy as I thought. Very tiny differences, almost indistinguishable on my face, totally changes the meaning of my facial expression. At this rate, I may never learn before I leave. Mom calls us down as we are about to play the tape through for the third time.

“Come down here, you two, and help finish preparing supper.”

We shut everything down and go help Mom.

“I’ve been doing all the cooking today, so you two may clean up the mess after supper.”

“Okay, Mom,” we say in chorus.

“Lucy, how did the trunk work out?”

“Great, Mom. If I purchase the other five I will probably be able to pack almost everything and still be under my weight limit. I even have an allowance for three more items. Each trunk will be well under the 120 pound individual piece limit, though not by a lot, so I will be able to take them with me rather than send them by slow boat.”

“Good. Then tomorrow you want to purchase the other five?”

“Yes, I think so,” I nod to her, “The only problem I see now is how to transport my gowns.”

“Well, after you purchase the other trunks we’ll come back and do a test pack. That will tell us a lot. Then we’ll make a list of everything that’s packed in each trunk so you can pack the same way in the future. When you make Lieutenant Colonel, do you get an increase in the weight limit?”

“I think so. I’m not certain. That’s a long way off though.”

“You made Major very quickly, Lieutenant Colonel isn’t that big a step from being a Major.”

“True, but the rapid promotions have occurred as a result of being in Vietnam. Here in the States, things change much more slowly. It takes a combat situation to get things stirred up enough that more allotments come down, Mom.”

“I’m surprised they put women into combat situations.”

“What about nurses, Mom?”

“You aren’t a nurse. You’re an intelligence analyst. The nurses aren’t usually in or near that much combat.”

“Over there they are, even in Saigon. You never know when some bicycle bomb or rocket is going to explode in the middle of the city. The enemy also play chopsticks with their rockets on the bases all around South Vietnam. The whole country is a combat zone. If we ever leave, South Vietnam will be snatched up like a gazelle being eaten by a tiger.”

“I had no idea. Is there that much going on over there? It never makes it into the papers. All I ever see is where some atrocity has been perpetrated by our troops against some peaceful village.”

“Right.” I shake my head. “There are no ‘peaceful’ villages over there, Mom. The communists come in and kill all the leaders, and then they kill all the teachers and bring in political ‘advisors’ to teach Communism to the children. We’ve established hospitals and free medical care for the villagers; the Communists don’t. We have started schools for the children and teach them a lot about the world; the Communists don’t. If it doesn’t forward Communism, it isn’t taught. That may change if they ever take the whole country, but there will be a blood bath of all the intellectuals first. The Communist leaders just want uneducated fodder for their armies so they can take the whole continent. Sorry, Mom, I’ll get down off my soap box.” I frown for a moment, thinking.

“The Communists aren’t all bad, Mom,” I continue. “Once they have a country, things begin to slowly change and, as people, they’re just like us. They’re not educated the same way, but they believe in their country like we believe in ours and they want good things just the same as we do. The standard of living is just so much lower over there that, unless one lives and works in a city, things are pretty rough. There isn’t much medical help, and things which just make us sick over here can kill people over there. It’s really kind of sad.”

“Lucy Ann, I had no idea you had become a philosopher.”

I snort a laugh, “It’s kind of difficult not to, Mom. Just look at what’s happening to me. It really gives me a lot to think about.”

Janet comes over and gives me a hug, grimacing a moment at the pain as her face touches me. Mom comes over and gives me a hug too.

“We’re here for you, baby sister,” Janet says.

Mom adds, “Yes, we are. You make a pretty good young lady, Lucy Ann. Don’t you ever let anyone tell you different. Your great, great grandmother would be proud you have her name.”

---

To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 
 

 

previous:

“Lucy Ann, I had no idea you had become a philosopher.”

I snort a laugh, “It’s kind of difficult not to, Mom. Just look at what’s happening to me. It really gives me a lot to think about.”

Janet comes over and gives me a hug, grimacing a moment at the pain as her face touches me. Mom comes over and gives me a hug too.

“We’re here for you, baby sister,” Janet says.

Mom adds, “Yes, we are. You make a pretty good young lady, Lucy Ann. Don’t you ever let anyone tell you different. Your great, great grandmother would be proud you have her name.”

---

Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Tue, 2008/11/04 - 7:24am, Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 11 is revised and reposted on Sun, 2009/12/13 - 03:19 PM ~Sephrena

---

 

Hup, tooop, threep, fore:

Chapter 11

 

Janet and I clean up after supper while Mom takes care of a few things and does her laundry. Janet needs some more clothes and wants to check on Tony so we all drive over. A typical male, Tony has the house in a shambles so Mom and I spend a couple of hours putting it right while Janet prepares food and does his laundry.

He will at least have proper nutrition and clean clothes until this mess is resolved.

It’d better happen fast, as I need to leave soon and I don’t want Janet and Mom facing that jerk alone.

Tony comes in about the time we have all finished and he goes straight to Janet, holding her tight and giving her a long kiss. He tries to explain how much he misses her and how things are still up in the air so she better continue to stay with us for a while. The slimeball has dropped off the face of the earth for now, so we figure he is up to no good. His Dad wanted to file charges against us, against me, but the police just laughed at him, as did the attorneys and the judge. Everyone in town, and presumably over in Cheyenne by now, have read the local newspaper stories, which told what really occurred. His bully son was finally beat up by a 120 pound female, not good for his image.

We finally drive home again and Happy is, of course, happy to see us. Mom finishes her laundry as Sis and I continue to watch the tape. Tomorrow I need to look at the others more and pick up the other five trunks and some olive drab paint. I don’t think the Army would be too happy if I show up with six silver trunks.

Mom comes in, telling us she is going to bed. She inquires as to my progress and Janet says, “It’s there. She isn’t great but she’s improving.”

I still can’t see the difference. Janet tells me I have most of the expressions “down pat” but she says I’d better not try the other one without more practice, a lot more practice.

“Lucy Ann, shoulders back.”

I immediately raise my head, put my shoulders back, suck in my tummy and sit up straight.

“That’s better. Good night, girls, don’t stay up too late.”

After Mom goes to her room, Janet looks at me, “What does she want from you? A Victorian lady?”

“I don’t know. The more I try to remember this, the more people accept me without question, so I guess it is helping.”

“Mom tried to drill all that into me too. It wasn’t until I moved out that I began to relax a little. It is great training, though, especially if you are going to be going to highbrow affairs. One doesn’t want to look like a chicken amidst the peacocks.”

I start laughing and moments later Janet joins in.

We decide to also call it a day and I shut down the TV, removing the tape before shutting off the VTR. It’s a little warm so I open my window to allow some air in; the screen will keep out the bugs. Happy makes himself comfortable on my bed and I tell him to move over which he does, grudgingly.

-o~O~o-

When I awaken halfway through the night, I discover he has reclaimed his territory and I’m sleeping on the edge of the bed. Pulling on the covers I roll him over so I have more room and slide further in before he can react. He just goes back to sleep.

-o~O~o-

Sometime in the early morning I wake up to paws scratching my stomach as Happy looks at me with his head held low. Then he lets loose a quiet, “Woof” and jumps off the bed, then pads toward the door. Another quiet “Woof” and he is out the door. I get up to see what’s bugging him when I hear him bark loudly several times, start growling and it sounds like he’s going into attack mode. A few seconds later he yelps and everything is silent again.

I go out to see what’s going on and Mom and Sis have turned on their lights. The light spilling from Sis’s room shows me the figure of two men coming up the stairs with a third just entering Sis’s room. I yell at Mom to call the police and go on the attack. The first man, closest to me, swings a knife at me. I manage a lucky withdrawal and the tip just slices across my nightgown. I play ‘let’s put the knife in your own stomach’ with him and flip him over the railing to let him crash to the first floor as I charge down to Sis’s room where she has started screaming.

The guy never sees me coming and drops to the floor under my attack. He spins to get up and I slam a one-two blow at his nose, first breaking it, then driving it up and back. He drops like a rock. Now I need to get out of the room and find the other one. I take a quick glance to see if it’s okay to go out through the door and then I’m out and hunting. I hear Mom on the phone screaming at the police but I don’t see number three. A quick check of my room yields nothing. Maybe he bugged out when the other two went down.

Mom finishes on the phone and comes out but I motion to her to wait and to be quiet. Sis has also come out of her room with my old baseball bat. I motion for her to be quiet too. I listen carefully and don’t hear a thing. Taking a quick look over the railing I see the first one still on the floor below. He isn’t moving. I motion that I still want quiet and slowly start my search. The top floor seems clear, so I go down the stairs trying to avoid the creaky ones. A search of the first floor shows nothing and I hear a siren growing closer in the distant background.

Something isn’t right here. I can feel it.

My feelings lead me up to the second floor again. Mom and Sis are trying to stay out of the way and yet to be close for support if needed. I suddenly realize the only room I didn’t check was Mom’s. I hadn’t bothered, since she came out without a problem. I quietly go in, motioning for them to watch our backsides. A check under the bed and around the room yields nothing and the damn siren is getting close enough that it is hard to hear if someone is in the room. I motion for them to come in as I want to check the closet. The door is open just a crack and Mom’s hand suddenly touches me. I jump back involuntarily because it surprises me.

“That door was closed when I went to bed.” she whispers close to my ear.

The siren has pulled up outside so keep an eye on the closet door as I whisper to Mom to go down and let them in. “Tell them the third one might still be up here.”

Mom goes out and I hear the stairs creak as the police begin to pound on the door.

The pounding stops about the same time the closet door bursts open and the sneaking coward is coming at us with a knife. Janet drops the bat and shrieks as she tries to get away. I just miss being opened up like a can of sardines. The creep is yelling obscenities at us as he continues to swing the knife, trying to gut me, just like the one downstairs.

I’m backing across the room looking for an opportunity and Sis has stopped screaming and has finally recovered the baseball bat. The creep takes another swing at me, cutting my gown near the place the first one caught it. They must have been trained to gut their opponents. He presents an opening to me and I’m about to take it when a shot thunders through the room. Mr. Creep pitches to the side, falling away from the door like he was hit with a sledgehammer. He gets up once again, his face a mask of rage, and slashes at Janet as another shot takes him to the floor. This time he doesn’t get up. I think I’ve gone deaf. Don’t remember handguns being that loud before.

My ears are ringing and everything is pretty quiet. Janet is crying now and I try to comfort her but my own tears are getting in the way. Mom comes running in and we all sit on the bed crying together. Mr. Creep is dead by the time help arrives.

The one in Janet’s room doesn’t make it to the hospital. The third one who had his own knife in his stomach has survived both the knife and the fall. He makes it to the hospital and will be charged with attempted murder.

The following day, I make a deposition concerning my part in this whole fiasco, since my orders will take me out of here before any further actions can be taken, although they know where they can find me. The father of the three was outside in their car and the neighbors saw him peel out just before the sirens arrived. He won’t get far. The turds killed Happy. When I discover that, I want them to give me the third man and turn their backs. I also want their Father. This isn’t over!

The police take their time to calm me down. The officer who watched me playing with the creep in the hospital parking lot is trying to convince me that they will do everything to prevent the Father and the surviving son from ever doing anything to a woman again.

“If it’s any satisfaction to you, I’m with you. If these creeps had been trying to do something to my mother or sister, I wouldn’t rest until they were six feet under. We’ll make certain they get what’s coming to them.”

I try to be polite and ladylike but I tell him that his idea of what’s coming to them and mine are somewhat different.

He laughs and nods his head. Grabbing my hand, he kisses it, as I give him an incredulous ‘What’s this all about?’ stare.

“Your mom’s lucky she has a daughter like you. I think I’m going to convince my wife to allow my daughters to learn martial arts. Who knows when it might come in handy?”

He gets up and leaves and I suddenly remember that I’m dressed only in my cut up nightgown.

Mom and Sis are both wearing their robes.

The police are still downstairs completing their reports and checking things.

“Lucy Ann, you get right in your room and put on something decent. I’m ashamed of you,” Mom says, which is oddly reassuring.

The two officers downstairs look up, smiling at us as I hang my head and go to my room. “Don’t be too hard on her, Ma’am. If she hadn’t been here you all would probably be dead now. She did the town a service. We won’t be too much longer. Maybe an hour.”

I’m dressing when I hear another commotion downstairs and peek out my door to see what’s going on. It’s that reporter again. He heard the three sirens charging around town headed in our direction and turned on his police radio. He heard the calls as the police reached the house and was on his way over when he heard yet another call go out asking for an ambulance, then he put two and two together and got three (the wrong three, thankfully).

Mom goes downstairs to put on coffee, and moments later Janet and I are going down, now out of our nightgowns and in shorts and blouses. I go check on Happy again but nothing can be done, he’s gone. They gutted him the way they tried to gut me. I’ll miss him, a lot. I want the father. I want him really bad. I would like to raise him by his feet and make a couple of slices to….

“LUCY ANN, you stop those thoughts this instant.”

I forgot to tell you, Mom’s a mind reader.

I get up from Happy with tears in my eyes and Sis comes over to take me into the living room where we sit and cry for a while both in grief and relief.

It’s nice being a woman. I can cry and get the grief and shock out. Then again, I’m crying because we all survived, all except Happy. That will hurt for a while.

I think about the four spots where the bodies had been lying. We may be able to clean up the blood, but the memories of what transpired and ended at those four spots can’t be dealt with as easily.

-o~O~o-

The sun finally pokes its head above the horizon, following a slow spread of light across the sky. The clouds are fluffy and turning pink and golden, then white as the light of day increases. A locksmith is coming to fix the back door. Mom is going to have deadbolts installed too. I give her three hundred of my personal cash to help replace the carpets after I spend the morning preparing a place for Happy in the back yard, where he used to lie watching the various small wildlife traipsing through the yard.

When he was a lot younger he would chase them but they always got away. Finally, he learned to just lay back and watch, even when they got close. I saw a field mouse walk right up to him one day and touch noses while he watched it. It turned and ran off but he let it go. For a dog he must have been quite a philosopher.

-o~O~o-

We go back to the shop to purchase the rest of my trunks and some paint. The handkerchiefs I purchased are coming in handy, for all of us. The neighbors drop by now and then, and Mrs. Cavendish brings over a platter of her orange flavored cookies for us to munch.

Mom invites her to supper, but she declines. I don’t remember people acting like this since Dad died.

The reporter drops by again, not for more news but to let us know that the father has skipped. The police went to the house and discovered he had been there and gone. No one quite knows where. They have a few leads to investigate. The surviving son is being held on three counts of attempted murder while the District Attorney drafts the final charges. If they ever find the father, he will be charged as an accessory at least, and probably as an accomplice and co-conspirator, which could make him a murderer, depending on what the DA can come up with. I can’t say I’m sorry.

My life has been filled with complications since becoming a woman and I haven’t even finished the change. I hope it settles down enough that I can raise a family.

Two girls and two boys, that would be nice. Maybe the boys first, so I’m able teach them to protect their sisters.

Janet has gone home to Tony and things are starting to settle down again. Mom called the carpet company and they are going to come out and measure the rooms this afternoon. The rest of the week is spent picking up my gowns, finding little things here and there that I need, and painting the six trunks. I’m getting better at my makeup. The video tape helps a lot. I’ve continued my exercises, but I continue to have difficulty in the chest department.

Mom measures me and decides I’m growing, so I decide to go into Cheyenne and pick up a new set of breast forms to have just in case. If I grow past those, then I’ll just have to do without and wait to see how I do. “I haven’t changed that much, so I think I’ll wait a little,” I tell her. I put all my uniform jackets in the shop for alterations which will allow me just a little spare room until I need new forms. I figure that’s about two or three months away. I wonder if the doctors can give me something to help me develop? That might be nice, I could get used to having my own breasts. I almost take these forms for granted now.

“Head up, shoulders back. Lucy, it’s time for you to practice something else. Please come inside with me.”

I wonder what else there could be as I walk into the house.

“Go upstairs and bring down a pair of your pumps.”

As I climb the stairs I look at Mom with a ‘What’s going on, Mom?’ expression.

“You just get the pumps and come back down here.”

I pick out my most comfortable pair of black pumps and return to her in the living room.

“Now, put them on and come stand over here.”

Mom’s getting weird on me. I take off my flats and slip on the pumps, then go to stand beside Mom, who is holding a large book in her hand and has just stepped up on the hassock. “Come closer,” she says.

I look at her suspiciously, wondering if she’s going off the deep end, when she tells me to stop fooling around and stand right next to her.

“Stand up straight, head up, shoulders back, tummy in. Come on, Lucy, you know all this stuff.”

I do what she says and she plops the book onto my head. “Now hold still and balance that book.”

I instinctively reach up one hand to steady it as it starts to wobble.

“NO. Do it without using your hands.”

Easy for you to say, I think to myself, but try anyway.

After about ten seconds the book begins to slide off. I catch it and Mom says, “Put it back on your head.”

I wonder again what this is all about as I manage to balance the book once more. This time it stays more than ten seconds as Mom watches me.

As we approach the 30 second mark, “All right, now walk over to the doorway and back without dislodging the book.”

What is this? I turn and, of course, the book falls off.

“Pick it up and try again.”

Mom has gone off the deep end all right. I’m well into thirty seconds of standing when Janet comes into the house. “Hi, Mom. Where are you?” she calls from the hall.

“In the living room, Janet.”

Janet flows into the room, takes one look and breaks out laughing. “I wondered how long it would take before you had her trying to learn that. Here, Lucy, give me the book and watch.”

Janet stands there and puts the book on her head, then turns and walks to the door, turns and returns. The book remains on her head.

“You need to learn to allow yourself to flow along instead of bouncing. Don’t worry, after a day or two you will be able to do it too. The idea is to always think the book is on your head and you want it to stay there. If you walk with a bounce then the book will fall off.” She looks at me and starts laughing, “The look on your face is priceless. Come on, let me get a book and we’ll do it together,” she hands me my book.

The next hour is spent with me becoming more and more frustrated.

Janet comes up with an idea, “Mom where’s the video camera? Could you tape us walking next to each other so we can play it back and she can see the difference?”

Mom goes out, returning in about a minute with the case holding the video camera and its power supply/charger. She puts the battery into the charger while she goes and hunts for a blank tape. She returns and plugs the charger into the camera allowing the battery to continue its charging while running the camera off the supply side of the charger. The power cord is about 10 feet long, so she’s able to move around a little. The cable from the camera to the VTR is also about ten feet.

“Okay, I’m taping, go ahead,” she says.

Janet puts her book on her head and tells me just to walk next to her without a book. We cross the room and return, then Mom says, “Do it again.”

We walk to the door and back. Mom takes the camera down from her shoulder, “That’s a relief,” she says. “It’s heavy!” She pops the tape out, puts it into the VTR, and then turns on the TV while rewinding the tape. After the TV warms up, Mom pushes play and we watch Janet smoothly flowing across the room with me moving beside her.

“See the difference?” Janet says.

I don’t quite get it yet, and watch the second performance. I get the remote and rewind then play the whole thing again. I still don’t get it.

“Try fast forward and watch your head and shoulders,” Mom says.

I rewind once more and put it into fast play. Now I can finally see it; Janet is smooth and silky as she crosses the floor and I look like a basket ball dribbling in comparison to her. I play it at normal speed and now I see the difference in our movements.

I must look shocked, since Janet grabs my arm, “don’t worry about it,” she says. “After a couple of days, it will all come naturally. Come on, race you to the door.”

We put the books on our heads and before I take two steps mine falls off while Janet is now standing at the doorway looking back at me with her book still on her head. Her hands didn’t touch it once except to put it up there.

“Watch, Lucy.”

Janet continues out the door and up about five or six stairs, turns and comes down again. The book hasn’t moved. Oh, maybe turned a little but it is still in nearly the same place on her head. Now I’m determined. I’m going to master this if it takes all day. (It did and the next day too, among all the other things I need to do) Finally I am able to make it up and down the stairs without my book falling off.

Mom adds a new video to the same tape and I play it again start to finish. There I am playing ping-pong and finally there I am flowing just as smooth and silky as Janet did yesterday morning.

I smile my, ‘I did it.’

Mom nods and says, “Yes, you did it. Keep practicing until you can walk anywhere in the house without it falling.”

I put the book back on my head and in half an hour am following her up and down the stairs and into the kitchen then walking all around the first floor. Finally I quit. “Mom, my legs are killing me again.”

“They’ll be better. You’re using your muscles differently again, so they are complaining. If you get a big book, then after your surgery you should practice walking again until it comes naturally. This helps teach you to hold your head up and stand tall and straight. If you don’t, then the book falls off. It also teaches you to flow across a room. A lady glides, a scullery maid bounces. A lady shows finesse in EVERYTHING she does. Walking, talking, eating, sleeping, her expressions are smooth and carefully orchestrated. She doesn’t crash from one expression to another; she gently and smoothly slides from one to another. It may be quick but she always flows in her approach. A lady may sometimes act like a scullery maid, but a scullery maid will never act like a lady. She has never had the training.”

I break down in tears, an all too common occurrence lately.

“Mommm,” I wail. “I want to be a lady. I don’t want to be a scullery maid.”

“Then pay more attention, Lucy, you have watched me for years. Think. Remember how I move, how I do things. I know it’s all in there,” she taps me on the head, “so use it. Practice it. Learn from your memories. Learn from what you remember of me and of Janet. She could do it if she so chooses. She knows how. You have all the information now. Practice it. Now, sit up straight, dry your tears and put that book on your head. Get up and walk to the door and back, then sit, and don’t knock the book off your head.”

I look at her incredulously. Get up and sit down? O… kay….

Mom grabs the book from my hands and puts it on her own head. She gets up and walks to the doorway, does a complete spin before returning to the chair and sitting once more. She takes the book off her head and hands it to me.

“When you can get up, walk to the door and back and sit again without dislodging the book call me to watch.”

“Okay…, I mean…, yes, Mom. I wish you had started teaching me this stuff ten years ago.”

“Don’t be silly. Boys don’t flow. Girls do.” Mom gets up and leaves the room as I watch her ‘flow’ from the chair and out into the entryway, listening to her ‘flow’ up the stairs. I can even hear it in her footsteps. I’m in more trouble than I could ever have imagined.

---

To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 
 

previous material:

Mom grabs the book from my hands and puts it on her own head. She gets up and walks to the doorway, does a complete spin before returning to the chair and sitting once more. She takes the book off her head and hands it to me.

“When you can get up, walk to the door and back, and then sit again without dislodging the book, call me to watch.”

“Okay…, I mean…, yes, Mom. I wish you had started teaching me this stuff ten years ago.”

“Don’t be silly. Boys don’t flow. Girls do.” Mom gets up and leaves the room as I watch her ‘flow’ from the chair and out into the entryway, listening to her ‘flow’ up the stairs. I can even hear it in her footsteps. I’m in more trouble than I could ever have imagined.

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Tue, 2008/11/04 - 6:00pm, Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 12 is revised and reposted on Mon, 2009/12/14 - 10:18 AM ~Sephrena

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Now let's see what other mischief may be found in this continuing saga of Lucyhood:

Chapter 12

 

I practice, then I practice, then somehow I find time to practice some more. Mom comes down and tells me she is going into town for a couple of hours. She tells me, “I hope that you will be able to show me some improvement by the time I get back.”

“Me too, Mom. Bye.” We kiss the air cheek to cheek, and she goes into the garage.

I hear the automatic garage door opening a minute later as I’m walking up and down the stairs trying to keep my head up and the book in place. It’s hard to navigate stairs without looking at them. I’m learning to take a glance and then use the position of everything else to remind me where each stair should be.

It isn’t too difficult in shorts but what if I had to do it in a gown? That makes me think. I rush up and change. Adding my jewelry as well so I am wearing everything and every possible distraction and obstruction that might inhibit my smooth progress is in place. I don’t have enough confidence to go down the stairs first, so I carefully make my way down then put the book on my head and walk around.

For some reason, it is a bit more difficult. My gown seems to bump things which it never did when I could look down and easily dodge them. I need to spot my path and remember it, walking it from memory.

This is a new sensation. I need to know exactly where I am without some of the references. Putting the book on the table I take a look and close my eyes walking my chosen path. At the end I reach down to touch the table and find my imagined path is off from my real one by a few inches. My eyes are still closed as I turn around and walk back a little more rapidly than I did the first time. Now I put the book on my head and repeat the path with my eyes open. Good so far. I repeat it to be certain it wasn’t a fluke before I decide to press my luck.

Closing my eyes, I walk the path. The book begins to slide a little but it stays on my head and I complete the circuit over and back without disaster. I open my eyes for a moment, checking my position in the room before I try to imagine the location of the stairs and, with my eyes again closed, walk past the table, out the door and over to the stairs before reaching out hunting for the banister. I missed my placement by six inches or so but after waving my hand around a moment or two and almost losing the book I manage to make contact with the banister to discover I’m not centered on the stairs.

Holding the banister with the book still firmly on my head and my eyes still closed, I slowly climb the stairs. My gown tries to trip me, of course, since I’m not holding it with both hands. The book seized that golden opportunity to fall from my head. I open my eyes and make my way down again carrying the book.

At the bottom I place the book on the stand next to the stairs and practice going up and down several times without holding the banister and while holding the skirt of my gown up properly.

I continue this a half a dozen more times until I can do it at speed. Up and down, up and down. I realize suddenly that I’m bouncing again and try another half dozen times, but flowing. Now I place the book on my head once more and repeat the challenge nearly at speed. Success. Twice more I try with one failure and one success. I continue this until I have had six successes in a row. Now for the next step. Once again at the bottom of the stairs I close my eyes and more slowly make my way up. Now the real thriller, without opening my eyes I go back down somewhat tentatively. A few more repeats and I am going up and down at speed with the book on my head and my eyes closed. I might make this work after all.

Now for the hard part.

Going into the living room I sit while properly holding my gown then I place the book on my head and attempt to get up. The book falls off and I’m not even half way up. I try a dozen times and each time it is the same result. It’s that little jerk I make as I first begin to rise. I practice getting up and sitting without the jerky movement. That’s quite a challenge. I finally do it in slow motion feeling the muscles in my legs complaining. Getting up and down smoothly is all in the legs.

It feels unnatural, probably because I never needed to do it this way. Mom’s lecture about ‘a scullery maid can never act like a lady’ comes to mind and I am determined to complete my training or at least this portion of it. I’ll be a lady if it kills me.

If I find a prince I don’t just want to wash his dishes and darn his socks, I want the whole enchilada or, perhaps, soufflé. I continue to attempt my rise out of the chair until I think I’m beginning to get the hang of it. Now I try to sit without leaning, impossible. It must be done only with the legs. I put the book on my head and try to get up. My legs are screaming every second but I make it up and the book is still on my head. I try sitting and manage to grab the book before it makes it to the floor.

Once again the book goes on my head, my hands gather my gown and I rise putting all my effort into my legs. Again I make it, so I walk to the door and back.

My legs are thanking me for the change. I try to sit again and manage to capture the book before it falls to my shoulders. I decide to combine my successes for my first ‘ultimate’ challenge. The book goes on my head, I close my eyes and get up walking to the doorway, turning and going to the stairs then holding my gown walk up to the second floor.

“That was pretty good.”

The book falls to the floor as I open my eyes to turn and see Janet standing at the front door.

“You don’t know the half of it. My eyes were closed.”

“Do it again. Let me watch.”

I pick up the book and go back down to the room, sit down in the chair and carefully place the book on my head. Closing my eyes, I get up and the book rewards me by staying in place. I walk to the doorway, out and then walk over to the stairs, climbing up while holding my gown, reaching the top without a problem. I open my eyes and remove the book. After walking down the stairs again, I go back in and sit.

“You’ll never do it if you are always going to sit like that.”

“What’s wrong with the way I’m sitting?”

“It isn’t how you are sitting, it’s how you sit down. You are leaning forward. You can’t do that. Your body must stay almost vertical otherwise the book will fall off.

The reason for the whole exercise is to teach you to remain upright all the time. A lady doesn’t lean except as a form of expression. Don’t give me that look, I’ll bet Mom showed you and she doesn’t lean. Here watch, I’ll do it slowly.”

Janet comes over and flows down into the chair like she’s on a gentle breeze. I try it and feel like I’m in the middle of a hurricane.

“Stand up. Now when I tell you to sit, go down slowly. Use your legs it will help shape them as well as strengthen them. I’ll help you stay upright. Whatever you do don’t plop into the chair.” she moves her arm and hand gracefully to emphasize, “When you sit, flow gently and smoothly down like a feather landing on a soft pillow. Ready?”

I nod She places an arm around me, “Remember slowly and smoothly. Sit”

I start down trying to hold my body upright with just my legs doing the work of getting me there. I can feel Janet straining to keep my torso upright and habit is trying to make me lean. After a few jerks on the way down I am seated.

“Again. Get up. NO!” she stamps her foot. “You know how to get up properly, DO IT.”

She’s beginning to sound like Mom. I rise fluidly out of the chair.

“That was great, Sis.” That’s the first time I ever heard her call me ‘Sis.’

“Could you let me see you get up just one more time before we continue to practice sitting?”

I crash back into the chair and gathering my gown, flow back up.

“Wow. You’re getting good. I’m going to need to practice again so I can keep up to you. Okay, let’s try sitting again.”

She puts her arm around me once again and I try sitting. “That was better, ten or fifteen more and you may have it.”

Well it wasn’t ten or fifteen. It was maybe a hundred and almost an hour. Mom came home before Sis says I have it down.

“Okay you did it ten times in a row with me helping now do it by yourself.”

I rise out of the chair flowing like any lady should. Walk to the doorway and back and then flow once more onto the chair.

“Great. Now put the book on your head.”

I was afraid she would remember the book. I should have hidden it while we were practicing.

“Come on, Sis, you’ve got to get this right.”

I place the book on my head and gathering my gown and my courage, rise up out of the chair walking toward the doorway.

“Keep going out and up the stairs.”

She follows me as I continue and watches me hold my gown as I climb the stairs.

Upon reaching the landing I hear her say, “Walk down the landing, turn and come back down the stairs. Don’t drop the book.”

I do as she says, her critical eye watching my every move.

When I am nearly to the bottom she says,” Now go into the living room and sit on the sofa.”

Now that’s a little different. The chair was a challenge but the sofa is even lower and more difficult. I reach the sofa and sweep my gown out of the way gently allowing the whisper of air to settle me onto the sofa before the gale might blow me into the next county.

“Mommm. She’s ready.”

Mom comes in wearing her red gown, “It’s about time, I had almost given up. Go bring your gown in from the car and get ready, use my room.” When is Tony arriving?”

Sis looks at the clock, “About twenty minutes. He’s guiding Jack here. Jack is driving his own car.”

“Good, You may all follow me from here.”

“Mommm. What’s going on?”

“It’s a kind of celebration. We are doing it tonight since the men can’t make it tomorrow night.”

“Celebrating what?”

“Lucy, don’t be dense. We are celebrating you becoming a lady.”

“A lady?”

“Well, almost. I know there is still a lot for you to learn and we will help where we can, but you are well on your way. Tony is coming over to pick up Janet and Jack will take you….”

“WHAT? MOM, I can’t date a guy.”

“Why not? Women quite often date men, don’t they?”

“Yeah, but….”

“What did I tell you about saying ‘yeah’? ”

“Mommm!” Oops, the look again. “Yes, Mom. I can’t go on a date with a guy.”

“Lucy Ann you are going on a date and you will be a refined young woman. You will not engage in anything I think is improper, and you know what I think would be unladylike. Janet and I will be there with you, so just relax and have fun. Jack is a nice young man, he won’t try to get into… anything he shouldn’t. You’re not married yet, so there is no reason you can’t go on this date.”

“But…, I…, Mommm!”

Mom comes over and reaches out, touching my cheek, “I know you’re frightened, honey. Janet and I will be right there. Now go up and check your lipstick and makeup.” She pushes me out the door toward the stairs and when I’m almost to the top, calls out, “PUT ON THE RIGHT SHOES, those don’t go with the gown.”

I transfer my ID and some money and other things like my compact and lipstick and so on into my clutch before I sit at the vanity and check my face. I’m not made up for an evening so I spend the next fifteen minutes getting ready. I can’t believe it, I’m going out on a date, with a man. I finish my make up and take my perfume liberally spritzing myself. My heart is pounding like a triphammer. This isn’t like receiving orders and following them; this is… a date. A real date. With somebody who thinks I’m a girl. I remember Mom’s last words and change my shoes to the powder blue pumps.

Rushing to the railing, “Mom, should I wear my mink jacket?”

“That would be nice; but not the coat, though. The white will go well with your gown. Could Janet borrow your beige fox? The jacket, I mean.”

“Certainly, does it match her gown?”

“I think it will, closely enough.”

“What will you wear?”

“I have a Chinchilla I can wear. Thanks for asking.”

I take the fox jacket out of the closet and go to Mom’s room, “Sis…, Sis, may I come in?”

“Come on. Great timing, here, zip me. Thanks for letting me borrow the fox.”

“What are sisters for?”

We hug and touch cheeks.

“You’re doing pretty well for us having sprung this on you.”

“I’m shaking like a leaf. If I don’t faint before we get out the door I think I may be all right. What if he wants to kiss me?”

“You’ll have to decide that at the time, I guess. We told him you’re engaged so he probably shouldn’t be going to try anything. He might still forget himself and try for a small kiss when he takes you home. Just don’t go up to the ridge with him.”

“Are you kidding? I don’t want to get within ten miles of it. Here, to wherever we are going, and back. That’s it, end of adventure.”

Just then the doorbell rings and I feel my face flush, then a rush of blood in my ears and the lights going out as I collapse to the bed.

“Lucy, Lucy, are you all right? Mom! Mom!!”

I can hear her, but faint and far away. My limbs seem frozen and I cannot move.

“What is it, Janet? Oh my goodness, what happened?”

“She was telling me she’s really nervous, Mom. Then, when the doorbell rang, she fainted.”

“Janet, go get an ice cube. Tell the men we’ll be down in a couple of minutes, I put them in the living room.”

When I’m able to open my eyes, Mom is sitting there patting my face with a cold wet wash cloth.

“Lucy Ann, how do you feel?”

“I’m okay, Mom. What happened?”

“You fainted just a little. Nerves, I expect. Are you better now?”

“I guess so. I’m scared shitless….” I see her face scowl at me, “Sorry, I’m really afraid, Mom.”

“I know, honey, all girls are like this on their first date. We get excited and frightened and very emotional and then when we take our gentleman’s arm we start to calm down and remember we are ladies and nothing fazes us. Lucy, please just enjoy this night. He’s tame and won’t hurt you. He’s probably just as nervous as are you. He knows this is an important occasion for you but doesn’t know why and we don’t need to tell him. He knows you are engaged but he doesn’t need to be told anything else, so you probably shouldn’t try to explain. Just relax and be an attractive young woman. All right?”

“I’ll try, Mom. Is it okay if I’m still a little frightened?”

“Absolutely, baby. Just be yourself, you’re a charmer, so he can’t help but like you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of, Mom. Maybe he’ll like me a little too much.”

“Then just slap his wandering hand, and if necessary, his face but don’t put a lot of effort into it. He has to stay conscious you know.”

I laugh. Janet returns from my room and she hands me my clutch and mink.

Mom says, “Wait a minute, Lucy,” and goes to her night stand. She returns with two small packages. “Put these in your purse. If he is thinking about trying anything, then a discreet visit to the ladies room to change your tampon before we leave the Restaurant should be enough to dissuade him.”

I catch on quickly, accepting the tampons, “Thanks, Mom, that’s a great idea. I’ll pretend I need to do that. You know something, Mom. Now I feel calmer.”

“Okay, girls. Lucy, follow Janet. Let’s go wow them.” Mom picks up her purse and Chinchilla wrap.

We enter the living room and I recognize Tony, so the one with his eyes bugging out of his head must be Jack. Janet introduces us and Jack is speechless. He just keep staring. I look at Sis and then at him out of the corner of my eye with a little ‘Okay, what’s wrong with him?’ question on my face.

Janet looks at him, “Jack? JACK? What are you going to do, stand there and stare all evening?”

“Oh no, sorry, Janet, Lucy. I just…, I mean…, Wow! You’re beautiful.”

I glance at Mom with an ‘Are you sure about him? He seems a little funny to me…’ look on my face. Mom just smiles at me.

Jack is still trying to take his foot out of his mouth and not succeeding.

Finally, he says, “Excuse me, may I start over? Lucy, I am very pleased to meet you. I’m sorry, but when they said I would be escorting Janet’s younger sister, I just had visions of someone who couldn’t get a date for whatever reason. You’re a knockout. I….” Abruptly, he holds out his arm for me to take.

Still looking at Mom with questions in my eyes, I accept it.

I’m not afraid now. I’m just considering how I might safely incapacitate him long enough that the men in white coats could come to reclaim him. He’s obviously escaped from some asylum.

Mom goes to take the sedan out of the garage and Tony and Janet make their way to Tony’s car. Jack walks me to his and opens the door of his car to allow me to flow inside. He is watching my every move like an Eagle looking down at a rabbit, considering whether he wants it for supper or not.

Mom leads out in her car with Tony following her and Jack following Tony. He’s still trying to dig himself out of a hole. Finally I can’t stand it anymore.

“Jack! Relax. I understand. Don’t make it worse by trying to make it better. This was a surprise for me too. Let’s just enjoy the evening, all right?”

He gives a relieved laugh and then a little louder one, “Thanks, Lucy. I needed that. I guess I just didn’t expect someone so beautiful. How long are you in town?”

“I’m leaving the day after tomorrow.”

“Oh. I was hoping you would be here a little longer.”

“I’ve been here nearly a week and I must report back by Monday.”

“Report? You mean you go back to work Monday?”

“Yes. Not too long afterward I go overseas again.”

“Oh. So you’ll be gone a long time then.”

“Probably a year or more. Just like last time.”

“Wow. You travel a lot then. Have you seen Paris? I’m going to Paris next month. I’ll be there for three weeks before I continue to England and Cambridge where I’ll perform my post work in computer science.”

“Really? I have an extensive but self trained background in Computer Science. I understand COBOL and FORTRAN and UNIX. I’ve written a few small programs running under PASCAL and use them to do information analysis.”

“You’re joking.”

“Not at all. I’m an analyst and the Communication division has a number of computers which I get to use once in a while. Usually only when I have a big project which would take me too much time. That’s why I wrote the programs so I could narrow the information down to something I could deal with myself.”

“Wow. You’re the first woman I’ve met who actually uses a computer to help process real information. Most of us in the computer science department at the university just use them as learning aids, to practice what we might do someday. It’s funny. Here you are home on vacation and then on your way again. I’m home on break and then I’m on my way to more schooling and research. Put that in your computer and calculate the odds.”

“Jack, I don’t need a computer for that. We’re both from around here, so we’re looking at about one in… oh… say… one and a half times ten to the fourteenth, taking into consideration the entire period we’ve both been in town and away. You’d have to account for our time spent elsewhere, since we might have met anywhere, and the number of people who work with computers in the USA, not to mention the rest of the world. Then figure in the time of year and the increased probability of our paths crossing during your summer break as opposed to, let’s say, winter during your classes…. Add in the fact that you know someone in my family….” I level a meaningful stare at my sister. “Taking all in all, that’s probably — give or take a decimal point here or there — about one in six and a half times ten to the fifth. Long odds, but obviously not impossible.”

“You’re kidding. Wow. Beautiful and a brain too. Do you dance?”

“Yes,” I answer, with a smile on my face, and in my voice, “I dance too.”

“Wow.”

I suddenly realize I’m enjoying myself just talking with him. I begin to wonder where we are going when I see Mom’s car turning into the country club about fifteen miles outside Cheyenne, Tony and then Jack follow her. We meet in the parking lot and walk in together. I look at Janet and she is holding onto Tony like she never wants to let go. Mom is leading the way and Jack and I are coming up in the rear. I’m holding Jack’s arm, but definitely not as intimately as Janet is to Tony. Geez, my first date. We go in and check our wraps. This is the first time Jack has gotten a look at me when I’m not covered in fur. His jaw drops. I decide to play with him a little.

I whisper, “What? Is there something on my gown?” and make like I’m trying to find some spot I hadn’t noticed.

“Sorry. No, there’s nothing. I just…. My gosh, Lucy, you’re beautiful.”

“You told me that before.”

“Yeah but that was just your face. Now the fur is gone and I can see your whole figure. You’re really cute.”

He dug his hole deep enough, now I wonder if he can find the way out of it.

“Actually I’ve put on a little weight. I need more exercise to take it off again.”

“Whatever. I still think you’re cute just the way you are. You don’t look overweight. Maybe you’re like me, I have big bones so people always think I’m chunky. You’re ravishing, I don’t think there’s an ounce of fat on you.”

Well, he seems to be able to fill his holes without getting dirt all over himself.

The Mâitre d’ is leading Mom to a table…. Good, here we go.

The Mâitre d’ holds the chair for Mom, Tony for Janet, and Jack for me. I sit the way I have been practicing, noting a number of others, men and women, in the room watching our procession and seating. Our waiter comes to the table about a minute later and asks if we would like any refreshments before the meal. Mom and Janet each take a glass of red wine.

I thank him, but say I will be just fine with water until the meal. Tony asks for a beer and Janet’s eyes look at Mom and myself then go toward the ceiling. Jack declines also saying water is fine. The waiter scurries off between the tables reminding me of a mouse navigating a maze. Jack leans over and whispers,” I hope you don’t mind but I don’t want anything to drink tonight.”

I lean over to his ear and whisper back, “Not at all. I seldom do myself. Thank you for being so considerate.”

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To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 
 

previously read:

The Mâitre d’ holds the chair for Mom, Tony for Janet, and Jack for me. I sit the way I have been practicing, noting a number of others, men and women, in the room watching our procession and seating. Our waiter comes to the table about a minute later and asks if we would like any refreshments before the meal. Mom and Janet each take a glass of red wine.

I thank him, but say I will be just fine with water until the meal. Tony asks for a beer and Janet’s eyes look at Mom and myself then go toward the ceiling. Jack declines also saying water is fine. The waiter scurries off between the tables reminding me of a mouse navigating a maze. Jack leans over and whispers,” I hope you don’t mind but I don’t want anything to drink tonight.”

I lean over to his ear and whisper back, “Not at all. I seldom do myself. Thank you for being so considerate.”

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Tue, 2008/11/04 - 6:07pm, Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 13 is revised and reposted on Tue, 2009/12/15 - 10:47 AM ~Sephrena

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Ever onward:

Chapter 13

 

As we wait for our beverages, we watch a small dance band just setting up at the end of the room. All the dining tables here are on a carpeted floor which surrounds a small hardwood dance floor located in front of the band. There is enough room for perhaps ten couples to move freely, twenty if they are a bit more restrained. If every table has one couple dancing, there would barely be enough room for them to shuffle around slowly, something like the riders on a Tokyo commuter train at rush hour. We place our meal orders as the band ends its warm up. In a minute, quiet music begins to fill the room.

Jack asks me if I would like to dance and, startled, I look at Mom, who just looks back, giving me no clue.

“May I leave my purse here, Mom?” I say, resigned to my fate.

She smiles at us both and says, “Go ahead, you two.”

Obviously, I’m making the right decision.

Jack leads me out to the dance floor and we begin to sway to the music. As we are the only couple dancing at the moment, it’s easy, and I suddenly realize I’m enjoying it. I snuggle in a little closer as we follow the music and when the piece stops we wait for another to begin. Slightly faster in tempo, the band plays for us and once again my mind retreats to the pleasure of dancing with someone who is good at it, leads me gently, and who smells nice. Before I realize what I’m doing, I have my head on his shoulder and I close my eyes, just following his lead.

It seems like it’s hardly started when the second piece is ending and I open my eyes to see several other couples on the dance floor. We dance out a third selection, my head again on his shoulder, before Jack leads us back to the table and holds my chair as I sit down.

I thank him for the dances. Mom looks at me and I look at Jack, then back at her and flash my eyebrow. Tony asks Janet to dance and Mom asks me if I would mind if Jack dances with her maybe just once. I nod my agreement and they get up and go out to the floor. I watch Mom and see she is having fun.

They are into their second dance when our waiter arrives with the food and I let him know who ordered what. I tell him I would like tea but ask that he could perhaps return to learn what everyone would like to drink, “My tea can wait until everyone orders beverages.”

He thanks me and as the music dies down I give Mom and Janet the high sign, ‘Soup’s on.’ Everyone returns to the table and after Mom thanks Jack for the dances, I tell them, “The waiter will be back shortly for our beverage orders.”

We begin our meal after I say Grace at Mom’s unspoken insistence (she flashed her eyebrows at me again) and then we begin the meal. The waiter returns almost instantly and takes our beverage orders. It isn’t long before he returns again with my tea and the other drinks. As we all eat, we begin quietly talking and I’m having a great time being one of the girls. I am so absorbed in what becomes an animated discussion that I completely forget I am here on a date with a man and I’m dressed in an evening gown.

I notice Mom flashing me a warning and think about what I’m doing and where I am, then slowly bring myself back up to a more ladylike posture. I’d been leaning into the conversation too much, but try to make my recovery look natural, as though I had been attempting to emphasize a point. Mom flashes me a smile and quick eyebrow. I give her a smile back with my eyes, motioning them in a question about Jack. She gives me a little nod. I guess he had been paying attention to what I was doing.

Ladylike once again, I continue to cut my food and take small bites. The chicken is luscious. Just the right blend of herbs and spices. I try to decide what was used in the preparation. Janet has the fish and she is devouring it, delicately of course, so it must be good also. Tony had almost finished whatever it was he’d had, just gulping it down.

Jack is a little more reserved. He too has the fish and he is a little further along in his meal than I am, but he is acting the gentleman and trying not to get too far ahead of me. I look at Mom’s plate and try to decide what she is eating.

“How is it, Mom?” as I throw her my ‘what the heck is that?’ look.

“The Lamb is delicious, Lucy. You should have tried it.”

“I’m quite happy with the chicken. I wonder if they would give us the recipe?”

Mom allows a smile to drift across her face, “It wouldn’t hurt to ask. The worst is they might say no.”

Janet throws a glance at me like, ‘Why do you want the recipe?’ I throw one back, ‘I like to cook good food.’ It suddenly dawns on me that I am conversing with Mom and Janet in women’s ‘hidden’ language. It is passing over the heads of the men as though nothing was there. I give Mom and Janet a ‘thank you, I love you’ smile with my eyes and a hint on my mouth. They both throw one back to me. I dig for my handkerchief and dab at my eyes. Excusing myself to go to the powder room I ask Jack if he would, “be certain they don’t remove my plate, I’m not quite finished.”

As I depart the table, Janet gets up and follows me. We go in together and then have a quick sister to sister conversation as I splash a little water on my face and pat it dry with a paper towel and then my handkerchief.

Sis hugs me, “Welcome to the girl’s club, Sis.”

I hug back and break out into tears again, “I’m becoming an emotional mess.”

“Lucy, you’re becoming a woman. The men call us the ‘weaker’ sex and they don’t mean because we aren’t as physically strong. They mean it because we let our emotions show. They don’t understand that the emotions allow us to cope with stress and to intensely love or care. Those emotions allow us to communicate and we can share a bond with every other woman out there, no questions asked, no explanations needed. We’re all sisters.

“You’re a ‘mess,’ as you call it, because you’re learning all this in a crash course. You’re packing years of emotional study and development into a few short days. You’re jumping from a baby to a woman, bypassing the years which would allow you to learn and come to grips with the emotions you are now experiencing. Don’t worry, you’re doing great. As I said, ‘Welcome to the girl’s club, Sis,’ ”

Again I break out in tears. A few minutes and I again splash my face and pat it dry. I carefully fix my makeup and we go back to the table as though nothing has happened.

Mom gives me an ‘are you all right?’ look.

“I’ve started my little girl’s problem, Mom.” I tell her quietly, just loud enough for Jack to hear if he is listening.

“Do we need to leave?”

“No, it’s okay. I’ve handled it.”

Mom looks at Janet who flashes something to Mom that I didn’t catch and Mom looks at me with some concern before she allows the smile to return to her face as she picks up our conversation like nothing ever happened. Boy, have I got a lot to learn.

I have a feeling that Mom guided the evening into a close a little faster than was originally planned. Jack drives me home following Mom. While Tony and Janet go on to their home together. We arrive at the house and I thank Jack for a wonderful evening, apologizing for having to cut it short.

“Don’t worry about it. It was fun. I liked taking you out. In fact I had a lot better time than I usually do. Thanks for letting me do it.” He leans over and kisses my cheek. I put my hand up to it and then impulsively give him a little kiss on the lips before I begin to open the door to get out of the car.

“Wait.”

He gets out and goes around opening my door for me. I flow out of the car and he takes my hand and kisses it. “Thanks for a great evening, Lucy. I wish we had time for a few more but we both have commitments. Maybe we’ll run into each other again sometime.”

I thank him and tell him I really enjoyed it. I study his face for a few seconds before turning, walking up to the front door and going in, wondering briefly where Happy has gotten off to and then remembering everything.

A minute later I hear Jack drive off. Mom calls down, “Lucy, could you come up here?”

I can’t guess at her mood from her voice; she doesn’t sound mad or anything. I go up and find her sitting on my bed, the jacket Janet borrowed is on the bed behind her. She motions for me to sit down. I flow onto the bed beside her. She wraps an arm around me, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“About what, Mom?”

“About your emotions. About what you are feeling. About finally becoming a woman.”

I think about that as Mom watches my face.

“You really enjoyed it tonight, didn’t you, Lucy?”

“Yea…. Yes, Mom. I enjoyed it. I liked being able to communicate with you and Janet. I really liked that. And I liked the dancing. I just… I’ll… Mommm. What’s wrong with me?”

“Not a thing, baby. Not a thing. You just took your first big step to becoming a woman and it’s a little overwhelming. You haven’t had years to prepare for it like most girls. I thought it might be best if you experienced it while Janet and I are still close enough to lend you emotional support.”

Turning to look at my Mom, my tears again beginning to flow, “You know something, Mom? You’re really smart.”

She smiles a thank you at me.

“And that’s part of it, Mom. What you just did. It’s like a secret language only women know. I really enjoyed talking with you and Janet without saying words. And driving to the club, Jack and I were talking and I was able to lead him around just by talking. I could almost read what he was thinking. It’s scary. No…, it’s great.”

Mom smiles at me, “Welcome to the club, baby.”

“That’s what Janet said.

“Why don’t we call it a day. Put your things away and take a nice shower. You may feel a little better afterward. If you still need to talk I’m here anytime until you leave and then I’m as close as a phone.”

“How do we communicate without words on a phone?”

“You’ll see, Lucy. A mother and her daughters can tell each other a lot without using a lot of words. Words just get in the way sometimes. Whenever you come home, we’ll get reacquainted and quickly be able to know each other. You’ll see.” She pauses for a moment, collecting her thoughts.

“It isn’t easy to learn as you found out. But once learned it never goes away. Come on. Mom says, ‘go get cleaned up and have a good sleep now.’ We can talk more in the morning.”

“Thanks, Mom. Thanks for all your help. I want to be the best possible lady I can be. I want you to be proud of me, Mom.”

“I am, baby. I am very proud. Now scoot. Let me unzip you and you take a shower and get ready for bed.”

Mom unzips me and turns so I can unzip her. She walks off to her room as I start getting ready to take a shower. Tomorrow, Lady Lucy Ann Jackson is going to begin to take the world by storm.

Sometime during the night I think I hear Happy barking and wake up to remember what happened. Wherever he is now I hope he’s young again and having fun. We spent a lot of years together and he was a great friend, even if he did hate baths.

Mom comes in my room and sits on the bed. “Are you all right, baby?”

“Yes, Mom, I just had a dream.”

Her eyebrow raises for a few seconds.

“About Happy. I’ll miss him, Mom.”

“I know, baby. We all miss him.”

“Why did it have to be like that, Mom?”

“Honey, Happy was very old for a dog. He might easily have died in a year or so. This way, his death meant something, and he died in an act of pure heroism and love. He was trying to protect the family he loved, a tiny little dog against three big men with knives.” She begins to weep, her tears trickling down her face unheeded. “Happy would prefer that over wasting away incapacitated at the end. This way we will always remember him as fairly healthy and running around, keeping us company…. This way, his death has some meaning.”

“Mom, I still want to cry. Don’t you?”

“I do, honey, every day. I don’t like the fact that he’s gone from us any more than you do, baby. But I rejoice that he has gone somewhere where he’ll never grow old and he’ll always have children to play with and to keep company. We’d better get some sleep. We have a lot to do tomorrow. Pick up your uniform jackets, buy your airline ticket and pay for the extra luggage and trunks. We also need to pick up anything you may have forgotten, like condoms.” She says with an impish smile.

“Mommm.” Then I realize she’s right. Pretty soon I might just need them.

I finally drift back to sleep, again my sleep is punctuated with dreams but this time they are of Jack and dancing and a ride up to the ridge and the things that follow such a ride to such a remote place. Then we return to town and I’m trying to get our subsequent children ready for something the next day, all fifteen of them. I wake up suddenly, sitting up in a sweat and looking around wildly for my children. Then I realize that everything had been a dream and lay back again.

I lift the clock, looking at the time in the dim light from the window. ‘I need to buy a clock,’ I think. I won’t be able to count on the sounds of the base any more. Only two hours since my previous dream. This is ridiculous. It’s hot in here. I open my window for some cool night air and finally drift off to sleep again. This time my dreams are more normal and I recognize them as dreams and continue sleeping until Mom shakes me awake, “Come on sleepy head. It’s almost six. Have any more dreams about Happy?”

“Happy? No, Mom, no dreams.” For some reason, I’m embarrassed by what I can remember of the dream that had woken me last night.

“Good.” but she gives me her, ‘you’re not telling me something look,’ that I remember from growing up.

“What?” I ask.

“Nothing. You okay?”

“Yea… Yes, Mom, I’m fine. I just had weird dreams all night.”

“Tell me about them.” It wasn’t a question, it was an order. I could see it in her face.

I relate what I can remember of my ridiculous dreams and how I woke up hot and in a sweat. She smiles that knowing smile of hers and we sit on the edge of the bed for a little mother-daughter discussion about men and the birds and the bees. I’ve had this discussion with her before but from the ‘other side of the tracks.’ Somehow it seems more important now that I’m a woman, and different….

Mom goes on downstairs and I plunge into the shower. After I finish brushing my hair dry, I put on my underclothes, slip and a light summer dress. I slip on the pumps which go best with this dress and check my makeup again.

Everything looks okay but I have the terrible feeling I’ve forgotten something.

Finally, unable to place it, I go down to see if Mom needs any help with breakfast and find Janet sitting at the table with Mom in an animated discussion.

“Hi, Janet. Mom, do you need help with breakfast?”

“Hi, Sis. Thanks for letting me borrow your fur.” Janet has a strange expression on her face and it has nothing to do with the fur.

“No, I thought we might all go out for breakfast this morning.” Mom throws back at me.

“Well….” Sis always could see right through me. Of course she and Mom might have been talking about my dream.

“Well what?” playing dumb.

Janet gives me Mom’s ‘don’t play dense’ stare and I know it’s just a matter of time so I give up and go into all the gory details.

By the time we are headed for Denny’s we are all laughing and talking over each other and generally having the wonderful time I had always seen and envied when Mom and Janet were going somewhere together. Now that I’m a girl, I get to be part of it. We flow into the station wagon and make tracks to the highway and down to Denny’s.

We pretty much order the same thing and all ask for coffee. The coffee appears in short order, along with a carafe holding more. I add a spoonful of sugar to mine and am going for another when I see Mom giving me the warning stare. I sit up straight and continue for the sugar, getting the stare again. Putting two and two together I bring my spoon back empty and start stirring my coffee. Mom and Janet are taking theirs black. I am considering this as the conversation begins to pick up again and soon we are chatting away. Time flashes past and our food arrives. I notice that both Mom and Janet have no hash browns but instead a small pear half on a lettuce leaf.

The slices of ham are huge and I consider taking half of home to Happy when I remember what happened again. The loss flashes across my face and then is under control again.

Mom gives me a raised eyebrow and I just shake my head, no. I could use more eggs and less ham but finish eating, leaving more than half of the hash browns and about a third of the ham. Mom and Janet each finished their pear and about the same on the ham. I’m still getting unannounced lessons in being a woman.

We each leave a tip and pay our parts of the check, then we are out to the car. We still have half an hour before the shops open, so Mom takes us window shopping while we wait. A mannequin in one of the windows has on a skirt that says ‘I’m a tramp’ all over it. Oh, not in words, but in its length, or the lack thereof. I’m embarrassed for any girl who purchases one. I have one skirt which ends just above my knees and I have thought of it being somewhat risqué, but the one in the window is just too much. I don’t know whatever had got into me, purchasing the skirt I had, without thinking what it would look like. I suddenly realize that I’ll never wear it again.

I notice Mom looking at me as I stare at the skirt. She give me a ‘Do you want one of those?’ and I flash back ‘Not in this lifetime.’ She smiles with her eyes and gives me a nod that says, ‘You’ll do.’

We continue to look at things in the windows coming to a bikini which looks like three triangular napkins connected by strings. My face turns red and I turn away from the window. Mom just smiles.

The stores are beginning to open and we wander down the strip mall to the laundry where my uniform jackets have been altered. I try one on and it fits much better again. They are all ready, so I pay for the alterations and then we carry them out to the car. When they’re safely hung in the back seat, we go down a few blocks to Gowns Plus to pick up my first gowns. We check the shoes and clutches against the gowns and I try them on to be certain they fit (nice). After paying the $50 balance, the three of us carry everything out to the station wagon. It’s quite a load.

Macy’s won’t be open for an hour, so we go to the new grocery and stock up both for Mom and for Janet. I find a few things I could use and pick up a box of tampons as well. Mom looks at me for a second and her face floats a wistful look across it like she is losing her baby girl. I try to give her a ‘I’m a big girl now, Mom and I still love you’ but I guess it didn’t come out right because her eyes begin to fill with tears. Janet picks up on it right away and flat out asks, “Mom, what’s wrong?”

Mom shakes her head with a crooked smile and Janet looks at me with a ‘What happened? What’s wrong with Mom?’ expression.

I go over and hug Mom tightly, our faces touching cheek to cheek, “It’s all right, Mom. I’ll be back and I’ll always be your little girl.”

Janet catches on immediately and she comes over for a group hug as we both lend emotional support to Mom. Just as I was overcome emotionally due to my growing from a girl to a woman in just a few days, so too it has been necessary for Mom to experience her little girl growing up in a flash. All the effort and emotion necessary to produce the change, plus the assaults, then Happy’s death…. All this happening in such a short time is taking its toll, ravaging us both with many year’s worth of emotional upheaval packed into just a few days. The other women in the store are just walking around us like a stream flowing around a rock in its path.

Finally Mom regains her composure and we finish shopping. Janet tells Mom we better take the food home and come back for the stuff from Macy’s including our second check for the arrival of the additional cosmetics. Janet drives us home, as Mom’s eyes are still teary. We carry everything in, while Mom goes upstairs to wash her face and put on her makeup again. Janet and I hurry everything then go up to check on Mom, who is sitting on her bed sobbing. We sit on each side hugging her and offering what emotional support we might.

The events of the past few days plus the gaining of a second daughter, her training and the loss of her to some unknown male has taken its toll. About ten minutes and Mom is calming down. I kiss her cheek and hug her tight, receiving that crooked smile of hers in return. I give her the ‘Lucy Ann, you straighten up this instant’ look she usually gives me and she begins choking as she tries to laugh and cry at the same time. Janet was appalled at my message but when she sees the reaction she smiles at me. Mom finally wipes her eyes and blows her nose then takes another look at me and begins laughing.

Her face is suffused with a reflective smile as she shakes her head and looks at me. “You learned well, baby.”

“Thanks, Mom. I had a great teacher. In fact, I had two. Don’t think this lets you off the hook. I’ll be coming back for my postgraduate studies soon.”

Mom’s face lights up at the thought of her baby returning home time after time to learn more about being a lady and a woman. There is so much more than just looking feminine and dressing in feminine clothing, being able to cook and clean and wash and raise children. It is an entire culture. Then too, men may provide the necessary fertilization of a woman’s eggs and do the things which are needed to feed and clothe and house a family, but it is the woman who must provide the nurturing and guidance and examples and hidden values so necessary to prepare a civilization’s latest generation of children to become adults. She is the keystone.

Without her, our civilization would collapse. If our female children don’t learn all that is so necessary to be passed on to the following generation, then our civilization is doomed.

Mom says, “I think you will be a good mother, Lucy.”

I’ve never received higher praise, nor have I ever felt as much pride as I do now.

“Thanks, Mom, I couldn’t do it without you. Do you think you’ll be able to handle being called Grandmother?”

“I can, if you can handle being called Mom.”

I think about that and get a wistful far away look in my eyes, wondering who my husband will be and how he will handle being the father of my family. A smile slowly forms on my face as I consider the children I will have.

“Whoa, Mom. She can’t have kids before I do,” Sis complains.

“Why can’t I? Just because you were born first?”

“Because you can’t.”

“Can too.”

We get into a good-natured argument, with Mom playing the part of the referee.

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To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 
 

previous:

“Whoa, Mom. She can’t have kids before I do,” Sis complains.

“Why can’t I? Just because you were born first?”

“Because you can’t.”

“Can too.”

We get into a good-natured argument, with Mom playing the part of the referee.

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Wed, 2008/11/05 - 6:40am, Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 14 is revised and reposted on Wed, 2009/12/16 - 01:09 PM ~Sephrena

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Please, Mr. Custer, I don’t want to go. Forward Ho:

Chapter 14

 

We finish the shopping and, after going back to Mom’s and putting her share of the food away, Janet takes her purchases home, promising to return later this afternoon to help me pack and to say goodbye. Mom and I go to Macy’s and pick up my next two gowns and accessories. After they are in the car we go back to see if the rest of the cosmetics have arrived. A little perseverance finally yields the balance of my order, so I pay off the difference. We walk back out to the car and place them carefully, so as not to wrinkle the gowns.

Next stop is the travel agency, where I make my reservations and tell them about the excess weight which needs to go along. The ticket is about $125 but the excess weight and size is nearly $200. I pay the total charges, $350.71, and receive my voucher for the first class ticket, to be picked up at the commuter counter tomorrow morning in Cheyenne. I’m to leave at 10:20 and there is one change of aircraft on the way. I will arrive in Dallas about 2:50 in the afternoon.

The agent copies my orders and tells me that each trunk must have a copy inside and at least one on the outside. I ask if he could make me about twenty copies if I pay for them. He makes the copies and charges me fifty cents. Mom and I go home and I begin to pack. Everything fits in the six cases except for the clothes I’m taking to use everyday. Those go into my two large suitcases and I also have my cosmetics case.

Sis arrives again to help me with my packing. Mostly finished we carry everything down to the station wagon except the cosmetics case, one suitcase, one uniform and the clothes on my back. We talk for a while, saying more with our expressions than we do with words, and then just look at each other for a minute or two before we all burst into tears and hugs. Janet has to go home to prepare supper for Tony, so Mom and I separate for a while to compose ourselves.

Eventually, I go downstairs to find Mom sitting in the living room just staring. I flow onto the couch next to her and she leans over against me. “It’s so quiet in the house. I hadn’t realized how quiet it is when no one is here. Happy used to follow me everywhere or if he was out I knew he would be coming back and would get underfoot. He would need someone to take care of him. Your father was like that. Strong and self-sufficient, but he always needed someone to take care of him.

Janet moved out and it became so quiet except for Happy. You were off at OCS then, but I knew Janet was close and Happy was around and you would be coming back.

Now I just have Janet and you, if you survive your assignment. Things are so different now, Lucy.”

I don’t think Mom could have said all that to me if I was still male. As Lucy, she has someone to talk to, other than Janet I mean, and we all talked to Happy as if he could understand us. Sometimes I think he could understand us, at least on an emotional level, and just chose to pretend that he couldn’t. I’m still holding Mom as her head leans against my shoulder, her hand is on the dress on my leg and I hear her breathing slow, becoming shallower and more regular as we both wind down from the upheavals and excitement of this past week. We sit there for about an hour with her asleep against me. It’s been an emotional week.

I think about Happy and about Mom. Janet has her own life. She tries to check on Mom all the time but she has a lot to do herself. Some of Mom’s loneliness will fade when Janet has children. Mom will throw herself into caring for her grandchildren, helping to raise the boys to be gentlemen, and teaching the girls to be ladies and tutoring them in the unspoken language of the sisterhood of women.

I hope I am fortunate enough to have children as well. I think Mom will like that.

Mom has donated eggs for me and Janet has promised more so that I might have a share in the continuation of our family too.

Later Mom wakes up and starts supper, I find Tony’s number in the phone book and call. Janet answers the phone and almost immediately after I say, “Hi,” she wants to know what’s wrong. I tell her about what Mom was saying and discover again that Mom was right. The unspoken language can also be used across the phone lines, just a little differently.

I tell Janet that I’m leaving seventy dollars hidden under the night stand drawer in her old bedroom. I ask her to use it to buy two Golden Retriever puppies to give to Mom.

I hear her smile over the phone as she agrees. “If it isn’t enough, we’ll pay the rest,” she says.

I give her my love and say, “I’ll be looking for your first child when I get back a year from now.”

“Don’t rush me. We’re trying to save enough for our own home instead of a rental before we have any children. I took a week’s vacation from work to be with you and Mom this last week so I need to go back to work Monday.”

“Maybe you could get the puppies while Mom takes me to the airport? You have a key so you could get in to get the money while she’s gone.”

“Good idea. We’ll go out tonight after supper and see if we can find any. If they look good, we’ll make a deposit and pick them up in the morning. We could pick them up and leave them in the wash room by the back door. It has a linoleum floor and a baby gate to keep them from wandering into the rest of the house. Call me in a few days and I’ll let you know how it turns out.”

“Thanks, Sis…, and Sis….”

“Yes?”

“Thanks for taking care of your little sister all these years. It just took her a long time to figure out who she is and what really matters.”

I can hear her answer and all the little things implied in it as she says, “You’re welcome, Sis.”

We both hang up and I go out to see how Mom is doing. She’s cooking up a storm. You’d think she is about to feed a platoon.

“Mommm.”

“Yes, baby?”

“What’s with all the food?”

She looks at me as if I’m crazy. ’This isn’t much,’ her look implies.

I flash back, ‘It’s more than you and I could eat in a week.’

She pauses and looks at everything then sits and begins to cry again. I shut down the burners and drop the temp on the oven then go over and comfort her again.

I’m glad she’ll have those puppies. This is quite a change, all week she has been mothering me and now I’m mothering her. I pull a clean wash rag from under the sink and wet it down with cold water beginning to wipe her face free of tears and allow the cool feel of it to calm her again. A few minutes later, she’s regained her composure smiling at me.

“You know, Mom. Once I start a family, you’re on the hook to be babysitter and summer Mom. Even if we’re overseas, I’m going to at least send the girls to you for each summer. You may as well get used to the idea now.”

She laughs and smiles. Now her mind is projecting into the future and all the things she may be able to teach to her granddaughters.

“There’s just one thing, Mom.”

She looks at me with ‘What would that be?’

“Promise me you’ll start teaching them how to walk and act and use our hidden language while they are still young. This learning everything in less than a week is for the birds.”

She starts laughing. More than I’ve seen her in the whole time I’ve been home.

She pats my cheek and tries to answer breaking out in laughter again. She can’t even answer me with her face because it’s busy laughing. A minute or two goes by with her just beginning to calm down then she sees me flash, ‘So what’s your answer’ and she is off laughing again.

Finally she is able to answer between chuckles, “I… promise…, baby.”

“Wow. That’s a relief. I don’t know if I could handle another crash course even if I’m helping to give it.”

She’s off and laughing again. We have a great evening and put some of the excess food into the refrigerator. I finally remember about the movie rentals so we take them back before we forget them again. There was a small late charge which I paid since I’m the one who used the movies.

On our way home I tell Mom I feel like partaking of something sinful. We detour to a new place, Farrell’s, my treat. Mom orders a Chocolate Fudge Surprise and I go for the banana split, which is big enough for two. I don’t care, it doesn’t happen that often. Happily indulged we continue home.

I prepare my uniform for the morning, take a shower and put on some clean under wear, my uniform blouse and skirt then take my dirty clothes down to wash them.

As they are going Mom and I sit and talk or watch TV for a while. I move my things to the dryer and return to be with Mom. Later I remove my clothes from the dryer and go up to pack them after allowing them to cool. I then return downstairs to continue the much needed talk with Mom.

“Mom?” I don’t look at her and don’t quite know how to proceed.

“What’s wrong, Lucy? Come on, I can tell something’s bothering you.”

“I don’t quite know how to ask, Mom. It… It’s kind of personal for me.”

“Lucy Ann, spit it out before I die of curiosity.”

“Aw, Mommm. I…. Aw, nuts. Could you tell me… I mean….”

“Lucy! What? OH…! Does this have something to do with becoming female?”

“Sort of, Mom.”

“You want to know more about sex, right?”

“I…. Mom, I don’t know how to ask. I’m going to have an operation or two and this will make me able to have sex as a girl. Then almost instantly I’m going to be married and I’m expected to have sex with my husband even if it is only for the assignment. I… I… Don’t know how… I mean, I know how but I never did it. I don’t know what to expect. What if he’s done it before and I don’t know anything? What will he think? Then we’re supposedly married for a while, so I should know more…. I mean…. Aw, nuts. Mom, how do I gain enough experience so I know what to do as a girl so I won’t make a total fool of myself?”

“Baby, come over here beside me. You’ve had the birds and the bees lectures from me both as a boy and as a girl. You know what the physical parts are and how they are used. I think what you are asking is how you would know if you are being abused by him sexually, right?”

“Pretty much. I mean, I have to do it or we could both get blown. But how do I know if he is being too rough or doing something sinful and not just having sex with me? How do I know when to tell him to stop or slow down or something?”

Mom puts her arms around me. “Baby, if it hurts a lot, it isn’t right. If he wants you to do things you don’t want to do, tell him so. A husband should want to make his wife feel as good as he does. That usually means he must go slower so you can build to your climax. Usually a combination of speeds and depth of penetration which you both change as you go will allow you both to build up to the most fascinating and wonderful sensation either of you could experience.”

“But what if he’s a pervert or something. What if he likes to do something that hurts me and I don’t like it but he won’t stop? Can a man go too deep or too fast and hurt a woman?”

Mom gives a sigh, “Yes, Lucy, sometimes they can. And sometimes going very deep causes other very nice sensations in a woman. Again, he shouldn’t want to hurt you intentionally. The husband should want you to like having sex with him. If he is hurting you intentionally, tell someone. He should not be allowed to continue doing that. If it hurts but only for a moment then you are probably all right. But if it hurts a lot and continues to hurt afterward that isn’t right. Tell someone.”

“Okay, I think I understand, Mom. I’m just a little frightened. This is happening so fast and I haven’t had a chance to grow up as a girl so I don’t know how my body is going to feel and what might make me feel good. I guess your daughter’s a wuss.”

“Don’t even think that. You are a perfectly delightful young woman and you are much more courageous than you think. It takes a lot of courage to give up one sex in order to become another especially since you are also giving up the ability to help make a child.”

“But I will have children, Mom. From your eggs and from my husband.”

“True. But they won’t be born from your womb. You won’t be able to experience the pain and the joy of giving birth to a baby. That act, the fact the baby grows in your uterus and becomes a living and breathing human being to nurse at your breasts and grow before your eyes is so special. If somehow you are able to nurse your babies after they are born, you should try to do it. It will help you to feel that binding relationship of mother to child. It’s very special and something that men never feel.”

“But I’m a man, Mom.”

“Not anymore. And especially not after your surgery. You won’t quite be a complete woman but you will be more woman than man. Even now you are as much a woman in your feelings as is Janet or myself. You cry at the same things, you laugh at the same things, you communicate with a woman’s finesse and you expect to be treated as the woman you are. Look at all the effort you have placed into becoming as much a woman as you might during this past week. When you were little and sometimes dressed as a girl then going out with Janet as her sister, you were learning. You were creating within you a female side and you discovered that women and girls are not always treated nicely by men or boys. You would become angry if a boy treated a girl badly. I remember a fight you got into with that bully who kept hitting your sister. One day you saw him hit another girl and it all came to a head.”

I smiled. “And I won too. He stopped picking on girls after I told him I would beat him up whenever he did it.”

“Yes, and your father and I had to explain to the school officials why you did it. Of course the girls who had been receiving the abuse from him told Janet what you had done and thanked her for your help. We never told you that because we didn’t want to start beating up every boy who pulled the hair of a girl. You can’t stop them all, especially since the police and judges are men and see nothing wrong in it. That fortunately is beginning to change.”

“The girls knew I did it?”

“It was hardly a secret. Nearly every girl in the school knew what you did less than a day after it happened. I even had phone calls from the mothers saying thank you. Of course I also had a call from the boy’s parents but by then I had twenty from thankful mothers to the one from them and told them so. They wanted to have you sent to reform school but I said I would have the mothers of all the girls come in and swear out complaints against their son so they dropped all thought of any action. Anyway, Lucy, as a boy you were honorable and fairly nice. As a girl you are still honorable and fantastic. Janet and I are both happy with the new you. Will you be able to visit for another week after your surgeries so I can see the new you before you go join your husband?”

“I don’t know, Mom. I’ll try. I think I would like that.”

“Thanks, baby. You’d better go get some sleep. You’ll have a long day tomorrow. I think I’ll turn in too.”

“Thanks, Mom. I really appreciate everything you’ve done for me. Not just now, but all my life. I really will try to be the best daughter I can be…. After Janet, of course.”

“I’m certain she will be relieved to hear that.” Mom leans over and kisses me on my forehead, “Good night, Mom,” I say with my mouth but with my eyes I tell her, ‘I love you.’

She throws a look back at me, ‘I know. I love you too, baby.’

I go up to my room and take off my clothes laying them out for morning, put on my nightgown and go clean my teeth. I flow into bed and can’t help but wonder why Happy isn’t curled up asleep there. I know he’s gone but somehow he isn’t. I don’t know if this is a bad or good feeling, “Hi, Happy. If you can hear me fellow, you need to go. We’re all right now, you saved us. You’re a good dog. Go find children to play with, okay? There are a lot of them up there who need you to play with them. You won’t be alone. Go run and play now. You’re a good fellow. Bye, Happy.”

Sometime during the night I need to get up and go pee. While I’m sitting in the bathroom half asleep I can almost hear Happy barking his ‘throw the ball’ and ‘come pat me and scratch me’ barks. His ‘that ball is mine’ bark fading off into the distance and disappearing. I go back to bed.

Morning arrives and I awaken with the sun just beginning to reach into the room through my window. I pad quietly to the bathroom and then back to my room to brush my hair. After ten minutes I start to get dressed then do my makeup before putting on my uniform. I put a copy of my orders into the cosmetics case and the balance of the $10,000, now whittled down to just less than $1400, goes into my purse after I slip the seventy dollars into the night stand. I hope Janet found the puppies.

Checking the room I put everything I can find into the suitcase and cosmetics case locking them both. All of the trunks have locks on them and the suitcase that is in the station wagon is locked too. I carry the suitcase and cosmetics case down to the car then return for my jacket, cravat, purse, cap and briefcase.

I check my purse just to be certain my compact and lipstick are in it. No mascara, but the eyebrow pencil is here. I take everything down to the living room and go back out to the car to retrieve some mascara from my cosmetics case. That little problem taken care of, I check for my ID and count the cash so I know exactly how much I have on hand. I slip off my shoes leaving them with my other things in the living room and quietly pad upstairs to check on Mom.

As I reach the top of the stairs I hear her in the bathroom so I go back down and into the kitchen. Placing an apron over my uniform I begin to prepare breakfast and fill one side of the sink with hot soapy water. I fill the kettle with fresh water and start it on its way to a slow boil. After turning the oven on low and placing the cold plates in it, I go out and set two places for us then return to begin breakfast. Eggs, of course, medium slices of ham again. On small cold plates I place a lettuce leaf with just a couple of tablespoons of cottage cheese and two peach halves.

The stones go into the garbage and I rinse my hands again after dropping the frying pan into the water along with the small mixing bowl and assorted spoons and knives I used in the preparations. The kettle is just beginning to half-heartedly whistle as I shut off the oven so it won’t get too hot and I turn up the burner under the kettle to be almost instantly rewarded with a full blown gargling whistle. The water occasionally choking the whistle. I turn it down again.

I pull out the large teapot and fill it with hot water turning down the burner so the remaining water stays warm but doesn’t boil away. I carry the teapot into the dining room and return for the salads, traipse back again to pull a plate, cover it with a folded paper towel then place two tea bags on it and, using potholders, carry the warm plates and the tea bags to the dining room.

Mom is just arriving, “Good morning, Lucy. Something smells good.”

“Hi, Mom, thanks. Do you want toast?”

“Yes, please. Just one slice.” Then she sees that the eggs are sunny side up and adds, “Make that two slices.”

I start the toast and she comes out for just a little lemon juice. The juice is fairly fresh, we squeezed it a couple of days ago from lemons plucked from our tree in back. That’s where we got the peaches too. From the peach tree, not the lemon tree. The toast is up and I place it all on a plate to deliver to the table. I take off my apron, hanging it then go out to eat.

We sit, I ask Grace, then we each take a tea bag and after Mom pours hers, I pour mine.

“There’s enough hot water on the stove for another cup for each of us if you want it, Mom.”

“Thank you, Lucy, I just might.”

We begin eating, remaining fairly quiet during breakfast. I try to be careful since I am in my uniform and can’t afford to get anything on it. Taking our time, we enjoy our food until we’re finally just sitting there, drinking our second cups of tea. I begin to carry dirty dishes out to the sink where the water has turned from hot to warm.

I run the water a moment to bring in hot again, then swing the faucet over to the half full sink, adding water to raise the temperature and fluff up the soap bubbles. While the sink is filling, I grab the apron again, put it over my head, and tie the strings.

I go back out to check the table for more dirty dishes and ask if Mom would like anything else (no) I rinse off the plates and drop them into the soapy water. Taking the scrub sponge, I start in on the dishes, rinsing as I go, placing them into the drainer afterward. Less than ten minutes and I’m done. Now to clean up the range top and oven, then wipe down the sink and counter top. Pulling out a towel, I dry the silverware and sharp knives, putting them into the drawers and knife holders.

The dishes are dried next and put away, then I drain the kettle. Everything’s finished and neat again, except Mom’s tea cup, which she brings in just now. I add a drop of dishwashing liquid into the cup and clean it out well with hot water as I wash it, pouring just a little on the saucer so I can wash it too. I rinse the cup, then wash the saucer and spoon, then rinse and dry everything and put them away in the cupboard and drawer.

One more check of the dining room and the kitchen then I hang the apron and go out to find Mom. She’s sitting in the living room next to my things and watches as I enter the room.

“Thank you for breakfast, Lucy. It was good and I appreciate not needing to wash.”

“You’re welcome, Mom. I still like to cook.”

“I remember, even as a little girl you couldn’t be chased from the kitchen. I appreciated it then too.”

As it nears 8:30, we can’t procrastinate any longer. I put on my jacket and hat and pick up my purse, putting the strap over my left shoulder then grab my briefcase also on my left. The right needs to be free just in case I need to salute someone.

We go out to the car and are on our way. I hope Janet and Tony come by to get the money and find the dogs. Mom and I easily reach the airport by 9:00.

We attract the attention of the only porter and he brings a cart for my trunks and cases. If I were flying military then I just make my weight limit with twenty pounds to spare and my nine piece limit on the nose. We go into the ticket counter and I show my voucher, receiving a claim ticket in return, as they weigh in my cases and place them on a luggage cart behind the counter. I tip the porter five dollars for helping me twice with all that weight, which brings a smile to his face. He seems quite happy with the tip and I am quite happy I didn’t need to move them so, even though five dollars was a lot of money, we came out even.

The aircraft won’t arrive for forty minutes and then we have nearly twenty before it departs. I go to Denver from here then change planes and go on to Dallas. It will be a bit tricky from there. I have a lot of cases and they won’t fit into a taxi. In the hopes of heading off that problem, I check the orders for the phone number then beg five dollar’s worth of change from the counter. Mom and I go to one of the pay phones and I begin my attempt to reach someone who cares.

After fifteen minutes I begin to worry about the change and give Mom another five for more change. She goes off as I continue to wade my way through the red tape. Finally I reach someone who is able to assign me a car. I explain the problem and they say they will send a station wagon to pick me up at the Dallas Airport. I give them my arrival time, flight number, name and rank, thanking them before we hang up.

A moment later the phone rings and I answer. The operator tells me it will be another $4.75. I start pouring quarters into the phone and have nearly run out when Mom arrives with more change. I continue to pour quarters until the operator is happy then thank her and hang up. I thank Mom for getting more change and take eight quarters telling her to keep the rest. We go outside and pace along the walk, while we wait for the aircraft to arrive. I see the luggage truck drive over to the berthing spot and notice my trunks and luggage on it along with half a dozen other pieces. Looks as though it will be a light flight. I’m certain the flight out of Denver will have many more people on it. I place a silent prayer that everything will make the change and travel with me to Dallas intact.

As we pace, a young man in enlisted Navy uniform comes out and starts to pace also. We salute and continue on then turn and wind up saluting again.

“Excuse me.”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“I give you permission not to salute me as we walk around here. Are you waiting for the plane to Denver?”

“Yes, Ma’am, and then on to San Diego.”

Checking my watch, “I suppose we have about ten minutes to wait for it to arrive.

Tell you what, why don’t we pretend were both civilians until we separate in Denver. That way we don’t need to salute each other over and over. All right with you?”

“Yes, Ma’am.” he sounds quite enthusiastic about it.

“All right then.”

We continue our pacing. Finally a fairly new turbo-prop comes into view, touching down and eventually coming to rest at the spot near the luggage truck.

After a minute, the passengers disembark, all five of them. Their luggage is unloaded and ours goes into the storage area under the airplane. Mom and I say our goodbyes, touching cheeks, but then send silent, ‘Love you’ and ‘Be careful’ messages to each other as I walk with the other passengers to the aircraft. I turn at the top of the stairs and wave, then go on in. There are eight of us so the aircraft is still about half empty.

My first class ticket and extra luggage are probably their only profit on this flight. I don’t know how a small airline can stay in business with gas as expensive as it is. It cost $4.90 to fill Mom’s station wagon and it was about a third full to start with.

She’s thinking about trying the ninety-one octane regular in it, to save money. Regular is almost eight cents a gallon less than high test. She said there are rumors gas is going to go up to about thirty-nine cents a gallon by the middle of next year. That’s outrageous.

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To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 
 

Previous:

My first class ticket and extra luggage are probably their only profit on this flight. I don’t know how a small airline can stay in business with gas as expensive as it is. It cost $4.90 to fill Mom’s station wagon and it was about a third full to start with.

She’s thinking about trying the ninety-one octane regular in it, to save money. Regular is almost eight cents a gallon less than high test. She said there are rumors gas is going to go up to about thirty-nine cents a gallon by the middle of next year. That’s outrageous.

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Thu, 2008/11/06 - 5:06am, Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 15 is revised and reposted on Thu, 2009/12/17 - 10:01 AM. ~Sephrena

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Fumigation:

Chapter 15

 

With the exception of the ‘gentleman’ who was smoking a cigar throughout the flight to Denver, everything was nice. The seats were comfortable and, fortunately, the flight was short. I still smell like I’ve been in a forest fire.

My luggage is being transferred to the next aircraft and I’m on my way to that gate. I have a bit of a wait though, about an hour and a quarter. I find myself saluting a lot more here.

After locating my terminal, I sit and read while I wait, having purchased a newspaper with one of the quarters. Saving the funnies for later, I read some of the headlines and a few articles which I find to be interesting, glancing at the political commentary and cartoons. Since I finish the paper with twenty minutes to go, I read the funnies and then place the paper on the table at the end of the row of chairs, so someone else can read it if they desire.

Our aircraft has pulled up to the gate and passengers are getting off. It’s pretty big, I count almost seventy passengers. Checking those that are waiting, I find almost ninety. I hope my luggage makes it. They finally announce boarding for first class and I go up, along with a half dozen men, to check in. They let us board and I select a window seat. Now the other passengers are boarding, so we should be on our way to Dallas soon. I check my ticket stub and find we make one more stop en route but I don’t need to get off the aircraft since I’m continuing on to Dallas. We’re finally loaded and take off. Shortly afterward, they serve lunch and I have the chicken.

Surprisingly, it’s fairly good.

We land about an hour after takeoff but the stop is not going to be very long. I decide to take a nap until we arrive and ask for a pillow. Soon I feel the acceleration of takeoff and fall back into my light slumber. In no time at all, the bump of landing awakens me and I take a moment to get my bearings. Checking my watch, I see that it shows 1:45 which puzzles me until I remember that we’ve crossed another time zone, making it 2:45 local time. I reset my watch. First class is allowed to disembark and I cross to the bus which is to take us to the terminal.

As I wait for the bus to fill, I watch the luggage being unloaded and see at least four of my trunks and a couple of suitcases which could be mine go onto the waiting truck. More luggage is being unloaded on the other side but I’m unable to see that side of the aircraft. The bus finally starts up and we are driven to the airport terminal. As we go in, I notice an Army sergeant waiting with a small chalk board that says Mjr. Jackson on it. I go over and introduce myself as we exchange salutes. Then he leads me away as he asks, “Do you have any luggage, Ma’am.

I tell him, “Yes. Quite a lot, actually. Nine large pieces. Most of which are about 100 pounds. It would probably be advantageous for us to obtain a porter to move everything to the car.”

He tells me, “I have a large station wagon, Ma’am.”

“That should be fine, if the back seat drops.”

He leads me to luggage claim and goes out to corral a porter. While he is gone, I sort out two five dollar bills, intending to use just one, but keeping two handy, just in case the second one is needed.

I see some of my luggage going around on the conveyor as I arrive and go pull them off. Checking the ticket stubs proves they are mine. The cosmetics case looks like it is on its way as well. I pull it off and check the number.

The Sergeant arrives back with a porter just as I see two of my trunks coming out.

I indicate them and say there will be four more. We wait for nearly five minutes before another trunk makes its appearance followed shortly by the other three.

The Sergeant rushes off to bring the car as I give a sigh of relief and the porter piles everything onto his cart. It’s quite a load. By the time we make it to the car he is huffing and puffing and he is in pretty good shape. The little wheels on the cart probably don’t help much.

At the curb, they both load my things into the car and I tip the porter both fives.

Not particularly clever of me, but I suppose he earned them. He smiles and tips his hat as he says thank you. The Sergeant opens my door for me and I flow into the car. Closing the door behind me he goes around and we are off. As we drive, he begins to provide background information about the base, its housing, mess, base exchange, school, hospital and women’s BOQ (Bachelor Officer’s Quarters).

“I’m supposed to take you to the BOQ, Ma’am. They will assign you a room and handle all your luggage. They will also arrange for a ride to take you to headquarters in another part of town. Officer’s mess is about a block from the BOQ. The phones are base phones but you just dial nine for an outside line. Civilian fast food chains and some other businesses are allowed to make deliveries on base and BOQ is close to gate four. If you order anything by phone, just tell them to deliver it through gate four to the BOQ and your room number. The gate will call to confirm before the delivery is allowed on base. Breakfast is at 0700. Lunch at 1200 and supper at 1700 or 1800 depending on your assigned time.”

He takes a deep breath and continues, “Women’s BOQ has separate showers in each room. We usually have five or six women here at the BOQ at any given time. Some are Air Force and some are Navy. Right now you are the only Army officer at the BOQ. There is a Light Colonel staying who is Air Force but she is leaving the end of next week. That will make you Barrack’s Officer once she goes. You will be responsible for all three. As far as I know there are no other officers arriving, at least in the next month, who will outrank you, Ma’am, so you may be stuck with it for however long you are here.” He turns toward me for an instant and tenses his lips a little in a show of sympathy.

“They’ll explain those duties to you at the BOQ as well as all the other things about the facilities. They provide a map, so it won’t be too bad and the place isn’t all that big, so it’s pretty easy to get around. We’re coming up on gate four now, Ma’am. The MP will want to check your ID.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. That was an excellent synopsis. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome, Ma’am.”

As we pull up, an MP salutes and leans down asking for my identification, he examines it and my orders, asking the driver for our destination, which is logged by another MP. They are both wearing sidearms. He returns my ID, salutes again and I return it, then we drive into the base.

“That building over there with the number 405 on it is women’s BOQ HQ, Ma’am.“ He points off in the direction of women's BOQ.

Then he points out the row of buildings as a whole. “These three, 405, 410 and 415 are among the newer buildings. Mess is further down this street ahead of us and Base Exchange is about three blocks in that direction. When you receive a map you’ll see it isn’t all that large.”

He pulls up in front of building 405. “Here we are, Ma’am. I’ll have a couple of the privates unload your things from the car. They should have your room assigned by the time it is all up by the door, so they’ll be able to take it all into your room for you. Have a nice day, Ma’am.”

“Thank you, Sergeant. Thank you also for meeting me at the airport. I know there wasn’t much notice given.”

“No sweat, Ma’am.”

We salute each other. I turn, taking my briefcase and purse with me, to walk up to the BOQ office. They examine my orders and accept my 201 file. Then they assign me a room and tell me they will have everything I will need to know in about half an hour. They give me a key, which is a bit different from the all-male BOQ I was in back in-country (Vietnam), where everything was left unlocked.

I go to check out my room, leaving the door open. I discover a television (Surprise! — and it works), a writing desk with an overhead light, a nice bed, and a separate room for the shower, sink and toilet. There is a vanity over in one corner.

Poorly thought out…. No light. However, there is quite a bit of room, enough that I won’t be tripping over my trunks while I’m here.

A knock at the door swings me around and I spot one of the young men waiting to bring in my first trunk. I check my contents list versus the trunk number and direct him to place it against the wall. As he goes out, I take a look at the closet.

Nice…. I may hang my gowns as well as my uniforms so they will survive a bit better than remaining in a trunk. In fact there is enough room I may put my furs in there as well. Another young man brings in my second trunk and again I direct it over to the wall. These are both filled with my everyday civilian clothing so they can go on the bottom. The next trunk goes on top of those, because I'll need access to it.

The fourth arrives with the same problem. The next two have the same problem, so they go on the floor in front of the stack by the wall. Now my two suitcases and my cosmetics case arrive.

“Thank you, gentlemen.”

“You’re welcome, Ma’am. That’s a lot of luggage.”

“Yes, I tried to minimize it but it didn’t work out. When I ship out in a few months I will be Embassy staff so there is a lot there that I will need when I reach my post. Here, take this for your efforts and don’t tell anyone.” I give them each $2 for their trouble.

“YES, Ma’am. Thank you.” They salute me which isn’t quite protocol, since we are inside, but I return their salutes and dismiss them. Now that everything is here, I check the door to see how the lock works. Putting the key into my purse, I lock the door and close it behind me as I go out to learn how I get to where I report.

They take half an hour to explain things to me, making the time around 1600 and I am getting antsy about reporting. I show them my orders requiring me to report to a Colonel Harrington and they finally tell me they’ve already contacted his office and, since he is out until tomorrow, the office considers me to have reported already, since I did, in fact, arrive on the proper day as ordered. They hand me my 201 to take to the Colonel’s office tomorrow and tell me a car will be here to pick me up at 0800. The assigned time for my supper meal is 1800 which makes sense since I will need to cross town to get here and I won’t be leaving the offices until 1700.

They fill me in on a number of things about the BOQ, the base and the training facilities. My orders are somewhat vague concerning what I am doing here and when they ask about it I tell them it is classified information I am not allowed to discuss. If the Colonel decides to tell them, then that is his prerogative, so, ‘Sorry.’ I make a rueful face.

They put two and two together…. My vague orders, strange arrival with little notice, massive amounts of luggage…. And come up with twenty-two rather than four. The last time they saw something like this, the individual was CIA staying at the male BOQ, so they automatically assume the worst concerning me as well.

I study my map and walk down toward the officer’s mess, taking the long way around so I can see the location of the base exchange. I check the exchange hours and, except for Saturdays, I don’t see how I can visit it, at least until I am recuperating here after my operations. I probably won’t be doing much walking for a while anyway. I decide to make my way to the mess, only to make a wrong turn somewhere. Finally, I find someone to ask for directions, and they indicate on my map where I am and how I went wrong. So now I’m off in search of the officer’s mess once more.

Consulting my map, I think I should be there. The time is a minute after, so I should be able to go in, and would expect to see others arriving, but no one seems to be coming in this direction. None of the buildings are marked as being the officer’s mess. I check my map and the suspected building number is about right, so in I go.

A young airman is checking names and ID at the door and I tell him I have just been assigned to 1800 mess by the women’s BOQ.

“You have the right place, Ma’am. Just a minute while I confirm this; you’re not on my list.” He jumps on the phone and in a minute has the confirmation and adds my name to his list, returning my ID once he's finished copying my information.

“Just have a seat, Ma’am. Someone will be out to see what you would like to eat. The list is up there on the board, and if you wish to look at the food first, you may go down the line.”

“Thank you. Where do I pay the transient meal fee?”

“That’s handled by the BOQ, Ma’am. They assess a weekly charge and you pay them, then they transfer it to the mess fund.”

“Thank you.”

I walk the line, checking the food, before seating myself. I flow into my seat and look at the few others who have arrived early and are here for supper. Most everyone is male, of course. I spot one female in an Air Force uniform but it isn’t the Lieutenant Colonel. She happens to glance at me and we exchange, ‘Hi, I could use the company’ to each other. She gets up and comes over, asking if I would mind if she sits with me. I invite her to take a seat, saying she may dispense with protocols concerning me while here in the mess. She smiles and sits. She’s a Captain, and has just been placed on the list for Major, so she figures six to eight months before she has it. I tell her that I’ve only recently received my own promotion. They seem to come faster in Vietnam. She looks surprised, “Are you a nurse?”

“No, intelligence, mostly analysis,” like it is nothing worth mentioning.

“My brother is in intelligence. He always tells me he could tell me things, but then he would have to shoot me.”

“That pretty much sums it up,” I answer for the benefit of listening ears, asking ‘Are you watching?’

“You mean he wasn’t kidding?” ‘Watching what?’

“It varies, but for the most part,” ‘Don’t believe everything you hear.’

She give me a nod back with an, ‘I get it,’ and smiles in thanks.

My food arrives and I begin my dainty bites and long chewing time routine. I forgot to tell them no potatoes, so I eat a taste of them plain. Watery, tasteless mush. The meat is okay, but nothing to write home about. The coffee tastes like they forgot to add the grounds. This is in great contrast to the coffee I had in ’Nam, which probably could have doubled as battery acid, tart and quadruple strength.

On second thought, maybe it was battery acid.

I hesitate to taste the vegetables but take the plunge, only to learn they taste like they have been boiled with a pair of dirty socks for a week. Somehow I need to teach them how to cook. Carol has finished. Oh! Sorry, the Captain’s name is Carol Foster…, Carol finishes her ‘meal’ and mine has finished me. So we are off together returning to our rooms at the BOQ. We salute what must be a hundred times in the block and a half we traverse to return to our quarters. I invite her to join me for a few minutes but she has ‘homework’ to do so we say goodnight and she continues down to her room.

I turn the TV on low to see if I can find some news, discovering the CBS channel and learning that Walter Cronkite has come and gone while I was eating, oh well. As an alternative, I begin to hang my furs, gowns, and uniforms. I’m about to place my undies into the dresser but decide the drawers need to be papered first. I would prefer to fumigate them but that probably would be a little difficult. Is that green stain moving? With my important things hanging in the closet, I fight the trunks into the semblance of a stack and pull some of my cosmetics out of their travel case, placing them in an attempt at organization on the vanity, now located at its new spot in the room near the window and one of the two floor lamps.

The next morning, I am up early, shower, then dry myself and my hair and begin applying my makeup. I don my undies and then put on a fresh uniform. I’ll wear each once and then start the round for a second time in each. That gives them a little time to air. Once I’m completely dressed I check the time. Still about twenty minutes. Roughly ten minutes later, I hear a number of footsteps passing in the hall. Five minutes after that I venture out to see how much of a mess the mess can make out of eggs.

I should have known. Last night wasn’t a fluke. The eggs are runny and taste like poorly flavored water. The lettuce under the pineapple is wilted, although the pineapple is good. I am trying to decide if they don’t know what they are doing or if it is the supplies they are given to work with. If I have a driver bringing me back from the Colonel’s office I want to stop by a grocery store and pick up some spices. I think I’ll ask the Colonel about it. Maybe he will make some kind of arrangement, so I can see what’s going on and fix it, if for nothing else than my continued health.

The meal again finishes me and I walk back to the BOQ with my tummy complaining at nearly every step. Promptly at 0800 there is a car out front with flags on it bearing a pair of stars. The driver, a staff Sergeant, is asking for me. The flags are not supposed to be on the car if the General is not in it, a major breach of protocol unless perhaps, he is actually there for some reason unknown to myself.

The other ladies are forming ranks under command of that Lt. Colonel for their march to the school. She is stunned to see the Staff Sergeant escorting me, a mere major, out to the car.

He opens the door and I flow into the car like it is an everyday occurrence. From the look on her face I can tell she thinks I’m some floozy who probably got her rank in bed. As we are just pulling away I see her storming into the BOQ office leaving her command standing there. This may become a problem for the remainder of the week. The car wheels around and we drive out of gate four. En route I lean forward and ask the driver, “Sergeant, what’s with the flags?”

“Just following orders, Ma’am. The Colonel said I was to pick up a Major Jackson at the women’s BOQ at 0800 and to place the flags on the car when I arrived there. I have no idea what’s going on,” obviously hinting that he would like me to tell him.

I just sit back quietly and accept the ride.

After twenty minutes, we’ve worked our way through the morning traffic and pull into an underground parking area, receiving a salute from an MP standing at the entry. He can’t possibly see who it is in the car, so he’s just saluting the flags. Well, he’s saluting the person the flags claim is in the car. After parking, the Sergeant goes around and opens the door for me.

I flow out, much to his appreciative glance, and he escorts me to the elevator and up to the fourth floor then down the hall to an office door proudly proclaiming 412 in shiny new brass numbers. Opening the door, he allows me to enter before closing the door behind me. I fish out a set of the orders given to me by Uncle Phillip and hand them to the civilian sitting at the desk. She’s given me the once over as I entered and, after reading the orders, looks up at me with ‘You’ve got to be kidding!’ all over her face.

I have no idea what she meant, but flash back, ‘It’s just me,’ hoping to leave her in just as much puzzlement as I was laboring under. I’m beginning to think I’m at the wrong place.

She gets on an intercom, alerting both Colonel Harrington and some General so and so.

A few seconds later, a Colonel, whom I presume is Harrington, bursts out through his office door and looks wildly around the room. As he is peeling the paint off the walls with his gaze, I am looking at the man before me. His wavy hair, finely chiseled features, strong arms and tall stature shout out at me, ‘Alpha male.’. His eyes are a blue gray which could pierce steel.

Those eyes look at the civilian while requesting verification of the call she just made to him and finally return to me as she indicates me with a graceful point of a finger. I’ll have to remember that gesture.

His jaw drops as I flow into a standing position, saluting him and reporting. He throws the salute back and tells me to drop the protocol. “Come over here,” he says abruptly.

I look at the civilian with, ‘what’s all this?’ She just shrugs with, ‘how the hell should I know, I just work here.’ I walk over and stand before him. As I am standing there, the Colonel walks around looking me over. Suddenly the hall door bursts open and the Two Star engages the room in a frontal attack, succeeding mostly because the room never expected it. He sees the Colonel giving me the once over and, since he doesn’t see what he is looking for, his eyes also drift first to the civilian who again points, prompting him to look a bit harder at me. Again I am an object of scrutiny.

“You two come with me.”

Again I glance at the civilian, hoping for some idea of what is going on, “What’s all this?” All I get back is a shrug and, ‘I think they’re going off the deep end.’

We follow the General, a nice little procession in order of rank. The General storms down the hall ahead of us making for the elevator with the Colonel following like some lap dog, and then myself, as though I’m something the lap dog is dragging behind as an afterthought, bringing me along to show to his master, ‘See what I caught?’

Strangely, we don’t follow protocol getting into the elevator but just all pile in.

This is weird, maybe I’ll wake up and go to breakfast soon, or perhaps discover I’m still on the aircraft about to land in Dallas, almost anything but this. We go up two floors and eight doors down the hall to an unmarked door where the General storms in, almost making kindling of the door as he slams it back against the wall.

We continue to follow as we did through the hall. I close the hall door gently behind us. Another civilian is seated at the desk in this office and the General growls at her to contact General Pendleton, “He’s probably at home at this time.”

He and the Colonel continue on into his office and the Colonel slams the door behind him, almost taking off my face in the process, his trophy forgotten in the presence of his master. I stand there in shock for a moment, then turn and go flow into one of the chairs placed for those who are waiting for an audience with his august presence. We can hear the two of them growling and a few minutes go by before the civilian receives a telephone call and uses the intercom to let the General know that General Pendleton is on the phone.

Moments later, I hear angry growls from the General’s office and this goes on for perhaps a minute before it subsides to something much more peaceful. I can still hear a murmur, but am no longer able to make out the words. I look at the civilian, ‘What the h— is going on?’

‘Don’t ask me I just….’ She rolls her eyes over toward the closed door.

‘Work here, I know…. Thank you’ I reply without words.

‘That’s all right, hope it works out.’ Her smile drops when the office door opens and the Colonel asks me inside.

I walk to the General’s desk and salute him, “Major Lucy Jackson reporting as ordered, Sir.”

“Be seated.”

He watches carefully as I flow into the chair, then glances at the Colonel who must have given him some kind of sign. I don’t know because the Colonel is behind me.

“Major, would you mind getting up and walking around the room for a few seconds, then you may seat yourself again.”

I look at him like he is crazy but flow out of the chair, quietly do a circuit of the room and flow back into the chair. As I do this he is digging out a cigar, but in moments it is forgotten. The wheels are obviously spinning in his head like the wheels on a Vegas slot machine, but I don’t see any bars popping up, not even lemons.

“Lucy, may I call you Lucy?” he says, almost politely.

“Yes, Sir, except in public.”

They both smile and the tension in the room, which could have been cut with a knife, drains away.

“This might actually work, George,” the Colonel says to the General.

“Yeah. Contact the hospital, I want the surgeons here on the double. I want them to see this.”

I’m not terribly happy to be viewed as a piece of meat, but then most men look at women that way.

“Permission to speak, Sir?”

Their eyes swivel back to me.

“Go ahead,” the General says.

“I would like to point out that I’m not some inanimate object. I may still have the physical attributes of a male but I am a female and will fully have that appearance soon, for whatever that’s worth. I would at least like a little of the respect due to my gender as a female. I’m not some ‘thing’ just because I volunteered. This will take away my opportunity to have children and raise a family. It will take away everything I know and has plunged me into something totally different. I have spent the last week studying very hard in order to pull this assignment off. Please think of me as the young lady you see and at least treat me like a human being. That’s all, Sir.”

His face at first was incredulous, then angry, and then suddenly understanding. A smile begins to cross his face.

“All right, Miss Jackson. You’re absolutely right. You are losing a lot and we need to remember that. We are giving you the temporary rank of acting Colonel, without the increase in pay grade, for the duration of this assignment. Bill, will you see she gets the insignia she needs and new ID? Miss Jackson, I understand you have already attended one Embassy function and obtained a great deal of good intelligence during that function, is this true?”

“Yes, Sir, and I have something here that I later realized I had heard. I would appreciate it if you could get it to Uncle Phillip.”

I take my handwritten notes out of my purse and hand them to him, flowing up out of my chair and then back down.

“Uncle…? Oh, yes, your cover. Alright, I’ll see that he gets this.”

“It’s pretty important, Sir. I’m sorry I didn’t make the connection until a couple of days ago.”

He takes the time to scan the pages, first one eyebrow slowly rising then the other joins it before they both drop again.

“These conclusions are interesting. How certain are you of this?”

“Based on Intel I have seen over the past two months…, about eighty-five to 90 percent, Sir.”

His eyebrow again raises as he give it some thought. He hands my papers to Colonel Harrington, “Thor, have these coded right now and flash them to General Pendleton courtesy of his ‘niece’ and myself, then send a copy to the Joint Chiefs under my seal.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Colonel Harrington wheels about and rushes out of the room as I watch him in curiosity. Turning back to the General, I have hundreds of questions, well, at least a few, forming behind my eyes, but say nothing.

The General saves me the trouble of asking, “We’ve had a number of reports in the last few days that lead us to believe there is about to be some sort of offensive in the North, but the information you just gave me neatly pinpoints it. We may be able to head this off before a lot of damage is done. It would seem, Miss Jackson, that you have already begun your new assignment. Congratulations.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Oh, and my condolences.”

“For what, Sir?”

“For your devotion to duty, which is causing you to lose your chances of having children. I’m very sorry.”

Allowing my face to reflect sorrow, I say nothing to contradict him, nor do I mention Mom’s or Janet’s potential support of my possible future family.

---

To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 
 

Previous:

The General saves me the trouble of asking, “We’ve had a number of reports in the last few days that lead us to believe there is about to be some sort of offensive in the North, but the information you just gave me neatly pinpoints it. We may be able to head this off before a lot of damage is done. It would seem, Miss Jackson, that you have already begun your new assignment. Congratulations.” He paused for a moment, then added, “Oh, and my condolences.”

“For what, Sir?”

“For your devotion to duty, which is causing you to lose your chances of having children. I’m very sorry.”

Allowing my face to reflect sorrow, I say nothing to contradict him, nor do I mention Mom’s or Janet’s potential support of my possible future family.

---

Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Thu, 2008/11/06 - 5:11am, Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 16 is revised and reposted on Fri, 2009/12/18 - 01:38 PM. ~Sephrena

---

Who am I, really?:

Chapter 16

 

“By the way, how well did you do?”

“Sir?”

“How did you look in a gown, and did anyone figure it out?”

“With this wig and the breast forms, just fine, Sir. I spent a lot of time learning how to do my makeup, how to act, and mostly how to think. I am doing much better now than I did at the Embassy. This wig is pretty expensive, so I will need to unglue it the day before my operations. I’ll have to remove the breast forms also, since they’re glued on. I’m hoping I will begin to develop my own real breasts over time so I can dispense with this artificial method. I don’t want implants either.” I point toward the obvious bulge at my chest.

He gives that a little thought as he comes around the desk, offering me his arm.

“I’ll remember to ask the doctors about that when they arrive.”

He opens the door and allows me to walk out of his office, then follows, closing his own door. The secretary/receptionist looks up in surprise. The lion is acting like a pussycat.

“Mrs. Carter, do you have any Army Colonel’s insignia in that magical desk of yours?”

“I believe so, Sir. Let me look…. Yes, just one set. Do you want me to get more?”

“Yes. I’ll take that one and maybe you could get….” He turns and looks at me.

“Three more sets, Sir?”

“Three more sets by this afternoon.”

“Yes, Sir, and one for my magical desk.”

He laughs as he changes my Major’s insignia for Colonel’s, tossing the Major’s insignia onto Mrs. Carters desk for inclusion into her magical compilation of artifacts.

“If anyone needs me, tell them to call the mess downstairs; we’re going for breakfast.”

“Yes, Sir. If Thor comes in, what do you want him to do?”

“Tell him to get some of his tasks done, and I’ll let him know what to do next when I’m back in my office.”

“Very good, Sir.”

“Would you care to accompany me, COLONEL Jackson?”

“Thank you, Sir,” bobbing my head in a mock curtsey.

“Let me see you do that for real.”

I look at him with a brief ‘what is going through your head now’ expression and the secretary agrees. I give him a deep curtsey as though he is royalty and I’m in a long gown.

His jaw falls open and his head turns to his secretary, who is smiling like the cat that ate the canary, and then back to me. He gives a brief nod and we are on our way again.

Breakfast here is nothing like our mess. The food here is good and I make a point of telling him so. I guess it is because there are so many officers here. Then again, that is all there are at our mess, so something is wrong. Before we leave again, I ask the General if I may tell the mess Sergeant that he runs a very good mess. He leads me back into the kitchen and the sudden hush draws the mess Sergeant out on the double. He stops cold when he sees the General standing in his kitchen.

“Sergeant, the Colonel has a few words she would like to say.”

Everyone’s eyes turn to me, wondering what scathing remarks I have for them, and what kind of punishment the mess Sergeant will dish out afterward.

“Sergeant, I just want you to know that was the best meal I have had in an Army mess in three years. Keep up the great work.”

“YES, Ma’am…. We will. Thank you.”

I smile at him, and the General and I depart his kitchen, leaving stunned silence behind us for a few seconds then I hear the voice of the mess Sergeant quietly telling everyone, “Okay let’s get back to work and make lunch even better.”

After we are in the elevator, the General remarks, “It will be interesting to see how he does for lunch or maybe tomorrow’s meals.”

I explain the problem at the officer’s mess over at BOQ.

“I like to cook, so the preparation of food and how it tastes is rather important to me, Sir. Then too, poorly prepared food has little nutritional value and affects one’s mental and physical performance for days.”

“I hadn’t thought of it like that,” he said. “It makes sense. We might be able to improve the grades of the students by giving them better food. I think I’ll order an unannounced spot inspection of food quality at the school’s Officer’s mess, and the Enlisted mess as well.”

Upon arriving back at his office, we discover that the surgeons have not arrived but they did leave a message. They are involved with a couple of surgeries at the moment and, as soon as everything is complete, they will be over. Mrs. Carter also tells us that the insignia should arrive around two. We go into the general’s office and he tells me to have a seat, then begins studying me.

I still feel like a piece of meat and tell him so.

“Sorry. I’m not trying to be disrespectful. I just keep thinking of the potential here. Your hair is up; how do you look with it down?”

“Okay, Sir. Down doesn’t go well with the uniform.”

He gives a laugh more like an amused snort with a smile. I can see the wheels turning, the ghosts of a hundred ideas crossing his face like the pictures on the wheels of a Vegas slot machine. I wasn’t sure what it all meant for me. Those machines usually tantalize you with enticing combinations before they slip you the Mickey Finn in the form of black bars. He finally settles on one idea, and I’m trying to decide if it is cherries or lemons based upon his expression.

“Colonel, my wife and I are going to a small get-together two nights from now at the home of a prominent individual from this area. It will be formal, and I would like to see how you do in that setting. It’s a lot easier for me to see things for myself than to guess at them based on other people’s reports. That way, I can evaluate what I’ve seen without my thoughts being clouded by the views of others. Would you mind?”

“Not at all, Sir. I would like to speak with your wife, so I don’t wear something that clashes.”

“Something that doesn’t…?” He blinked, then said, “How long will it take for you to get a gown and the things you need?”

“About as long as it takes me to unpack them, Sir. They gave me an allowance for new clothes, a lot of new clothes, so I would have the things I would need as a woman for virtually every event. Those clothes traveled with me and are in my quarters now. I don’t have the room to unpack but a tenth of it, but I have civilian gowns, furs, dresses, skirts, blouses, my undergarments, makeup…, everything a young lady needs, Sir. I just need to know how formal and to speak with your wife.”

He pauses to digest that information then leans over to the intercom first calling Colonel Harrington and then his secretary, “Thor, could you come in here for a minute?”

“Right away, Sir.”

“Mrs. Carter, would you get my wife on the phone?”

“Certainly.”

A few minutes later, as the General finishes his conversation with his wife, the gorgeous Colonel Harrington comes into the room.

“What is it, George?”

“Thor, what are you doing the night after next?”

He thinks about it, “Nothing in particular. Why?”

“My wife and I are going to a little get together in Ft Worth and I’d like you to escort Miss Jackson. It’s black tie, non-uniform.”

He gives me a look that says he thinks I’m a piece of dirt and I immediately speak my piece, “SIR. I would rather go unaccompanied. It’s quite obvious that the Colonel cannot accept me as a woman for whatever reason. I don’t need my cover blown before the operation even begins. All we need is for the word to go out that some male dressed as a female was at the gathering and the mission is destroyed. If I have to become a female, I don’t want someone who is insensitive to my security to compromise me, or make all my sacrifices worthless.”

Rage now crosses the Colonel’s face, and even the General can see it.

The Colonel retorts, “Look, you pervert, just because you want to wear skirts doesn’t mean I have to put up with it. You AREN’T a woman and you never will be. Don’t kid yourself. Any man who wants to be a woman is just a piece of shit in my book. I don’t care if it is for an assignment. You could have turned it down, so I don’t have to like you or accept anything you say or do. I hope they find you out and give you what all you queers deser….”

All through this tirade, the General is saying “Thor… THOR…” and finally, “THOR SHUT UP, SIT DOWN, AND KEEP YOUR MOUTH CLOSED, COLONEL.”

I stand up during the Colonel’s outburst and give him a slap just about the time he is finishing and the General is bellowing. The Colonel tries to give me a punch but I simply use it against him and he finds himself in a heap on the floor. He comes at me again and once again goes down. I look briefly at the General with a ‘I don’t want to hurt him’ look just as the General says, “Put him down before the two of you destroy my office.”

The Colonel thinks the General is encouraging him and comes for me again. I do what the General says and ‘put him down.’

“I’m sorry, Sir. I didn’t want to fight him.” I have tears in my eyes and start digging for a handkerchief.

“I know. You just followed my orders, Colonel. I told you to put him down. How long will he be out?”

“I don’t know, anywhere from five minutes to an hour. There are too many variables.”

“Easy, Lucy. You can stop crying. It’s over now.” He comes around the desk and puts his arm around me as I stand there looking at the Colonel on the floor and the wreckage in the office.

“Yes. It’s over. The mission is a failure and I’m all screwed up.”

“What do you mean, a failure? It hasn’t even started.”

“Sir, what do you think he will do the moment he has a chance? He will let anyone know who will listen. He just suffered a humiliating defeat at the hands of a ‘queer’ as he put it. He can’t let that go by and no orders in the world will be able to stop him. People like that only care about one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“Killing the person they think is going against God, or at least the way they perceive God. They don’t understand the love God holds for EVERYONE, nor do they care to. They prefer a God of wrath which is another side of Him just as it is of us. They can’t stand the Love side.”

Maybe Mom’s right, maybe I am becoming a philosopher. Two MPs come bursting into the office having been alerted by the receptionist/ secretary in the outer office. They survey the mess and look at the crumpled heap of the Colonel then at the General trying to comfort a crying female.

“Sir?”

“Could you wait right outside? I’ll call you if I need you. Colonel Jackson, here sit down. I’ll get you a drink.”

The MPs retreat and I sit in the offered unbroken chair, “Just water or maybe a little Pepsi.”

“Coke okay?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He brings a glass about half filled and I take it appreciatively, “Thank you.”

A low moan comes from the heap and in about a minute the Colonel is staggering to his feet. Thirty seconds more and he resumes the battle. He knocks me to the ground because I didn’t make it out of the chair in time. I give him one in the throat and two more at his ears. That slows him enough that I am able to get on my feet before he is up and at me again. This time I put him down without pulling my ‘punches.’ The MPs are in the door just about the time the Colonel drops at my feet.

“This time it will be about an hour, Sir.”

I limp around looking for my missing shoe and find it has its heel broken off. I sit on the floor and start crying again holding the broken pieces in my hands.

“Restrain him.” The MPs put handcuffs on the Colonel and look questioningly at the General as they indicate me.

“Help her up.” He goes and gets another glass, half filling it and hands it to me as I try to decide what to do with the pieces of my broken shoe. Putting my shoe on the desk I find a broken glass just below them on the floor and wonder where that came from as I begin to poke at a hole I discovered in my hose.

The surgeons meanwhile have called again and are on their way.

The broken things are cleared from the office and Thor is still unconscious. The General looks at me and at Thor asking, ‘What’s up with him?’ by his raised eyebrows and a short nod of his head.

“At least another forty to fifty minutes, Sir. I’m sorry about the office, Sir. I’ve run into a lot of people who don’t like women during the past week. I’ve never been called those names before, though. Most people involved in this appreciate my sacrifices. He’s the first one who thinks I’m ‘a piece of shit’ for wanting to serve my country.”

The MPs start at my use of language and then realize I’m just quoting the Colonel.

I finally begin checking my uniform and find the jacket is torn and the zipper of the skirt ruined. Without removing it for inspection, I don’t know if my blouse is okay or not. My other shoe is badly scraped and I hurt in a dozen places. He is a pretty rough fighter. I feel like…. Yep, here it comes…, and I vomit on the floor in front of me.

“Sorry, Sir.” I struggle to speak with an attempt at dignity as I vomit again while trying to make it to the sink at the small bar.

“I don’t feel so good, Sir.”

The nearest MP catches me as I vomit blood on my way to the floor.

-o~O~o-

When I wake up, my wig is missing and the breast forms are gone. I’m in a hospital room. I guess the Colonel did some damage after all. I feel terrible. My stomach hurts. My groin feels like I was kicked by a mule, although it seems a little numb as well. I can’t reach it because I’m bandaged near that area. My face hurts and is bandaged as well. The bandage covers much of my head with holes to allow me to look out and to take food or breathe. I don’t remember hurting my face but maybe I was just numb from the fight.

There is light at the window so it must be the next day or two. A glass of water with a straw is on the cart next to the bed. I could really use a drink. I try to pull the cart close enough to get to the glass then begin worrying the glass over far enough to pick it up. I finally manage and take a sip of water. It tastes wonderful.

I’m so tired. I feel like I’ve been through a war. I didn’t think he had done that much to me. Must have been when he surprised me and knocked me over in the chair. About all I remember is him hitting me over and over in the stomach.

In a way I’m glad it’s all over. I was looking forward to the wonderful challenge and the chance to raise and train my own family as a mom, but with all I’ve learned, I will make a better father for my children. I hear something crash and open my eyes again trying to see what it was. That’s when I realize I dropped the glass while trying to put it on the table. The door opens and a nurse comes into the room, followed moments later by another. They find the glass and clean up the mess bringing another a few minutes later then allowing me another drink.

I ask, “How am I doing?”

“Just fine. The operation was successful and you are well on your way to recovery. Just relax and get better. We’ll let the General know you’re awake. He wants to see you as soon as you are up to it.”

I manage to croak out, “I’m going to sleep some more until he arrives. May I have some more water?”

“Of course. Here. I’ll raise the head of your bed. There, now. Let’s have a sip or two.”

Yet again the water tastes wonderful. I close my eyes and awaken to a nurse gently touching me and asking me to wake up. I try focusing and finally make out the General standing there. The nurse fusses for a minute, then leaves the room.

“How are you doing?” he asks.

“They tell me I’ll be fine, Sir. I’m sorry about the mission.”

He looks a little puzzled, “What do you mean?”

“About it being blown, Sir. I was looking forward to the challenge. Kind of like an actor getting into a part. I really was thinking of myself as a woman. Funny isn’t it, Sir?”

I don’t remember hearing his answer. I wake up again and the windows are dark.

The room is dark and I’m thirsty again. Once more I fight to get the glass of water and take a couple of sips. I make certain the glass makes it onto the cart, and stays there, then go to sleep.

“Come on, sweetie. Wake up… You need to eat. Wake up.”

I find the head of the bed has been partially raised again and, as I open my eyes, the nurse says she is going to raise it all the way so I can eat. She slowly brings the head of the bed nearly upright and begins to move the cart over when I give a little yelp. Instantly she want to know what’s wrong and I point toward my groin telling her a spasm of pain occurred as I sat up. She checks and pronounces everything to be okay.

The cart comes over and I find orange juice and tea and eggs, a really small piece of ham and a part of a lettuce leaf with a circle of pineapple on it and a dab of cottage cheese in the middle.

I begin to wolf it down and she says, “Easy, Lucy, I won’t take it away until you are finished. You can take your time. After you finish, you have a visitor.”

Lucy! So they did go ahead. I wonder why? With that bigot out there spouting off, there’s no way the mission could succeed now. By now he has probably run to every newspaper and nest of bigots he can think of and told them the whole story. They in turn will plaster it all over the world, given time, so the mission will be a failure. How does that saying go? ‘Ours is not to reason why. Ours is but to do or die.’ Great.

I finish eating and the nurses come in, in force, cleaning up my bed and removing the tray checking my bandages for any signs that things may not be going well then they allow my visitor to come in.

“Uncle Phillip.”

“Hi, kitten. How are you feeling?”

“Sore, tired, hungry, massively unappreciated.”

He smiles and shakes his head, “You always were outspoken.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to see how you’re doing.”

“I don’t mean at the hospital, Uncle Phillip. I mean in the States.”

“Oh that. Well, I have a couple of meetings in DC I needed to attend and thought I might drop by on the way to see how you are doing. Obviously not that bad. You had me worried. I don’t want anything to happen to my favorite niece. Aunt Julie sends her best by the way.”

“When you see her again, tell her ‘I miss her’ for me, will you?”

“Be glad to.” He takes my hand and holds it gently, “We were quite anxious when we heard about the fight. Your Aunt wanted to come and put a noose around his neck. I don’t see her like that very often. Once she hears from me that you’re going to be okay then she may settle down.”

“I’ll try not to have a relapse. How long have I been in here?”

“You had your fight six days ago. You seem to have held your own fairly well, but you simply must learn not to pick fights with men. They outweigh you, you know.”

I start to laugh but it hurts, so I give a little laugh and then a grunt of pain, and the cycle repeats a few times before I regain control.

“I didn’t pick the fight, he did.”

“But you had to finish it didn’t you? When will you learn it isn’t ladylike to beat up on men?”

“Not even if they deserve it, Uncle Phillip?”

“Well. At least leave enough that I get to put in my two cents worth. Okay?”

I take my hand out of his grasp and reach up touching his face feeling the prick of his heavy five o’clock shadow.

“Okay. I’m so glad you came by. Give my love to Aunt Julie, will you? And to you, too. You fibbed to me.”

“What?”

“You said you were just passing by, but your beard says you just got off the plane and came right here.”

“I’ll shave in DC.”

“Uh huh,” I take his hand and put it up to my face, then remember the bandages. “I guess he got my face as well as my stomach. I don’t remember. I love you, Uncle Phillip. I’m glad you came by.”

I can’t keep my eyes open and am beginning to fade into sleep again. You’d think that after six days I would be wide awake.

---

To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 
 

previous:

“I didn’t pick the fight, he did.”

“But you had to finish it didn’t you? When will you learn it isn’t ladylike to beat up on men?”

“Not even if they deserve it, Uncle Phillip?”

“Well, at least leave enough that I get to put in my two cents worth. Okay?”

---

Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Thu, 2008/11/06 - 5:16am., Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 17 is revised and reposted on Sat, 2009/12/19 - 02:26 PM. ~Sephrena

---

INCOMING…!:

Chapter 17

 

I missed supper. The nurse came in and sat me up. I remember picking up the fork and taking a sip of the tea, which was pretty good, but I don’t remember much else. Now I’m laying down again and the room is dark. I begin fishing for the glass of water again. My groin gives a prick and I squeal. Seconds later, the light goes on and a nurse is coming over to the side of my bed.

“I think I’m bleeding again.”

She checks and for five or ten minutes there’s a flurry of activity, after which I’m offered some water, and Jell-O if I want it.

“Oh, yes. Please. I’m hungry and I don’t remember eating supper.”

“You didn’t. You fell asleep. Your uncle left when you fell asleep earlier. He seemed quite relieved.

“He’s my favorite uncle. Has my fiancé been by?”

“No…, I don’t think so. Were you expecting him?”

“No. He may not know I’m here. It’s okay, he travels a lot and I don’t want him to worry.”

She nods her understanding. I can’t stay awake; I’m nodding off again, even while she’s standing there in front of me.

I hear her voice saying, “I’ll go get the Jell-O and wake you when I’m back. You need to eat something.”

-o~O~o-

What seems like seconds later, she is back, patting my arm to awaken me. She spoon feeds me so I don’t fall asleep without finishing the Jell-O.

“Do you think you could eat another one in about an hour?”

“I’ll try, just wake me up.”

She gives me a smile as my eyelids drop again.

-o~O~o-

I’m dreaming about Happy running with young children, when I notice something, but can’t understand what it is.

I begin to wake up and find a nurse there with more Jell-O. She feeds me and I manage to stay awake all through the feeding. She says, “I’ll check back in about an hour.”

My thoughts drift to Mom and the likelihood she has her hands full with the two puppies we planned on dropping on her. Somehow the two puppies turn into two young girls and it’s me, not Mom, that has her hands full. Sis walks in with two more girls and then Mom drops by and says she borrowed two from the neighbors. Then she and Janet leave me there with my mouth hanging open while they go shopping for asparagus.

-o~O~o-

Something is trying to attract my attention. I finally realize that I’m dreaming again and open my eyes just before the nurse gives up.

She sees my eyes open. “Hi, sleepyhead.”

“Hi. I was having a dream.”

“I’ll leave if you want.”

“No, that’s okay. It was a weird dream. Do you think I could have some more Jell-O?”

“It’s breakfast time. Do you want to try that?”

“Okay. I’m hungg…, hungry.”

“I think I’ll feed you, to be certain you eat. I’ll be back in just a few minutes and we’ll eat then, okay?”

“Okay. Please… make certain I wake up… and eat. My stomach… thinks my throat’s… been cut.”

“I promise.”

“Thanks.”

-o~O~o-

Again I feel something trying to attract my wandering attention — the smell of food. The nurse is back and my food is cut and ready to eat. She feeds me the first mouthful, and when my stomach realizes that my mouth is sending down food, it begins to complain that it wants about six helpings. It will need to be happy with this one. I manage to finish everything but the toast. I’m just not into that much chewing right now. The food is wonderful and I really appreciate her taking the time to keep me from falling asleep again.

-o~O~o-

My waking periods continue to be spent with doctors examining me, nurses poking me and giving me shots. I figure out that the shots come each morning and evening, but I still can’t keep track of the days very well. I still need to be fed, as I fall asleep if left on my own. I think I’m getting stronger. Tomorrow they are going to let me try to walk a little and then we will wing it for a while. Day after tomorrow my facial bandages come off.

-o~O~o-

Yesterday was interesting. I’m as weak as a kitten but managed to walk as far as the door and back three times during the day. Sometime this morning the bandages on my face will come off and maybe I’ll get to sit in the chair for a little while. Maybe when it’s time for supper. I finally think to ask how my things are doing back at the BOQ. I hope they didn’t give away my room and everything is still in one piece.

They don’t know, but tell me they will check. One of the doctors comes in and checks me again, then says the bandages will come off my face a little after lunch.

-o~O~o-

Two of the doctors who need to be present are going to be busy after lunchtime. The bandages are postponed a second time, to around 1600.

-o~O~o-

One of the nurses comes by just after lunch and gives me a shot. The doctor increased the dosage slightly and added a third shot for each day for the next five or six days. I also start on two more of the pills I have been taking, an increase from one each morning and evening to two each time.

-o~O~o-

Finally, this smothering head piece is being removed. The doctors tell me not to touch my face, as it will be very sensitive for a few days and they don’t want any chance of infection. They look me over and gently poke and prod at it through surgical gloves. They agree that it looks good.

“Do you want to see it?” one of them says.

I say, “Yes,” and they give me a mirror. I look at the face and have a little difficulty seeing me in it. The more I look, the more it looks like a stranger. My nose is smaller and much more feminine. There are other changes too, but I can’t quite place them. I see the overall look, but can’t decide what changed. My face is definitely female though. I reach up to touch it and the younger doctor restrains my hand.

“Careful. If you must touch it then be very gentle for the next three or four days.”

They’d stressed ‘very,’ so I ask why.

“We shaved some of the bones in your face and added a little to others giving you a very feminine appearance and a skull which, if X-rayed, will appear to be feminine. We were going to also reshape your pelvic bones, in addition to making a few other skeletal changes down there, again to help offer a feminine appearance, when we made a bit of a discovery. The X-ray didn’t quite do you justice and the, uhh, transplant….” He screws up his face as he considers what he is going to say.

“Part of the reason you’ve been so ‘out-of-it’ is because of the pain medications. These will begin to be tapered off starting with the morning meds. You must be very careful and keep your hands clean and away from your face as you are on an immunosuppressant. This is to help prevent rejection of the portion of the transplant we actually performed. It means that very simple infections could cause you a great deal of harm at the moment.”

The other doctor chimes in, “Another week and your immune system will be up and running again. We’ll keep your evening meds at this level, so you can get a good night’s sleep.”

Now the other doctor tag teams his colleague. “ At your request, we did not perform any surgeries on your chest and breasts. We did a couple of procedures which will help you to have small breasts short term. These will be absorbed and help, along with some of your medications, to cause you to begin increasing your breast size on your own.” He smiles at me.

“If yours have not developed enough in two months, then we will need to take some action to help boost you to the C-cup you say you want, but right now we’ll wait and see. There are already some ‘very firm’ suggestions of adolescent breast development so, with this gentle ‘prodding,’ they will likely develop well on their own. We’re trying to accelerate that growth without placing foreign materials, such as implants, into your chest.”

I reach up and almost touch my skin, before I remember that I’m not supposed to, while looking in the mirror. My skin has changed some. There is no sign of any beard, which should have been there after all this time, and my skin is softer, with a delicate curve to my face rather than the slightly boxy look I’m used to seeing. The area where my beard should be feels like it’s burning slightly in the air, but my face isn’t at all discoloured that I can see. I have cheek bones! I’ve just realized I can see them through my eyes, not just in the mirror, very slight protrusions into the lower outer edges of my vision.

My whole face and forehead looks different, even under my chin. I try to see my profile and, from what I can see of it, it’s pretty nice. The key word is ‘pretty.’ If I were a boy, I’d really like a date with the girl I see in the mirror. It will be interesting to see how things have turned out a little lower. That’s due to be checked in intimate detail tomorrow. I’ve had the bandages changed a half dozen times or so. But tomorrow they come off, so my healing can proceed faster and I’ll be able to walk further and more often. Suddenly it hits me. I’m bald. My eyes open wide and I look in the mirror touching the top of my head. I feel a slight stubble so I guess it will grow back.

Then I remember what he said about the ‘portion of the transplant they performed.’

“What did mean by ‘the portion’ of the transplant?”

They look at each other as though they are two boys, caught by their mother with their hands in the cookie jar.

The one doctor screws up his face again, “We were…, uh. The transplant…, uh.”

“Let me guess; this has something to do with the transplant.”

They both laugh nervously, but stop laughing as soon as they realize they’re laughing.

“You couldn’t do it? So I’m not fully a female?”

“Oh no, nothing like that, in fact you’re…, uh. That is…. The X-rays barely showed…, uh. If we weren’t looking for the adjustment we would need to make we would never have noticed until the surgery…, uh.”

“DOCTORS, OUT WITH IT!”

They act like I slapped them. I’d used ‘the voice’ just like Mom would do with Janet or myself when she needed control. That surprises even me.

Now the pair of four year old’s standing beside my bed are trying to decide if flight might be a good option, or if they should just tell the truth to their mother.

They’re still trying to decide between opting for the truth when two nurses come barging into the room, take one look at my body language, and then the doctors body language, and beat a hasty retreat out the door again, leaving the doctor’s to their fate.

“The…, uh…, transplants weren’t completely necessary, not what we’d planned.”

“And???”

“You…, uh. Have you ever had the flu, or maybe a little blood in your urine, or anything a little different?”

“What in the world does that have to do with my transplant? Yes, I’ve had flu and sometimes a bad meal and stomach cramps for a few days until it passed. What does that have to do with anything?”

“How long has this been going on?”

“Could you two just give me a straight answer?”

“How long?”

“How the H— should I know?” At this point I am feeling anything but ladylike, “You want my life’s medical history for something like getting the flu? I used to get it when I was just a kid. Everybody does.” By now the whole hospital must be able to hear me.

The one who’s been pussyfooting around the most finally gets up enough courage to give me a complete sentence.

“We did give you the vaginal transplant but you didn’t need the…. You already have a… uterus, ovaries too.”

They stand there to wait for that to sink in.

“And?” I still don’t get it….

Suddenly, I realize what he said. “YOU MEAN I’M A GIRL? A REAL…?” In my excitement, I’m almost squeaking by the time I notice that they’re waving their arms at me and trying to get me to quiet down, or at least to lower my voice by an octave or two.

I’m a little embarrassed by now; I’d sounded like a school girl, so I stop speaking and start thinking.

My slight build, curvy figure, high voice, recent breast swelling; it all begins to make some sort of weird sense.

I’m about to say something when the doctor waves at me again.

“Yes and no,” he says.

Now I’m confused, I thought he just told me I have all the equipment and it was mine to begin with.

“Everything is there, just not working well, and you were missing your vaginal opening, and of course your vagina, which we provided using part of the transplant materials. Those came from an accident victim who was about your age, give or take, and who matched the other things necessary to allow the transplant. We were becoming worried because we had the materials nearly two days before you arrived and keeping them fresh enough to use was about to become a problem.”

“I’m a girl?” I’m calmer now, and I manage to restrain myself to what passes for two rational inquiries. “All this time? I’m a girl?”

“Well, as we said…, not exactly.”

“Then what exactly?” Okay, be calm, Lucy. Be calm.

They’re looking at each other again, as if considering flight.

“Don’t even think about it,” I say

They look back toward me as though I’d read their minds, and look like two four-year-olds again.

He screws up his face and lips before speaking again. “For some reason, everything you have within you wasn’t quite performing as it should. Which was probably a good thing, since you didn’t have a proper path for it all to follow. A path which we added. We think the medications we have you taking will jump start everything so to speak and it will take off and probably run normally. The ovaries are our main concern at the moment.”

“Why?”

“They… don’t appear to be functioning.”

“And what does that mean to me?”

“You cannot have your own babies. Well, you can, but…, uh.”

“Spell it out.”

“With your ovaries not functioning properly, you have no eggs. Without the eggs you can’t have children. Otherwise, everything else down there is female. If you were implanted, then I think you could come to term and have a child.”

I’m thinking about this and looking at my face and head again. They latch onto this as a possible diversion.

“Don’t worry. We had to shave your hair to do some of the work on your skull. You can continue to wear a wig until your own hair grows out again. A few years and it will be shoulder length. If you like it long, then it may take you six or seven years to reach that length.”

My shoulders droop, but then I remember, ‘shoulders back, head up.’ Six or seven years…. But then my long hair will be MY long hair and not a wig. Wonderful.

Their diversion works and they leave as I’m admiring their work. I need to become accustomed to my new face. I hope my makeup isn’t drastically affected, since I’ve already purchased it. By the time I am ready to ask more questions, I discover that they’re long gone.

-o~O~o-

The next morning, about 0800, the Two Star drops by with Uncle Phillip at his side. They take one look at me and then back out of the room before I have a chance to say ‘hi.’ A minute later they are back with a nurse who looks at me and then at them.

“That’s her,” she says.

I flash ‘what’s the problem?’ at her and she says, “They weren’t prepared for the changes in your face. They didn’t recognize you right away. No big deal. Have a nice visit. I’ll be back with your shot in about twenty.”

“Hi, Uncle Phillip. How do I look?”

“Great, kitten. I gave Aunt Julie your love. She wants you to visit when you get back.”

“Tell her I will. How are you, Sir?” I ask the Two Star.

“My office looks much better. Beat up on any Colonels lately?”

“No, Sir. But then I haven’t come across any that need it in the past few days.”

He chuckles and says to my Uncle, “She’s a good choice, Phillip. I hope the rest of the surgeries turn out as well as her face has. Lucy, tomorrow afternoon your husband will drop by to say hello. He flies out in a couple of days. The nurses will give you your makeup and help you look a bit better before he arrives.”

“I need my wig. Did they destroy it?”

“I don’t think so. If they did, we’ll get you another.”

“They don’t come off an assembly line, Sir. They’re made for the head they fit, and are pretty expensive.”

“How much could they cost? Thirty or forty dollars?”

Uncle Phillip and I both laugh, and he says, “No, George… How about three to five… hundred?”

General George chokes at the amount. He goes out to check with the nurses, who come back in with him, saying that everything is in the room. The search is on and the wig is found. It’s in terrible shape. It looks like it was peeled off my head by brute force instead of using the solvent to take it off properly. Some of the hair has been cut away. I guess they started to cut my hair before they discovered it was a wig. The cap has portions which are stretched or cut. It is a total loss. My beautiful wig is now a piece of trash.

“If they destroyed my wig, what did they do to the breast forms?”

They’re nowhere to be found.

General George says, “I suppose those are three to five hundred as well?”

“Not quite, Sir, but just like the wig they must match the person who is going to wear them. You don’t just pick up a pair and glue them on. The wig must match the head and be in the proper colour and then it must also have the proper cap or it won’t look like natural hair; it will look like a wig. The adhesives used are soluble in a special solvent, which is designed to remove the adhesive but not damage the cap or hair. Immediately after removing it, the wig has to be carefully washed to remove all traces of the adhesive and solvent. That will protect it, allowing it to be used again and again for maybe two or three years depending on usage and care. The breast forms must both physically and colour match my chest. This is especially true since all my gowns are strapless and allow portions of my breasts to show. They are made to match me, so the seams don’t show and they look like my own. It takes time for them to be made properly. They’re glued in place, much like the wig, and require special care to remove them.”

Two Star George thinks for a while, “Okay, We can order everything and for tomorrow your head can be bandaged to cover the area where your hair should be. That will solve that part of the problem. We can obtain cheap breast forms quickly, I hope, so you could wear them under a nightgown and robe here in bed. You’ll be well covered, so no one can see that they don’t match perfectly. When the good wig and forms arrive, no one touches them but you. What do we need to know to get the order under way?”

“I need my cosmetics case from the BOQ so I may check the skin tone of my chest against a cosmetic colour so the forms can be made to the proper colour. We need a six foot flexible cloth tape measure, like they use in sewing, so we can measure both my chest and my head. The dimensions will need to be written down and sent off, along with the colour information, to the people who make them. The wig needs to be human hair and we can cut some of this one to send along as the hair colour. The breasts will be a bigger problem than the wig. Oh, and the wig cap must be full French lace. I’ll write it all down once I have my cosmetics case and the ruler.”

I pick up my wig looking at it sadly, “I really liked that wig. It was a part of me.”

They borrow my key and get the room number so they can send someone to pick up my cosmetics case, negligée and robe. I tell them to remind whoever it is to lock the door and check it before they depart the BOQ. Uncle Phillip promises they will tell them everything then he and General George leave together. I still don’t understand how they will keep that bigot Colonel from spilling the beans.

-o~O~o-

Two hours later a female Staff Sergeant enters with my cosmetics case, negligée, robe and my room key.

“Wow they certainly did a job on you. Will your hair grow back?”

“They tell me it will over a number of years. In the meantime, I guess I need to get a wig.”

“Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t have to wear a wig. That’s too bad. Anyway, here’s the cosmetics case. And they said you wanted one of these?” She holds up the cloth tape ruler.

“Yes, thank you. Did you have to pay for this?”

“Yes. It was fifty-five cents. They said they will reimburse me when I give them the receipt.”

“Go over to the closet and get my purse, please. I know how long they take to pay small amounts. You shouldn’t need to wait to be repaid for this.

She brings back my purse and I fish for a dollar bill, finally locating one which I give to her.

“I don’t have any change,” she says.

“That’s okay, keep it. Thank you.” I give her an ‘I appreciate it’ but she doesn’t react. I guess not everyone is taught this language.

“Thanks. Good luck.” She walks out the door.

I begin to wonder why she doesn’t understand the facial language but come to no real conclusions. Buzzing the nurse’s station, I ask for a pad of paper and a pencil.

After they arrive I begin taking the measurements of my head and write all six dimensions on the paper, along with a label for each measurement. I then write down the length, from my crown, over the top of my head, and then down to where I want it to fall. I specify full French lace cap and then put the paper with the colour sample cut from my destroyed wig.

Now I measure my chest and my breasts. WHOA! They’re SENSITIVE! That’s new. I touch the nipple of one and in moments it’s standing out prominently.

Very sensitive. Geez, if they had been like this when I had the fight with the Colonel all he would have needed to do was hit me on one of them and I would have been out of it. Carefully I again place the tape and go for my breast measurements. Difficult, until I figure out how to hold the two ends of the tape without hunching over, but not impossible.

Taking each measurement I write down the information. Measure between the breasts and write that down. I make a note of the size I want to end up at (between a B and a C-cup) with my own breasts underneath as A’s. That way, as I continue to grow, I’ll fill out the bra for now, and when I’m a little too large I can remove or replace the breast forms and continue to wait for my natural growth to duplicate the measurements we sized all my clothes for.

I try to remember my measurements from a few weeks ago and I think my breast measurement is about a quarter to half of an inch larger than before. Interesting. That means I might reach a C-cup without breast forms in about three or four months.

Cool. I could have my own breasts before I go overseas again. I wish my hair would grow that fast.

Two nurses come in. They’re going to wrap my upper head. I wait until they finish and then am about to use the hand mirror to try to put on a little makeup when one of the nurses stops me.

“Not so soon,” she says. “Your face needs to heal completely before you start using makeup again. Maybe in another couple of weeks.”

Well…. I guess I can live with that. With my new nose, cheekbones, and forehead, I look a thousand times better than I did. Before, I looked like a woman but now I’m actually pretty. Looking at myself in a mirror is still a shock. I see only a few small changes but the overall effect is amazing. I hope Mom still recognizes me.

My head seems to be getting better fairly quickly. I hope the rest of me does as well.

-o~O~o-

“LUNCH!”

“You’re early.”

“Yes. We needed to move lunch up half an hour.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Now what’s for lunch? Looks like chicken…. Turkey! And cranberry sauce! Ugh, potatoes. But fresh vegetables! CHOCOLATE PUDDING! Hide this quick before they realize. Tea…. Stuffing…. Wow, how did I luck out? I start in with a small bite of the stuffing…. Uhmm, good. I continue my scrumptious meal taking my small bites but hurrying so if they made a mistake it will be gone before they may do anything. I finish everything except the potatoes.

Now for my treat. Taking the spoon I make a shallow dip in the pudding, just enough to cover the tip of the spoon placing the delicacy in my mouth. Closing my eyes, I’m in heaven. Slowly savoring every little bite, I finish off the pudding and am attempting to scrape remnants out of the bowl even though there are no remnants remaining. Now that was a nice meal. If they could all be like that I might never leave the hospital. The nurse enters my room to see me staring into the bowl, my spoon scraping here and there in an attempt to find one more scrumptious little morsel of pudding.

“Good, wasn’t it?”

“Heavenly.”

“We have a new mess Sergeant in the kitchen. He’s changing things a little. He just finished a course in nutrition for medical patients and is applying his knowledge. Patients are supposed to recover faster if the meals are tastier and more nutritious. If they are tastier, then the patient eats more of the meal as well, which also helps recovery.”

“Uhmm. I may steal him.”

She starts laughing, “I’ll tell him. If he ever gets a look at you with those bandages off, he may take you up on it.”

She takes my tray and is still chuckling as she leaves the room.

About an hour later my temporary breast forms arrive. I slowly move out of bed to find my bra from the clothes in my room at BOQ tucked in the closet. I slip the breast forms into the bra after I put it on, then slip on my negligée and robe. Slowly I climb back into bed just before the nurse walks in with my shot.

“Now don’t you look nice. Expecting a suitor? I hear you want to steal our mess Sergeant. Stand in line. Okay, give me your arm.”

“I’m beginning to feel like a pin cushion.”

“There won’t be too many more. I think they are scheduled to stop in three or four days. Your Oral meds will pick up a little at that time. Then in a few months they will begin to taper off some.”

“When will they stop?”

“From what I understand, never. They will cut way back but you will be taking them for a long time. Whatever you caught over there is a lulu. It’s keeping you from healing as quickly as normal from the effects of the accident. They think it will be controlled though if you keep up the meds, so I wouldn’t worry about it too much if I were you.”

Now that’s interesting. They are treating me like I have a disease of some kind.

Or maybe that is a cover story too. The meds aren’t though, so I guess I will be looking at them for the rest of my life. I hope they give me plenty to take with me.

-o~O~o-

Something awakens me. I open my eyes and see a stranger standing there. Maybe this is my husband. He’s very handsome.

“I hear you don’t like my food, Colonel.” Oh, this is the mess Sergeant.

“It’s divine,” I say.

“Glad you like it. You’re one of my first guinea pigs.”

“Well, I hardly feel like a pig, but if you do as well at supper I may stay here an extra week or two.”

“Wait a minute. My food is supposed to help patients get better and leave, not encourage them to stay.”

“Then maybe I should stop eating it so I have a reason to stick around. Of course then I would be missing the reason I’m staying. Quite a dilemma.”

He starts laughing. Nice smile, nice eyes, good laugh.

“Wait until after supper before you stop eating. Let me know what you think about the food after a few more meals.”

“I can’t wait.”

“Tell you what, I’ll send a surprise up with your tray. Try it and let me know what you think of it.” He begins to leave.

“What is it?”

“Now if I tell you, it won’t be a surprise,” he winks as he goes out the door.

Moments later, two of the nurses are in my room.

“Well?” one says, but their faces are both sending, ‘Tell me all about it.’

“Well, what?”

“You know. Him.”

“He just came up to tell me he is glad I like his food.”

“Uh huh. And pigs fly. He had dozens of messages about his food, even from the nurses. You’re the only one he came up to see.”

“I have no idea. He doesn’t know me from Eve. Maybe it was luck of the draw, or perhaps I hold the most rank.”

“Riighttt. You’d better watch out, girl, he may be setting his sights on you.”

“That’s hardly possible. I go back to Vietnam in a few months.”

“I thought you have already spent more than two tours over there. Pushing for General before you’re thirty?”

“Almost two and a half, and no. I just have some heavily required expertise.”

“You still better watch out. We just got him here. We don’t want to lose him right away.”

“I doubt you’ll lose him. I don’t believe my fiancé would appreciate the competition.”

“You’re engaged? No one mentioned that.”

“In fact, he’s supposed to visit today.”

“He’d better be a hunk. If you turn down the Sergeant for him, he’d better be a hunk.”

“I would prefer intelligent. But wait and see.”

“We’ll be watching. Get some more sleep. After that visit, you’re probably exhausted.”

They go out, talking quietly, and I imagine the rest of the nurses will hear about my visit before the hour is out.

-o~O~o-

“Lucy? Lucy.”

I manage to open my eyes and focus on another handsome man in my room.

“Hi, honey. How are you doing?”

“Fine.”

“I came as soon as I heard. They said the accident left you in pretty bad shape but you’re doing ok now. How about a kiss for your fiancé.”

OH. So this is the one.

We share a little kiss with more passion on his side than mine but I’m still ‘sick.’

When did they tell you?”

“I was cabled yesterday and it took that long to get here. I’ve got to leave again in a couple of days. You know how it is. They can’t do without me.”

“Yes, I know.”

“You seem tired.”

“I am, but I’m getting better.”

He leans down and gently puts his hand on one of my breasts. I’m glad I have the forms on.

“What do you say to getting married tomorrow? Then, after you recover, you can come over and be with me.”

I give him a little smile. Inwardly, I’m not so sure. The mess Sergeant seems to have a nicer personality, but then again who am I to know?

“Married? Here? Now?”

“Why not? We can always consummate it once you’re better and over with me. Besides, I don’t think conjugal visits are quite the norm at the hospital.”

“I guess not. Maybe we could have a nicer wedding sometime later, so I can have bridal photos and memories?”

“Sure. Why not? It can be a big wedding too, after we return to the States.”

He still has his hand on my breast and I feel it moving like he is gently massaging it. My own breast is responding by enlarging a little which is forcing the breast form up a little as well. My breast, hell, I’m responding to it. This is a new sensation. I’m not certain I like it. I’m not certain I don’t.

“I’m kind of sleepy.”

He takes his hand off my breast.

“Okay, honey. Get some sleep. I’ll see if I can make it back tomorrow.”

“Okay. I’m glad you came by.”

“Any time, honey. Any time.” He leans down again letting me feel a little of his weight as he kisses me again. I share it a little more this time, as though I’m still recovering but want the kiss none-the-less.

He leaves the room and I’m lying there trying to find that elusive feeling I had.

Now that I’ve met him, I’m beginning to have some second thoughts. Something is just a little too smooth. Of course it just may be that I’m still too doped up to be able to get a good ‘reading.’ I had a good reading from the Sergeant, though, so I’m confused.

The Sergeant was friendly and nice and didn’t push at all, like a big brother who wants to protect his little sister. The impression I got from my fiancé was more like the big bad wolf.

This doesn’t make sense. Uncle Phillip would hardly allow them to pair me with someone who would be like that. I’m just being paranoid because we are going to be married. A girl is always allowed second thoughts just before her wedding.

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To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 
 

previous:

He leaves the room and I’m lying there trying to find that elusive feeling I had.

Now that I’ve met him, I’m beginning to have some second thoughts. Something is just a little too smooth. Of course it just may be that I’m still too doped up to be able to get a good ‘reading.’ I had a good reading from the Sergeant, though, so I’m confused.

The Sergeant was friendly and nice and didn’t push at all, like a big brother who wants to protect his little sister. The impression I got from my fiancé was more like the big bad wolf.

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Thu, 2008/11/06 - 7:03pm., Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 18 is revised and reposted on Sun, 2009/12/20 - 01:30 PM. ~Sephrena

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Watch out for the rumor mill:

Chapter 18

 

Again, I’ve been asleep when a nurse comes in.

“Hi, sleepyhead. Ready for supper? My, don’t we look nice?”

“Thank you. Yes, I think I could handle it.”

“I’ll sit you up,” she says as she works the controls at the foot of my bed.

The head of my bed begins to rise and eventually she comes around and fusses with my pillows to help me to sit up straighter.

“I hear you had a visitor today.”

“Yes, my fiancé.”

“The mess Sergeant is your fiancé? That will burst a lot of bubbles.”

“Oh, no. No. My fiancé visited too.”

“Ohhh. That’s good, I thought for a moment there would be a lynching party and you were about to be the guest of honor. Every nurse in the building wants to go out with him.”

“My fiancé?” I ask.

She looks at me with an ‘are you dense?’ expression. “No, with the mess Sergeant. They’ll be glad to hear you’re not in the competition. What was he like?”

“I don’t know. He seems nice, though. His eyes say that he’s thoughtful and kind. He seemed kind of reserved too, but that’s probably the rank thing. If I had my pick of big brothers, he’d probably be the one I’d want.”

“The rumor is that he’s related to General Pendleton.”

“Uncle Phillip?”

“Who’s Uncle Phillip?”

“General Pendleton is my uncle. I guess that’s why the Sergeant visited me. He must be some kind of cousin.”

“Oh boy. Wait until I tell this to the girls. They’ll be glad to hear it. That explains why he visited you and not someone else. It also explains the ‘surprise’ and a special tray for you.”

“I’m confused.”

“The mess Sergeant visited you, not anyone else. Since you’re both related to General Pendleton, that would explain the visit. Here, you’d better eat and rest some more, you’re still out of it. He even sent you a special tray. It has your name on it, so he could be certain you get the right one.”

She pushes the cart over and adjusts it so my tray is partially in front of me. Then she removes the covers from the plates. I notice that a note is tucked under the edge of the dinner plate.

The note reads: “I’ll be back in ten minutes to be certain you’re eating.”

She hurries out the door, probably to put another rumor into the mill for grinding.

That mill seems to have an overabundance of rumors going through it these past few days. I pull another note from under the dessert plate, which has a small torte sitting on it.

‘Try this for dessert and let me know what you think.’

I look over my supper and see that it looks like it came from an expensive New York restaurant. No, I’ve never been there, but I’ve seen them in movies and can imagine. You know, all the little touches of presentation and garnishes to make everything look appetizing. Our mess Sergeant could undoubtedly teach cooking in Paris. Hmm, related to General Pendleton. That would mean we’re probably ‘cousins’ of some sort.

Veal Parmigiana? Wow. Sliced green beans, some sort of thick creamy sauce on the side, I poke my finger in and take a taste. Mmmm, good. A bowl of broth — smells wonderful, a small bowl with four perfect strawberries, the torte, and what’s this in my cup? It looks like red wine. It is red wine.

Wow! Get a whiff of the bouquet. Just a small sip, just enough to taste. Wow again. This isn’t cheap. If I didn’t know better, and if I weren’t confined to a hospital bed, I’d say he was courting me and was treating me to a fine restaurant meal. I take a bite of one of the strawberries. Mmmm, sweet. I need my glass of water and struggle to bring it closer. Now I start my banquet. The veal just melts in my mouth. Mmmm. Geez, I’ll be sorry to go back to the officer’s mess in camp.

“Okay, how are you doing in here?” The evening nurse comes in.

“It’s wonderful”

She takes a good look at my food, “Is that wine?”

“Yes. You can’t have it, it’s mine….” as I cover it with my hands in mock protection.

She laughs, and looks at everything else.

“Looks good.”

“It’s delicious. Here, try a bite of the veal.”

She takes the small bite off my fork and in moments her eyes are saying, ‘Very nice.’ as she says, “That’s really good. What’s this?” She lifts my note and reads it.

“Oh, getting notes from the chef, huh?”

“We’re related, it seems. He’s somehow related to my Uncle Phillip, or so I’m told.”

“Who’s Uncle Phillip?”

Obviously the rumor mill hasn’t dispensed any of its latest grindings to her yet, so I explain again. I finish my meal while taking very small sips of the wine every now and then.

Finally I try my torte. Just like the veal, it melts in my mouth. Layers with different tastes assembled in a way that makes the whole experience delectable. I savor every bite. It’s a shame to follow it with a dinner wine, despite the excellent vintage. After I finish my meal, I find my pencil and write a note back to him.

‘The meal was wonderful, the wine excellent and the torte was absolutely delectable. Thank you, Lucy. P.S. I hear you’re related to Uncle Phillip.’ The nurse returns about twenty minutes later, waking me up so she can lower my bed again and I can sleep. I don’t understand why they wake you up so you can go to sleep. She takes my tray and note, then leaves. I vaguely remember awakening long enough for my shot and pills and the next time I awaken the room is dark.

Turning on the small light I carefully get out of bed and make my way to the toilet. It is quite difficult with the bandages down there pulling a bit but somehow I manage then pat my whole mess dry with toilet tissues. I’m padding back to the bed when the night nurse comes in.

“I thought I saw a light. Here, get up on the bed and let me check.”

I flow onto the bed without thinking about it and she examines me to be certain I haven’t pulled anything.

“You’re doing pretty well. We’re taking off these bandages and I have orders to dilate you tonight so you don’t develop any adhesions, and to check to see if you are beginning to self lubricate. That will be a good indication that you’re healing. We’ll be doing this a few times a day for the next few days, for about ten minutes each time. Are you ready for that?”

I haven’t the faintest idea what she is talking about, but I suppose she thinks this is normal for me.

“Okay, go ahead.”

She has me lie back as she draws the curtains around me and takes this thing which is about eight or ten inches long smearing some sort of lubricant on it. She has me spread my legs and just begins to insert it when I finally figure out what’s going on. In it goes. She slowly works it in further and further and I can feel it deeper and deeper until she says, “There. Now just lie there and don’t move. I’ll be back in ten minutes.”

This is embarrassing. Here I am open to the world with this thing stuck in me.

After a few minutes I am getting over my embarrassment and begin examining the feeling of it in me. This must be a little like what it will be like to have a man in me. I’m not certain what I think about it.

I concentrate more on where it seems to be and how deep it is. I reach down carefully and touch it to discover half to two thirds of it is in me. Perhaps five or six inches. With my hand I try to get some idea of just how long it could be and how large the diameter might be. If it is ten inches long then at least six of that is in me. The diameter is about a joint and a half of my finger which would make it roughly an inch and a quarter. Are men really this big? I never was.

I tentatively touch it again and move it a little, pressing it from side to side inside me. I’m rewarded with the feel of it moving in me. Gasping, I try moving it in and out, just a little, and find the sensation… interesting. I continue for a minute, to discover that I think I like it and my breasts are responding as well, by becoming even more sensitive. What’s happening to me? This is scary, but it’s wonderful too.

I allow it to remain, while slightly rolling my hips and am again rewarded with a pleasant sensation. I begin to imagine what it would be like to feel my husband on top of me with his manhood stroking in and out instead of this thing. I place a hand on my groin and press lightly, then a little harder as I move the thing with my other hand. Geez. I think I’m going to like being a woman and having my husband taking me in bed. I wish I could have children.

I hear the nurse returning so I put my hands together on my tummy. She comes around the curtain and begins fussing with the thing slowly moving it in and out gradually withdrawing it then cleaning both it and me.

“There, that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Not after the first couple of minutes. It made me want my fiancé.”

She smiles, “Well, we need to continue using this for a while, I’m afraid. Gradually, we’ll go up to larger sizes. We need to be certain that everything is okay before you start playing house with your fiancé. They will be doing this again in the morning. Probably just before or just after breakfast.” She wraps it in a towel and places it in the stand by the side of my bed.

“You’re doing pretty well. A few days will tell. When they let you leave they will send one back with you and you will need to do it yourself each night for the next few weeks then it will be gradually be tapered off to just once or twice a week as you continue healing. Eventually, your fiancé may be able to take care of this naturally.” She gives me a ‘look,’ smiles, and leaves the room.

I continue to consider the sensations I have just experienced as I fall asleep again.

-o~O~o-

During the night my dreams begin considering the thing which was in me gradually shifting to the man who is to be my husband and finally completing with the Mess Sergeant on top of me kissing me and stroking in and out until I see fireworks. When I awaken I feel like the whole world knows about my dream.

“Good morning.”

“Hi. You’re in early.”

“Well, we need to do something this morning before breakfast,” as she draws the curtains around me. “I understand they did this last night. Do you want to try it on your own?”

“Maybe next time. It’s a little embarrassing.”

“I know. Sorry. We need to do it though.”

“Go ahead. I’ll survive.”

“Good girl. Just pretend it’s your fiancé or maybe that handsome mess Sergeant.”

I must have blushed.

“Whoa…. Got it bad, huh? Which one? Your fiancé or the Sergeant? Or maybe both?”

My eyes widen. I don’t remember her in the dream so how could she know?

“I’m a girl, Lucy. I have the same kind of dreams.”

Oh great, now I’m expressing my feelings on my face when I don’t want to.

“Okay, legs apart. You look pretty good. Any tenderness?” She is gently pressing on me in a most embarrassing place.

“No, I feel okay.”

“Just okay?”

“Well….” I can feel my cheeks flush.

She smiles knowingly, “Sorry, here we go.”

I feel the thing moving into me again, not quite as easily. She adds a little lubricant as it goes in. She also slides it out once in a while and then back in a little further moments later.

“That’s good, you’re starting to produce your own lubrication. That means your internal organs are starting to work again, after the injuries you received in the accident.”

She again draws it out and slides it back in further yet.

“Good, you’re doing really well. Just once more and then we’ll let it stay there a little while.”

I feel it move out and can’t wait for it to come in again. As it slides in, I almost go wild wanting it. I feel it touch me somewhere inside and am so excited I’m quivering. She leaves it there and covers me with my gown and the covers. I want more of that sensation.

“I’ll be back in about ten. If it starts to slide out press it back in.”

Oh, I will. I will. “All right.”

She goes out and I start to play with my new toy, examining my feelings. It is in a little further than last night. Just less than a third of it is outside. I feel my skin all around it and discover I am very sensitive down there at the moment. Grasping the end I move it just a little to feel it inside me. I could get to love this sensation.

I try sliding it most of the way out and find it doesn’t need to be in very far for me to feel the excitement building.

With my eyes closed, I experiment with moving it in and out for a minute, both with my muscles relaxed and with them trying to grip it as I slide it out. I’d better push it back in. As it slides in, like it’s surrounded by silk, I feel it bump up against something. Another sensation floods me. Not pain. I’m not certain what I felt. I check the depth and believe it is about where she left it.

I’m considering the possibility of practicing with a man. Just to see what it’s like. To allow me a clinical perspective you understand, since I’ve never done this before. I wonder if Sis would let me borrow Tony for an hour or so? Maybe I could convince my fiancé to let me practice with him before he goes.

I’m lying there with my eyes closed, touching it once in awhile and then thinking about the sensations I am having. I didn’t know I would be able to feel like this.

Even without the children it’s almost worth it. I feel something move and reach down to discover it has slipped out a bit.

Pressing it back in brings momentary bliss and my muscles begin to contract as I quiver again. This is wonderful, just like Mom said. I try moving my muscles around it while holding it in and am rewarded with more of the sensations. I’m almost ecstatic.

The nurse returns and I try not to show my disappointment that it will be removed again. She slides it out and in a few times then draws it almost all the way out and slowly presses it all the way in again. I’m quivering with excitement. She pauses and then draws it out and cleans it off as I slowly begin to relax again. As she wipes me, I still feel the pleasure of receiving a touch down there. I may hardly wait to do this with my husband. I hope he likes me.

“That was good. Your body is recovering quickly now. This afternoon they will try it again. Maybe without additional lubrication. You seem to be able to produce enough on your own now.”

I can hardly wait. Breakfast arrives and it is just as good as lunch and supper were. No note though.

As I am finishing breakfast the doctors arrive to examine me. They poke at me and gently rub me down there, checking the reactions of my new plumbing. One of them puts on a surgical glove and gently enters me with his fingers, checking that I am producing normal amounts of lubricant. They look at the charts and get into an animated discussion of the chances they took and of the now active organs. They both come to the conclusion that it seems to be working out, as I show no signs of implant rejection, and everything else appears to have started functioning more or less properly, with the possible exception of my ovaries.

“Could you repeat some of that in English? I think what you’re saying is that I may have babies?”

“Not exactly. Yes, we implanted the vaginal canal and your uterus appears to be awakening and starting to function properly. You are beginning to be able to produce your own lubrication, so having normal sexual relations may not be a problem. We are in disagreement, however, as to the possibility of pregnancy. I think that if an embryo is implanted in you then it could grow to maturity and you could give birth just like any other woman.”

Now that catches my attention.

“Dr. Collins, on the other hand, agrees that you might be able to accept the embryo and allow it to grow but he feels that there is no guarantee of this, and you couldn’t give birth vaginally, but would need to deliver by Cesarian section, if any putative pregnancy goes to term.”

“I would also like the opportunity to implant ovaries to mate to the Fallopian tubes connected to your Uterus at some time in the future if these do not begin to function any time soon. That might allow you to produce children in the same manner as any other woman. That, just as this, would be experimental surgery.”

“Again, Dr. Collins disagrees and he believes the risks outweigh the possible benefits. That pretty much sums up the argument.”

“What say do I have in this?”

“You may decide not to do it, or you may decide to go for it. Neither of us recommends it at this time, however. I, myself, think you should wait about a year to see how you handle what you have and what effect it has on you. Dr. Collins, as I said, believes you should not have the additional surgery at all. In any case, the time for such discussion is in the future, not now.”

Wow, I could have babies like any other girl. Cool. I blurt out, “Let’s do it.”

“Didn’t you hear what I said? Neither of us recommends it right now.”

“In that case, as soon as we can, let’s do it. My Mom has already donated eggs. If she is willing, could she donate an ovary?”

“We would need to do some tests to be certain. She may be too old for her ovaries to produce high-quality ova, even if we were able to transplant them.”

“Maybe long enough for me to have two or three girls?”

“No promises at this time. The charts show that you are doing quite well in just these two dilations. I think, if Dr. Collins agrees, that we’ll step up to the next size when you’re dilated this afternoon.”

The other doctor says, “I think I would prefer her to use the size we are using now, but without artificial lubricant. If that goes well, then tonight they can step up to the next size. Don’t you think that might be a little less risky?”

“Hmm…. Yes…. That’s likely a better approach. Let’s write that into the charts and see how she does. Lucy, if you experience any, and I mean any, discomfort tonight with the next size up, tell the nurse and she will continue with this size. Don’t try to go larger if it isn’t comfortable. We have plenty of time to work into it.”

“Okay.”

“Promise me?”

“I promise. If it doesn’t feel perfectly comfortable, then I’ll tell her.”

“Good girl. If Dr. Collins doesn’t have any more, then we’ll see you tomorrow.”

“No. I’ve said my piece and it looks like she is exceeding expectations at this point so let’s continue. See you tomorrow, Lucy.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

They go out, talking about my recovery, while I continue to think about babies.

The nurse comes in and takes my tray. While everyone is out I reach under the covers and touch myself. That’s an amazing place down there. I’m really sensitive all around the opening and when the thing is in me only the first few inches are terribly sensitive, the rest I sense more by inference. Relaxing again I take a sip of water and try to decide what to do with myself for a while. In comes the nurse with my pills and the shot. Well I guess the next minute or two are accounted for.

She just finishes and General George comes in.

“Hello, Sir. Where’s Uncle Phillip?”

“Probably about half way back to ‘Nam. How are you doing, young lady? Do you have that information about the breast forms and the wig?

“Yes, Sir. This is the page about the breast forms and the company from which they can be purchased. This page is about the wig and these are some of the hairs so they can match the colour. One more thing, Sir. Could they be asked if they can take the hairs from the destroyed wig and make one that’s a little shorter using the remains? I don’t want to do it right now, but I would like to know.”

Changing gears, I ask, “How’s everything on the home front? Is there anything I could do from here? I’m going stir crazy. I won’t be able to walk a lot for a couple of months, but I don’t want to just sit around. I need something to do.”

“I’ve been thinking about that. I may have an answer. We’ll see how you handle it after you get out of the hospital.”

We talk for perhaps twenty minutes, mostly about how well I’m doing and a little about some of the duties I’ll have when I return to Southeast Asia. While I will be acting the part of a wife for the operative, I will also have embassy functions to attend, as well as several black ops events which require a woman and the ability to speak French.

As he winds down, he comes over and kisses my forehead, “See you in a few days. We’ll get these ordered and get back to you. Continue to improve, Linda, I’m glad you’re doing okay.”

“That’s Lucy, Sir.”

“Lucy? I don’t understand?”

“You called me Linda, Sir. My name is Lucy.”

“I did? Sorry, Linda is my daughter. It must just have slipped out.” He starts for the door.

“Oh, by the way, Sir. You really need to try the food here. I may not want to go back to the BOQ; the food here is that good.” His eyebrow goes up during my heads-up.

“The hospital food?”

“Yes, Sir. The new mess Sergeant went to a special school to learn the preparation of nutritional meals for patients. The meals taste very good, so the patient is likely to eat more and leave less. The meals are more nutritious as well, aiding in recovery.”

“This I’ve got to see, or rather taste. This is a bad time I would suspect. In between meals. I’ll go down and look anyway. Thanks.”

I give him a daughter’s smile to see his reaction, “You’re welcome.” I imply ‘Daddy’ at the end, but don’t quite say it.

He starts out giving me a friendly wave, and then pauses, glancing back with a puzzled expression on his face. He looks at me for a second and shakes his head then turns toward the door once more and waves again on his way out. I have the feeling he won’t recall I didn’t say ‘Sir.’

The rest of the day goes without event. My fiancé never showed up and, as far as I know, we’re not married yet, contrary to the suggestion he made yesterday. The lady with the book cart is going by the door and I manage to attract her attention. She rolls it in and asks my preferences. I go for romantic or science fiction. She rummages through the titles and comes up with one of each. I accept them both and start with ‘Stranger in a Strange Land’ by Heinlein. The title seemed appropriate to me for some reason.

The nurse awakens me for lunch. I can’t find my paperback so she looks around and finds it on the floor. Must be a good story…. I don’t remember any of it.

After she sits me up and places my tray I check to see how far I got. I don’t even remember page one. I’ll try again after lunch. Once again the meal is delicious, and once again there is no note. Oh well.

I begin reading the paperback once more, now that I have finished lunch and find myself into chapter two by the time my food tray is to be taken away. She lowers the bed again and I continue reading only to find myself being awakened for my affair with the dilator once more. This time there is hardly any lubricant used. She causes me great embarrassment, since it stimulates me sufficiently that I am producing my own lubrication, allowing the thing to slide in and out repeatedly until once again just over two thirds of it is in and she says it should remain for ten minutes.

I think I must have turned ten or twelve shades of scarlet at various times during the session. After she leaves, I experiment with moving my muscles and attempting to grip the thing, almost forcing it out by accident. I slide it back in until it is nearly two thirds in and hold it in place as I move my muscles, being rewarded with more of those interesting sensations. I think I’m becoming addicted.

She finally returns to remove it, allowing me to regain my composure.

I begin reading where I left off and make it into chapter three before supper shows up.

The nurse asks if I would like to sit in the chair to eat and I’m all for it. Flowing out of bed and into the chairs seems to be becoming easier, despite the slight pain in my hips as I move. She brings the rollaround all-purpose cart over and places my tray on it after adjusting the height for the chair.

“Thank you.”

She nods and leaves me to investigate my meal. This time, there’s a serving of cake for dessert on the tray with another note tucked under the plate: ‘Try this one. It should tickle your palate.’ That’s a puzzling comment. I have slices of lean roast beef with gravy, peas, a small amount of mashed potatoes, two pats of butter, one slice of bread, a fruit salad, and a cup of coffee. Plus the cake. The whole supper smells good and tastes divine. I am savoring my meal as the nurse comes in to check on me. I tell her, “I’m enjoying my feast.”

She smiles and goes out again. I take my time and eventually make my way to the piece of cake. I sample each layer to find this cake has a completely different range of tastes than its predecessor. I try a small cross-section, including each layer in one bite.

Interesting.

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To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 
 

previous:

This time, there’s a serving of cake for dessert on the tray with another note tucked under the plate: ‘Try this one. It should tickle your palate.’ That’s a puzzling comment. I have slices of lean roast beef with gravy, peas, a small amount of mashed potatoes, two pats of butter, one slice of bread, a fruit salad, and a cup of coffee. Plus the cake. The whole supper smells good and tastes divine. I am savoring my meal as the nurse comes in to check on me. I tell her, “I’m enjoying my feast.”

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Thu, 2008/11/06 - 7:07pm., Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 19 is revised and reposted on Wed, 2010/01/06 - 09:28 AM ~Sephrena

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I really need to walk more, before all this good food goes right to my figure. It doesn't matter that it's fictional food for my characters, my figure absorbs it anyway:

Chapter 19

 

Perhaps half an hour after supper, we go for a short walk. From the chair, out the door to the nurse’s station and one room down the hall, then back to my bed. Now my hips and pelvic region are driving me mad with pain.

“I think I need to walk more often, so this pain will go away faster.” I say this to the nurse.

“Honey, until you give birth, you haven’t felt anything yet. I’ll get you a pill for the pain. They’re prescribed, but unless you’re in a lot of pain, we’re supposed to let things go on as they are. Will the pain prevent you from sleeping?”

“If it doesn’t kill me first. By then, I don’t think I’ll care one way or the other.”

She purses her lips. “I’ll get you a pill. Be right back.”

She goes out and I gently touch myself trying to figure out exactly what’s hurting the most, but it just seems to be everywhere. It hurts so much that I’m getting a headache.

She comes back in with a tumbler of water and a little paper cup with a pill in it. “Here you go. Take plenty of water. Once this kicks in, you’ll go to sleep, pain or not. You won’t likely wake up until midnight or later. That’s good…. A little more water. Okay, now you’d better lie back. I’ll check in about ten minutes. You should be feeling a little better by then and you’ll be out by the time a half hour goes by.”

I lie back, still trying to figure out why I hurt. It seems to be my bones. That pill she gave me is weird medicine. I’m developing a metallic aftertaste in my mouth and nose, like breathing through liquid metal.

The nurse comes back some time later, but I’m having difficulty concentrating on her. I vaguely hear her saying something and I say something about the tuna on the wall, which is staring at me.

It’s funny, but I feel like I’m in the room watching myself talking with her.

Focusing my eyes is really difficult. It’s like one eye is looking one way and the other in some other direction entirely. I close my eyes to try to regain control and when I’m ready they won’t open. This is a little frightening until the nurse pulls the covers down and the room reappears. Now I’m getting really hot. She takes my temperature and says it’s something about midnight Mass or mess or something. I have this funny feeling happening and after careful consideration decide the new thing is trying to make me pregnant. I try to explain that it won’t work but it stays there a while. It isn’t doing anything except lying there so I go back to sleep.

-o~O~o-

The next time I wake up, everything is pretty much back to normal. I look around for the tuna but they seem to have moved it again. I remember that my bones were hurting, but now they seem okay. A nurse comes into the room and asks if I want to go for a walk before breakfast or if I’ld like to wait. I tell her that I don’t believe I could stand, so maybe sometime after breakfast. Breakfast was good, once I figured out which was the fork and which was the coffee.

That pill certainly afflicted me with mis-coördination. I think I’m doing better, the longer I’m awake. The food seems to be helping too. About half an hour later, they take the remnants of breakfast away and we go for a little walk. This time it is out to the nurse’s station and down the hall almost to the elevators. I eye them and the nurse thinks I’m planning to escape, so she guides me back to my room.

By the time we return, I hurt again and am worn out, but refuse the medication. I don’t like being dopey. She says she can give me something “a bit less extreme,” returning in minutes with a different pill.

She awakens me about an hour later for my second session with the new thing.

When I see it my eyes nearly pop out of my head. I’m apprehensive but in it goes just like it belongs there. I can’t believe men are that big. “That’s pretty big,” I confide to her.

“Honey, haven’t you ever noticed the bulge in men’s pants. Most of them are bigger than this.”

I feel my face becoming hot and just know my inexperience is showing.

“Relax, honey, You’ve never had one, have you?”

Again my face heats as I shake my head no.

“Don’t worry. We are all able to accept them. It just feels a little uncomfortable for a minute or two while our bodies get used to it, then it’s just fine. Unless you’re very young, you’ll be able to handle it, and if you were that young, you shouldn’t be doing it anyway. All we are doing right now is making certain you are still okay in that department. From what I hear, you had a pretty bad accident, but you’re doing great. Don’t worry.”

I try to look confident, but… bigger than that? I’m beginning to have second thoughts. Being female is nice but… BIGGER THAN THAT?

Over the past weeks, I’ve given a lot of thought to how nice it would be to have a man holding me in his arms, protecting me and sharing our lives while raising children. I’ve thought about sex, but not with this in mind. I mean, I know it happens and there is physical closeness and even sex, but… bigger than that? In me? And I will like it? Well, yes, maybe. But…. Oh God. What did you do to yourself?

I was NEVER that large, and ‘most are bigger?’ She returns to remove the thing and I realize suddenly that, while it was a little uncomfortable going in, I have indeed become accustomed to it and am actually disappointed it is coming out.

I ask her to sit me up a little before she leaves and then I grab the two books and continue reading. I finish Heinlein and am halfway through the second before the book cart comes around. I return the one and obtain another before continuing to read. I’m doing pretty well, finishing nearly three quarters of my second book before they come to take me on my next walk.

We go out to the elevators, across to the opposite side of this floor and then back via the direct route through the nurse’s station. Again I take only a light painkiller.

I’m doing better, both at the walking and in reducing the pain. I feel a little strange walking, like my legs are angled differently, or further apart, or something.

Back in my room, I sit on the chair instead of going to bed.

I saw the food carts come up, and sure enough, in just a couple of minutes my tray is before me. There’s a nice lunch with another of those interesting little cakes. Everyone is getting them now. I write a note on a piece of paper towel asking for the recipe and slide it part way under the plate.

After everything is taken away again, I try standing. Even just standing somehow seems different. My legs work just fine but there is still a nagging feeling that they are oriented slightly differently than before or something, like I’m trying to trip over my own feet. I’m vaguely aware of the difference but can’t place it. I walk back and forth in my room for a few minutes but still can’t place it. I must be imagining it; I’ve been lying down too long.

The nurse comes in and catches me up and walking.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t we exercising you enough? Come on, let’s go do two laps around the ward.”

I give her a ‘Who? Me?’ look.

“Yes, you. Come on, if you’re going to be up, then you can work at getting well. Come on, now. We’ll try for three but take two if you can’t make it.”

We made three, but about halfway to the elevators on the fourth lap I decide I’m getting pretty tired so we go back and I flow/ stumble into bed and am out like a light until the evening rituals.

Supper has a note, it is the recipe for the Quick Cake. He also tells me my entree is a new creation: ‘Try it, you’ll like it. Recipe to follow.’

It’s a meat dish but I don’t know what it is. It looks a little like meat loaf but no tomato and tastes like it has a lot of other things in it. The flavor is wonderful and it melts in my mouth. Next to it, there’s a small amount of mashed potato with spices and garnish, along with something softly crunchy, other than the green beans, mixed in it. Strange but tastes good. Instead of coffee there is tea, very strong tea. The dessert is my original favorite, Quick Cake. I scribble a quick note, ‘Delectable!’ and put it under the plate.

A little later, I do four laps around the floor on my own, checking with the nurses each time I go by. When I reach four, they make me return to my room to rest.

“Don’t overdo it,” one of them says. “You’re still about a week from discharge, and then you’ll be an outpatient for six to eight weeks.”

Returning to my room’ I sit in the chair for about an hour and read. They come in and check on me a little later, asking me to move to the bed. They cranked it up so I’m partially sitting, and I continue to read, finishing the one book and then starting on the next.

I have nearly finished it when the nurse comes in with my midnight treat. I take one look at it and nearly faint. In nothing flat, the curtains are drawn, my covers are down, my gown is up and I’m flat on my back. She adds a little lubricant, thank God, and it begins.

“Come on, relax,” she coaxes me. “You won’t develop enough of your own lubricant if you don’t relax. Take a deep breath and let it out. That’s better.”

My eyes must be as large as saucers. I feel it sliding in and can’t believe it. It’s a monster. She finishes the active portion of our tryst, so she leaves ‘the monster’ where it is and tells me that she’ll be back in ten minutes or so. I can’t believe that it all fit inside me. I can feel it inside me. I reach down to touch it and am stunned by the sheer size of the thing. It must be nearly two inches in diameter. I gently press along my tummy and can feel some kind of lump there.

I wonder if this is anything like what I would find when I am pregnant. I try pretending it’s a baby growing in me and begin to explore the sensation in that light. I think I might be able to handle that. I need to talk with Mom. If I’m going to be pregnant some time I should know more about it now, not after it happens.

I look at the clock and it’s been about fifteen minutes. I reach down and move it just a little; other than that it’s larger than those before, I’m handling it just like that nurse said. I slide it in and out about a quarter of its length, finding that it offers me a level of sensation the smaller ones did not, especially when I push it far enough in that I can hold my tummy with my other hand and feel it move. I wonder if there is any way they can make me feel like I’m pregnant? Maybe a balloon or something. But then that wouldn’t move. I remember Mom saying that she could feel us move around inside her. That must be something really special. I hope I have the chance.

The nurse comes back in and relieves me of my visitor, then cleans it and puts it away in its hiding place beneath the towel.

Finally it’s over and I breathe a sigh of relief, not from pain but from my fear of the unknown future that stretches out before me. I’ll probably do better in the morning. I put down my book, she turns out the light and I’m off to slumberland.

-o~O~o-

Morning pushes itself upon me in the form of my doctors, who are making their rounds early. They review the charts and ask me questions, check me and pronounce everything to be on schedule.

“We may release you in a few days for home rest. In a week or so, we’ll allow very light duty if you continue to improve.”

“Then I’ll be allowed to return to the BOQ?”

“Yes, but there will be restrictions. No lifting above ten or fifteen pounds for several weeks, and then only gradual increases over the following two months. No long walks. A long walk will pretty much be anything further than about eight times around this floor. You will be allowed to increase that about one lap every day or two. The charts indicate you are up to seven right now. Basically, you’ll do nothing which might cause complications, but the aim is to improve your strength and stamina over time.”

“How soon may I leave?”

They start chuckling and the one I like best shakes his head.

“Perhaps in a few days,” he says.

They go out, discussing my progress between themselves, just as breakfast is walked in.

No eggs!? I check the plate and find most of the normal breakfast items, just no eggs. Strange. I go ahead and eat, finding the taste is not quite up to par, compared with the past few days. Very strange.

Breakfast finished, I turn to my book and have completed another chapter before the dishes are collected. I am about to turn another page when a nurse walks in with my shot and pills. The book takes a temporary back seat.

By lunch time, I’ve gone on two walks, my scheduled affair has been dropped to once every few days, and I’ve just finished the last book as I sit in the chair over by the windows. I was just wondering what to do with myself as lunch arrives.

Again it is not quite up to par, not bad though.

A nurse comes to check on me so I ask her, “What’s with the food?”

“That’s what we we’ve been wondering all day. The General ‘borrowed’ the mess Sergeant this morning. We should have him back tomorrow.”

“I should hope so.”

“We will. The General promised the Colonel in charge of the hospital that he wouldn’t keep him. I understand there is something wrong with the food at the school so they’ve kidnapped our Sergeant to look at the problem.”

“It’s a problem all right. Everything tastes like dirty dishwater over there. I don’t know if they’re unable to prepare good food, or if the quality of the food itself is poor, but something’s not right.”

“Really? I hope they don’t keep him. We like his food.”

“I’ll see if I can’t put in my two cents worth. Maybe the General could increase the Sergeant’s rank a little and put him in charge of the school mess as well as the hospital. Sort of a Master Mess Sergeant. It doesn’t sound so good when I say it that way, does it?”

“Not exactly, but I know what you mean. Do you think you could? We would all appreciate it. His food was giving us more energy, not just helping the patients.”

“I’ll give it a try. Never hurts to try.”

She smiles and flashes, ‘Thank you,’ then goes back out, returning in a few seconds.

“You distracted me and I forgot why I came in. It’s time for your shot.”

I notice she is carrying that little prickly thing and a swab.

“Well, it was worth a try,” I joke.

-o~O~o-

Two days later, my wig and new breast forms arrive and immediately become a firm part of me.

Oh yes, the mess Sergeant returned to the hospital after two days, not one. When the General visited me this morning I asked him about the problem at the school and about the possibility of the mess Sergeant being promoted to supervise both the school and the hospital Mess.’ General George tells me he was thinking about something along that line himself, “The position would call for an E-7, though.”

“Why not do with him the same as you’re doing with me? Give him the rank of an E-7 (Master Sergeant) but help him a little without making waves by giving him the pay grade of an E-6 (Technical Sergeant). That way, you get your supervisor, and he gets a little extra money for taking on both duties.”

“I didn’t know you could read minds.”

I smile at him with that mischievous look women sometimes give to men.

“Lucy, are you certain that somewhere during all this,” he sweeps his arm to indicate the hospital and me, “they didn’t lose the male and substitute a female in his place?”

“Well, Sir, you asked for it and now you’ve got it,” I reply with a little twinkle in my eye.

His eyes just go larger and larger as he considers my comments until he gives up. “I yield. I yield,” he says.

I laugh and grab his arm suddenly drawing him down to me as I kiss his cheek.

“Maybe I should start calling you ‘Uncle George’ instead of General, Sir.”

He is standing upright now, with a disconcerted look on his face. “I think we’re in trouble,” is all he says.

The only problem is, I think he means it.

-o~O~o-

I’VE BEEN PAROLED, or it feels that way at least.

I am in a new uniform, which replaces the damaged one (I have to pay for it out of my clothing allowance), and I’m riding back to BOQ.

There I find my room and sit on the bed to rest. Three hours…. I have three more hours until supper. Digging through my cosmetics case, I add a little makeup to my face, I don’t really need it to disguise my face now that I’ve had the facial surgery, but I feel a bit naked without it. I need to practice again. My face is offering new challenges now that it is changed.

I’m thinking about walking to the Base Exchange, since it should be open, but the distance one-way is at my maximum range before resting so I’d better not try just yet. Maybe in a few weeks. I go back out to check in at the office and discover new people. Figures. I’ve been gone nearly three weeks so turn-over could easily have happened.

They panic to see a Colonel arriving at the desk. They are attempting to decide which room to give to me when I tell them I already have one. That confuses them. They go through their list of visiting officers and show no Colonel. I show them my room key and tell them I was a Major when I checked in. They find me quickly now and make the changes to the records.

One of them suddenly has some hint of recognition flash across her face, not of me but of something else and she begins searching through her papers and then into several files.

“Just a minute, Ma’am. I seem to remember receiving something a few days ago….

Ah, here it is.”

She starts reading to herself then begins to nod her head, apparently in synchronization with each sentence. Finally she says, “Yes, this is it. Just a moment, Ma’am.”

I’m looking at her with an expression of ‘are you going to stand around all day with that piece of paper or do you intend to share the knowledge?’

“Oh. Sorry, Ma’am. Let me make you some copies.”

She goes to their copy machine, inserts the sheet in the top, sets it for the number of copies she wants and presses the button. The machine begins whirring and clacking and the top starts moving back and forth.

“I appreciate this remarkable display of mechanical capability but, is this going somewhere?”

At that moment the sound changes a little and sheets of paper begin to slide out of the machine and into a little hopper located near the bottom front. After it has cycled back and forth about a dozen times, the top stops moving and she removes the sheet as papers continue to pour out into the hopper. Eventually the papers stop spitting out of the machine, the sound drops in intensity and finally ceases.

She hands me the copies still warm from their ordeal.

“Is that all it does?” I say, as as I point at the machine.

“Yes, Ma’am. It’s a couple of years old. The new ones don’t move like that.”

I start reading the top copy and find these are orders. Two weeks from the date shown at the top (just less than a week past) I am to report to the school as a temporary instructor in Intelligence Analysis. Terrific, I’ve never taught a class before.

What in the world could he have been thinking about? I’m about to turn and go to my room when I remember to thank the young woman who made the copies for me.

“You’re welcome, Ma’am. I’m looking forward to this.”

I look up from my copies, “Looking forward to what?”

“Your class, Ma’am. I’m one of the ones you will be teaching. The rumor going around the school is that you’re an expert and are on loan to us for about six weeks. They have been getting ready for this for the last three or four days. I guess we will actually be working with real Intel during the class. It’s an exciting challenge. Most of us have completed the previous three classes and we were about to rotate when they halted it because they got word you were coming to put the final touches on our training, so to speak.”

Wonderful. I’m supposed to teach a class, and give them insights into analytical techniques when I have never taught, nor do I have any idea what background information any of them may have had regarding the Intel with which we will be working much less my having any background in teaching it.

“I don’t suppose you could fill me in as to what material any of you have processed or perhaps what Intel we will be examining?”

“No, Ma’am, I’m afraid not.”

“Could you obtain that information for me, as well as the clearance information regarding each of you? Perhaps the school would be so kind as to provide me with a list of my students, their abilities, clearances, and field reports they’ve analyzed?”

“I’ll call them right now, Ma’am. As soon as I reach them, I’ll transfer the call to your room so you can talk with them.”

“Thank you.”

I return to my room, thinking of ways I can make the General sorry he ever thought of this.

A few minutes later, my phone rings, “Here is the Lieutenant Colonel who’s in charge of the school, Ma’am.”

I say, ‘Hello,’ and it all begins. He is gushing with effervescence at the prospect of my teaching at his school for six weeks. After a minute of ‘Old Faithful’ gushing off, I manage to calm him down and get to the nitty gritty. He tells me we can’t discuss it on the phone but he would be overjoyed to have me come over and we may go over everything.

I inform him that due to my surgeries I am not to walk more distance than about three hundred feet without several hours of rest. “I hope this will gradually change, but in the meantime, I'm under doctor’s orders to limit the distance I walk and the time I spend on my feet.”

He asks if a car could bring me the six blocks to the school and take me back to the BOQ each day with another round trip for my meal at lunch.

While I think this might work out, I tell him I feel the need to begin looking at the intelligence my students have studied and information about them such as clearances, capabilities, and so on. “This will be especially important if I am to do anything to help them learn during the following six weeks.”

He is still gushing and promises to make arrangements for my ride immediately. I am going into the school tomorrow (and every day) before my class begins so I can develop a ‘feel’ for the material and for my students.

“How many will I have,” Thinking along the lines of the classes I attended where eight or nine were taught at once.

“Twenty. The entire output of our last session.”

“TWENTY?” I think I’ll have a relapse. “Okay, twenty.”

I’ve never seen a single class of twenty intelligence analysts.

“HOW, may I ask, are we so lucky as to have twenty available?” I intended this question to be sarcastic but somehow it seems to have gone over his head.

“Yes, we are fortunate, aren’t we? We have two study groups which graduated within a day of each other and held them all over for your additional training.

They’re quite excited about it. We haven’t had a new field analyst teaching here in some time. The General tells me you have been batting well over 90% on the analyses’ you’d produced in-country. We’re glad you could take the time to polish our students. We have a half dozen instructors who want to sit in as well, maybe pick up some new approaches.”

“Just out of curiosity, how many people will I actually have in my ‘class.’”

“Well, let’s see. There’s the twenty and maybe seven plus the four from over at building two and maybe three from building four. Of course we haven’t heard from the other campus in Tucson yet, but they might send us twelve or so. That should probably be about it.”

“I’m going to have from forty-six to fifty students in one class?”

“Well, no. We might divide it in half, so you see half in the morning and half in the afternoon.”

“I’m looking at twenty-five students per class? We’ll need a lab for them to work in. In fact, each class will need its own lab because they’ll continue to work while I am teaching the other class. In fact I think I need to change all that. Everyone will receive a lecture during the first hour each morning. That means I need one room where everyone can sit down for an hour or so. Then they’ll report to their labs to begin the lab work.

The other instructors may be able to help with that, while I go back and forth between the labs. Because of the limitation to my time on my feet, I need the two labs and the lecture hall to be very close to each other. I think during this training I will also wear civilian clothing because my uniform shoes will cause me some problems. It might help to relax everyone more if they don’t think of me as an officer looming over them. Proper analytical procedures almost dictate the need for everyone to be relaxed and in top form. How’s the food here at the school? If they aren’t well fed, they won’t do well.”

“It’s funny you should mention that. Maybe that has been changed because the General knew you were coming.”

“And?”

“Oh, the food is much better now. I wouldn’t eat here before it changed. Now I’m looking forward to finding out what’s on the menu.”

“How has the change in the food affected the morale?”

“A lot actually. Everyone has perked up and they are showing more interest in learning. When did you know you were coming here, if I may ask?”

“It was a spur of the minute thing. I arrived a few weeks ago, but was still busy. I have another eight weeks of recovery ahead of me, so I can’t push myself too far for a while. Although I didn’t see how I could possibly handle fifty students at first, I’m actually beginning to look forward to it, provided I have plenty of support and all the information I need prior to starting the classes. If I’m ready a little early, then I might start the program early, as long as everyone is here.”

“Some are on a short leave, but everyone is due back the Friday prior to the Monday the class begins.”

“We’ll start on Saturday then, with introductory material, if I’m ready, and if everything can be arranged by then. Since this is to be a ‘crash’ course, our classes will be held Monday through Saturday, with Sunday’s free. The days may go long, I think, depending on where we are. Tomorrow I want to see the files on all the students including those from the other areas. I’d like photographs with the files, so I can visualize each student and associate the face with the information. You may want to do that with the instructors who are going to be attending as well. This is going to be interesting.”

Then I have a thought. “Oh, that first Saturday probably won’t go more than three or four hours. It will be held in the lecture hall. To keep everyone interested and awake, I’ll offer them two short breaks of ten minutes during the lecture period. During normal days, the labs will be about three hours each following the intro hour in the lecture hall.” I was designing my class on the fly now.

“We'll have a break of ten minutes between lecture and first lab period, and then the second lab period will follow lunch by a half hour and go for three hours. That should be enough time to allow everyone to make it to the first supper call if they need to.” I think for a second about scheduling.

“Remember, the first lab period is really two separate labs with half the students in each, as is the second lab period. Can the school arrange this for me?”

“I may need a few days to move things around a little,” he says, “but by the time you begin, it will be ready, Ma’am.”

“All right, If you’ll have a car pick me up tomorrow morning about 0800, then we will start this going, and see if there’s a real possibility of it working out. Thank you for talking with me.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” He begins gushing again. I think he is one of those men who needs a woman to order him around. It takes me almost five minutes to get him off the phone so I can move on to the problem of preparing for my class.

---

To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 
 

previously:

“To keep everyone interested and awake, I’ll offer them two short breaks of ten minutes during the lecture period. During normal days, the labs will be about three hours each following the intro hour in the lecture hall.” I was designing my class on the fly now.

“Remember, the first lab period is really two separate labs with half the students in each, as is the second lab period. Can the school arrange this for me?”

---

Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Thu, 2008/11/06 - 7:10pm., Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter XX is revised and reposted on Tue, 2009/12/22 - 04:07 PM. ~Sephrena

---

I wish I was a civilian:

Chapter 20

 

I decide I am going to wear civilian clothing starting right now. I change into a nice skirt, blouse and FLATS. Oh, that feels so much better. I was beginning to hurt and I’ve only twenty of the mild pain killer tablets. They provided me with ten of the knockout tablets, but I won’t be able to use them if I intend to remain aware of what I’m doing. I really don’t want to start any of them again, because I’ll be too dopey to teach.

Going out to the office again I corral the Specialist who said she is going to be in my class. I explain a few things and what I am going to expect from everyone.

“I’ll be reviewing everyone’s file and the school will let everyone know exactly when and where we will begin. There will be two labs each day following the lecture. The first day will be only in the lecture hall. The labs and partners will be assigned either that day or during the Monday morning lecture. There will be too many people for me to get around to individuals, so I will be checking groups, likely three or four in a group. Each person will be responsible for their own conclusions but you may discuss them with your partners. Any work which is duplicated between individuals will be grounds for that group to be broken apart and new partners assigned. We simply have too much to cover and too little time to cover it. Attendance will be Monday through Saturday with Sunday free. Pass the word. This will not be a slam dunk course. You will all be receiving a three year field study in just six weeks. It will be rough.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

I think that I’ve never heard such enthusiasm from someone who’s about to attempt a twelve mile run in the middle of the hottest desert available without a canteen or oasis nearby.

I’m not happy, not especially unhappy, but things could be a lot better for my class. I have the services of three shifts each of eight enlisted personnel who will make full-sized duplicates (or have them made) in only an hour or two at the most, of anything I might wish to have made available for my lectures or labs. They’ll also produce slides and other documentation I may need on demand, within a few hours, if possible.

If I decide I need something for the next day’s labs, the materials will be ready for distribution by the following morning. The main problem I’m still facing is that I just don’t have a specific direction in which to take them. I have a call in to the General, but haven’t received a return call yet. I’m beginning the class with material they’ve hopefully seen before, but I intend to use these to lead them into entirely different directions, overturning all their previous conclusions. I hope. I want them to see that there are a number of interpretations available from any set of data and it will be their responsibility to find the one correct path without it being spoon fed to them, which is what I suspect has been happening, given my memory of my own training.

I want them to THINK, not react. The first Saturday will likely burst a lot of bubbles. I have a final count of fifty attendees. Forty of these are students. That means I have five instructors available in each lab. I may put one instructor with each four students and I’ll float between the groups and labs.

The third week, I hope to start them with entirely new material, but the fifth and sixth weeks will be the true test. I want to give them fresh material to analyze, straight from the field.

I finally have my call back from the General and outline my ideas and needs to him. He likes it. Thank God, he likes it. He promises me fresh data about a week before I want to present it for my week three. It will be old material, but something which was actually field information, and shouldn’t be common knowledge yet. The fifth and sixth weeks, I’ll have my new data, fresh from Vietnam, which will be time-critical, and just begging for analysis.

They’ll never know what hit them. Except for the last two weeks, I’ll see the material before the students, and the instructors will see it at least the day before, but the students will have no warning. For the last two weeks, though, everyone will be living on the edge.

-o~O~o-

I receive my ride back to the mess hall at 1800 for my supper, after learning that two of the students haven’t yet returned from their leaves. Everyone was due back by 1500 so for the moment they are Missing and considered AWOL. I’ve asked that, if they arrive back before 2100, no charges will be placed and they will be informed that they report for start of class at 0800 tomorrow morning. If they come back after that, then it is up to the school commander’s judgement. “If they are slack in reporting then they may be slack in class and that could take down the whole class.”

The last few days I have been receiving stares from the few instructors who eat during the same meal hour. They have heard this will be no walk in the park. No one knows exactly where I’m going to take them, and now that the word is out, there’s a slight feeling of apprehension floating around both my students and the instructors. Rumors are rampant, ranging from secret CIA requirements to a special new intelligence unit about to be formed, and then on into exotic possibilities that bordered on the ridiculous.

That I’m dressed in civilian clothing may be part of it. Everyone is accustomed to uniformed personnel giving the lectures and conducting the labs and exams.

They understand the chain of command. No one is quite certain what to expect from a ‘civilian’ even if she does hold the rank of Colonel. Then too, who ever heard of a Colonel conducting a class? Captains maybe, sometimes a Major, but a full Colonel? Something’s up and no one knows what. The instructors have tried to get information out of the school commander and he’s not talking.

Someone discovered I have three teams of eight enlisted personnel just to prepare the materials with which we are going to be working. The instructors are looking at this appropriation of manpower with some apprehension, considering that they usually share one team of eight or ten, while I’ve commandeered three teams, totaling twenty-four individuals. What material could be so important and require such rapid preparation for use that it requires that many people and around-the-clock shifts?

As I mentioned, rumors are rampant. Expectation is building, because tomorrow some of the questions will begin to be answered as I start the class (on a Saturday). That has people scratching their heads as well. Two labs operating simultaneously? And twice a day, six days a week? This is indeed a ‘crash’ course, and now no one believes it will be a slam dunk.

The Base exchange has sold three times as many paper pads and pencils as usual during the last four days, and the school staff has announced that they will provide twice as many as is normal for the usual courses, to help the students in this particular course. Even my enthusiastic young specialist tries to pretend she does not see me when I go through the lobby while on my way in or out of my room.

One good thing so far, is that all this planning is keeping me moving, so I’m walking a lot better now, and my health is rapidly improving. I think during week three I’ll begin to practice walking in heels again, and maybe wear my uniform for weeks five and six. I hope that regulation dress heels won’t cause me any problems by then.

I finish my supper, which was pretty good. Meals have been improving steadily during the past few days, not quite on a par with the hospital but quite good, especially if one considers how bad they were just a few weeks ago. On a scale of one to ten, we have gone from one to about a seven in just a few weeks. I miss the quick cakes and ask about them. They’re coming, just another couple of weeks.

The concentration now is on making the main dishes as good as possible. I point out that once in a while people just need a little treat. The quick cakes would be a nice surprise every now and then, even if they didn’t repeat for a number of weeks.

Wherever I go now, silence suddenly greets me. I suppose school tomorrow will be interesting. I walk to my quarters, shower, and turn in after reviewing my sketchy lesson plan once more.

-o~O~o-

I’m up about six. By 0700 I have dressed with my hair in a pony-tail (keep them guessing) and I’m just arriving at the mess hall for breakfast. I roar through breakfast and am back at BOQ ready for my 0740 ride to the school, briefcase in hand. My presentations team and I do a quick paper rehearsal of my lecture and slides presentation before I go to await my students.

I begin writing notes onto the chalkboard and, when finished, lower the screen to cover my notes. A few of the students and faculty have arrived and taken seats with the rest pouring into the lecture hall just a few minutes before 0800. Everyone seems to have at least a dozen pencils and a pad or two of paper with them. This class is much different than anything they have encountered and it hasn’t even begun. I do a quick head count and come up one short.

“As we seem to be missing someone, I am going to call names. Answer ‘Here,’ when your name is called. One more thing, during my course, no attention will be paid to rank by anyone. Officers and enlisted will refrain from the use of military protocols while in my lecture hall or my labs, except as a requirement of the lab exercise itself. We don’t have the time to waste during classes. You’ve all found yourselves in here, rather than off on some assignment in the field, because we hope to make superior analysts out of you.”

I look around the room, trying to make eye contact with each student. “This takes brainwork rather than reaction. The first part of your training is to use your brains first, rather than your preconceptions and instincts, and the first lesson will be this disregard of rank, only while in class, because these distinctions encourage deference and compliance on the one hand and, if not arrogance, then an assertive imposition of a single point of view. The moment you are outside this room, or the labs, then rank again applies. I hope you understand.”

I call the names and finally finish with one missing student. Apparently one of the two made it back in time. I immediately launch into my lecture. The lights dim to a level permitting notes but keeping the screen in the dark to allow easy viewing.

Slides begin appearing on the screen. I walk the class through each of the slides providing them with details and field operatives speculations.

After the first twenty slides, the nature of my lecture turns toward the possible meanings of each and the overlap of collected data despite the differences in time of collection. We move on to a new set of slides and more field operations details and speculations. Again we examine the possible overlaps and meanings. Now we are into set three. We follow the same pattern and, when completed, I indicate to the operator that he can shut down the projector and the lights are turned all the way up again.

Now we move into analysis. Within each of the three sets of slides are specific regions which were examined on three different days, but at identical times. We’re thereby offered the opportunity to observe changes, and hopefully to see a pattern in the information that’s been collected. The surface patterns are readily observed and I ask everyone to date and title a single page of paper to include their name and the title, ‘Thunder One.’

“Each of you will explain in about ten sentences exactly what the most obvious pattern provided by the data consists of, and what your recommendation would be as to the best response to neutralize it. The second ten sentences will do the same for any underlying pattern and another ten sentences for the pattern under that and so on until you have each found your way through however many patterns you perceive. Use extra sheets of paper if necessary. Each sheet will be titled similarly, but will be numbered as page one of however many, page two of however many and so on. You have twenty minutes to complete this and turn in your papers. Begin.”

I see ninety-four pairs of eyes watching me, than blink and swivel down to the papers as creative minds begin to guide hands in writing. I look around the room and note that two of the instructors are just sitting there. I turn toward the chalkboard and say, loudly enough that they will hear me, “School instructors are not exempt from this requirement. If they wish to continue in my class they will also need to prepare their papers in the same manner as the other students.”

I finish writing some more notes on the chalkboard and when I turn around again everyone is busy. I lower the screen into place, covering my notes once again.

“Two minutes remain.”

“One minute remains.”

“STOP. Turn in your papers. Don’t worry if you haven’t finished, this isn’t a race. I simply want to see how many of you are looking at the entire picture versus the surface one.”

Three of my assigned assistants collect the papers and then I call a ten minute break.

While everyone is taking their break, I flash through the papers. Everyone saw the first and second layers although some identified layer two as three and vice versa.

Most saw the third layer. A few suspected or saw a fourth layer and one thought there were six layers in the information. That individual presented strong arguments for her conclusions. She failed to note that her layer six and her layer four were different ways of saying the same thing, but she did find five, however weak the fifth argument happened to be.

Everyone is filing back in and taking their seats. They look exhausted. Well, mental gymnastics can do that to you.

“Welcome back to Intellectual Hell. Now are you ready for the bad news?”

Everyone’s eyes are riveted on me, “One of you mistakenly identified six layers. No, I won’t disclose who any of you are. Anyway that one individual actually identified their layer four twice. There are actually eight perceivable layers but from the information presented to you there is no way to know that. You’d need a couple of months of background information in order to begin to identify all of the layers. Again that one individual did correctly identify five layers, however weak the argument for the fifth. The argument was weak, not because of poor logic, but because there was insufficient information presented to justify a stronger judgement. Everyone found the first and either the second or third layer and presented a strong argument for them.

Many of you found the first three and a few the first four. It is my hope by the end of this six week class, to have all of you thinking at least four layers deep in everything you examine. Get out your pencils and tablets again, since we are about to initiate ‘Thunder Two.’”

I give them a half minute to prepare and the lights dim again and we are off. Four sets of slides, new data with more complicated overlaps or missing pieces which they’ll have fill in from what they know. The time frame for each set of slides is now not just a day within a set, but a week, such that the collection of data for a set of slides did not all occur on one day but over a week. This complicates things a bit, since many objects seen in one slide may have been moved and can be seen again in another from the same set due to the time expansion. With six new complications they must still find and argue the layers and make recommendations.

“Begin.”

This time there is no one sitting around. The instructors are charging into the data just as hard as the students. I have given them half an hour for this one.

I count down the last few minutes, both to put the pressure on and to let them know that they have to start finalizing their appraisals. “Five minutes remain.”

“One minute remains.”

“STOP.”

Again the papers are collected. This time there is no break. The screen rises and they see the notes on the chalkboard. I see a few stunned faces as suddenly the notes and that which they were just doing fall into place. They’ve just performed an analysis of an actual attack which went undetected, due to poor intelligence work prior to the offensive, until it actually went forward in ‘65, and which resulted in a high number of casualties on our side.

“Have you all viewed the notes? Just raise your hand for yes.”

All the hands raise.

“Do you all see what happened due to poor analysis?”

Again the hands raise.

“Now. Here comes the hard part. Here and now, in front of everyone in the class, how many of you actually discovered, properly analyzed and recommended correct action based upon what you were shown. Remember I recognize each of you and I will read your papers so if you are not truthful now before your classmates, I will single you out Monday. Now, how many made the correct analysis and recommendations?”

No hands go up.

“This means there were over 3,000 deaths because you failed to properly analyze the available data and make the necessary recommendations. I don’t want you to learn to err on the side of prudence or timidity. I want you to learn that, if you believe you have detected something, then you must say so. Command needs to know everything you suspect, based upon the data you’ve examined. They need to know how accurate you believe your assessment to be, on a percentage basis. If you’re 100% certain, then you made a mistake somewhere. If you’re 10% certain then you’re in the wrong business. Today’s presentation was designed to shake you up, and get you out of any complacent attitude you happen to be in, if any. Today was your introduction to Intellectual Hell. Monday, we start going after demons.”

I stand for a brief moment, surveying their expressions and demeanor, then say, “Dismissed.”

I watch everyone file out. The sort of talking which usually occurs at the end of a class is almost non-existent. The instructors look about as pale as the students. The young specialist from the BOQ office, who also happened to be the one who saw five layers, walks down to me.

“That was an interesting class, Ma’am. Much more interesting. You really get me to thinking. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I hope you’ll enjoy the rest of them. As I said, Monday we start going after demons.” I wink at her and she smiles, then rushes out through the doors to catch up with some of her fellow students.

-o~O~o-

Lunch was quite good and I spend a little time walking to try to keep up the exercise the doctors feel I need. I still tire but am making great strides (no pun intended) now that I’m out of the hospital. Returning to my room to rest, after purchasing a book to read later, I drag out the ‘Thunder Two’ papers and look them over. A little more disappointing, only three saw the holes left by the missing information and surmised what must be missing accurately, thereby filling the gaps. My young specialist was not among them. I’ll address that Monday so that they’ll all realize that sometimes there isn’t enough information, and you have to base your decisions not on what’s there, but on what’s not. I begin planning changes to my lecture as I am reading my new romance novel.

About six chapters in I glance up at the clock and discover it is time for supper. In fact I am five minutes into my window of opportunity. I grab a sweater, throwing it over my shoulders, and walk to the mess hall. As I enter the room it suddenly becomes more subdued, conversations which had been at full voice now mere whispers. I ignore it and continue to a table where I await my turn at a meal.

“May I sit here?”

I look up and see a Major, whom I seem to remember was sitting up near the back row of my lecture hall.

“Be my guest. It’s still a free country.” I smile, to show him that I wasn’t being sarcastic.

He sits down just as the young man who is bringing his meal begins to search for him, having found an empty table where the Major had previously been seated.

“That was an interesting session today,” the Major said.

“So I’ve been told.”

“Your approach to analysis is somewhat different from what many of us have experienced.”

“The proof is in the pudding, I believe. My methods produce accurate and frequent results, so I find it to be workable.”

“The interests of the students might be best served by a slightly more traditional approach, don’t you think?”

“And what of the interests of those whose lives depend on the accurate production of analysis by those students?”

“Well, those too.”

“Then my method appears to be of more importance, since it yields greater accuracy, and more frequent and timely results in protecting those lives.”

“I don’t mean to belittle your methods, Colonel. We’re just concerned that you are undermining everything these students have been taught thus far.”

“Major, the job of you instructors was to teach these students to use their minds and to apply their skills to the mountain of information which is going to come at them. Your job was to show them how to make decisions and to make them wisely, and you’ve all done a wonderful job at that.”

I paused, to let the compliment sink in. “You’ve taken them through high school and the first four years of college with admirable results. I see your good influence in the excellent papers which I collected today.” I nodded to him, in courteous recognition and appreciation.

“But it’s my job now to add to their individual curricula a new set of skills in teamwork and concentration. We’ll take the broad knowledge and aptitudes gained during their baccalaureate and turn them into Masters, concentrating on their special gifts and interests and honing the skills they’re best at, as well as learning to take the long view, a process that would otherwise take place only under fire, hopefully before they get someone killed during their attempts to learn. My approach, first and foremost, is to get them to realize that not all Intel is going to appear magically before them, carefully arranged in a self-contained class project, so that they can quickly assemble that information into a neatly-typed report for Command within a pre-alloted time.”

Ah, I see heads looking up from notebooks around the mess hall, where I can see that some of my students are seated for their meals. Some of them are already chafing under the standard classroom assumptions, as I did back when I was taking classes. “A master of this trade has to understand that information given to them months, perhaps even years, earlier may be pertinent to the present situation. Therefore, it plays a part in that analysis. They must learn to look at the overall picture and consider many months of past data even as they add the new. This is the broad view that generates better Intel out the door than what came in, and ultimately saves lives. Our examination of the failed analysis of that ‘65 offensive is the proof of that, and a cautionary tale. Information loves company; it can’t be properly examined in isolation, much less resolved.”

He retorts, “We understand that. We just feel you’re being a little hard on the students. Perhaps a lighter hand could yield better results?”

“Major, if you don’t like my methods, then please feel free to remove yourself from my course. I have six weeks to turn these students into the saviors of other soldiers who are placing their lives on the battle line every day. I’m not conducting an academic exercise. Perhaps, if you were to spend more time in the field, you might begin to appreciate the difference between a simple discussion and the need to save lives. You might tell any others who are similarly concerned that they no longer need to attend my course.” I look round the hall, making eye contact with as many of my students as possible. No sense letting the rumor mill go to waste, since this Major had picked a public quarrel.

“I didn’t ask for this assignment, I was ordered to do it by a two-star general. He told me to do it any way I see fit, and so informed the commander of this school. I will continue my present approach and effort to make masters of Intel out of these students entrusted to my care, with or without the support of the rest of the school staff. The methods I’m teaching work and work very well in the field. It’s time for these students to wake up and discover that their job is to save lives, not debate whether or not Brutus inflicted the fatal knife blow upon Caesar. Now, if you don’t mind, my supper has arrived and I’m hungry.”

-o~O~o-

That night, after I watched the news — disgusting by the way — I drag out my ‘thing’ for another session. It goes well until it is time to remove it only to find it comes out covered in blood. Needless to say, I’m now in a panic. I clean it and myself and note there is still a little blood appearing but there IS blood and I am frightened. I call the lobby and ask for a car immediately after calling my doctor.

The response from those at the hospital who take the call is ‘call us in the morning or go to emergency.’

I explain that I have been instructed by the doctor to call him day or night due to the delicate nature of the surgeries I have received. I am bleeding and he is likely not to be very understanding if he is not immediately notified. They take my number and say they will contact him. A few minutes later I have again mopped away a little blood. It is a slow but moderately continuous flow. The phone rings and it is my doctor. I explain everything and he tells me to meet him at the hospital in thirty minutes. I am in the car and rushing to the hospital shortly thereafter. He arrived moments before I did, and we go into an emergency cubicle so he can examine me.

He starts asking about cramps and flu-like symptoms and I say, “not really, concerning the cramps, but yes to the flu, a little rough, but I’ve had worse, so I ignored it.”

“Slight elevation of temperature. Heartbeat good. The blood is the right colour. This is all good.” He smiles at me.

Now I’m really confused. My doctor’s gone off the deep end. “It’s good that I’m bleeding?”

He visibly relaxes and smiles at me, “You’re on your period.”

“MY WHAT? What’s a per…. Geez, you might as well kill a girl as scare her to… death….” I seem to remember something about this from Mom and Sis. Oh. Now I remember. When Sis first started hers, she thought she was dying.

“So this is something which sneaks up on women in order to frighten them to death each month, right?”

“Not at all. It’s part of your ability to produce children.”

Now that shuts me up right away.

“With your uterus functioning properly now, assuming that you settle down to go through this each month, then the possibility of us implanting an embryo, that’s a fertilized egg, into your uterus, and having it accepted and allowed to grow to maturity, has just been exponentially increased. I’d say that you’re now a functional female. All that you’re lacking are fully-functioning ovaries, and perhaps donor ovaries could be implanted, if it becomes necessary, as soon as a suitable donor is located. I believe you mentioned your mother, although we’d need tests to decide whether that would be possible.”

He smiled again. “In the meantime, you’ll probably settle down to having a ‘period’ for a few days roughly every four weeks. Your uterus is evidently functioning normally, and your ovaries are functioning well enough that they’re participating in the cascade of interacting hormones that stimulates the endometrium — the lining of your uterus — to thicken in preparation for pregnancy. Because no pregnancy has occurred, other hormones cause that excess lining to be shed in a normal menstrual flow. Congratulations, you’re a woman now, and this is one of the prices of womanhood which you will learn to endure.”

I’m not an entirely happy camper yet, but the more this news sinks in, I’m beginning to be ecstatic. “When could the ovaries be implanted?”

“Any time after your next period.”

“Wow!” I’m amazed and happy at the thought of someday mating with my husband and producing a child with nearly all the sensations a woman would experience. I could feel the baby moving in me and watch as I grow to give it room. I would need to eat properly so it would be born healthy. “Wow!”

He smiles, “It is nice, isn’t it?”

“Wow.”

“Can’t you say anything else than ‘Wow?’ ”

Nodding my head up and down, I slowly look up at him standing there, my hand still on my tummy and a look of happy amazement on my face. I slowly get down off the table and wrap my arms around him. “Wow. Thank you.”

I’m slowly gathering my things, so he goes out to let me dress. When I come out, I feel like a light has been turned on within me and I’m glowing. He takes a look at me and smiles, nodding his head up and down.

I walk over as he points at the door, “You don’t need to stay here. You can go back. I would advise you to buy some panty liners though, otherwise you might need to be getting a lot of new underwear.”

In a daze, I nod my head in understanding. “Wow,” escapes my lips once more.

He chuckles, “Go on, get out of here.”

I walk to the door and out with my thoughts swirling around me. I don’t remember finding the car, nor riding back to the BOQ, but somehow I realize that I’m back in my room searching for those few tampons I tucked away from when Mom, Sis and I went out to supper and dancing. That’s it, they’re in that purse….

Finally I have one in my hand and, after some trial and error, manage to insert it. I clean up and go back to bed to sleep for the two hours remaining to me.

Dreams assail me in the form of tiny kicks against my tummy from within. When I wake up during the night, I find that my hand is cradling my tummy, as if feeling for something which I wish were there even now. I go back to sleep with a smile on my face.

---

To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 
 

previously:

I walk to the door and out with my thoughts swirling around me. I don’t remember finding the car, nor riding back to the BOQ, but somehow I realize that I’m back in my room searching for those few tampons I tucked away from when Mom, Sis and I went out to supper and dancing. That’s it, they’re in that purse….

Finally, I have one in my hand and, after some trial and error, manage to insert it. I clean up and go back to bed to sleep for the two hours remaining to me.

Dreams assail me in the form of tiny kicks against my tummy from within. When I wake up during the night, I find that my hand is cradling my tummy, as if feeling for something which I wish were there even now. I go back to sleep with a smile on my face.

---

Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Sat, 2008/11/08 - 6:32am, Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 21 is revised and reposted on Sat, 2010/01/09 - 10:42 PM. ~Sephrena

---

 

Teaching the Children (I mean the instructors):

 

Chapter 21

 

The next morning, that Major’s conversation still rankles me. I know that at least some of the instructors who are in my class are likely to be a part of this attempt to cut back the scope and reach of the class. I think Monday the school commander and I will have to have a little discussion. No, wait… I have a better idea.

-o~O~o-

Monday, I’m in full uniform. I eat my breakfast — it’s better every day, by the way — and ride the half mile to the school. There, my materials are waiting in the labs for distribution to those who wish to learn. I turn and walk down the hallway to the lecture hall. Upon entering, I see a few students are already seated. The moment I enter, they go silent and stand.

I turn to them and say, “Remember what I said on Saturday? Sit down. There’s no rank in my classes, at least none that the students need to concern themselves about.”

They look at each other, and at my uniform, and then quietly drop back into their seats.

I place my things on the table and turn to the chalkboard. The next ten minutes are spent placing my notes upon the board and then the screen drops covering the information as I turn back to find that most of my students have arrived and are seated.

They did so quietly, since they were able to see an officer writing at the chalkboard but they apparently didn’t recognize me, since my hair is up and I’m in uniform today.

I wait until it’s time for the class to begin.

“As many of you are aware. The methods I am teaching here are quite different from those which you have been taught during the previous classes. There’s a reason for that. The previous curriculum prepared you for the interesting and difficult job of intelligence analysis and gave you a large assortment of tactical skills that you’ll absolutely require in your job. What I am teaching you now is how to know the difference between enemy-provided diversions and the real information which you’ll need in order to save the lives of the thousands of soldiers entrusted to your hands through the accuracy and strategic presentation of your analysis.”

I pause to let that sink in and then say it again in a different manner, “Any mistake can result in hundreds or thousands of deaths on our side rather than that of the enemy, and not discovering or doing what needs to be discovered or done is also a mistake. I’m going to teach you how to detect holes in the Intel provided to you, and to plug those holes — as much as possible — through the use of information which you’ve learned through careful observation of enemy actions over the course of many months or even years. How you understand the enemy makes all the difference. Each little piece of information is not something to be considered alone with a little report written about it. Each little piece is part of a bigger whole.”

“It’s like the three blind men examining an elephant. None of them sees the whole picture. It is your responsibility to see that picture and to assemble the pieces of the puzzle into a comprehensive whole. Your work may save the lives of thousands. That’s what you must learn in these few weeks we have available to us. I intend to take you right through and past the undergraduate education you’ve just finished and push you through two to four years of post-graduate work during these six weeks.”

“When I finish, you will know you have survived the most strenuous course you ever thought could exist. I am going to push you through a desert without a canteen and with no watering holes in sight. When I finish you will not be Intelligence analysts, you will be among the first of a new breed. You will be capable of producing such remarkable deductions from the information around you that even Sherlock Holmes would be proud.”

“Would the instructors please stand?”

They all look around and slowly get to their feet. I note that there are three fewer today than Saturday.

“The methods which I’m introducing here are radically different than those to which you are accustomed. If you don’t wish to use my methods while attending this class, then I would appreciate you making that decision now and leaving. I can’t afford the time to drag someone along who does not wish to learn, but I need each of you for the experience you have behind you, experience which you have proven by taking these students so far and in such a short time. Without your training, they’d have no hope of learning from or surviving in this class. Students! Would you show your appreciation of the efforts made by these instructors?”

I begin to clap my hands and quickly the students are applauding too. After a few seconds I stop and the students wind down as well.

“If there are any instructors here who feel they may best serve by preparing new students and who feel my methods are a little too drastic or extreme, you may leave my classroom with no ill will on my part, and with my sincere thanks to you for all you have done for these students. Those of you who would like to attempt to go on may stay, but be advised, the course will become rougher and rougher and the students will be relying more and more on those instructors who remain.“ I pause for a long beat, to let them think, and then continue, ”All right, those of you who wish to leave, may now do so.”

Three more instructors look around and depart. That leaves me four. Two per lab.

“Now, so you students won’t feel left out. Stand up. Now! The same applies to you. This course is going to become very difficult. Only the most unique individuals will win through to the end. There will be no shame for those who do not. This method of analysis cannot be used by just anyone. It takes a different sort of a mind to follow the convolutions and dark pathways we must explore in order to deduce the truth. Any who feel, based upon Saturday’s introduction, that it will be too much for them, may leave now and you will be processed and given assignments befitting your advanced learning. Those of you who decide to remain must realize right now that you are going to be facing the most grueling six weeks you have ever experienced short of war itself. Those of you who wish to leave may do so now without shame, and with neither comment nor scorn on the part of those who remain.”

I watch as the students shift foot to foot while standing there until here and there a few come down and begin to leave. Someone makes a derisive remark. I identify the voice from my memories and call that individual forward, inviting him to depart as well. “Pride has no place in my classroom. Pride gets my fellow soldiers killed and I won’t stand for it. Pick up your things and leave.”

He grumbles as he goes to the door, but he departs. My thirty-nine students are now thirty-four.

“All right, everyone, be seated and let’s get this show on the road. We are ten minutes behind because of this foolishness and minutes mean lives.”

I commence my lecture without hesitation as the lights dim and the notepads come out. Slides begin flickering on the screen. By the time the lecture is finished we are at the hour. We’ve regained the ten minutes.

“Everyone, take a ten minute break then report to your lab and group as shown on the chalkboard. Instructors, please come down here for a few minutes to discuss your assignments and suggestions before your break.”

I split the four remaining instructors between the two labs and explain the lab materials quickly. They are to hand out the packets and no one is to open them until commanded to do so.

“Notes may be placed on the materials and, while each student is expected to produce their own conclusions, much as was done Saturday, they may also quietly discuss their thoughts with the others of their group, but only members of their group,”

I warn them, “Secrecy is now a part of the training and anyone outside their own group is suspect. In the real world outside our classroom, the material produced by any one group may be too sensitive to be widely disseminated, nor can it be placed in juxtaposition with other information produced by other groups, because the combination would be so valuable to the enemy, if revealed in the slightest detail, even by a casual remark, and so valuable as to be both prized and sought after by groups outside the military intelligence community, that secrecy and intelligence protection is paramount. In each lab, each group will have different materials than those of any another group to replicate the situation they’ll soon find themselves in over there.” I wave vaguely west, toward Vietnam.

“Instructors may be called upon for assistance by anyone, and they may share with any and all groups their own extensive knowledge, but no information being examined by a group may be seen or discussed by or with any other group in the lab. The labs will break ten minutes before lunch and the labs will be locked during the time that everyone is to be at lunch. No one will enter a lab without the instructors present there. The students will assemble in their groups prior to entering the lab and will go directly to their own materials. All materials will be covered when not actually protected by the members of the group. All materials are to be considered Top Secret – No Forn and every other group is to be considered Foreign.”

“This is to be stressed to the students before they open the materials. At the end of the second lab period, the folder from which a student has been working will have that student’s papers inserted with the student’s name and the proper designator as shown on the sample materials listed on the work sheets. All folders will be collected and delivered to me for examination. Tomorrow, we’ll meet in the lecture hall at 0800.”

I indicate the packets of intelligence I’ll be passing out in the labs and tell them, “You’ll also find separate materials here, which are yours to evaluate and act upon. Your own papers and reports will be inserted into those folders and also given to me to examine. Any questions at the moment?”

None asked, I tell them to allow an extra five minutes for everyone’s break, since I’ve occupied that much of the instructor’s time.

Pouring myself another glass of water and drinking it down, then gathering my things, I make my way to one of the labs. There I separate the piles of materials into groups and place the instructor’s folders separately. Crossing to the other lab, I repeat my actions, removing the folders which are no longer needed because their intended recipients left us. Going to the phone in the lab, I call the department which has been preparing my materials and change the numbers needed to reflect the lost instructors and students.

No need to waste paper and man-hours. While they have me on the phone they ask when they may expect the photos for the material to be prepared for week three as they need a two day lead on those prior to printing. I tell them that at the moment I have no idea but will pursue the matter. Thanking them for their heroic efforts, I hang up.

The students and instructors are just beginning to enter this lab and after a couple of minutes observing them, I go to the other lab to see how they are progressing.

They are about par with the first. Having a little time to myself, I sit at the rear of the lab and begin to fill in the details of the outline of my lesson plan I’d outlined for the following week and the third week as well.

I hope we will be able to maintain the pace. I need week four to prepare them for the difficult challenges we will face in weeks five and six. Everyone will work together during those last two weeks to produce a group output which will comprise all perceived possibilities from the data as well as assigning percentiles of confidence to each possibility.

-o~O~o-

The past week or so has been interesting. With only two days remaining in this, our second week, we’ve lost two more students. They were good at what they do, but simply couldn’t handle the stress of this rapid pace. The pace is difficult, and some simply are not up to it. I’m beginning to believe that only my urging is causing most to continue their monumental efforts. I try to get them to understand that this hard pace in a peaceful environment is a substitute for the nerve-wrenching stress encountered while working with deadlines during combat situations.

Everyone is tired, but all are beginning to understand that they are perceiving the data in many new ways. No one derives less than three potential directions from the data they examine and they are also beginning to become more comfortable with placing their confidence level on the answers they prepare.

No one has yet had enough confidence to place higher than a 60% level on their conclusions, but that’s nearly double the level they were willing to assign less than a week ago.

-o~O~o-

The photographs for week three have finally arrived and I am in my room at the BOQ preparing the photo interpretations which would normally accompany such photographs. This will be an interesting week, as we’ll work collectively on the material.

The instructors have been briefed and are to act as the commanders of the analysis group, which will be comprised of the students. Each will have eight students going over some part of the data. Reports will be prepared by each group for use by the others. Group assignments will rotate each of the first four days allowing each group to be responsible for a different portion of the preparation each day.

The fifth and sixth days we will as a group examine the final reports filed with Command (me) and see how they differ and why. The fourth week will be much less exhausting. I hope they all make it to the fourth week.

-o~O~o-

As Friday wraps up, I decide to allow my students both Saturday and Sunday off this weekend.

“Monday we start a new approach and the week will be rough,” I tell them. “You will all report to a single lab on Monday morning and we’ll commence our work there. Both the morning lab and the afternoon lab will go for a full three hours and forty five minutes. Command requires your final report at the end of second lab.”

There are a few long blinks as the idea sinks in, but no one seems dismayed.

“All supporting documentation and photographs must accompany that report. Any dissenting views must also be presented with the support for them as well.”

I look over the bridge of my nose at them, half smiling as I explain, “Assessment levels will be attached to all final reports or views. Any assessment of less than 50% will cause that opinion to be abandoned as insufficient for Command to act upon. Have a nice week-end, ladies and gentlemen, I’m very proud of your progress.”

They are all smiles as they leave the school. When they report back to their companies they will find I have authorized 48 hour passes for them starting at 1800 today and ending Sunday at 1800. Those who don’t have weekend duty may relax and go take in a movie, or visit nearby friends, or whatever students do when they have free time.

-o~O~o-

I return to my BOQ to await my supper hour and to put finishing touches upon the ‘little unexpected requirements’ which will be made by ‘Command’ while my students are dealing with their primary assignment. There will be a sudden need for a non-related report to be produced using different materials supplied by ‘courier’ during the second lab each day, which will require reallocating assets in order to produce the second report without jeopardizing the first.

Surprise. How well do you work under pressure?

I hear other officers from the BOQ going past the door and check the time. Nearly supper. Wrapping up and locking everything in my briefcase, I go out, locking the door behind me. At supper I find the meal is again very good and hope the enlisted mess is doing as well. Later, a walk back to the BOQ — going the long way around — let’s me catch up on my exercise a little before retiring for the night. Entering the lobby, I see the young specialist has duty this weekend.

“Hi, I see you have the duty. Will you have any opportunity to use your liberty this week end?”

“No. But that’s okay, Ma’am. I don’t know anyone here so I really have nowhere to go.”

“Sorry. I know how that goes. Maybe after you finish this course, we can find you some time. We could go into town together and take in a movie or something.”

“That would be great. The city has their concert series starting in two weeks so maybe we could get tickets for a Friday night and go.”

“Give me more information about that and I’ll see what I can arrange. Is it a classical series, or perhaps popular?”

“Usually the series is classical, sometimes music selected from notable operas. No singing though.”

I laugh, “That’s fine with me, I like the music, not the singing.”

“Me too. Do you mind if I ask a question about the class, Ma’am?”

“Go ahead. The worst that can happen is that I won’t answer it.”

“I’m hearing through the rumor mill that next week we get to work with real Intel. Is that true?”

“You’ve been working with ‘real’ Intel these past two weeks,” I say.

“I know, I mean the Intel will be current stuff. Things which are happening now and which have been processed by others for use in making command decisions in the war. It’s like this is going to be our first chance to actually make decisions which might be the same as some which are being used right now. I mean, looking at the Romans invading somewhere is one thing and creating reports based on the information available to try to convince one side or the other to do something, that’s interesting but it doesn’t let us see what really happens, but real Intel from a current conflict? That’s something else again. We all relate to that.”

“I hope you ‘relate’ well enough to produce accurate conclusions and attempt to influence Command to take specific actions. That’s what this is all about. You try to make your presentation effective enough, and with enough guidance, that Command will adopt your opinions and proposed action plan with few changes. They are more aware of what changes need to be made within the confines of the troops and materiel they have available, but a good presentation includes a good battle plan, which can be quickly implemented.”

She’s very focused on my remarks, but doesn't react overtly, an excellent habit for an analyst.

I continue, “That means you must not only know the enemy’s resources, you must know your own. The purpose of your reports isn’t to summarize the information. Command could do that without your help. Your function is to give them action options, coupled with a confidence in the successful outcome of those actions. You’ll have to out-think the enemy, and tell Command exactly what you expect the enemy will do when confronted by your proposed action plan.”

“Everything which has been done these past two weeks has simply been analysis. Now it’s time to move to the next level and start telling Command what they need to do, how they need to do it, when it must occur, and why they should proceed on the path you outline rather than what someone else recommends.”

“Your plan must take in all contingencies, yet be concise and explicit. It's a difficult job, as you all are about to learn.”

“Yes, Ma’am. This is an interesting course.”

“I do believe you said that once before. Perhaps the first Saturday the course began?”

She smiles, “Yes, Ma’am, I do believe you’re right.”

“Good night, Specialist.”

“Goodnight, Ma’am. Thanks for talking with me.”

I wave as I enter the hallway leading to my room. Inside, I turn the TV on low and dial the local CBS affiliate, so I can watch Walter Cronkite when the CBS Evening News comes on.

I’m in the middle of my own action plan for the fifth and sixth weeks when the news comes on. Midway through, I become fed up with the banter and shut off the TV. I need to be back over there putting in my own two cents worth.

Four of these students are good, really good. If they make it through the fifth and sixth weeks in the way I hope they will, then they could readily influence the ongoing conflict. Then again, we have need of skilled analysts in our European theater too. The entire class has been responding well to the challenges put before them.

Monday should be interesting, to say the least.

-o~O~o-

“…Each group is responsible to its Officer in Charge,” I say to them. “These officers will assist and guide their group, making decisions when necessary or requested. The task of each group will change every day, so you’ll all have the opportunity to participate in each phase of the process. One group will be preparing the synopsis of the photo-recon information.” I indicate one of the piles of folders arrayed on the tables before each group. “This will be passed to your supervising officer who will send it on to the analysts responsible for the final report. You will be prepared to answer any questions which are passed back from them.”

I point to another group of folders on another table. “Another group will be processing the raw intelligence which has been obtained from the field. The same conditions apply. The third group,” I designate another stack, “will track enemy supply movements and develop an estimate of the amount of supplies being transported, the suspected collection point or points, recommended actions to halt those movements and destroy the supplies, as well as deciding if the supply quantities are greater or less than normal and if so, why? Again this information will be passed to the last group which is responsible for the actual preparation of the Command report and action recommendations.

I point to each group in turn. “Whichever group is fourth each day will have the responsibility of developing battle plans based upon all the data supplied taking into account the reports and recommendations of the other three groups. Those first three groups will provide that fourth group with percentile estimates of the likelihood of any one action path in order to allow the fourth group to prepare the best possible plans. Please note that I said plans, not plan, and the probability of their success. The third group is also responsible for tracking enemy troop movements, whenever possible, and all groups are responsible for updating the decision group with any material or information which comes in after the initial recommendations have occurred.”

I now address the groups as a coöperating whole, changing my tone a little to stress the importance of what I’m about to say. “It’s not uncommon in the field to find that your best laid plans are suddenly trashed, due to a change in enemy activities, or to new intelligence. As it is a waste of resources or, worse, the danger of potential casualties, when these exigencies occur, they must be taken into account and the decision group notified immediately if Intel dictates a change.”

“The information with which you are dealing this week is to be considered ‘Top Secret – No Forn.’ Go to your areas and prepare to begin at 0810. Good luck.”

“We’ll need it,” someone says quietly.

I let it slide.

The students are looking at the closed packets on the lab tables before them as the instructors suddenly tell them to begin. I walk to the back of the room and sit down. I have a number of command decisions to make regarding our present action plans, and it is now up to the teams quietly working in the lab to alert me to any necessary changes. I think about the computer lab at college and wish they were capable of simulations. That would mean they’d need to be able to do far more than just add and subtract, so I doubt they will ever allow us that luxury. If they could do the make-believe things we see in movies, it would certainly be a help, though.

The clock is just passing 1000. The first monkey wrench should be arriving any time…. Yes, here it is.

A ‘courier’ arrives with updated photo information from recon and hands it over to the OIC of that department after noticing the departmental labels on the tables.

The students look up as the instructor tells them they have just received the latest photo recon information and then they all glance in my direction with questions in their eyes, as I pointedly ignore them, before they quickly turn to and attack this new data. Forty-five minutes later, a second ‘courier’ arrives, going to the intelligence table with updated field information and the notification of the loss of one of our patrols, which had gone out to check on a peaceful village that had reported heavy enemy activity during the past 24 hours. He also stops and delivers updates concerning the movement of enemy supplies across the Cambodian border into Nam.

The students are doing quite well. The change from static information — such as they had the past two weeks — into something much more dynamic, has taken them off guard, but they’ve responded quickly and, after examining the information, they have begun to alter their concept of what must be done and are updating their assessments. One group has requested a map of the southern portion of Vietnam showing bordering country information as well.

Their OIC tells them to put the request into writing and he will pass it on through channels. They quickly draft their needs and he gives it to the OIC of the decision group. That OIC reviews and approves it and it is passed up the chain to the Command structure (me). I place a phone call and in ten minutes the map arrives and filters back down the chain to the requesting group who look at it like it is a treasure they never expected to receive. Within minutes I have three more requests for maps. Ten minutes later, those requests are filled.

I think they are beginning to understand that they can request supplies or materials to assist them in their efforts. Various other requests come through such as coffee and pencils. I disapprove them, marking them to be requested from Mess or Supply, not from Command. In a few moments, there are chuckles as they read the replies. They are beginning to enjoy the exercise. At 1145 they are instructed to ‘lock all materials in the safe’ (put them back into the folders) and to prepare for lunch break. We all file out for lunch and the two doors to the lab are locked.

Upon returning from lunch, I quickly have a request from the group processing the photo reconnaissance information for updates pertaining to a specific region. I send back a reply that a photo recon aircraft has been tasked and the information will be available shortly after it returns. They obviously have been discussing their needs while at lunch in possible violation of the Top Secret – No Forn regulations. I make a notation in my log for the discussions of Friday and Saturday.

Updated photographs and interpretations arrive about 1400, just five minutes before command sends down a request for a priority analysis of some new information concerning another subject which has been included with the request.

This takes them about five minutes to decide how they will handle the request.

Each group allocates a couple of individuals to take on this new assignment while the bulk remain at the previous assignment. It only takes ten or fifteen minutes for them to discover the new information also is pertinent to the previous assignment. Surprise!

The new assignment is completed by 1610 and is forwarded back up to Command. The clock is ticking and at 1612 more new Intel arrives for inclusion into their primary report. They prepare updates and forward them up to the decision group who prepares a paper with new alternatives superceding the original which was moments from being sent to command.

By 1646, the final report finds its way through the bureaucracy of the Command structure and arrives at headquarters for Command examination. Several folders of supporting documents and photos accompany the report.

“That’s cutting it a bit fine, groups,” I tell them. “All right, clean up all information still on the tables and place it into the burn bags. If you forgot to include something in the report, it’s too late now.”

They take everything and clean up the lab. The instructors remove the maps and fold them for inclusion in the bags. We have three bags of trash to be burned.

The students are dismissed for supper and the burn bags are taken down to the incinerator. The instructors and I make our way out of the school, chatting about the students and the confusion which momentarily surfaced each time something unexpected arrived. We alter tomorrow’s group assignments and separate. This first day of the third week is something the students are unlikely to forget.

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To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 

 

previously:

They take everything and clean up the lab. The instructors remove the maps and fold them for inclusion in the bags. We have three bags of trash to be burned.

The students are dismissed for supper and the burn bags are taken down to the incinerator. The instructors and I make our way out of the school, chatting about the students and the confusion which momentarily surfaced each time something unexpected arrived. We alter tomorrow’s group assignments and separate. This first day of the third week is something the students are unlikely to forget.

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Mon, 2008/11/10 - 3:01am., Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 22 is revised and reposted on Thu, 2009/12/24 - 01:53 PM. ~Sephrena

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Teaching, lesson plans, HELP!!!:

 

Chapter 22

 

I return to my room and put the folders and my notepad under my pillow so I can examine them when I return from supper. After washing up, I lie back to rest for a few minutes. Later, I hear people talking as they pass by my door and look at the clock. Supper has begun, so I’m up and on my way to the mess hall. I’m exhausted… and the students are the ones who did all the work. I may have a touch of the flu, as I feel just a bit feverish and am having slight discomfort in my abdomen. I don’t have any specific complaint, just general discomfort. Supper has a pleasant surprise in store, in the form of one of those delicious quick cakes for dessert. I’m tempted by the thought of trying to obtain a second, but dismiss it in favor of maintaining my girlish figure. It’s tempting though, what would just this once hurt?

I restrain myself admirably and finish supper, well-prepared to protect my solitary quick cake with all the vigor I can muster. When I finish supper, I reward myself with the tasty confection, savoring each and every bite.

As I walk back to the BOQ, I hear someone calling, “Ma’am? Ma’am?”

I stop and turn to see the Specialist hurrying up to me. She salutes me, despite my being in civilian clothes, so I return it and remind her.

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“It’s your nickel, Specialist. You called me.”

“Yes, Ma’am. I, that is we, some of the other students and I, well we wanted to say ‘thanks.’ I mean about the exercise today. We learned a lot. You make it fun while requiring us to keep our wits about us. It’s nice to be treated like we know how to make decisions and to be given the chance to make those decisions. You’re letting us discover things and learn to pay attention to all the information we encounter, so that isolated intelligence failures don’t threaten the lives of the people who depend on our decisions. We just wanted to let you know that we appreciate it.”

“Pass the word to them. Say thank you but, ‘you ain’t seen nuttun’ yet.’” I smile at her, my fingers raised and curling, to emphasize the quotes before and after my informal warning.

For a brief moment she’s taken aback, and then her eyes sparkle. “YES, Ma’am.” She gives me another salute, which I return, and off she goes with her message.

The next day proceeds in a similar manner and again requests for information and photo recon updates pass by me. The first thing requested just minutes after the start of the exercise were maps. They learn quickly. The surprises change a little, both in timing and in nature. Moment’s after I receive the request for photo recon updates for a specific region, I have a call back from our support staff that we have nothing in the prepared file to permit it. I wait fifteen minutes and send the message back down that the photo-recon aircraft was shot down, preventing us from updating the images for that region.

This is not taken well but, in the nature of the exercise, they understand that the unexpected is likely to happen every now and then. What they don’t do, however, will be a ‘teaching moment’ later.

I make a note in my daily log that the group responsible for the photo reports failed to notify the intelligence group of the loss of the aircraft, which is valuable intelligence in its own right, and which might have been important to the final report prepared by that group. Just one more thing to talk about Friday and Saturday.

Wednesday and Thursday are just as exciting for them and by the end of the day Thursday they are wondering what surprises I will have for them Friday morning.

-o~O~o-

Well, here it is….

“Last Friday one of you happened to mention the desire for ‘real Intel’ from a ‘current conflict’ to give you a taste of reality. Remember the old adage, ‘Be careful what you wish for. You might get it.’ You will, and soon. Today and tomorrow we’re going to critique the work done these past four days. This morning, we’ll deal with last Monday’s work. I have a few notes,” I tell them, as I hold up about ten pages concerning that exercise, “regarding decisions and communications which were made, or not made, during that exercise, both good and bad. Let’s start with….”

-o~O~o-

By the time lunch rolls around, each group has had its turn on the hot seat. Each decision was discussed in detail, and everyone was allowed the chance to participate and comment on ways to improve the result. We break for lunch with the promise of dissecting Tuesday’s effort this afternoon, beginning immediately after lunch.

-o~O~o-

We finish the critiques of the four exercises Saturday afternoon, with everyone heavily involved. The instructors are thoroughly enjoying the exercises and my method of teaching. The students feel like they are actually doing something real rather than text book exercises. This past week has been concerned with something which is happening now, almost in real time, and they get to see where they’ve made nearly the same decisions as those which had been made by Command during that portion of the conflict.

The Wednesday group had mentioned a 40% possibility of a specific enemy incursion at a specific location and date. In reality we did not prepare for that incursion but it did occur. This little group saw it and noted it. If that information had been made available to Command by their Intel group, we might not have suffered the losses we did. Had our report been seen and acted upon, the outcome might have changed, although with only a 40% assessment level assigned, it was unlikely to have been acted on. Again, I’m very proud of the work my students are doing.

-o~O~o-

Monday of the fourth week rears its ugly head and we’re in the lecture hall. I now spend several days in lecture with slides of imagery and documentation, whether excellent or clearly inadequate, to support my points. Both successes and failures have their own lessons to teach us.

The need for assessment confidence attached to each potential action is becoming paramount. The requirement of multiple actions being presented in one report is stressed, with a percentile attached to each option, and a synopsis of the retaliatory actions the enemy might take in response. The time and place of those likely actions are to be included whenever and wherever possible.

In other words, we are fleshing out our reports to include potential enemy responses. Thursday and Friday are spent practicing what they’ve been taught during the previous three days.

“You have had the opportunity to try to think like the enemy with varied degrees of success. This is to be expected. Monday, you will all meet in the lab again.”

“We will once again be divided into the same groups and will commence a new round of exercises. Perhaps many of you have heard of Hell Week? Well, we’re about to have the first of two of them, back to back.”

My news isn’t all bad though. “I’ve authorized 48 hour passes commencing this evening at 1800 and ending Sunday at 1800. Relax for the weekend.”

As the class starts gathering their things together, I say, “Specialist Delheim, may I see you for a moment before you leave? Okay, everyone, Dismissed.”

They pile out, conversation at a dull roar, and my Specialist comes down the aisle to the lectern.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“I know you have no duty this evening. Would you like to go into town and take in a concert? The first one is tonight.”

“YES, Ma’am.”

“I thought you might. Do you happen to know of two others who might like to go? It would seem that I have four tickets which have somehow found their way into my purse. Strangely enough, they’re all for tonight, seated together, and not too far from the orchestra.”

“I think so. If I hurry, I may be able to catch them and ask. Thank you, Ma’am.”

I flash, ‘you’re welcome’ at her and she starts a moment, smiles and flashes back, ‘I can’t wait.’”

She is rushing toward the doors when, “Oh! If you have civilian clothing, it is authorized you know. All of you meet me at the BOQ at 1830 and we’ll ride in together.”

“Yes, Ma’am.” she calls back as she rushes down the hallway.

That evening, I finish supper quickly and return to the BOQ. A little preparation and then I’m out to the lobby where I discover my Specialist and two other young ladies waiting. I don’t recognize either of them, so they must be from other classes. Karen introduces us, and at 1835 the car pulls up. We enjoy our ride into town and enter the theater in style. We show our tickets as we walk into the lobby, and are directed to our seats by a woman stationed by an inner door.

A car is scheduled to return and wait for us, beginning at 2130. The concert may go as late as 2200, according to the box office.

The concert was enjoyable and one of the few diversions I’ve had time to arrange so far. We all work our way out through the madding crowd and begin to look for our ride. Somehow, in this sea of humanity, Karen spots a Sergeant in uniform and surmises that our ride is in that direction. We go check, and soon are on our way back to the base.

The car drops us off at the BOQ and the girls thank me as they hold onto their programs like precious keepsakes. I remind Karen of the time limit on her pass, if she wants to go out again, and the four of us part company, they off to their barracks, and I for my room at the BOQ.

-o~O~o-

Monday, the start of our first Hell Week, has arrived all too quickly, and everyone is in the lab at their positions waiting for any pearls of wisdom I might manage to impart prior to our start.

“This week will be considerably different than our last time at this. The information is less than one day old. Updates may be requested, but are unlikely to be fulfilled because it’s past nightfall there. You will note that the folders are RED. That’s because this is NOT, I repeat, NOT, a theoretical exercise. This is REALITY in capital letters. This information IS Top Secret – No Forn, and that means that this intelligence, and the fact that it is present in this room, is NOT to be discussed anywhere outside this room and all the provisions of the Uniform Code of Military Justice apply. Do I make myself understood?”

I receive no replies, but a lot of puzzled looks. Maybe our simulations of reality have inured them to cries of ‘Wolf!’

“Perhaps you don’t understand. This material was actually forwarded electronically from Vietnam during the past 24 hours. It has been prepared especially for our use, and any recommendations we come up with during the two lab sessions today will be returned electronically to Command in Saigon for their attention and possible action. Perhaps now you understand?”

This time a subdued chorus of “Yes, Ma’am,” greets me as the students look around at each other and at the folders, which have suddenly taken on the look of a trainload of dynamite with fuses burning, so far as these students are concerned.

There is no question that there will be an explosion, the only question is when and where.

One of them gathers the courage to speak up. “Excuse me, Ma’am. Is this for real, or is it just part of the exercise?”

A host of expectant faces look at me.

“Mister Thompson, let me put it this way. Let us hope that none of you make a serious mistake in dealing with this material because YES, it is for real, and YES, it will be forwarded as quickly as possible to Saigon. Now, are there any other questions?”

I look around the room. “None? All right, we have real work to do. The instructors and I are available for conference at any time during your work. Other than that, we are sitting this one out. It is up to the thirty-two of you to arrange your task loads, perform your analysis, make your recommendations, and prepare a final report which will include everything you’ve learned in the past weeks. This information will be sent, with status ‘Immediate’, back to Saigon within half an hour of its completion. Now we get to see how good you really are. There are lives out there that need protecting, so get to work.”

It takes them nearly ten seconds to start moving. After the first five, Karen is screaming at them to begin. In less than a minute they have placed her in charge of today’s effort and she looks at me embarrassed, ‘I didn’t want this.’

I look at her with, ‘You can handle it, get them moving.’ I say, “Specialist Delheim, you are acting Major Delheim for today’s work.”

She looks at me, as does everyone else, then the others smile. She goes pale, shakes her head and begins to handle it. She is in the process of assigning tasks when some of the other students ask if they may perform specific tasks. They feel they are better at some aspects than they are at others, and would like to work where they can provide their best efforts to the group. This continues for over half the students, then Karen begins to fill the ‘holes’ with those she has remaining. I watch her make more notations on her paper pad as she admonishes everyone, “Okay, let’s get moving. There are lives to save.”

I call down and ask if we can obtain a set of student’s Major’s insignia and similar sets for four Captains. They say they’ll see what they can do.

Half an hour later, I give Karen and her ‘Captains’ their acting officer’s insignia.

“This won’t get you into officer’s mess but it’s effective until end of class today. You may all wear these when you break for lunch.”

They all salute and everyone is back at work. Now and again, the instructors and I are called upon upon to offer our expertise to the students. Everything is locked up for lunch, but we are all right back at it almost instantly after the hour. 1600 comes and goes and everyone is still deep into it. One area of concern is floating around and the promoter of it has a valid argument. I call over my Major and suggest that it be included as a potential enemy retaliation as a result of our proposed primary moves. Confidence is high.

1700 is almost upon us and I ask if they want to break for supper now, and then come back to complete the work. The report must go out by 1900. They decide upon a half hour for supper which offers them one more hour to complete their work with a half hour to spare.

As they all rush out, I also tell the instructors to go, “I’ll take my supper once you’ve returned. Meanwhile, I’m here and the materials can remain out, which will save valuable time.”

They hurry out also. I lock the doors and walk around, glancing here and there at the analyses which have been generated thus far. It’s very impressive. Some of it is brilliant. I see the hands of about a third of my best students in the deductions I see while reading but, so far, the overall information is better than any single individual, reflecting the multiple contributions to the whole.

They’re actually taking the special skills which everyone has to contribute into account. Excellent teamwork. Continuing my checks, I find three additional viewpoints, one of which is opposed to the mainstream view. I don’t recognize the possible originator of this contribution from the writing style, but the logic is excellent. Perhaps this is the work of two or three individuals.

I hear a knocking at one of the doors and realize the half hour is nearly over, two of my students want back in. I unlock the doors and they enter, rushing to the papers and going right back to work. Others straggle in during the next few minutes and immediately go back to whatever they left waiting. I look into the hall and notice Karen and her Captains in quiet conference. I leave them to it. All of the students have returned in less than the thirty minutes they allotted for themselves.

They’re taking this exercise very seriously. A few minutes later, the officers enter the room and are immediately besieged by the others, who have questions or comments which need to be considered for possible inclusion or reassessment of the original draft of conclusions.

The work continues and I leave for supper a few minutes before 1800, since the instructors are back to offer assistance if needed. This gives me the chance to arrive at the second mess just as they open, allowing me to finish supper quickly so I can return without great delay. Rushing through supper, I hurry back to my think tank. As I walk in, I note that something has changed. I motion to Major Delheim who rushes over.

“What’s going on? What happened while I was gone?”

“We just received more Intel and we are trying to integrate it. It isn’t a pretty picture.”

“Show me.”

She does and I agree. This information is about as welcome as a pack of sharks in the midst of a school of mackerel.

It makes a tremendous impact upon the previous work, the promoters of the opposition viewpoint have been proven to be correct, even before we had a chance to warn anyone. I suggest that Karen talk with them, to see which way they think it could now turn.

She walks over to the those who proffered the opposing papers and asks the originators of the viewpoint, which has now been proven to be correct, if they might provide an update to the others of the team at the table where they are working. They suggest a rapid evacuation from the surrounding area, with a pause and sudden pincer attack to follow, as the withdrawal goes down the center, hopefully followed by the enemy. That will draw more enemy toward that area and away from any other objectives they may have, which will afford our forces perhaps five or six hours to regroup. “It’s a basic tactical concept, but not usually applied over this broad a scale.”

Their concept is sent to Saigon without waiting for the primary report completion.

Now we are on the defensive. Some students disagree and suggest instead a strong offense just now might be the more appropriate thing to do. They flesh out their report and I rapidly review it. It’s a bold move, but may actually work. I suggest that this be designated our final report to Saigon, which will give them enough to work with to keep them occupied for a few hours and allow us to leave earlier than anticipated. Now I frighten them all half to death, the signature line….

It reads: Major Karen Delheim, OIC, acting TacPzlSolGp Dallas, TX.

Karen looks like she is about to faint, many of the other students are looking ill.

“That was good work, ladies and gentlemen. Do you think you can do it again tomorrow?” I ask them cheerfully.

I receive blank stares from no less than half of the students. The drain of the work has taken all their energy and left husks in its place. A half dozen look like they wish they could cry, and seem concerned that the report may not be acted upon in time. A few seem wildly enthusiastic, anticipating the defeat of the enemy’s advance and anxious for more information with which to work.

All the working materials are collected, so they and our copy of the report can be locked up. The students have now had a few minutes to begin to relax and look exhausted. Exhilarated, but exhausted.

A couple of questions come up.

“Ma’am, Do you think they will act on our information?”

“Ma’am, What is TacPzlSolGp? I get the Gp part which is group and Tac is probably Tactics or Tactical but what’s the rest?”

“TacPzlSolGp is the Tactical Puzzle Solutions Group. As for whether they will act on our information, we won’t know until we come in tomorrow. If they do, then it will have been the first under fire report for all of you. Good work. Go on and get some sleep. I know it will be difficult, but you need to rest as best you can. It will become easier the more often you do it.”

Another question, “Ma’am, what’s the Tactical Puzzle Solutions Group? I’ve never heard of it.”

“That is the designation we’ve been given for the duration of our two weeks of contributions to the war effort. We are an Enigma, working on Tactical projects.”

A few understand right away and start laughing. Others need the explanation.

Still another question pops up, “Ma’am, could we just keep our present work positions for the duration? I like doing the job I’m at now and I don’t do as well at the others.”

“Let’s consider that right now then. A democratic vote. How many of you want to continue in the positions you are now holding? Raise your hands.”

Nearly everyone raises their hand.

“Those opposed?”

Karen raises her hand.

“Well, I’d say that pretty much decides it, wouldn’t you?” I level a meaningful look in Karen’s direction.

They all give a cheer and begin to file out. Karen sinks to a chair.

“Ok, baby. Talk to me.”

She looks up at me with concern in her eyes, “I don’t think I can do this.”

“You did wonderfully today. Why do you think it will be a problem?”

“A couple of reasons. My friends don’t understand. Some of the other students at mess look at me and talk behind my back. Prue told me she heard them saying they think I’m being pretentious. I’m scared to death of making a mistake and causing deaths. I don’t know. It’s all so sudden. I didn’t want this, it just happened.”

“Let’s go for a little walk, while we talk.”

We exit the lab and I lock the doors. Together, we begin our walk back to the enlisted student quarters.

I begin by telling her about someone, “…who was volunteered for an extremely hazardous mission, not quite reluctantly, but without the normal opportunity to decide about that action.” I pause for an instant to gather my thoughts.

“This volunteer lost almost everything he had, in exchange for the chance to do something more for his country than he would otherwise have been able to do. He found that, in the preparation for that chance, he was able to do much more, both for himself and for others, than would have been possible otherwise. He encountered a great deal of animosity toward, and lack of understanding of, the sacrifices he had to make in order to prepare for carrying out that mission, animosity which made his choice very difficult at times, even to the point of tears and nearly giving up, but he continued, not totally of his own volition, to prepare.” I glanced toward her, to gauge her reaction, but she was simply listening.

“He’s been given the chance to have a — previously unexpected and totally different, but nearly normal — life which could allow him some happiness following the hazardous mission for which he volunteered.”

We walk for a moment in silence.

“While recovering from the preparations for that mission, he was allowed to teach and found that, even if teaching alone were to be the only thing he accomplished in this life, even if he includes consideration of the mission which he has yet to finish, then he’s made a great and lasting contribution, and he’s satisfied that his personal sacrifices mean something in the long term. So you see, things have a strange way of working out.”

She glances toward me.

I return her look. “Even when things look bleak and make no sense at all, even when your adversaries plot your downfall and hope for your failure, your sacrifices will come to mean something to someone else. Your adversaries may never comprehend that meaning, but those who receive your contribution will know that someone somewhere gave them the assistance they needed, when they needed it, and that it made all the difference in the world.” Strange, my ‘talk’ has done as much for me as it has for my companion. I turn to her with new resolution.

“As to your immediate problem, if anyone gets in your face over this Major’s insignia, you tell them it wasn’t your idea. You were outranked by a real Colonel who assigned it to you for the purpose of a specific set of assignments. You may, or may not, want to add that I thought that you were the most qualified for the assignment.”

She looked at me with mingled astonishment, pride, and terror.

“Second, you are not responsible for any of the deaths of our troops in Vietnam, not even one. The enemy is responsible. All you and this group are trying to do is out-think them so that they can be stopped before they succeed, and the other students are your Tactical Puzzle Solutions team working toward this goal. Lastly, if someone is giving you a hard time and if, by chance, you know they have expertise which could be used in TacPzlSolGp, then tell me and I’ll get them temporarily reassigned into the team. They’ll learn quickly. After all, we only accept the best in our TacPzlSolGp.” I raise one eyebrow in question.

She smiles at me. “I think I know someone already. She and a couple of her friends have been giving me a hard time ever since I arrived here, and she intensified it the moment she saw this on my sleeve at lunch. She’s a whizz at photo analysis, in fact that’s her nickname here, ‘Whizz.’ Even her instructors say she’s really good, I heard them. We might grab her for our local confirmation of the deductions concerning the photos we receive.”

“All right, I want to meet her. Now.”

Karen takes me to her barrack and we go in. At first there is no reaction until Karen calls, “Attention. Officer in the quarters.”

Her nemesis laughs and says, “You’re not an officer here, Karen. You’re just like us.”

I reply, “That may be true Specialist, but I am a real Colonel and you will come to attention in my presence.”

The Barrack Sergeant has heard the commotion and enters the fray suddenly recognizing me and deferring to my rank. “Attention in the Barrack. Officer present.”

That immediately curtails the lethargy in the others.

“Now, Major, will you indicate these photo interpretation experts we need for the Tactical Group?”

Karen calls forward three of the girls and takes a pen and paper pad jotting down their names and service numbers for me. Everyone is looking around in confusion.

Nemesis says, “Tactical group?” in a little voice.

“Major, I’m going to go make the arrangements to have these three transferred to the TacPzlSolGp while you explain it all to these three outside. The rest of you may carry on.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

The Barrack Sergeant salutes, I salute, everyone else salutes…. I have never seen more confusion in a barrack, except maybe the day those two cobras wound up in C company, D barracks. That was interesting. Fortunately, no one was shot, although at least two magazines of .308 rounds were touched off under the bunks in an attempt to kill the cobras. They all missed by the way, ventilating the doors and walls while the cobras happily departed through an open door.

I go out to return to my quarters so I can prepare the requisition to be given to the school commander tomorrow morning. Karen follows me out with the three girls a pace or two behind her, following her to a place outdoors where they can talk and see anyone coming who might overhear them.

-o~O~o-

The next morning after breakfast, Karen leads them to our lab where small etched metal signs have magically materialized on the lab doors overnight: TacPzlSol Gp Dallas, TX, Major Karen Delheim, OIC, acting, Colonel L. Jackson, Advising. When they enter, Karen reports to me and I hand her a temporary Captain’s insignia.

“You need to decide which of them is your acting photo interpretation officer,” I say.

“They may have the table over there. Copies of the photos and their analysis provided by Saigon are there, along with the photos from yesterday. What we need from them is, either confirmation they agree with the interpretation of the photos as given, or we need to know their own interpretation and why. We need it yesterday. Do they understand that this is not an exercise, and that we are doing real work?”

Karen says, “I think you’d better explain it to them again, Ma’am. They seem to think this is just some sort of super lab game.”

“Okay. I’ll talk with them. Decide who gets the rank and then send them to me over at their table. In the meantime, get the show on the road, Major.” I say the last few words loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Yes, Ma’am.” She turns to address the rest of the group, who’ve been following our interaction with more than usual interest. “Why are you all sitting around? There are lives at stake and Vietnam won’t wait.”

People quickly burst into action. I go over to my table to await the new Captain and her troops. Karen goes back and hands the insignia to her former nemesis, who looks at it and then back to her with a, ‘You’re kidding, right?’ expression on her face.

Karen tells her, “Donna, put it on and report to the Colonel. We have a lot to do and our report must be finished and sent status ‘Immediate’ back to Saigon before 1900 this evening.”

Donna slowly takes the insignia and is looking around in disbelief.

I put in my two cents worth, “Captain, are you going to stand around all day, or might we get some work out of you?”

She and her two friends rush over, as she is trying to put the insignia onto her sleeve.

“I’ve been told the three of you are exceptional at photo interpretation. I’ve read the reports made by your instructors and I agree. We have no one in this group who is quite as good at it, so you are volunteered. The duration is for the remainder of this week and all of the next. We get no time off, because there are lives at stake. Which reminds me, just a moment.”

“ATTENTION, EVERYONE!” The sound level drops quickly.

“It may interest you to know that our report sent to Saigon last night was acted upon and saved lives. The pincer tactic you recommended worked. The enemy attack was rebuffed by the strong follow-up offensive our group recommended and Saigon is waiting for our take on this latest Intel. Congratulations, everyone. Now get moving again.”

Almost as though they never stopped, everyone is right back at their task.

“Ma’am, you’re kidding right? This is just an exercise, isn’t it?” It’s Karen’s erstwhile nemesis, of course.

“If that’s the attitude you are going to take, then you are going to cost lives out in the field. Either give me that insignia, and then get out, or get to work, because this is no joke. General Pendleton is in Saigon and we are acting in advisory mode for these two weeks.”

She still doesn’t quite believe it.

“We may even receive a unit citation for our last report, so we want only the best working with us. If you’re not the best, then you don’t belong here.”

She’s fingering her temporary rank and thinking.

“Well?” I hold out my hand, waiting for the insignia.

She turns to the others with a new sense of mission. “Okay you two, let’s look at those photos. You know there’s nobody else at this school who does this as well as we do. Let’s prove it where it counts.”

They dive into the photos, noting the Top Secret – No Forn stamps on the back of each image in bold red lettering and glance at each other for a moment.

A few minutes later, our new Captain comes over and asks me where they can find notepads and pencils. I loan her a pencil and hand her a req form and tell her to fill out a requisition for whatever they need, then it goes through channels. She rolls her eyes, but takes the form and the pencil.

While she’s doing that, I call down for another twenty pads and a couple dozen pencils. About the time the req makes it up to Karen and back to me, the pencils and pads are coming through the door. I adjust the amounts on the req and initial it. It’s then exchanged for the valuable items and distributed back to our new Captain, who has just gained some understanding of our chain of command.

---

 

To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 

 

previously:

They dive into the photos, noting the Top Secret – No Forn stamps on the back of each image in bold red lettering and glance at each other for a moment.

A few minutes later, our new Captain comes over and asks me where they can find notepads and pencils. I loan her a pencil and hand her a req form and tell her to fill out a requisition for whatever they need, then it goes through channels. She rolls her eyes but takes the form and the pencil.

---

Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Wed, 2008/11/19 - 12:51am., Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 23 is revised and reposted on Fri, 2009/12/25 - 11:33 AM. ~Sephrena

---

 

Photo Interpretation — What’s that something at which you’re pointing?:

 

Chapter 23

 

About 1030, we receive an update in the form of more Intel, photos and a report of several small enemy attacks. The photos are quickly distributed for analysis. By 1100 Captain Donna has corralled Major Karen and they both converge on me.

“Colonel, we have a problem.”

They show me the photos and their interpretations, then they grab the photos from yesterday at the same spot. I don’t see the difference, but Donna says it’s obvious.

Come over the scope and look. I do and still see nothing. She takes the time to be patient and walks me slowly through the photograph where I wind up looking at a something. Now the new photo. The something now has six small circles near it.

She shows me eight more somethings, all with little circles.

I admit that I see nine somethings with six small circles each.

“Colonel, those are anti-aircraft missiles. They’re doing something there, and they intend to shoot down anything that might prevent it.”

“Prepare a flash message and reference the photos for yesterday and today and the coordinates,” I tell her. “Saigon has to have seen this, but we’ll let them know anyway.”

Within fifteen minutes, the flash goes out.

Captain Donna comes over and salutes me, as I look at her with a question framed on my face, ‘What’s this all about?’

“I’m sorry, Ma’am. I didn’t think this was for real. This is a school for cripes sake. But those photos couldn’t be faked or, if they are, then they’re really, really good ones. We really are sending traffic to Saigon, aren’t we?”

“Yes, Captain, we are. Think of this as the ultimate final for your course. We’re playing in the big leagues and with real lives on the line. That was good work, by the way. We may not get a reply until tomorrow but, even if their people figured it out, so did we. Congratulations, Captain.”

“Thank you, Ma’am. Ma’am, I think part of my problem was Spooky, I mean Karen. She and I have been at odds since we got here. After today, I think we have a lot more in common. Thank you, Ma’am.”

“Don’t mention it, Captain. Oh, by the way, I already told the other officers, so I’ll tell you. Just because you have the rank on your sleeve doesn’t mean you’re allowed to eat in the Officer’s mess.” I give her a grin.

She returns my grin, then hurries back to her photos.

-o~O~o-

We’ve discovered that the group member who suggested the pincer attack is our best tactician, and he forms the nucleus of our small tactical department as we dig around through the students out in the main school for a couple of others who are likewise talented. That meant another Captaincy, for ‘Skirmish,’ as the team begins to call him.

-o~O~o-

We are now into our fourth day and have once again grown by four more. These too were brought in from the outside world of students, now becoming professional soldiers, and took us in another direction, signals analysis. This latest growth came about because of an unexpected request, which dropped on us from straight out of the blue.

Some office in D.C. had sent us a message requesting cryptographic assistance with a coded message, see enclosure. We’re looking at this and scratching our heads. They obviously have us confused with some other group. We sent back a message asking for clarification of the request. One of the specialists in our Intel group tells his Captain that he knows of a couple of guys in another barrack who are really good at figuring out secret or coded messages so we might give them a crack at it. They do, and we discover after a day and a half that it’s a hand-coded message in a language we suspect to be Czech.

None of us reads this, of course, but we sent our partial decode back to the initiating agency, which had, for some reason, failed to reply to our request for clarification concerning their original request for decoding of the cryptograph they sent to us. Don’t you just love bureaucracy?

We don’t hear any more about the message, or our potential answer, until the second week of our existence.

-o~O~o-

Our quiet existence has been shattered. Our secret is out, and we have students from all over the school asking my officers if there’s anything they could do to help. No one knows that we are actually sending and receiving traffic with Saigon. They apparently think it’s some sort of super exercise, a military game which is designed to mimic reality, but they all want to play.

We’ve reached the point where we need to have two MPs at each door and I’ve had special IDs made up, which are worn by our personnel so the MPs allow them through but halt others. The couriers and message handlers also have IDs, so our Intel makes it in past the doors on time. As we’ve just initiated our last week, and there are so many people around, we’re getting a little more formal and I’m wearing my uniform again, fortunately for me.

Things have snowballed and we’re moving along at an unbelievable pace. If we weren’t going to shut down at the end of this week, I’d consider adding a second shift. Our meals are served to us whenever we can find the time and, if we miss the mess hour, then they send our meals here. It helps to have a two star on your side.

During the past seven days we’ve spotted only three things which were missed in Saigon. Two of those were the SAM missile launchers and whatever it was that they were protecting, and the other was our suspected troop concentration. Memory wins out again. We’ve made the same recommendations as Saigon did, except for two where ours was adopted over the local group. We made bad calls in a couple of cases, but our errors were mitigated by a relative lack of Intel, some of which the Saigon group received and we did not.

We are into Monday afternoon when there’s a bit of noise at one door and I figure it’s students trying to get through the MPs again. The noise continues, so I pop out the other door to see what’s going on. I find myself face to face down the hall with two generals, neither of whom I know. I salute them and begin my interrogation to determine what they are doing here. From what I piece together, they’ve been looking for us for three or four days.

“Well, Sir, we are a rather secret group and this was the best we could do at hiding. We were created for a two week operation which is to end Friday.”

They don’t seem to be very interested in our short term goal, nor in the possibility of our disbanding. They are interested in seeing the operation. Neither of them outranks General George, so I use him as our ace in the hole, denying them access.

“George? George knows about this?”

“Yes, Sir. You might say he founded this group. They spent four weeks preparing for this operation and it commenced Monday last week and is due to end this coming Friday.”

“I’m going to talk with him, Colonel. We’ll be back.”

“Yes, Sir. If he okays it, I would be pleased to show you our operation, Sir. Thank you for dropping by.”

They storm down the hall and somehow I don’t think I’ve heard the end of this. I turn and thank the MPs for their diligence at keeping two Generals at bay and then return to the room. Ten minutes later, I decide maybe we should have better IDs which not only look more realistic but have our photos on them. I call down for some more support and tell them about my problem.

They send up someone with information about IDs and their purpose and look.

How he made it through the MPs I have no idea but they didn’t even slow him down. I guess they just wanted to play with the Generals.

-o~O~o-

I made a mistake, a BIG mistake. I allowed my needs to remain a little too vague, and then let my support group have too much freedom, so they ran with it. They started the day of my request by taking photos of everyone, including the MPs, and when we arrive the next morning we find we now have a unit crest above each door and little badges made up like the crest, which they give to everyone to hang from our pockets. Each of my little groups has a slightly different rainbow stripe on their new IDs to indicate the nature of the work they’re performing.

The security clearance of each individual is shown on their ID in the form of small but obvious stripes of colour code, together with their photo, just as I’d requested, but so is everything else under the sun. The MPs have their own IDs with colours and photos and they too have our crest added as a hanging shield below their ID on their shirt pockets. The officers have a basic colour for their badges which indicates their rank, visible at a distance. If the rank they are wearing doesn’t match the colour on the ID, they’re denied entry.

Our lab doors are now electronically locked and keyed to our IDs, and we’ve gone from a motley organization of students to the crisp military look of a real unit, appropriate for some grand scheme which I sincerely hope won’t get us all court martialed. I’m looking at our new tags, wondering where I went wrong, just about the time the Generals show up again, this time with General George leading the way.

Now I know I’m in for it.

I warn them that we are operating with an extreme deadline, having just received some new Intel which has thrown our previous conclusions out the window like tossing a candy wrapper into a trash basket. I’m willing to take them around and explain the operation, but I cannot halt it, since Saigon is waiting for our reply on this. I clear them with the MPs who give them visitors badges (see what I mean? I didn’t know anything about that either), and one of the MPs follows us inside.

Karen calls attention (bless her) and General George immediately tells everyone to “carry on working as though we aren’t here,” like our operation is old hat to him.

I begin my public relations spiel, wondering if I even know what’s going on. We make it through each of the small departments and pause while they look over the shoulders of our cryptographers — who fortunately had the presence of mind to put away their crosswords and pull out something which at least looks to me like they’re doing something productive.

One of the Generals asks if he may interrupt them for a few minutes. I attract Cypher’s attention and introduce the General to him. The General produces a copy of that decoded message we sent back last week and asks about it.

Cypher says, “Yes, Sir, that was our work. We couldn’t translate the language, because we have no linguistics group, but we decoded the message into that piece of paper you’re holding. Is there a problem, Sir?”

The General looks at them like he’s skeptical, but then finally reaches into a pocket and pulls out a similar message which appears to be in the same language, “How long would it take to code this message into the code which you broke while decoding the other message?”

“I’m not certain we can do that, Sir. The code appeared to be time sensitive, and the settings of the code change with the time and date, so the code which was correct for the message we decoded would not necessarily be correct for today.”

At this moment, Prue sings out, “1400! Your primaries are needed.”

The general takes that moment to digest Cypher’s statement.

“If this message was given the same date time code, could you encode it?”

“Certainly, Sir. Whoever receives it would suspect that it was a forgery since so much time elapsed between the coding and the receipt of the message but using the same date code we could do it.”

“How long will it take?”

Cypher looks at it, “Maybe thirty or forty minutes, Sir. We still have our notes from last week, so it won’t take too long. Worst case…, an hour and a half.”

“Do it,” he says.

The captain looks at me and I nod my head up and down and say, “Take the time, Captain. We can afford that much,” as the general’s eyes turn to watch my reaction and answer.

Taking the paper with the message on it, our Captain sends one of the men to, “Retrieve the file for the decode we made for them last week.”

The young man hurries over to one of the filing cabinets and pretends to rummage around in it, checking first one drawer then going to another and finally returning with a folder which they created to hold the documents for the decode from last week. We continue walking around the room, observing the action and quiet murmur. A soft buzzer sounds and we look up as a courier enters the room. He too is wearing a unit ID and crest. He takes the information he brought directly over to our intelligence group and Captain ‘Benny’ signs for it, then opens the envelope.

A few moments later he’s busy with two others, showing them the material and they’e searching the table for other papers. A short discussion occurs and he calls Karen over to look at the data. This continues until she calls for me. I excuse myself from the Generals for a few minutes and go to see what we’ve got. More reports and photos.

I’m beginning to hate these things because I can’t see a thing in them, but when we give them to Whizz, she takes one look and says something like, “Oh yeah. So there they are, right there.” I’ll look again and all I see are trees.

The photo analysis and photos all go to Whizz’s department so they can put in their two cents. I have come to the conclusion that there’s no one as good as she is at this. They can blow up the photos so far that all I see are blurs and she still spots the stuff. It’s got to be some sort of x-ray vision, like Superman. The stuff just pops out at her. Anyway, her group is happy that they have new photos to examine.

We’re looking at thirty-five minutes from the General’s request when our Cryptography group sends their encoded version of the message, along with the original message the General handed to them, over to us. The General pulls yet another paper from his pocket and compares it with the one he just received from our people. I glance over his shoulder and they look the same to me.

Apparently they look the same to him too.

“George, you’re not going to believe this. They did it.” he checks his watch, “They did it in thirty-eight minutes with no warning. How did you ever put together a team like this?”

General George says, “Actually, Bill, I authorized Lucy here to put it together, and she felt the school was the best place to start. We held back two classes of intelligence trained personnel and then she gave them her crash course for four weeks before we turned them loose on some real stuff out of Nam. It was basically an experiment that just kept growing. She has a few ideas that she would like to implement still, but we’re running out of time, as she has a very important assignment waiting for her in Nam, one which I’m afraid won’t wait much longer. What’s on your mind?”

“This unit is on my mind. I want it. When you are finished with it, I want it.”

“So long as the acting officers are given full rank and grade, and the unit isn’t broken up, I think that might be worked out. I’ll talk with Lucy and the other officer’s and see how it goes. I’ll get back to you…, say by Friday morning?”

“That won’t work for me. How about Thursday afternoon or Monday morning?”

“Monday then, Thursday I have too many meetings scheduled.”

“Thanks, George. Thanks a lot. And thank you too, Colonel. You put together quite a little team here. It’s something which we may expand a bit and really start to give the world a run for their money.”

“Thank you, Sir!” I know when to smile and agree at least.

We are walking out together and, as we pass the recommendations group, we hear in passing, “Chance, what do you have to say about this?”

We’re through the door and are now in the hall, where our MPs wait to collect their ‘Visitor’s badges.’

“Chance?” the strange General says. “That’s a strange name.”

“It’s a nickname, Sir. Captain William Carter’s nickname is Chance. He’s our devil’s advocate and psychology major. Chance refers to the random factor.”

He smiles and shakes his head, “Interesting group of people. Random factor…. Has Chance helped the results?”

“Oh, yes, Sir. Both he and Skirmish work well together. Captain Donald ‘Skirmish’ McIntosh is our tactical department lead.”

He shakes his head again. “You have an unusual group, producing unusual and accurate results.”

“Yes, Sir, and they’d probably follow Spooky into Hell if they had to.”

“Spooky? Now who’s that?”

“Sorry, Sir. Major Karen Delheim, Sir”

“Do you have a nickname too, Colonel?”

I hang my head just a little answering quietly, “Yes, Sir. Magician, Sir.”

“Magician? As in pulling answers out of a hat?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He shakes his head again and the generals turn to leave, but the MP, who’s been waiting patiently, reminds them to leave their visitors badges before they walk away.

I turn around and walk back into the thick of things.

I’m looking around at our little room full of people, all of them busy, wondering if I was hit by a streetcar and am imagining all this, about to wake up in some hospital somewhere.

Karen turns to me and asks, “What was all that about, Ma’am?”

“Karen, right now I’m not certain. I think you all were just ‘volunteered’ to stay as you are, but probably somewhere else. The only thing I know for certain is that I heard them saying all the acting officers were going to be promoted to full officer status, and if I have my way, all those who remain as enlisted will gain two steps in rank and grade. Don’t pack yet, but I think they’re going to move you all as a unit to some other location.”

“I’m going to be a Major?”

Her eyes were wide open.

“I can’t guarantee that but, if you’re going to be in command, the worst you could come out with would be Captain and all the acting Captains would become Lieutenants. We’ll see, probably by Monday. How are the reports doing?”

“Pretty good, the big puzzle is the photos we received, but Donna’s team is only about a third of the way into each one. It’s slow going and she’s complaining about the trees.”

“Good. At least this time she didn’t just walk up and say….”

Just then, Donna walked up and waved a photo under our noses, “There they are, right there.”

“Never mind,” I sighed.

“I found them,” Donna said happily. “Betty, look over in quadrant six for yours, they’ve altered their method of hiding them under trees. Sneaky.”

“YES!” Betty exclaimed. “There they are.”

“Whizz?” I said.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Spot all you can, as quickly as possible, and then prepare a flash for Saigon. Give them the photo numbers and the information they’ll need in order to spot the sites and, if you can, do a count for each. Take a good look because, as I recall, when they alter their methods, they also mirror and have twice as many SAMs as usual.”

She jumps back to her scope and starts looking again. A couple of minutes later I hear her saying, “Sneaky bastards.”

I look at her with a raised eyebrow and Betty gently digs her in the ribs.

“What?”

Betty whispers in her ear and Whizz turns and looks at me, “Oh! Sorry.” then she turns back to count the total number of SAMs she’s discovered. Now aware of what she’s looking for, she finishes the photo and finds a third group, making a total of twenty-seven six missile launchers in a small concentrated area.

Whizz chews on that for a minute. “They couldn’t fire from under the trees so they must back out and fire, then move under cover again. That means that guidance control is coming from somewhere else. Look around, Betty, and we’ll see if we can find it.”

They finally discover the radar site about five klicks away from the launchers, and it’s surrounded by its own protective ring of SAMs, all heavily camouflaged. Something big is going on there, but now we can notify Command, so possibly the sites can be taken out, including whatever they’re protecting.

“That’s nasty, Ma’am. Real nasty. They’re doing something big right there. But all we can find is one truck. We provided that information too.”

Our discovery is Flashed back to Saigon.

-o~O~o-

The little team is getting better at their work and they’re now a tightly knit unit.

Friday, they’re working, and I’m in my room at the BOQ packing, after getting back from the hospital, where my two doctors have completed a careful examination of me and released me for full duty.

Somehow light duty and full duty seem about the same to me, of course that may just be me.

I finish my packing and decide to visit the lab, where I’ll return my unit patch and ID to the MPs. On Saturday morning, I’ll be out of here. My call for General George is finally returned and we speak for nearly twenty minutes concerning everyone and their increases in rank and bequeathment of full officer status to those who are leading the rest. He’s in full agreement with me, mostly because he can force the promotions out of the other general’s allotments without impacting his own too badly. I tell him that I’d like to see it happen, but understand that I’ll probably have to leave before it does. We continue to chat and I tell him I’m going up to say goodbye before they all vanish for supper. I thank him for his support and tell him that I enjoyed the diversion he created for me. Finally, I can’t think of anything else to say, thank him again, and hang up.

Checking the time, 1630, I hurry up to the school to try to catch everyone before they leave. I must be in better shape than I thought, because I manage to make it on time and I’m not even breathing hard. I nod to the Mps and use my ID to open the door, walking in to see them all still working feverishly. I go over to Karen and wait for her to finish whatever she and two of her Captains are working on, then talk with her for a minute.

“What are all of you going to do for the weekend?”

“Tomorrow, we’ll be here. There are some additional problems which need to be ironed out, so Saigon is sending us new data to look at before we shut down.

We’re doing pretty good now. Getting faster every day. We had a new message come in for the crypto boys too. They looked at it and had it broken out in about an hour. It looks like gibberish but they say it’s a double encoded message or some such thing. They’re working on the second break now. I’ve never seen them happier.”

I think about that and almost laugh. “I understand. When we received that first message and brought them on board, you would’ve thought we’d just given them a new toy to play with. Maybe we did.”

I hear another round of confusion at the door.

“Are the students still trying to get in here?” I ask.

“Sometimes. Usually they leave right away, though. I’d better check.”

I follow her out and we find General George blustering at the MPs.

“Lucy, tell them I can go in there.”

“Yes, Sir. Give the General a visitor’s badge and let him in, boys. He’s tame.”

They smile and hand him a badge. We turn and unlock the door, letting him in, then follow.

He goes up to the head of the room and sets down his briefcase, then rummages in it and pulls out a stack of papers.

Always respectful of the chain of command, he says, “Lucy, may I take fifteen or twenty minutes of everyone’s time?”

Equally punctilious, I say, “Major, are they doing well enough that we can afford a short break?”

“Yes, Ma’am. All right, everyone. Eyes front. Put that stuff down for a few minutes.”

I turn to my General. “The floor is yours, Sir.”

He thanks us and proceeds to thank the unit, then asks that each person come up and receive their new orders when he calls their name. He begins calling out the names which he reads from each sheet until finally everyone on the floor except the officers has received a piece of paper and is now looking at it, some with eyes widened in surprise.

“The papers I just handed out are orders giving each of you a two step increase in rank and grade. You are remaining with this unit but the entire unit will be transferred to DC late next week. Now I have some more orders.”

“Lucy, would you care to do the honors? Tell you what, I’ll call it out and you pin it on. Here take these.”

He hands me a box full of insignia. The first name he reads is Karen’s. She is given full Major’s rank and grade effective today. As he reads the paper, I pin her gold oak leaves on and salute her. She salutes back and we both smile.

Next he reads seven names for our seven Captains and we pin railroad tracks (a Captain's insignia, two bars, joined by two thin strips between them, which look something like railroad tracks) on each of them. They receive copies of their orders and our eight new officers are told to go draw new uniforms Monday morning.

The general and I applaud them all. I say my good-byes to my little unit, then he and I go out into the hallway where I break into tears. It takes me several minutes to get myself under control again and then I pull off my crest and ID and am about to hand them to the MP when General George asks me what I think I’m doing? I explain that I leave tomorrow for Vietnam and the unit won’t be here by the time I return so I’m turning in my ID and crest.

“You don’t get off that easily, Lucy. You created this unit and you’re listed as its advisor. The orders I have here indicate that regardless of any other assignments, you’re subject to call as advisor to this unit for however long it exists, even if its name and designator are changed. You are required to maintain no less than a monthly check-in as to your location and status, subject to recall as advisor. You couldn’t possibly think I’d let someone like you get away with creating something like this and then just walk away, did you?”

I latch onto him and give him a tight hug and kiss his cheek. Then I have another good cry.

Finally, I’m able to talk, “Thank you, Sir. Do they know?”

“Well, if that new Major can read, then yes, they know.”

I calm down and salute the four MPs, thanking them for watching over my unit.

They salute back, smiling, and General George guides me down the hall. The walking must be helping, because by the time we make it to the door, I’ve stopped crying. He gets into his car and asks if he may drop me off anywhere. I say, “Thanks, but no,” and walk back to the BOQ to wait for supper. I’m still holding my crest and ID so I put them back on my uniform. They mean more than an Award for Valor to me.

The Rangers have their distinctive beret, but we have our crests and ID. We may not be a combat unit, but we contribute in our own special way. A little before 1800, I hear running feet and my door nearly explodes with pounding on it. I open the door and the girls who are newly promoted officers are there. Karen grabs me in a hug and shows me on her orders where it states that I’m the permanent advisor to the unit.

“You’d better keep in touch or we’ll all track you down, Lucy. Don’t you ever lose that crest and ID.”

I answer her with, “Let me know where you all end up, okay? You can leave a message for me at General Pendleton’s offices. Girls, I feel like celebrating. Have you had supper yet?”

They hadn’t so I say, “You’re officers and ladies now. Let’s go eat. Then you can tell me if the enlisted mess is as good as the Officer’s mess. That’s something I’ve wondered about since I got here twelve weeks ago.”

We all traipse out and find our way to the Officer’s mess. It is a joyous occasion and the five of us have a great time.

Karen leans close and quietly says, “I’ve been thinking about that story you told me just before we brought Whizz into the group. I’m glad you found your way to teach us.”

I look at her and wonder if she means that she understands. She looks at me and her eyes say, ‘Welcome to the club.’ I start crying again. Not a lot, but enough that tears roll down my face. I take her hand and give it a gentle squeeze of thanks.

We finish supper and they have a little more work to do so they rush off back to the group, and I take a walk, looking around at the buildings and people and thinking about how very much I’ll miss them all, and how real everything seems, even though my time here has been very short, at least compared to the rest of my military career.

Oh, according to them, the enlisted Mess is better.

---

To Be Continued...       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 
 

previously:

Karen leans close and quietly says, “I’ve been thinking about that story you told me just before we brought Whizz into the group. I’m glad you found your way to teach us.”

I look at her and wonder if she means that she understands. She looks at me and her eyes say, ‘Welcome to the club.’ I start crying again. Not a lot, but enough that tears roll down my face. I take her hand and give it a gentle squeeze of thanks.

---

Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Wed, 2008/11/19 - 6:58pm., Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 24 is revised and reposted on Sat, 2009/12/26 - 12:29 PM. ~Sephrena

---

 

Neanderthals apply here:

 

Chapter 24

 

I and my ‘luggage’ arrive in California and manage to find our way to the embarkation location where we are awaiting transport to Vietnam courtesy of the Air Force. They are a little upset with my ‘luggage’ but my orders specify it is to accompany me on the flight. They are further disturbed by the specification in the orders that the cases may not be opened for any reason by anyone but myself and only after reaching my final destination. The strange orders have caused a ‘bump’ up the command chain in an effort to find someone who will countermand them.

A Colonel finally shows up and his date of rank exceeds mine so he tries to have me open them. I quietly point out that mine is not the rank he must exceed but that of the two-star who signed the orders. He reads them, glances at my cases and at me, then tells them, “load her things and get her out of here and onto the aircraft.”

I thank him politely and turn back to find a very unhappy loads master recalculating his fuel and load requirements. My things won’t make that much difference since they are roughly equivalent to two or three personnel and their gear. As my items are only slightly larger than the duffle bags they will lend themselves to easier placement than the few pallets of materials which are making their way on board even as we speak.

“What do you have in there, Ma’am? Money? It’s too light for gold.”

I just look at him like I have no idea what he’s talking about. His face takes on a pained expression for a moment, his head nods in sudden misunderstanding and he starts yelling orders to the others around him. I return to the location where everyone is waiting for their opportunity to board. So far, the past day and a half has been an extreme let down from the activity of the previous two weeks. I’m still wearing my Pendleton crest but have my ID safely in my purse.

No one recognizes the crest, of course, but all are guessing it may be some special unit and they are afraid to ask. I learn that there are only two passengers on this flight that outrank me and they are both Colonels with a few more weeks in grade than myself. New Colonels returning to Vietnam for their compulsory 12 months or more which is the requirement for their earning the rank. Just like myself, well, almost.

We fly and I sleep, still bored out of my mind. I have a terrible dream of the entire intelligence apparatus in Vietnam having been decimated and my little unit being given the monumental task of filling the gap until new people are brought in and make it up to speed. Karen is pulling her hair out, sleeping when she gets a chance, and the staff has been rearranged to allow for three shifts, the MPs filling in for missing personnel. I awake in a sweat. I finally realize that condition is attributable to the heat in the aircraft and not to my dream, which may also be attributable to the heat. I seem to recall from previous trips that it was much cooler during the flight. I think they are trying to acclimatize us to the heat of Vietnam. I don’t know how they are going to simulate the humidity. Rain in the cabin?

After a change of aircraft in Thailand, we finally put down at Tan Son Nhut where we are to be given our orientation and introduction to Vietnam. Those of us who have been here before make for other locations. I position myself where I may watch the unloading. Two hours later I have most of my cases and have exchanged two hundred and fifty dollars for scrip. Forty minutes after that the other two cases show up, having made a grand attempt to continue on to some destination further to the North, but the Air Force discovered the stowaways and returned them to me.

My orders place me into a hotel where I arrive with two additional Fiat taxis, filled with my cases, in tow. Finally in my room, I change to soft feminine things fit for summer weather. It isn’t summer, it just feels like it. Summer is much warmer. By that time I will be accustomed to it again.

The next day my ‘husband’ shows up and he wastes no time in consummating our ‘marriage.’ He’s nice and Mom was right, it is enjoyable. I still have some reservations as I have yet to see a marriage license. Or a priest for that matter. He decides once wasn’t enough and we are at it again. My legs are rubbery as I make my way to the bathroom to clean up. After I exit the bathroom and then dress, he has my luggage taken downstairs, then we are off driving to our house.

He tells me we have been invited to a dinner party this evening and it is formal. I begin to unpack and undress as he seizes the opportunity to once more avail himself of my charms. I’m beginning to think there’s something wrong with him.

Three times in two hours? Once more now for good measure? Four?

I explain I need at least two hours to unpack and get ready. He looks at the clock and is at me again. There is something wrong with him. My legs don’t want to work. I feel like I’m sprung. Slowly I recover and find the bathroom. I clean up and peek out to be certain he’s gone so I may get dressed. Selecting my dark blue gown and the sapphires for tonight’s excursion, I then go out finding him in a study of sorts where I ask about a safe for my things. He laughs and says, “No one would dare touch anything left in this house. You could leave your jewelry out on the bed and it would be there four weeks from now.”

I don’t believe I will test that theory. I place my jewelry and the empty boxes which were holding my sapphires into one of the chests which I lock pending my return.

We go out and are arriving at our destination about the same time as five or six other couples. Upon entering I discover nearly five dozen guests already present.

During the next hour or so we round out to somewhere around 100 to 120 guests.

He vanishes into the crowd within a few minutes of our arrival and I don’t make contact with him again for nearly three hours. I work my way around the floor and listen to various conversations much as I did when I accompanied Uncle Phillip and Aunt Julie. I think I spot my ‘husband’ but by the time I get to that part of the room there’s no sign of him, nor of the Vietnamese officer he was speaking with.

I happily engage myself in conversation with other wives who have been similarly abandoned and continue to watch and listen to those moving around us. I notice the Vietnamese officer is once again in the room so my search begins anew for my ‘husband.’ By the time we find each other I have heard a lot of good Intel which I’ll prepare for Uncle Phillip. We make our excuses and depart. Once in our home, I ask about ‘bugs’ and he begins to tell me about the insect varieties. I tell him that I mean the electronic types and he looks at me like I don’t know what I’m talking about.

“You know, surveillance and spy devices? Things that let people know what we are saying?”

He laughs and says, “Who cares? They can’t do anything to stop the project so let them listen.”

I quietly tell him about the conversations I overheard and ask how we send a report to command. He looks at me like I’m from Venus.

“That’s not why I’m here. And you’re here to make me feel good and for no other reason. If you want to make a report then go ahead, prepare your petty report and turn it in. I have bigger fish to fry. Come on.”

He leads me to our bedroom and almost rips the gown from me. I manage to get him to wait and carefully take off my gown and some other garments setting them aside before he’s into me again. There’s something very wrong with this man.

The next morning I awaken to find him gone. I’m sore from all the ‘exercise’ and go clean up before dressing to go out and explore the house. So far, I’ve had little time to see much of it except the entry, the bedroom and the bathroom. My exploration yields fruit of sorts, a cook and a houseboy. They’re babbling away in Vietnamese as I enter the kitchen. He asks in passable English if I would like breakfast and what I might like. I tell him and he translates into Vietnamese for the cook. I note he has changed my request a little but say nothing.

For some reason I think it best if they don’t know I understand Vietnamese/ French. I manage to convey in English that I would like paper and pencils so he shows me the study where I find a couple of tablets and two pencils. I take one of each and return to the dining room to await breakfast. Immediately following my breakfast I return to the bedroom to prepare my report, tucking my completed three pages into my purse.

The phone rings and a minute later the houseboy tells me it is a lady for me.

Going to the phone we engage in a short conversation which has been carefully arranged to hide the true intent of the call. We make a date to meet in town in an hour and I ask for a taxi to come pick me up so I may go meet my friend. The houseboy is not happy, but has been told that I might be going out frequently, so the taxi arrives with only a little bit of fuss.

At the meeting, we discuss my first assignment, and I get the surprise of my life when I learn how I’ll be dressed and where I’m going. Tomorrow will prove to be interesting as shall the remainder of this week and the next.

-o~O~o-

Twelve days later I’ve completed my assignment and received a ride back from Phu Bai with a ‘ghost rider’ who seemed to be appropriately named, and was headed this way. I leave the airport, returning to mission control, where I turn in my ‘uniform’ and prepare a report. Then I turn in the silenced automatic I was carrying during the assignment. The whole thing wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be, but the experience was a bit nerve wracking.

Getting the coöperation of other service personnel was a little difficult, even when I presented orders requiring assistance. I think that it may have been because they’re not accustomed to providing help to a lone female who isn’t dressed in the garb normally associated with US personnel in SEA.

I understand why they needed a female for these mission now, but the acceptance by the enemy of an unescorted female passing through their territory was a bit of a surprise to me. Even more strange was the fact that many of them offered me food and water as I passed by.

I reached my destination in only a day, since rides were freely offered, as well as protection on my journey. My instructors had told me, “You can safely accept a ride, but should appear to do so with great reluctance, since female timidity and modesty is a cultural norm, and you don’t want to give a wrong impression. The people offering it will very likely try to convince you to accept, so you shouldn’t miss out on very many.”

If they’d known I was an American, I probably would have been drawn and quartered.

One good result of all this is that my Vietnamese is improving. I have to use French as well, surprisingly frequently, and once my Russian was very convenient, although I had to be careful not to know too much, managing to appropriately mangle a few words here and there, enough that I left the Russian laughing, but congratulating me on my effort. He probably wouldn’t have laughed so much if he’d known what I’d accomplished only an hour previously.

-o~O~o-

Finally, I got back to Saigon and then to the house, there learning that Jeremy is out again but we have another function to attend two days hence. This one’s during the day, though, so I can wear a nice dress instead of a gown.

-o~O~o-

A couple of months in, things are becoming more difficult as my actions are being monitored more closely by both Jeremy and the houseboy. I have long since come to the conclusion that things are not all as they appear and have filed a number of reports to that effect. Jeremy seems to have some sort of secret agenda that he and three others are following but I haven’t been able to discover exactly what they’re doing.

My reports have been sufficient to bring other resources to bear on them, so their actions are coming under greater scrutiny. Whatever it is, could be compromising my missions, which wouldn’t go over well with me, what with all that I’ve had to go through in order to accomplish them. I have a third mission coming up in about a week, and it might last as long as three weeks. It will carry me a considerable distance away, deep into enemy territory. It’s exciting, but it’s also terribly frightening.

-o~O~o-

I want to go into town for some shopping therapy, and possibly to pass another message through my handlers, but with Jeremy out and the houseboy watching me like a hawk, I don’t know if I’ll get the chance. I hunt for the houseboy and request a ride to town. He wants to know why. I tell him I want to go look at some of the local markets to see if anything nice is available. He begins extolling the virtues of the market places recommending certain ones. I recognize one as the place Aunt Julie visits each day about noon and ask about it. Oh he’s overjoyed and would like to show it to me. I tell him that I’ll find it on my own and return by cab but he says, “Not safe, not safe.”

I finally allow him to accompany me. He takes us to a marketplace, which I recognize to be different from the one I’d wanted to shop at, but in keeping with my supposed inability to understand Vietnamese, I say nothing. He leads me around like a dog on a leash, showing me various things and bantering with the shopkeepers. I look at a few things and ask the price of a couple. He asks the shopkeeper who offers a price roughly equal to $10 in scrip, which is about three times too high, but when the translation is given to me the price has somehow nearly doubled. This happens several times before I purchase something, just to keep up appearances, and I note that the shopkeeper receives his price in scrip, and the houseboy surreptitiously pockets the difference. I knew that would happen, since he’d basically told the shopkeeper that he’d convince me to pay twice whatever he’d asked. Some day I’d like to surprise the living daylights out of him and tell him in Vietnamese that he’s a thief if not worse.

After nearly an hour and a half we return to the house. He allows me to practice Vietnamese as we travel and I place as poor an accent upon it as I may, intentionally selecting pronunciations that totally change the meaning of that which I’m saying. He tells me I’m learning very well with big smiles. I’m certain that he’s either my ‘husband’s’ spy or he works for the enemy, or both.

We arrive back from the shopping trip and I find Jeremy in our bedroom waiting for me. He destroys my panties by ripping them off and my skirt is up around my shoulders as he begins his ritual. You’d think he’d been celibate for a decade.

This is nothing like what I envisioned in the coupling of a man and a woman.

Somehow I don’t believe Mom would have stayed with Dad if he had been like this. So far he hasn’t really hurt me so maybe he just needs it a lot more than most.

Finally, he’s lying back.

I’m about to roll out of bed and go to the bathroom to clean myself when he grabs me from behind and drags me back as he stands next to the bed and pulls my derriere up against him while he begins again. This man is sick. This is the third month, and when he and I are both at ‘home’ he continues to do it, what? Four times? Five, in one day?

He’s still working at me as the houseboy comes into the bedroom and snickers, calling out in Vietnamese that some general is on the phone. Jeremy tells him, “I’ll be right there,” and continues his recreation, treating me with no more respect than he’d give a prostitute, until he’s throbbing within me again.

He withdraws and allows me to drop to the bed as he pulls on his pants and goes to pick up the phone. He begins speaking in Vietnamese as I listen to the conversation. It sounds like he’s talking about drugs. I’m beginning to get up and he reaches out to grab my wrist indicating he wants me to remain where I am. I can’t believe him. He ends his conversation with an angry tirade half in Vietnamese and half in Chinese. I’m beginning to suspect that he’s talking to the enemy and he’s fully aware of it. As soon as he hangs up, I see the anger still on his face. He drops his pants and he’s at me again. This isn’t a man, it’s a machine. It has no feelings except hate.

This time the session is a bit more violent but it seems to serve to calm him down a bit.

I manage to push back my feelings of humiliation and anger as I ask him, “Who was on the phone, Jeremy?”

“No one you know. One of our informers here in town.”

Now I know that he’s lying, since I understood his side of the conversation.

Somehow Jeremy has not been told I understand Vietnamese and, to a limited degree, Chinese.

“Stay there a minute.” He says, then gets up and goes to his dresser, returning with a thin red baby doll pyjama and a matching panty, which has a slit for obvious reasons.

“Put those on for a minute.”

I change out of my clothes, laying them carefully across a chair and put on the ugly pyjamas. The bottoms have elastic bands around my thighs that itch and are too tight, and the slit in the crotch is just one more humiliation, since the garment has obviously been designed for prostitutes to flaunt their ‘wares.’ He watches me the entire time like a hungry tiger. He comes over and begins to gently caress my body through the baby doll and up onto my breasts with one hand as his other slowly rubs me further and further down into my groin.

Suddenly I’m flying through the air to land on the bed and he’s on top of me. It begins again. I can’t believe this.

He finishes in me again and pulls on his pants, abruptly leaving the room.

I’m exhausted.

Slowly, I get up and manage to find my way into the bathroom to clean up. I throw the disgusting ‘baby dolls’ in the corner for the houseboy to pick up. I never want to see or touch them again. Pulling new panties out of my dresser, I dress myself decently again, going out to the front room only to learn that my ‘husband’ has left without a word. The houseboy doesn’t know where he went nor when he’ll be back. He leers after me as I walk toward the door. Intercepting me, he asks where I’m going.

“Out. I’ll be back later.”

“The mister say you not go.”

“The mister is not my master. I’ll go when and where I wish.”

“You not go.” He grabs my hand in a move designed to force a helpless woman to do what he wants them to. His mistake.

He’s picking himself up from the heap next to the wall as I launch him on another flight into and through a doorway. He’s again picking himself up as I re-engage.

I bounce him around the room a few more times before he gets the message.

“You go. You go.”

I’m looking at him like I’m still considering playing jai lai with him but decide to allow him to salvage whatever honor he may have. He moves to get up and I take a step toward him. He slumps back down in a heap.

“You will tell Jeremy that I will be back.”

“When you be back?”

“When I feel like it.” I storm out.

In the street beyond the wall surrounding the house, I hail a taxi. It is nothing like what most in the States would consider a taxi to be, more like a rickshaw attached to the front of a motorcycle. The passenger rides on the ‘cushioned’ seat between the two forward wheels while the driver who straddles the motorcycle part is riding behind the passenger. I suppose this increases the risk to the passenger, should there be a crash, and I know there are accidents, but in all the tours I’ve taken here I haven’t seen any truly serious mishap. I think that many of the ‘accidents’ are staged in order to obtain more scrip from the passengers, especially from Americans.

In Saigon, the passenger is considered to be responsible for any accident, since the driver wouldn’t have been at the location of the accident, nor present at the time of its occurrence, if the passenger hadn’t ordered him to go somewhere. Therefore the accident is clearly the passenger’s fault.

I understand that paying your taxi driver well, and sticking with the same driver day after day, will lead to him arguing on your behalf should anything unforseen occur. It may also encourage him to provide you with a safe alternate route should he know or suspect that there might be trouble on the usual path.

In this case my driver is a more elderly man who looks like he has not had a good meal in a decade. We barter for the cost of the ride and then I tell him that I’ll pay him twice that for a safe path. My Vietnamese is fluent and he understands.

With a big smile on his face, we’re off. He’s likely to receive a quarter of his days earnings from this one fare. The ride is interesting and he, as usual here, yells at those who intrude upon the space he considers to be his own. Less than fifteen minutes later, we’ve reached the home of Aunt Julie and Uncle Phillip.

I thank him for his courtesy and pay him. Then I barter for the cost for him to wait for me and to take me back again. He’ll take me safely back for the same amount I spent coming here and will wait for a quarter of that. I ask him if he waits for only a quarter of the amount then how will he feed his wife and children? He must take the full amount for the wait also.

He’s all smiles. I pay him half of the waiting fee now and promise the other half when I come out. He promises that he’ll be here unless a patrol chases him away. If they do, he’ll return to check until I finally come out. I smile and clasp my hands before me, giving him a little bow. He returns it to me and settles down to wait.

“Aunt Julie?” I knock on the door again. “Aunt Julie?”

The houseboy comes and answers the door. I ask to see Aunt Julie and he admits me. Aunt Julie can’t recognize me at first, not having seen me for some months, and my facial surgeries have changed my appearance to the point that I’d hardly recognized myself when they first took off the bandages, so I can hardly blame her. Even my voice is changed from what she’d last heard. I’m glad she’s still here, as I’d heard that they’re likely to be leaving for another assignment soon. I explain who I am and that some surgery was performed on my face to give it a more feminine appearance. I offer a few reminders of our embassy event, and of our days together, and she finally recognises me beneath my changes. We talk for about an hour, during which time I confide in her about the continuing strange behavior of my ‘husband’ toward me. I also give her my reports for Uncle Phillip regarding the recent function I attended, as well as the new papers I’d prepared detailing my new suspicions of possible drug running, the strange behavior of the North Vietnamese houseboy, and his contacts with people I assumed to be on the other side.

I’ve included a transcription, from memory, of the side of the conversation with the ‘general’ I’d heard, who I suspect is either Chinese or North Vietnamese. This agent of ‘ours’ seems to be up to something which is not in the best interests of the USA. I’ve also revealed that they don’t yet suspect that I understand Vietnamese and some Chinese, although my stupid use of a ‘taxi’ driver who speaks only Vietnamese may change all that some time soon now. (In retrospect, I’d realized that I’d acted… hastily. Bouncing the houseboy around probably wasn’t a good idea either, however much it had done to restore my self-respect at the time.)

I also tell Uncle Phillip the names of the officers involved in the TacPzlSolGp, and the appropriation of that group by another General at the conclusion of the experiment. If he can persuade two star George to disclose the name of that other general, then he might be able to continue using the group if necessary.

Aunt Julie and I hug one another and I’m on my way out to my taxi, arriving just in time to rescue him from an American patrol. He receives the remainder of his fee for waiting for me and we are motoring back to the point where he picked me up. We arrive and I pay him his fee then hand him some more for his wife. He refuses it and tells me she is no longer living so she does not need it. I ask about his children and he says two of them live.

“Then perhaps, Grandfather, you should save this to be used in the future for your grandchildren.”

He smiles and accepts the scrip… for his grandchildren.

I return to the house to find that Jeremy has not returned and the houseboy is much more careful around me. I ask about Jeremy, but the houseboy knows nothing that he’s willing to share. Day passes into night and night into day and Jeremy has not returned. I make plans to go out again, and not long after breakfast exit the house to find Grandfather sitting on his taxi waiting. He jumps up when he sees me and smiles, then offers his taxi. I give him my destination and we’re off again. When we arrive there’s no mention of fees but I pay him a little more since we have gone a greater distance.

“Grandfather, if you wait all day for me you will lose money. I do not go out every day.”

“It is, perhaps, you will offer me work to drive you when it is you need. Then I do not lose money and you will always have a driver.” His sentences are a mix of French and Vietnamese but his meaning is clear.

His logic is well worked out and, as I smile, he knows I will take him up on it.

“I will work for little, perhaps? It is same you pay yesterday for each day, perhaps more if much more to travel.”

We haggle a little and settle on a price which is about one and a half times that which I paid for him yesterday, and which I will pay each day.

“Grandfather, on the days I’m not going out, I will pay you for the day and tell you, so you are free to go find extra passengers and perhaps earn a little to save for your grandchildren.”

“It is good. It is good.”

He’s a very likeable old man. I will need to have Uncle Phillip check to see if he’s a North Vietnamese sympathizer.

-o~O~o-

Our agreement works well and we are just past the first week of our arrangement with both of us happy in the agreement. He has a moderately secure income and I have a driver and transportation nearby at a moments notice. Uncle Phillip has pronounced the old man clear of any attachments which might prove difficult.

Jeremy returned from his second trip after vanishing once again for ten days and is just as strange as he was before he left. Sometimes as many as six times in a day.

This is a very weird relationship. I will NOT be continuing it after the assignment is over. Jeremy acts as if my sole purpose in existence is to provide him with sexual release.

Over the next two weeks, my husband and I wind up at two more of those formal events. They seem to be coming along at a rate of one every week or two.

That seems like a lot to me but, perhaps there are more of them right now for some reason, and then we’ll go long periods without any. In the meantime we also have gone out together to a number of locations around the Saigon area.

One of these brings me nearly face to face with one of the three men who were in the meeting which started all this for me. He doesn’t recognize me, probably because he never saw me as a female nor with the full decrease in weight and changes to my face (among other things). Jeremy and he have a meeting somewhere in the building as I ‘cool my heels’ wandering around the lobby watching people come and go. I’ve heard five different languages in use, three of which I know.

The most telling of these is such an exciting bit of news…, the sale of combine (farming) equipment from a Japanese firm to a Vietnamese firm for harvesting rice. Hoo-rah. I take it from the general nature of the conversations that this is some sort of trade consulate. This trip has been about the twelfth or fourteenth of our small day trips since I arrived. BORING. At least I have another assignment coming up in less than a week. This one promises to go as long as fifteen or sixteen days.

When Jeramy returns from his meeting, he tells me we have been invited to yet another formal affair. I’m wondering exactly how he means the word ‘affair.’ We now go to one of the outlying market places where we wander and look at the various goods these proprietors are offering their fellow citizens. I find it interesting that the moment they realize that it’s an American asking, the prices tend to triple.

I’m about to say something about it but barely realize in time that it might be more prudent to continue to try to hide my understanding of French and Vietnamese. I’m getting too complacent, and am repeating the mistakes I made at that first embassy affair with Uncle Phillip and Aunt Julie. I’ve always been a little impulsive.

That evening we attend the ‘affair’ and once again there are French present. Even though they ‘left the country,’ they certainly seem to have a large presence, and they seem to be into everything, at least from what I’ve had the chance to see.

During the next two weeks, I attend two more formal functions, one with him and one without. I also suffer assorted small injuries from him. He’s usually careful to ensure that all my bruises can be covered by my clothing. His favorite area to attack is in the region of my kidneys and abdomen. Then when we do have sex he attempts to press in so far that it hurts.

When I tell him it hurts, he just does it more. He’s a lot like the one creepy brother that the police officer killed back home. My nipples are sore from the hard pinches and slightly milder bites. I’m black and blue from the rough handling. He usually leaves my face alone however. I’ve told Aunt Julie about my injuries, and shown her the marks and bruises, asking what I may do. She’s talking with Uncle Phillip, but as yet I have had no answer.

We are just into the nineteenth week now and Jeremy tells me he’ll be going ‘up country’ for a week to ten days and won’t return until at least next Thursday.

I tell him that I’ll “be gone for a ‘while’ as well, but hope to be back around the same time.” Whichever day I return I will be back by four or five that afternoon.

My reports to General Pendleton have continued on an erratic but nearly bi-daily basis except for the periods during which I’m on one of my little ‘excursions’ and I continue to detail Jeremy’s many strange actions and conversations in my reports. By this time, I’m beginning to think that a major part of my presence here is to spy on him, rather than the enemy, although I have discovered a group of possible enemy agents in one of the market areas. Seems like a strange place to me, but I suppose it’s a good cover. Many people can come and go freely, under the guise of shopping, and information could easily be passed right under our noses.

I’ve reported a number of conversations I’ve overheard at the marketplace, as well as many of Jeremy’s interactions when he thinks I can’t understand the language he’s using. His grasp of the four languages, which includes English, are dismal, to be generous, and he sounds more like a pimp or drug dealer than someone I would have thought that the Agency would employ.

Perhaps there’s an entire group over here who are simply masquerading as Agency and are actually ‘free’ agents with their own agendas. Jeremy, at least, doesn’t seem to be providing any intelligence to further our efforts over here, nor does he seem to care about anything except himself and his mysterious ‘project.’ Very strange. It’s like he believes the world is here for him to plunder at his whim without ever being held accountable for his actions.

He often reminds me of the creepy brothers. He’s a vicious bully just like they were, and I begin to appreciate the situation that Janet had been stuck in, with her husband’s ‘best friend’ a spoiled brat who hurt her whenever he felt like it. Like her, I had almost no one to turn to, except for Aunt Julie, and even she hadn’t been able to do anything to help me yet, just like Mom hadn’t been able to help Janet.

At any rate, I’ve had several moderately peaceful days while he’s gone.

Grandfather (that’s what I call him all the time now — he seems to enjoy the sign of respect) has taken me around time after time and the MPs have begun to associate his presence to my being around somewhere nearby.

This would be a wonderful cover for him if he were a sympathizer or spy. Uncle Phillip has him vetted every few weeks just in case. He always comes out with a clean bill of health…. He’s just a nice old man.

By now, if I go shopping, he tags along and angrily barters with the Vietnamese shop keepers if he feels they are trying to take advantage of me. I wind up spending the same amount anyway as I give him tips for helping me. At first he took the money as that justly due him, then he took it with a little reluctance and embarrassment, now he simply accepts it as a sign of my appreciation. He has even begun to call me ‘granddaughter’ occasionally, most especially when he’s arguing with the shopkeepers.

Being a daughter or granddaughter is not such a good thing over here. Sons are more important, because they can aid a family in the work, and daughters are less capable of the physical work and will go off to another family when they marry.

He seems to mean it as some form of respect, though, and frequently argues strongly on my behalf. Many of the shopkeepers are now somewhat reluctant to see me coming by. Prices are not artificially raised by more than half for me and many plead with ‘grandfather’ not to upset the small offset they are charging. He’ll scowl and grimace but give in to the small increases and I pay them. The shopkeepers have to make a living too….

One day Jeremy tells me that we’ll be going to yet another function, and it will be somewhere around the fifteenth or so so he want me do buy something for it today. I remind him that this is Thursday and I’m going out with other wives for the morning.

“That’s fine. While you’re out, buy something sexy.”

I look at him, “Something sexy?”

“Sure, you know the sort of thing…. All you whores know how to dress sexy.”

“Pardon me?”

“You heard me.”

“Jeremy, I’m hardly a whore. If I were a whore, you’d be the last person I’d allow near me.”

“How’s that again? Look, baby,” he walks over to me and grabs my face tightly in his hand. It hurts. “Every woman is a whore. You are no exception. Your sole purpose in this masquerade is to provide me with sexual diversion, and don’t you forget it.” He throws me backward with all his strength and I fall, striking my head on the floor. He grabs my wrist and yanks me to my feet again.

“Undress.”

“NO,” I scream.

He hits me and I go flying, only to be dragged to my feet again.

“Undress, or I’ll tear the clothes off you.”

“Go to hell, you pervert.”

He hits me once on the face, then rethinks his strategy and pummels my stomach and then my breasts. It’s the first time he’s done that, and I discover that it’s just about as bad as being kicked in the groin, back when I was a man, and I double up in pain, my hands belatedly trying to protect my breasts from further agony.

“Undress.”

He’s about to hit me again when I manage throw him across the the room and he winds up on the floor. That enrages him.

He comes at me with murder in his eyes and lands several very hard blows before I’m able to fend him off. He’s right back at me, pounding his fists into my other side. I hear a rib crack and feel the pain just before he does it again, another ‘crack’ audible, as well as the sensation of feeling the bone grind into something inside me.

I give him one to the nose but he twists his head and my blow lands on the side of his head on bone. He doesn’t go down, but is momentarily stunned. I back away trying to breathe. He pulls out a knife, and I have an instant déjà vu memory of a gutted Happy on the floor and my sliced nightdress. Why do all the Neanderthals instinctively go to a knife rather than some other form of weapon? The knife slices my clothes and barely cuts into me as I back away. Twice more he tries it before I manage to knock it out of his grip then he lands two good blows into my kidneys. I’m not certain what I did at that point but he goes flying again and lands in a heap. I’m beginning to come out of it as I see him getting up. He comes at me again and I try my best to kill him before he kills me, but I hurt so badly that I can’t do a lot.

He’s finally down, but I’m not certain for how long. The houseboy comes in and checks him, then charges at me screaming in Chinese. I sidestep and drop him, but without a lot of effect, I hurt too much to play with him. He realizes that I’m in a lot of pain and picks up a broom to use as a weapon. He comes at me and I break it into kindling, if you can call it kindling…. The brooms over here are a bit different than those in the States, all splayed out. They look something like the fans they always have slaves wave around in the old movies about sheikhs in Araby, but they break just as easily. He looks at that, and he’s about to back away when I drop him for keeps. I should have done that the first day.

I suppose the cook was another agent, because she boogies out before the MPs arrive. Someone must have called the cops, perhaps a neighbor, because I wasn’t in any shape to do much of anything. The local police arrive moments later. I manage to give the MPs my military ID and ask them to call General Pendleton.

“Tell him, ‘the hills are brown, but the fields are worse.’ Hurry. I don’t know how much longer I’ll last.”

During the next ten minutes, something like two full squads of MPs and soldiers arrive, with Uncle Phillip less than five minutes behind them. My coded call to him for help for an agent down is so seldom experienced that the reaction was swift and intensive.

“Who did this? We need to get after them now or they may get away.”

“I did it. Jeremy tried to kill me.”

He takes that with some concern and starts the clean up and transport of Jeremy to the hospital. As I’m standing and talking, he doesn’t think to ask how I’m doing, but Jeremy wakes up and mouths a vile threat to me with hate-filled eyes, and pantomimes slicing my throat with a slight gesture of his thumb as he’s carted out the door. No one seems to notice.

“Uncle Phillip, may I stay with you and Aunt Julie for a few days? I don’t think it will be safe for me here.”

He thinks for a moment and then nods his acceptance. I limp off to pack a few things as he turns back to direct the activities of the military and civilian police buzzing around in front of him.

Why is it that I seem to attract these types? Do I have a sign on my back or something? ‘Neanderthals apply here….’ Surely there can’t be that many out there.

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To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 

 

Previously:

“Uncle Phillip, may I stay with you and Aunt Julie for a few days? I don’t think it will be safe for me here.”

He thinks for a moment and then nods his acceptance. I limp off to pack a few things as he turns back to direct the activities of the military and civilian police buzzing around in front of him.

Why is it that I seem to attract these types? Do I have a sign on my back or something? ‘Neanderthals apply here….’ Surely there can’t be that many out there.

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Thu, 2008/11/20 - 9:51pm, Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 25 is revised and reposted on Sun, 2009/12/27 - 02:28 PM. ~Sephrena

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The blame game:

 

Chapter 25

 

That evening at their house, I tell my story. “Uncle Phillip, the idiot to whom I was ‘married’ is a Neanderthal. You know, all brawn and very little brain. He didn’t seem like that when I met him in the States but now, his idea of sex is to stuff it in me as hard and as fast as he can, as often as he can. He has absolutely no consideration for my feelings. I told Aunt Julie about the beatings each time they happened until I was finally forced to fight back. Look at what he’s done to me.”

I strip down to my skirt right in front of him and let him see the bruises and teeth marks all over my midriff and arms, received over the weeks from the punches and bites, There are three shallow knife slashes visible as well.

“How much more do you need to see, Uncle Phillip. Do you want me to drop my skirt and lower my panties?”

He isn’t happy. Aunt Julie has always taken my side, but evidently hasn’t passed on all of what I told her. So Uncle Phillip sees all that I’ve been going through for the first time.

Aunt Julie speaks up. “Phillip, I want to adopt her now. I don’t want to wait any longer. Since she put him in the hospital, even if it was in self defense, you know what he’ll be like when he gets out. I want her to be our daughter before then. Then we might have more influence, and may be able help her. She’s more a daughter to us than our own, just as she’s been more a niece than our own. Make this happen now!”

“Okay, Okay. Easy, Julie, easy. I agree. Lucy, what do you say?”

“You…, you want to adopt me? I could be your daughter? I’d like that. If I survive the next seven months with this pig then I’m going to divorce him. I don’t want it annulled. I want a divorce. I want to send a message that lets other women know he isn’t worth marrying. He gets out of the hospital Friday. If he starts in on me again I’ll put him in the hospital again unless he shoots me or something.”

“Phillip, how quickly can we adopt her?”

“Tomorrow. I have all the paperwork ready and everyone knows. We just need to sign it and turn it in and in a day it will be a done deal. That gives me a day to go have a talk with Mr. Problem and with his controller. If he gives you any grief, then he’ll answer to me…, after you finish with him of course.”

“I don’t know if I’ll have a chance. As they took him away to the hospital, he made it clear that to me that I was going to have an ‘accident,’ one from which I wouldn’t recover. He needs to be castrated.”

“Lucy, I’m going to take care of this son-of-a-bitch. Oh…. Sorry, Julie.”

Aunt Julie’s lips were tight with barely-repressed anger. “I agree with you, Phillip.”

“Me too.” I add. “I have broken teeth. There’s blood in my urine. I think I have a broken rib. He’s inflicted a lot of injuries on me. No mission is worth this crap. I didn’t become a woman so someone could beat me up all the time. I did it to help my country. Pigs like him don’t deserve to live with real people in our country. I have trouble breathing and I’m worried that his beatings may have caused some permanent harm. I want to go to the hospital for help but I’m frightened of him and his other Agency pals. He’s told me before that if I ‘did anything’ they’d ‘take care of me.’ I don’t think he means they will help me.”

“Let’s go get the rest of your things. You’re moving it all in with us, tonight.”

“You’d better have a few armed soldiers go with us. He has a pistol with a silencer on it, so his buddies probably do too.”

I have never seen Uncle Phillip so angry. We go to the house taking three MP’s armed with rifles with us and an AP officer. Everything I have in the house is removed and taken over to Uncle Phillip and Aunt Julie’s home. I have moved back into the spare room. Aunt Julie comes in and wants to see all of the injuries.

As I undress she grimaces at all the bruises and cuts on me. She touches my side but the pain is so bad that I recoil from her hand.

“That’s where I think I have a broken rib. I just went to the bathroom again and still have blood in my urine. If it’s still there in the morning, maybe I’d better go to the hospital.”

-o~O~o-

It was and I do. Aunt Julie accompanied me, as did two MP’s, as soon as she told Uncle Phillip.

The doctors examine me and take X-rays. I don’t have a broken rib, I have two broken ribs. They’re worried about my spleen, liver and kidneys. The X-rays of my mouth show three broken teeth and four that are cracked, along with a hairline fracture of my jaw. The doctor’s are preparing a medical evidence report for possible charges against my husband, but I tell them that they’d better talk with Uncle Phillip first. I don’t know how far the Agency will allow us to take this.

-o~O~o-

Uncle Phillip has filed the paperwork for my adoption and it’s nearly a done deal.

In view of my problems, Uncle Phillip tells me that they’ve promised to complete the formalities by this afternoon. The doctors have given me a sedative, so I can rest, but I still wake up shrieking even through the sedative. The nurses are very sympathetic. The poor MP’s who are protecting me rush in each time they hear me screaming only to find I’m still nearly asleep and am reacting to the nightmare of being beaten. How can I ever get married again, if I ever find a man I like? Who could I ever trust?

-o~O~o-

That pig has long since departed the hospital and I’m still in. They say it will be another week. That’s exactly what they said two weeks ago. My spleen is improving, as are my liver and kidneys, I’ve had several operations on my teeth and jaw. The broken ribs were removed, since they were broken in several places and the doctors thought they might puncture a lung, even when strapped into relative immobility. So I’m missing one rib on each side down low. They think that I’ll be nearly as good as new in a few months, physically that is. I still wake up screaming.

-o~O~o-

One afternoon, a ‘new’ orderly comes into the room and I begin screaming for help even as he’s entering through the door, “It’s him. It’s him. HELP ME.”

The MP’s attack quickly and manage to subdue him before he can do quite as much as he’d wanted to do.

They took a silenced pistol away from him in the struggle. He was trying to kill me even as they fought him. One bullet lodged in the wall just above my bed, and another just missed one of the MPs before exiting the room by putting a hole in the door. I found out later that it had narrowly missed a doctor as he was walking by, and finally lodged in the wall across the hall.

-o~O~o-

Father is called…. Oh, yes I’m adopted now…. Father is called, and he and those men who were in the meeting come to the hospital. They take the pig away but Father won’t let them have the pistol.

The men look like they’re considering taking it anyway, but the MP’s tell them, “Try it boys. We need a reason. Anybody who could do that to a woman doesn’t deserve to live. You’d better ship that piece of shit out of country, because if any of us see him again it will be shoot on sight.” The agents don’t seem to be very impressed.

-o~O~o-

Another week goes by and I’m finally home (at Mom and Dad’s).

I still have difficulty sleeping. If a man says something to me unexpectedly, I recoil from him before I can control myself. The creep’s mission has been a total failure, whatever it really was, although I thought that mine came out all right, what little there was of it anyway. The Agency blames me, the Army blames the Agency operative, and they, at least, are trying to bring charges against him.

Mom and Dad are about to return to the USA.

They’re taking me with them.

-o~O~o-

Father arranges for me to have a week’s leave so I can visit Mom and Sis, then I’m due to report to him in Washington. I ask him if he and Mom will please come visit my other Mom and my sister. They say that they’ll try to drop by for an hour or two. I ship almost everything back with Mom and Dad’s hold baggage so it will arrive in DC more likely intact. What little I have with me is enough until then. Finally, we fly back to the States, parting company in California.

Mom and Dad still say they’ll try to come visit.

-o~O~o-

My second night at home with my real Mom, I wake up screaming. It scared the daylights out of her. We sit up for a couple of hours as I explain. She’s looking forward to meeting Phillip and Julie, I hope they make it.

The next night, I wake up again, but this time she knows about the problem and we just sit for about twenty minutes until I calm down. Sis hears about it from Mom and wants me to tell her all the gruesome details. That takes about four hours.

She tells me that I should get a gun, “You’ve been trained to use them and the problem is one that argues for a concealed carry permit.”

“I don’t know. If he tries something, I wouldn’t have time to use one anyway.” The idea continues to float in my head, though.

-o~O~o-

Phillip and Julie drop by suddenly one morning and I introduce everyone. It’s sort of a “Mom, meet Mom” situation.

They hit it off great. We call Sis and she rushes over to meet them too.

‘Happy Too,’ one of the two Golden Retriever puppies Sis found for Mom right after I left for my surgery, follows Dad around and repeatedly puts his head under Dad’s hand to beg for pets and scratches.

Sneezy is quieter, and is often content to lean against Mom’s legs, but sometimes snuggles with Janet or me. The two dogs play together too, and are very enthusiastic, which is to be expected since they’re so young, not quite a year.

Mom and Dad give me our new address, not far from DC so, I can find them. Dad tells me that if I find the house and see them the day I’m due to report, then he’ll consider my presence to be report enough. We’ll go to work together the following day. That will give me a day to arrange my room. Our hold baggage isn’t due for about six weeks. He gives me a $1500 cash allotment for more clothes since I’ll need something until the rest of my stuff arrives.

“We’ll be going to three or four functions before the hold baggage comes in,” he says, “and you’ll need some gowns and things in the meantime.”

They say they have to go and I kiss them both.

Mom hugs Mom, “Thanks for taking care of our little girl.”

“My pleasure. You did a good job raising her.”

After they leave, I feel a hole in my heart but I will be seeing them again soon.

-o~O~o-

With the essential failure of the mission as a whole, my rank reverted back to Major. I’ve been working with Father here in DC now these past six months.

Perhaps I’ll be promoted in a few years and wind up with some other assignment, but right now it’s interesting and Father is using my Intelligence talents. The memories of the creep are still fresh even after all this time. I’ve almost gained enough courage to have my own place again. I hate to continue to live with Mom and Dad, but that idiot ruined my life so badly that, so far, I’m not certain if I could live alone.

I certainly couldn’t live with a man. I still want children, but it would be too difficult without a husband. I continue to wake up at night screaming. It doesn’t happen as often and it’s not as loud as it was, but it still occurs. That’s part of the reason I want to get my own place, as soon as I can handle it, so Mom and Dad can have some peace.

-o~O~o-

There’s an Air Force Lieutenant Colonel working down the hall from Father’s offices. I wind up doing work which takes me down there fairly frequently, and we work together on some projects, but I have yet to decide if that’s good or bad in the grand scheme of things.

I’ve reached the point where I no longer recoil if he says hello to me. That doesn’t, however, prevent me from jumping when some other man says anything and it takes me by surprise. He has a nice face and kind eyes. I could like him, I think, if I wasn’t so afraid of the possibilities.

During one of our brainstorming sessions, he tells me his name, “We can’t keep saying Lieutenant Colonel Scott and Major Jackson; it takes up too much time. My name is Randolf.”

“Mine is Lucy,” I answer.

“Nice name,” he says, smiling.

-o~O~o-

I’m down in the cafeteria one day after finishing work, just waiting for Father to finish so we can ride home together. He’s running late and I’m considering letting his secretary know that he needs to get home, since he and Mom are going out this evening.

While sitting there, sipping my coffee, I notice the creep, with two of his cronies, sitting at another table across the room. Fear nearly paralyzes me. He sees me too. There’s still hate in his eyes so I guess he still beats on women. He comes over and smirks at me. I ask him if he has killed any women lately. He uses his hand like it’s a pistol pointed at me, then jerks it as if he's firing it.

The Lieutenant Colonel (Randolf) is eating at a nearby table with some friends and sees that move. He comes over and suggests the pig and his buddies should walk out while they still can. He motions to some of the guys who were sitting at the same table with him, and they and the men from the table next to them immediately crowd over, outnumbering the Neanderthal and his buddies by almost three to one. The operatives leave without a word, but Mr. Problem makes the same threatening gesture with his hand.

“What was that all about?” Randolf asks me, while his friends are still crowded around us.

“I was his cover ‘wife’ for an assignment about a year ago. It was supposed to be for ten months, but he beat me so many times in the first five that I almost died. He was supposed to be prosecuted, but someone in his agency got the charges dropped. I still wake up at night screaming. I spent five weeks in the hospital with spleen, liver and kidney problems, two broken ribs which had to be removed, a fractured jaw and assorted broken or cracked teeth. It was nearly another six months before my body functions were back almost to normal. He likes to beat up women.”

The muscles in Randolph’ jaw work for a moment, then he says, “If he comes around again, tell me. I’ll have him removed, forcibly I hope.”

“I’m a third degree black-belt,” I say, not that it mattered. “I finally hospitalized him, but I didn’t do it soon enough, since I was trying to complete our missions successfully. You’d better watch out for him, though; he carries a silenced automatic. He tried to kill me with it while I was in the hospital but Father’s MPs stopped him.”

“Father’s MPs?”

“Yes, General Pendleton is my father.” That causes a minor stir among the men standing there.

“Then I’m sorry they didn’t kill him.”

“So am I. He ruined my life. It’s been nearly a year and I still wake up at night screaming. I can’t date, because I’m afraid that I’ll wind up with a man who is only nice until we’re married, and then I’ll be beaten again. I do want a family, but I can’t have children alone. I’m pretty much a mess because of him.”

“And they let him off?”

“Yes. Go figure. Women don’t matter. Men can do anything they want and they get away with it,” I say, filled with bitterness.

Randoph tried to reassure me, “Not where I come from they don’t. They put them in jail.”

“What good does it do to put a man away for five years and let him out on parole after two years, and then the woman winds up dead anyway? They get away with it. All we get is the right to scream and be frightened for the rest of our lives, however short or long that might be. You saw what he was doing with his hand. He still intends to kill me, and he wants me to know it, so I’ll be afraid of him.”

He thinks for a minute and then says, “Look, it’s nearly five thirty. I get off soon. When do you go home?”

“Whenever Father finishes. I finished about half an hour ago. That’s why I’m down here having a coffee and salad. Mom and Dad are going out this evening.”

“You still live at home?”

“Again. I had my own place until the assignment with that creep, then he ruined me. I’m afraid to have my own place. With his silenced pistol, he could kill dogs, which I would like to have, and then come kill me and I wouldn’t hear a thing. The doctors have tried to help me, but after months of near-death beatings I’m a mess. With all my problems, what man would ever want me?”

“I don’t know about that. I’d be willing to take a chance.”

My body jerks at his comment, then I manage to say, “I know you’re trying to be nice but I can’t do it. When you said that, it frightened me, and I almost screamed.”

One of the others has a grim look on his face as he says, “Let’s go get him. He could accidentally fall and break his neck.”

Several others agree and the group begins to head for the doors but Randolf stops them.

“He isn’t worth the problems you’d be getting into.” He turns back to me, “You may have almost screamed, but you didn’t. I would like to take you home if you can hold your screaming to a minimum.”

I again nearly jump out of my skin when he says that, and he sees me flinch. He can see that I have a great conflict going on inside me, but I finally respond, “Okay. But I warned you. I’m a mess and it’s all I can do not to scream right now.”

He smiles. The other’s are debating whether to go after the creep again, but the tension seems to be winding down a little and they start wandering off.

Randolph stays with me. “See, there’s still hope for you.”

I still like his smile.

I make up my mind. “I’ll go let Father know and meet you at your office, okay?”

“Sounds good to me. Would you like to go out for coffee or anything on the way home….” He sees the fear flash across my face again, as I begin to edge away.

“Never mind, bad idea. I’ll just take you straight home, I promise.”

“Maybe another time, or maybe here in the cafeteria some time,” I reply.

“It’s a date, Lady. See you in a few minutes.”

I get up, trying to bring my pounding pulse under control, which is going a hundred miles an hour, and slow my rapid breathing. Returning to my office, I put on my jacket, carrying my cap and purse and walk to Father’s secretary, a civilian named Kathy.

“Hi, Kathy. Is Father in?”

“Hi, Lucy. Yes, He’s on the phone but I’ll let him know you’re here as soon as he’s off.”

“That’s okay, just let him know that I’m getting a ride home with Lieutenant Colonel Scott, and please remind him that He and Mom are supposed to go out tonight.”

“Can do. Congratulations, girl.”

“For what?”

“L.C. Scott. He’s quite a catch. Everyone is trying to date him. How did you do it?”

“Oh, it was easy, all I had to do was nearly die. I guess that brought out his protective instincts.”

She looks at me strangely, as I turn and walk out of the office, down the hall, and enter Randolf’s outer office. Eileen, his secretary, tells me that he’s in a meeting, but should be finished any minute.

I tell her, “That’s okay, I’ll wait. He’s taking me home, because Father is going to be a while.”

Again, I’m congratulated on my ‘catch.’ Somewhat flustered, I tell her, “There isn’t any catch, Father is busy, so Randolf is just driving me home.”

“Right,” she says, obviously amused. Her eyes say ‘I’ll expect a full report.’

-o~O~o-

A little after 5:30, several people come trooping out of the office, followed by Randolf.

“Hi. I’ll just be a minute.” Eileen left at 5:15 so he writes a note for her and pushes it through the slot into her after hours deposit so she’ll have it when she comes in and unlocks tomorrow morning.

“Let me get my coat and hat, I’ll be right out.” He vanishes into his office and I hear him open his safe, then papers begin rustling. The safe closes and a few noises indicate that he’s straightening his desk. His footsteps take him over to his coat and hat, there’s a pause, and as they head toward the door, I stand.

“Ok, Lady. Let’s go. I hope you can handle my driving.”

“If I can’t, I’ll just start screaming and you’ll know.”

He laughs.

“I wasn’t joking. I meant it.”

He chuckles and continues smiling, offering me his arm, much as Father did, at a time which now seems so long ago, and yet almost like yesterday. After some hesitation, I accept it, and we walk to the elevators, riding down to go to his car. At least it’s sensible. He doesn’t have a sport car, but a family sedan, almost the same dark blue as one of my gowns. I try to visualize us driving together to some function, with me in my gown and mink, and him in his dress uniform or a tuxedo. My reverie continues until I realize that he’s asking me how to get to Mom and Dad’s home.

I begin giving him directions, taking us up toward Baltimore, and then North and finally West. Eventually, we are on their street and slowing as we approach the gate. I realize that I’ve forgotten that the gate is controlled access and I’m on the wrong side of the car. I get out and cross the drive to push the intercom buzzer. In a few seconds, one of the enlisted men answers and I tell him who I am and that I came home early. He buzzes the gate open and Randolf drives through, then drives us both up to the house after I get back in the car.

“Would you like to come in and meet Mother?”

“I think I’d better not push my luck. Maybe another time. You didn’t scream at my driving and being near me, so I don’t want to give you cause. How about lunch tomorrow?”

“Maybe. Ask me tomorrow. Just now, I need to stop shaking. Maybe a few more times in the Cafeteria and a few drives home may allow me to risk a date. We’ll see. Thank you for bringing me home. Oh, the gate opens automatically going out. Just stop at the little yellow line and a few seconds later the gate will start to open.”

“Okay. Check with you tomorrow. Bye.”

“Bye…, Randolf?”

“Yeah?”

“I…. I’m so sorry that I’m such a mess. I think I would like to chance lunch tomorrow, though. In the cafeteria,” I add quickly.

“Great.” He winks at me, “It’s a date, Princess.”

I watch him leave before turning and going into the house. I really don’t feel like a Princess, a pumpkin maybe, or more probably one of the mice, but not the Princess.

Mom is upstairs getting ready and as I walk past going to my room I look in to say, “Hi, Mom.”

“Oh. Hello, Lucy. Is Phillip here? Tell him he needs to get ready.”

“I left that message with his secretary. She said he was on the phone when I left.”

“When you left? How did you get home?”

“Lieutenant Colonel Scott drove me home,” I say.

“And you didn’t invite him in? Shame on you.”

“I did, but he said he didn’t want to press his luck. Besides, I don’t think he liked the gouges my hands left in the fabric of his car.”

“He’s a poor driver?”

“No. He’s a good driver; I’m a poor rider.”

“Oh. I understand.” She pauses for a moment, and then says gently, “Lucy, you know it might be a good idea if you would invite him to escort you on the twelfth when we go to the Israeli reception. You need to have some male friends. You can’t go on hiding the rest of your life.”

“Mom, that’s still two weeks away. I don’t know if I can handle it yet. I haven’t been able to endure those things since that creep tried to kill me. You know I went to two and had to leave after less than ten minutes. I just can’t handle all the men, it frightens me. I keep looking for the creep.”

“Okay, Lucy. I’ll tell your Father to hold the two extra invitations just in case you want to try. He has you on the list, and left the escort name open.”

“I…. I promise that I’ll think about it, Mother. I’ll try. Maybe you’re right. If I’m able to stay a little longer each time, then eventually I might make it through the whole gathering. I do understand most of the languages they use at these things, so I could translate for Father if he needed it.”

“That might work out. You could concentrate on translating and maybe you wouldn’t have time to consider the men all around you.”

“I guess it actually isn’t the men, so much as I’m afraid that I’ll run into that creep at one of these functions. He was in our cafeteria today. Randolf, I mean Lieutenant Colonel Scott, and some of his friends chased the creep away after he threatened me.”

“What!?”

Mom immediately gets up and crosses the room to pick up the phone on her night stand. In a moment, she’s telling our communications sergeant, “I need to speak with my husband immediately. It’s very important.”

Perhaps a minute goes by before the phone rings back.

“Phillip? … Oh good, how soon? … Yes, I’m nearly ready, but that’s not why I called. Did you know that the Agent who tried to kill Lucy was in your cafeteria today?”

…

“I didn’t think so. Lieutenant Colonel Scott chased him off after he threatened Lucy again. … Phillip, remember your blood pressure. Take a pill. … Yes, as soon as you arrive. … Good. See you then.”

…

“He’d like to talk with you when he arrives, in about ten minutes. He’s going to arrange to have more security here at the house as well.”

“Okay, Mom. Thank you.”

---

 

To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 

 

Previously:

Mom immediately gets up and crosses the room to pick up the phone on her night stand. In a moment, she’s telling our communications sergeant, “I need to speak with my husband immediately. It’s very important.”

Perhaps a minute goes by before the phone rings back.

“Phillip? … Oh good, how soon? … Yes, I’m nearly ready, but that’s not why I called. Did you know that the Agent who tried to kill Lucy was in your cafeteria today?”

…

“I didn’t think so. Lieutenant Colonel Scott chased him off after he threatened Lucy again. … Phillip, remember your blood pressure. Take a pill. … Yes, as soon as you arrive. … Good. See you then.”

“He’d like to talk with you when he arrives, in about ten minutes. He’s going to arrange to have more security here at the house as well.”

“Okay, Mom. Thank you.”

---

Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Fri, 2008/11/21 - 5:21pm, Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 26 is revised and reposted on Mon, 2009/12/28 - 04:27 PM. ~Sephrena

---

 

A date?! A real date?! Lucy, are you crazy?!:

 

Chapter 26

 

I walk into my room and change to civies, then wash off my makeup. Opening the closet, I look over my gowns and furs. The dark blue is almost a perfect match for the colour of Randolf’s car. I could wear it, and either the mink jacket or perhaps coat, since the weather is getting cooler. With my hair down my back and wearing the sapphires, I’d look good. I haven’t worn that gown since…. I’ve even lost a few pounds so it should easily fit. Maybe I should…. I could always warn Randolf in advance that I might need to leave early.

Of course, he might not want to take me if I’m not staying very long. Then again, there’s no harm in asking. Then again, I really don’t know much about him. Of course Daddy would know who I was with, so Randolf would probably be on his best behavior. But we might see that creep at the function. What could I do then? If the creep doesn’t have his gun, then Randolf and I could easily handle him.

Geez, I could easily handle him. I don’t have broken ribs and damaged organs to slow me down like before, and I’d be on guard. Even then, I put him in the hospital. I’m starting to feel more confident, now that I’m thinking in terms of being in the States, with people all around me, most of whom I can probably trust. Look how all those men had stood up for me today, literally.

I’ve gone through so much trying to get here and now I’m just going to sit by the wayside and become an old maid? Randolf seems nice. Of course, so did Mr. Creep at first. Except I had a little bit of a bad feeling about him, even then, and I should have paid better attention to it. The feeling I have about Randolf is entirely a good one. You’re an analyst, analyze! What could it hurt? I could offer to pay for his gas. Maybe he has duty that night. “Oh, come on, Lucy. Make up your mind. People need to have enough warning to plan ahead,” I said aloud.

“What do I need to be warned about?”

I spin around, startled. “Oh! Hi, Daddy. I’m sorry, I was just thinking out loud.”

“It sounded pretty serious to me.”

“No…. Well, yes…. I don’t know.”

“Uh oh, sounds like man trouble. You’re looking at your gowns. Planning on coming to the Israeli function? I have a place for you, and for an escort if you’d like.”

“Yes…. No…. Maybe.”

“Which is it, yes, no, or maybe?”

“I don’t know,” I almost wail, “I would like to go but….”

“Lucy. The Israeli’s don’t let any weapons in and all we need to do is give them that bas…, creep’s photo and they won’t let him in either, or if they do they’ll be watching his every move. They take such things very seriously, as you well know. If there’s any time you could go out in public and be entirely safe, this is it.”

“Do you really think so?”

“I know so. Tell you what. You invite your Lieutenant Colonel to take you and I’ll set up a meeting in my office with their embassy’s head of security. He and I are old friends. We go back a long way. You two can meet him and provide the details of the problem. I’ll say that you work with me and are under threat by this person due to an old animosity when he nearly killed you. Since we have photos, we can show them what he looks like.”

I’m still doubtful, and say, “But….”

Daddy interrupts me, still thinking about security, musing almost to himself, “Of course that doesn’t mean a lot if he’s in the habit of disguising himself but if he does, and they find out, then it makes him look all the worse. We could even pull his present appearance off the cafeteria surveillance tapes. They’re set up to get good face shots of everyone sitting there and they record to super VHS, so the definition on playback is good.” He focuses on me again. “What do you say? You could invite Lieutenant Colonel Scott tomorrow. That should give him plenty of time and he can coördinate with my office.”

“What do you think of him, Daddy?”

“Well…. I don’t know how he is with women. He was married once. I know a lot of the women in the building are trying to get him to take them out but he isn’t going for it, so he’s by no means a womanizer.”

I still felt hesitant, and I suppose he saw my hesitation, because he continued saying good things about him.

“As far as his attention to detail and devotion to duty, he seems quite dedicated. His work ethic is good and I’ve heard through the rumor mill that he’ll be a candidate for the promotions list in three or four months. I could put my finger in that pie and learn more, possibly even add my two cents worth, if that matters to you.” He had a peculiar tone in his voice, a timbre I hadn’t heard since my father died, so many years ago.

Tears started trickling down my face, and I sniffed, which he probably misunderstood, because he kept going on about Randolph.

”In my opinion he deserves the promotion. I think he would also be honorable if you let him take you out. He doesn’t strike me as someone who would intentionally hurt a woman. In fact, after having heard Julie relate your story, I’d say he’d probably go to great lengths to protect you, my daughter or not.”

I smiled at him, without explanation, of course, but had to ask, “He was married once? What happened? Why isn’t he still married?”

“She was killed in the line of duty. I don’t know much more about it than that.”

Oh! How sad for him. I was beginning to understand what made him the man he seemed to be. “Oh. I was worried that maybe she divorced him,” I say. “Thanks, Daddy. I’ll think about it.”

“You’d better think fast. The new schedules come out in two days and if he’s going to have that night and the following weekend free, then he’ll need to put in for that time, right now. Waiting might be too late.”

“But…. I’m still a little frightened, Daddy. I…. I’ll try. Is there anyway we can reach him tonight? He was going home after he dropped me off.”

“Let me see if he’s in the building directory. I’ll let you know in a few minutes.”

Daddy leaves me standing there, looking at my gowns and thinking. He did come to my rescue in the cafeteria even before his friends came over to help. And he seemed to mean the things he said.

Even the other men, Randolph’s friends, were instantly on my side, and hostile toward the creep, so not all men are anything like that, and Randolph hung around with good men. That had to count for something. Randolf might even be frightened of a relationship too. That might be why he hasn’t dated anyone. Maybe he feels safe with me because I don’t want a relationship. Wha…? Oh, the phone. Maybe Daddy found his number.

“Hello?”

“Lucy, I have Lieutenant Colonel Scott on the line. He’s back at his office. I’m going to hang up and you two can talk.”

“Thank you, Daddy.” There’s a faint click. “Hello?”

It’s Randolph’s voice. “Hi, Princess. You wanted to talk with me?”

“Yes. I….” Courage, Lucy, “I’m going to the Israeli function at their embassy on the twelfth. I was wondering if you would mind escorting me? I may not stay long. I’ve been having a lot of difficulty in crowds. I get frightened and need to leave quite early so if you don’t want to go, I’ll understand.”

“Sure, Princess.”

“Oh! I…. Okay. Daddy said I should call you now so you would have time to tell them before the new schedules come out so you could get the night and weekend off. It’s the twelfth. It starts at 1800 and goes to whenever. I know it’s kind of short notice. Daddy said that if you say okay, then he’ll set up a meeting for us in his office with the head of security for the embassy, so we can tell them about the creep. Daddy is going to have his photo pulled from the cafeteria tapes. Anyway, that’s it. That’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

“Sure, Princess. I’d very much like to escort you. I promise I’ll be good and won’t do anything to make you frightened. At least not intentionally. If I do something, just kick me to get my attention and I’ll straighten right up.”

“I wouldn’t kick you. And thanks. Oh! Daddy says it’s black tie, is that okay?”

“Sure. No problem. I’ll pull it out and have them shovel the dirt off it.”

He’s funny too. “Okay. If you need a good cleaner, I know of one near the offices.”

“I may take you up on that, Princess. Is lunch still on in the cafeteria tomorrow?”

I raised one eyebrow, which of course he couldn’t see, so put a bit of teasing scepticism into my voice. “I said ‘yes.’ ”

“I know but two times in a twenty-four hour period might be more than you can stand of me.”

I like him.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to grin and bear it. Thanks…. By the way, will you be driving the car you drove tonight?”

“Yep. It’s the only one I’ve got. A little old but it gets me around. Some day maybe I can afford a new one.”

“Great. I have just the gown to wear then. You won’t be able to miss me. I’ll wear my white mink so you will be able to know it’s me.”

“I hope you wear more than the mink.”

It’s a good thing he can’t see me, because I’m blushing like a schoolgirl. “Of course, silly. A lot more. I think you’ll like what you see. I’m going to leave work at noon that day so I have time to get ready. If you could pick me up about 1730, then we should be able to arrive about 1800 at the embassy. Daddy has the invitations for us, to show we were invited, and I’m on the list at the door already, with a generic escort. He’ll add your name to their list tomorrow. I’ll pick up our invitation from him tomorrow, so you’ll have them when we go in.”

Then I think, “Oh! We’ll need our civilian and military ID’s; they’re pretty security conscious. Randolf, thank you. I feel like I’m taking a big chance, but I think maybe you are too.”

“You’re welcome, Princess. You won’t be sorry. I promise.”

“Thanks, Randolf. Bye….” I hang up the phone.

What have you just done, you silly girl? You made a date with a man, that’s what you’ve done. My heart is pounding like a bass drum. I need to find Mom.

“Mom? Mom?” They’ve already gone. I didn’t think I was on the phone that long.

Why did I do that? I should have just stayed home. I need to call him back. I can’t do this. It’s only been two minutes and I’m already a nervous wreck. Daddy used the communications operator to make the call, so maybe he has Randolf’s number.

“Hello? Yes, this is Major Jackson and I was talking with Lieutenant Colonel Scott just a few minutes ago. Could you reconnect me? His number? I don’t have his number.”

“Do you have a number, Ma’am?”

“Daddy, I mean General Pendleton called him and then put me on so we could talk.”

“I’m sorry, Ma’am, but we don’t record that sort of personal detail on outgoing calls. I’m sorry, but I can’t help you, Ma’am. Is there any other way you could get the information?”

“No. Daddy’s gone out with Mom to one of the seasonal functions. Okay, thank you. I’ll just talk to him tomorrow when I see him at work. Thank you anyway. Bye.”

I’m in such a panic I won’t get a wink of sleep tonight. Geez. How stupid can you be, Lucy? Come on, no tears. I said no tear…. Oh never mind….

After I have a good cry I go wash my face and get ready for bed. Pulling the novel I’ve been reading from its place on the shelf, I continue where I left off after clicking on my reading lamp over the bed. Reading always relaxes me and I’m able to go right to sleep. The phone starts its soft ring and I look at the line selector. It’s a house call, so the comm center will take it. I get about two sentences further and the phone buzzes, I answer, “Yes?”

“There’s a Lieutenant Colonel Scott on one for you, Ma’am.”

“Thank you.”

I punch the line button, “Randolf?”

“Hi, Princess. Just calling to beg off lunch tomorrow. Something’s come up and I need to leave until the tenth. I’d really appreciate it if you could let my secretary know about that dry cleaner so my suit can be cleaned while I’m away. It’s a bit dirtier than I’d remembered.”

“Oh. Actually I was thinking of begging off the Embassy function so you could save the money.”

“I’m not good enough for you? I promised I wouldn’t do anything to upset you.”

“It isn’t that. I…, I’ve just had a lot of second thoughts. I’m sorry. I just can’t do… go….” I trail off.

“Oh. Well how about another time?”

“No. I don’t think so. I… I’m actually considering leaving the service and going home. I… I just… I’d better go. Thanks for saying okay. I warned you I might not be able to do it. Thanks, too, for helping me in the cafeteria today. I… I’d better go now.” There’s only silence on the line. “Okay? Randolf?”

“Yeah. I’m still here. Was it something I did or said?”

“Oh, no. It’s me. I just can’t…. I mean the…. Randolf, you’ve been a gentleman every moment but I’m such a mess. I simply can’t handle it.”

“Okay…. Do you remember basic training?”

“Basic training? What does that have to do with anything?”

“Everything. Remember trying to follow the PT courses and thinking you could never do it. I remember thinking that.”

“Yes, I remember. So?”

“Remember how everything started off small? Just a few of this and just a few of that until we suddenly realized we were doing a hundred of everything just a few weeks later?”

“Yes, I remember. I still don’t see…. Oh….”

“Princess, I’m willing to take you even if we only stay ten minutes. Then I’ll take you home, no questions, no delays. Just take you home. The next time there’s another occasion, I’m willing to do it again until finally, instead of ten minutes, it’s a hundred. Then we could continue until it’s two hundred and just slowly build up until you are able to stay for the whole thing.”

I sigh and know he’s right. If he’ll bring me home, then I won’t be stuck there and if I have a panic attack I will have a secure way to get home. Maybe it would work. It’s worth a try. If I haven’t made it past ten minutes after ten functions then I’ll call it quits and resign my commission.

“Princess, are you still there?”

“Yes. I’m just thinking…. Okay, I’ll try it, but if after ten functions I haven’t made it to half an hour, then I’m going to resign and go home. Nothing’s worse than an intelligence officer who can’t gather intelligence.”

“But that’s not your job. Your job is to analyze the information people like me bring to you…. Oh, crap.”

“What? What’s the matter?”

“I’m glad this is a secure line. I just blew my cover.”

“What? That you gather intelligence? I’ve known that almost ever since I met you.”

“You’re kidding. How?”

“That’s easy. The way you listen and move around so you can hear what each person is saying. If they start to talk directly to you about something unrelated, then you find an excuse to go on to someone else. You likely do the same thing when you are in the field. You go on sudden short trips, usually to other countries. Within a few days of your return, I suddenly have a lot of new data to examine and compare with previous data. I just put two and two together.”

“I don’t know what to say.”

“You can’t keep many secrets in the intelligence community. For instance, if you’re really going to the Middle East, then you might tell people you are going to… South America, let’s say. If you’re going into Asia, then you say it’s Europe. If you are going to Europe, then it’s Canada. There are other clues I’ve noticed as well. When it’s dangerous, when you return, you’ve lost one or two pounds for each day you’ve been gone. If it’s something easy, then you gain about a pound a day. I just observe and catagorize information, that’s what an analyst does. To the best of my knowledge, I’ve seen thirty-seven others I’m certain do the same sort of thing. It’s simple. Try me. Tell me where you are going to tell everyone you are going and I’ll tell you where you’re really going, give or take a couple of nearby countries.”

“Okay but let’s make it interesting. If you can’t name the correct country in three tries then you go to the Embassy function with me. Deal?”

“And what happens if I’m right?”

“I’ll buy you two dozen roses and lunch for a week at the cafeteria.”

“Okay, It’s a deal.”

“Good. I’m going to Germany.”

“That isn’t fair.”

“You made a deal,” he says.

“Yes, but you really are going to Germany.”

“….”

“Randolf?”

“….”

“Randolf?!”

He finally says something. “How the heck did you do that?”

“I listened to your voice. You told the truth. You’re going to Germany.”

“Okay. For another week’s lunches, what city.”

“Tell me the name of one.”

“Hamburg.”

“Düsseldorf…. Am I right?”

“Lucy, you can’t tell anybody. When I get back, you, your father, my superior, and I need to have a long talk.”

“I was right, wasn’t I?”

“All right. Flowers and two weeks of lunches, but…. You have to explain how you do that when we all get together. And you missed two.”

“No, I didn’t. I just didn’t have enough information to be certain of them yet. Thank you for confirming my suspicions. That makes forty of you. I like red roses by the way.”

“Okay, Princess, red roses it is.”

“Randolf?”

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go to the embassy. I’ll try to stay as long as I can but if I start screaming, rush me out of there.”

“Deal, Princess. Your office okay?”

“My office?”

“For the roses.”

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Somehow I have the feeling I’ve been snookered.”

“Any time you want to do it again….” I’m smiling.

“Never mind.”

“If it’s any consolation. I can do it for almost half of the thirty-nine other men.”

“You, my dear, are a security risk.”

“Why? Just because I’m smart? You men think a woman is good for nothing but making babies and cleaning up? I’ll bet my IQ is higher than yours!” Oh, Lucy, that was a sucker bet.

“You’ve got a bet, for the two weeks of lunches. If mine is higher, then I don’t need to buy them. If yours is higher, then I’ll double it to four weeks.”

“Deal. A hundred and eighty-eight.”

“Prove it.”

“That’s easy. It’s in my 201 file. My high school test scores in ROTC placed me at the 99.97 percentile. After going active duty, I learned fourteen languages, fairly fluently, both reading and speaking, in less than four years. While on my assignment in Vietnam, I detected a pattern in enemy arms shipments, based on my analysis of the flow of arms through the country, that allowed us to locate four big munitions dumps before they changed their sites. I was responsible, at the rank of Captain, to report directly to Command in Saigon with my analysis of field reports. The only Captain, at that time, who had their ear. All of my reports were spot on. What’s your IQ?”

Almost whispering, Randolf answers, “One eighty-five.”

“Thank you. Two dozen red roses and four weeks of lunches I believe you said?

Do you want to play some more?” my voice is triumphant but not derisive.

“No, thanks. I know a winning hand when I see it.”

“Randolf, you don’t have to buy me all those lunches. One week would be really nice. I would like to have the roses though. Is that okay?”

“Sure thing, Princess. And I always pay my bets.”

“Well, then might I hold three week’s worth to use for one visit at some civilian restaurant, after I get to know you a little better?”

“Sure. You name the place and I’ll find a day we can do it.”

“I’m not a cheap date, Randolf.”

“That’s fine. But I’m going to pass the word not to bet against you.”

I start laughing, then he does too.

“I’ve got to go, Princess.”

“Promise you’ll be careful?”

“I’m always careful.”

“Promise?”

“Okay, I promise I’ll be careful.”

“Thank you. Randolf, this conversation…. I enjoyed it. Thanks.”

“You got it, Princess. I’ve got to go.”

“Okay. Promise you’ll call me when you get back?”

“I promise, Princess. Bye….”

“Bye….”

I like him. Maybe this will work out okay. At least I have a way of getting home, and an escort to get me here, even if I fall apart.

I hear Father and Mother come home sometime during the night. As usual, Mom comes down to check on me. I pretend I’m sleeping and she just pulls up my covers a little so I stir and roll over then settle down again. She leaves my room and I listen to her go back to their’s. There are a few minutes of muffled conversation and then it begins to quiet down.

-o~O~o-

I wake up about a minute before my alarm clock is due to go off. Clicking it off, I begin my morning routine. Now that I’ve had the night to sleep on the impulsive actions I followed last night I find that I’m not all that frightened. I don’t quite know why, since every other time I’ve contemplated going, I’ve woken up terrified. In fact, I’m almost looking forward to it. I’m a bit concerned for Randolf, though. I hope he’ll be okay.

Besides, I don’t know where I could find another escort as understanding as he seems to be. I may just imagine the rumor mill going round and round when he gives me flowers. Red roses at that. I can just imagine Father’s reaction. Not pretty! I’d better mention to him that I won a bet and Randolf has to give me red roses as payment.

-o~O~o-

The roses show up in the afternoon. They were quite a surprise, since I didn’t expect them until sometime after he’s scheduled to return. Father looks at them and at me with suspicion in his eyes. I hand him the card, ‘Here’s to a better ‘poker’ player, Red as specified – Randolf.’ He still doesn’t believe it.

A few hours later, Daddy calls me to his office again. As I walk into the reception area, Kathy, his secretary, looks at me and gives me the high sign. I stop long enough to see what’s going on.

“There’s an Air Force General and your Dad’s boss in there. You’ll have to wait.”

“Daddy called me and told me to report to him.”

Her eyes light up with, ‘Are you in some kind of trouble?.’

She leans to the intercom, saying, “General, your daughter is here,” but is looking at me expectantly.

I send back, ‘I don’t think so. I’ve no idea what’s going on.’

“Send her in.”

I go face the firing squad, giving Daddy my best salute. “Major Jackson reporting as ordered, Sir.” I’m testing the waters.

He waves his hand at me and points to the chair at the end. “Sit down, Lucy.”

I flow into the chair with my most ladylike deportment. Well, it never hurts…. If you’re enough of a young lady, then the men feel protective rather than wanting blood.

“I suppose you know what this is all about?”

“I’m not sure. Does it have something to do with the conversation Randolf and I had last night? I just may return the flowers.”

The Air Force General and Daddy’s boss look confused.

“Flowers?”

Daddy is trying hard not to start laughing, since he remembers my use of this tactic. He’s been on the receiving end of it a number of times and it still catches him.

“Yes, Sir. The roses I won when I won our bet.”

“Your bet? Young lady, do you mind if I’m a little confused here?”

“Confused, Sir?”

“Yes. We’re here because of a breach of Security reported to us by Lieutenant Colonel Scott. I don’t see what this has to do with flowers.”

“Randolf is Lieutenant Colonel Scott and I won the bet. He promised me flowers and four weeks of lunches at the cafeteria if I could correctly name his destination on an upcoming trip. It wasn’t quite as simple as it sounds, Sir. I figured out that he goes to collect Intel every so often and it slipped out, so we began verbally sparring over the secure line and I bet him I could guess the country he was going to. He didn’t believe me and set up the bet, which he lost. Then he tried to recoup part of his losses, but I won that part too by accurately guessing — although it was more logic than a guess — the city he’s visiting.”

“What about the others.”

“The oth…? Oh, I knew who they were already, just as I knew about Randolf. I’m an Intelligence analyst, Sir. I read or watch things and perform logical deductions. I pegged most of them accurately and suspected the rest. I’d already decided that the thirty-nine of them did the same thing that Randolf does. About half of them I’ve heard in the cafeteria in passing, so I know their tonal inflections, although not as well as I know Randolf’s, because I don’t work with them. But with the one’s I’m more certain of, I could probably deduce a lot about their missions if I needed to, Sir.”

Daddy’s boss looks like he’s about to have a stroke. The Air Force General just looks sick.

“I warned you, Bill. My daughter is extremely good at analytical deduction. Why don’t you give her a little test? Let her show you, from the wings of course, say about ten of the men she’s fairly certain of, and let’s see if she can deduce their actual assignment destinations after each them have told her their cover story, without any of the others knowing about it, of course. She’ll write down as much as she suspects concerning each one she meets. Without telling her anything compromising, you’ll be able to judge the accuracy of her conclusions for yourselves. See how well she does. It might be a challenge that could cause us to change the way we create our cover stories. If she can do it, then so could someone else. What do you say?”

“I like it. If she can actually do this, then we’re in deep trouble and need to make some changes. How do you feel about this, young lady?”

“Do I get to keep my roses?”

They all start laughing and after five or ten seconds, “Tell you what. If you get eight out of ten right then I’ll see to it you have roses on your desk every week for a year. How’s that sound?”

“When do I get to win my roses?”

Daddy starts laughing again.

“She’s certainly sure of herself, isn’t she, Phillip.”

“My daughter was always outspoken. She just suckered you.”

“You mean you think she’ll be able to do this?”

“I’m not going to say a thing. Just wait and see. Why do you think she does my Intel analysis? I have only the best personnel.”

“All right, young lady. Since you’re so sure of yourself, we’re going to give you a harder challenge. We’ll prepare better cover stories for the men you select and you have to get seventeen out of twenty right. Ten will get you your Roses, seventeen will get you Lieutenant Colonel, acting, not pay grade. But if you are as good as Phillip says, then you’ll have the pay as well, after a year in rank. Deal?” He holds his hand out to me. I think about it for a second then take and shake it as I say, ” The same terms as when Randolf and I bet?”

“Which were?”

“I get to provide three answers for the country and up to three per country for the city of destination.”

“Agreed.” I’m still hanging on to his hand.

“And if I get all twenty correct?”

“You’re a little imp, aren’t you?” he says with a smile on his face, “Okay, make it ten and seventeen out of twenty-five, not twenty, and if you get all twenty-five, then you get not only the rank but the grade. Deal?”

He can tell that I’m thinking about it. Twenty-five? That’s going to be hard. Even seventeen will be pushing it. Oh, well. Nothing comes from nothing….

I give him a sigh, “I think I just saw my Lieutenant Colonel insignia fly out the window, Sir…, but, yes, it’s a deal.”

It’s nearly a week before I see all twenty-five men and hear their cover stories. This is a lot harder than deducing assignments given to Randolf. I’m going to be lucky if I get my roses. They take my deductions and don’t tell me if I’m right or wrong.

They just go off with my answers each time.

I’ve continued to pester Daddy to find out what happened to the TacPzlSolGp but he tells me he’s come up against a stone wall. I still carry that ID and crest in my purse, but I haven’t heard anything about them for some time now.

That makes me a little sad. I worked so hard to get them up to the capacity they were showing there at the last and I think they were enjoying it too. I know they continued to exist for a while, since they wouldn’t have been given the increases in rank otherwise. Somehow they just vanished.

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To Be Continued...       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 
 

previously:

It’s nearly a week before I see all twenty-five men and hear their cover stories. This is a lot harder than deducing assignments given to Randolf. I’m going to be lucky if I get my roses. They take my deductions and don’t tell me if I’m right or wrong.

They just go off with my answers each time.

I’ve continued to pester Daddy to find out what happened to the TacPzlSolGp but he tells me he’s come up against a stone wall. I still carry that ID and crest in my purse, but I haven’t heard anything about them for some time now.

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Sun, 2008/11/23 - 9:58am, Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 27 is revised and reposted on Tue, 2009/12/29 - 01:57 PM. ~Sephrena

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Biased Information:

 

Chapter 27

 

Before Randolf is due to return, Daddy and I arrive at work and I continue working at wrapping up the report I’ve been preparing. Half an hour later, he calls me into his office. His voice sounds concerned. I’m immediately afraid that something’s happened to Randolf. The roses he gave me faded and died a few days before, despite all my efforts to prolong their freshness. I put my papers in the safe, then charge down to enter Daddy’s reception area, where I receive the high sign from Kathy.

“They’re all in there again.”

‘Have we heard from Randolf?’ I flash her with a look.

“Not a thing,” she says.

My concern must have surfaced.

“Lucy, I’m sure he’ll be all right. Don’t worry yet.”

I try to smile but my heart is doing kettle drum rolls, “He should be back soon.”

She gets on the intercom. “Your daughter is here, Sir.”

“Thank you.”

He doesn’t say come in. A moment later the three of them come out of the office and Daddy tells me to get my things, we’re going out for a couple of hours. I rush back to my office and grab everything. I’m putting on my jacket and placing my cap as I hurry back. They see me coming and start for the elevators. I catch up just as the elevator doors open. In the elevator, Daddy’s boss hands Daddy something, “Will you help the Colonel with these, Phillip?”

As I’m buttoning up my jacket, I feel him begin to remove my Major’s insignia and see he has full colonel’s wings in his hand. I look around in surprise.

Daddy’s boss says, “No questions yet. We’re going somewhere and, after the briefing, you may ask me all the questions you want.”

We go down to two cars. Daddy and the Air Force General get into the second one as Daddy’s boss has me get into the first before he enters. He can see I’m bursting with concern. I haven’t even been looking at my new insignia.

“Is this about Randolf? Is he okay? Please talk to me.”

“You’ll just have to wait, young lady. After we have the briefing, I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

I sit back again, not certain if I want to be furious or to start to cry. We finally reach our destination and we all pile out and enter the building. By now I’m furious. Daddy is going to get a lecture from me when we get back to his office.

We go through a security check point, where I show my ID and they question the rank shown on my ID versus the insignia I am wearing. The general tells them I simply haven’t had time to get new ID, since the promotion occurred very recently and they’ve had me extremely busy. They have me sign in and we all proceed to the elevator with a Marine escorting us.

We take the elevator down and down and down until it stops maybe six or seven floors below. The air smells damp despite the flow whistling through the hallway.

We exit the elevator and walk to the end of the corridor, ignoring the doors set into the walls on each side. Just before reaching the end, I can see that the corridor turns. We continue to follow it until we stop outside one of the doors. The Marine opens the door for us and we go in, “Ladies first,” one of them says and stands aside.

“Thank you.”

There is a large screen at one end of the room and five men are standing around the table as though waiting for us. Daddy’s boss pulls a chair out and asks me to sit down, then Daddy waits for his boss to sit before he sits beside me and then everyone begins to find places at the table except two who remain up by a podium and the screen. The lights dim as one of the men begins to describe a series of events and the screen illuminates with images.

I have no idea what this has to do with me, but watch and listen anyway. The briefing continues for about forty or fifty minutes. Then additional information is delivered, as though it’s more recent. This continues for about another twenty minutes. Finally it’s finished and Daddy’s boss looks at me, “What do you think about all this, Colonel?”

I give it a little more time to digest, “The information is heavily biased as it stands. It’s not like raw material, from which I could draw more meaningful conclusions. Someone has already made up their mind and has taken the time to lean the presentation toward that conclusion. Could I see the raw data? I could probably make a better decision based on that.”

A couple of the men are rather put out at my suggestion that they’re biasing the information and they say so. The general quiets them down with a wave of his hand.

“I want to see the raw footage and the actual updates. Not something filtered through your agency.”

Again there are arguments.

“Gentlemen. Gentlemen! The President said I make the decisions on this. Not you. Now if you don’t want to show us the raw data, then I’ll just take it to him and tell him you’re not coöperating as you promised. Anything else?”

The arguments start again and the General just gets up, with the three of us in tow, and we walk out.

After we ride up the elevator and are back in the cars, he asks me, “How could you tell the data was biased? It seemed good enough to me.”

“Well, Sir, there were several things. Raw data doesn’t all lean in one direction. It’s kind of like a pool of water which has just had ten or twenty stones thrown into it at the same time but in very diverse locations. The effects of the stones overlap and cause other secondary and even tertiary ripples to occur. There are at least as many directions involved as there were stones to begin with. The place where the most interaction occurs is the place to start looking, even though it’s the most difficult to find, and the hardest to sift through.

The interactions never lean in one direction, but from the way they interact, you can decide where the original stones landed, give or take, and what’s causing the interactions. This information all leaned in one direction, or away from one stone, even though it was supposed to be from half a dozen or more separate sources.

Either some of the information is missing from the presentation and was left out because it did not support someone’s prior conclusions, or the information was fabricated in some manner, or heavily biased, which amounts to the same thing. The questions are which, who and why? The other thing which jangled my nerves was the fact that the person giving the presentation was lying for almost a quarter of the presentation. I could tell this because of the way he emphasized certain words, the way he stood and held himself when he told the lies, and the change in his voice during those particular portions of the presentation. He wouldn’t fool a good analyst. Is that what you wanted to know, Sir?”

“Your Father is right, you’re good at this. Bill get me General Pendleton in the other car and change my destination to my offices.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Hello, Phillip? I’m borrowing your daughter for the rest of the day and perhaps tomorrow as well. Go on back and I’ll call you later. Oh, Phillip? Thanks. You’re right, she is good at it. … Yes, I’ll see she gets a car home. Talk with you later.”

“Sir. You said you would answer my questions after the briefing….”

“I did, didn’t I? Okay, shoot.”

“Question one: Is Randolf okay? He’s due back and I haven’t heard from him.”

“Question two: Are these insignia the result of my answers? If so, then maybe I should only be a Lieutenant Colonel because Randolf may not want to date me if I outrank him.”

“Question three: What was that briefing all about? It looked like someone went to a lot of trouble to create it.”

He turns to me. “First, as far as I know, he’s just fine.”

He sees me visibly relax as I hear this.

He smiles at me. “You like him don’t you?”

“Yes, Sir. As far as it’s possible for me to like a man. I’m doing better though.”

He doesn’t understand and has me tell him all about it as we’re driving to his offices. I give him the short version, starting with my assignment, the creep and on, omitting the slightly unimportant details such as my rather confused change of gender. After I finish, he continues his answers to my questions.

“The insignia are a result of twenty-four out of twenty-five first line correct conclusions and one second line correct conclusion. As for reverting you to Lieutenant Colonel, I’m not going to do it. We’ll just need to bring Lieutenant Colonel Scott up to your rank so that you can continue to see him.”

“He should be going up for review in a few months, Sir, and might make it onto the waiting list then, Sir. Maybe that could just be hurried a little?” I say hopefully.

“On one condition, Colonel Jackson. If the two of you do decide to get married, then he continues his work with us and you continue yours. You’ll still be together most of the time. But you might need to accompany him once in a while for the mission’s sake. Agreed?”

“Agreed, Sir. If we are legally and really married.”

Lucy, you stupid girl, you just did it again…. When will you ever learn?

“Here we are.”

We exit the vehicle. Upon entering the building I again go through a security checkpoint with armed Marine guards present. I’m logged in and ID-checked and the same questions and answers are exchanged. The General says he’s going on up to his offices while they make me a permanent unescorted badge which I’ll wear each time I come here. An MP will escort me to his offices this time, and until I learn my way on my own. Twenty minutes later, I’m in his offices and his secretary lets him know that I’ve arrived.

He comes out of his office, “This is Jenny, my secretary. Jenny, this is Colonel Jackson. She will be with us today and maybe tomorrow. Perhaps sometimes in the future as well.”

We greet each other and I tell her to call me Lucy.

Next we enter a conference room, “This will be your ‘office’ for the day, Colonel. If we begin using your talents more heavily, you’ll be assigned a permanent office nearby. For this assignment, I’ll assign Staff Sergeant Joi to assist you in getting anything you need and to show you around for lunch and the location of the rest rooms and so on. She’ll also be responsible for obtaining documents and returning them to their proper places.”

The basics taken care of, he came to the point immediately. “Now, as to what I need from you: Staff Sergeant Joi will bring you a pile of papers to read. I need you to prepare a good set of conclusions based on those papers. They’re not related to the briefing earlier, so don’t confuse the two. Supposedly, this information is the rough or raw data, which was used for the second set of papers, which will be brought in for you to read later. I need to know several things: First, is the raw data really raw data, or has it been biased in the direction of a preselected conclusion?” He looked at me so see if I had any questions.

I didn’t, so I just nodded my understanding.

“Second, draft your own set of conclusions from the raw data, if that’s what it is, and prepare that set of conclusions for presentation. Staff Sergeant Joi may be able to help you there; she has a Top Secret clearance.”

We exchange another glance and nod.

“Third, compare the conclusions given to us against the ‘raw’ data which was supplied to us, and prepare a report telling me if the conclusions are valid or, again, are biased in a particular direction.”

This time, he barely pauses before he continues, “Fourth, determine if any of the raw data appear to be intentionally misleading, in what manner do they appear to be biased, and if possible, who would be most likely to benefit by manipulation of that data, that is, what country.”

“You don’t want much in one day, do you, Sir?” I grin.

“You’re playing in the big leagues now, Colonel. Put up or shut up,” he says with a smile and a wink, “We don’t have the luxury of time. Staff Sergeant Joi will be right in. You might want to break now for lunch. That way we don’t waste time putting the papers away and getting them out again.”

“Good idea, Sir. I could also use a ladies room.”

“Just tell Sergeant Joi. She’ll be here in a minute or two.”

The Staff Sergeant comes in and I waste no time getting us on a first name basis.

I tell her I need a ladies room and then we’ll take lunch, as we’re likely to be very busy after lunch.

After telling me she will need to put some papers away and lock the safe before lunch, she leads me to the ladies room saying she’ll be right back. I do my business and hear her return.

“Lucy?” she calls out to me.

I start gathering myself together. “Nearly finished, you were faster than I expected.”

I exit the stall, wash my hands, and make sure my uniform is neatly arranged. Nora has just finished drying her own hands, so she leads me to the Senior Officer’s Lounge, where she assumes that I will take my meal alone. This will never do. I ask her where she’s going to eat and she tells me that she’ll eat downstairs in the cafeteria. I want some time with her before we start working, so I tell her that I’ll go down with her, so we can talk.

Down in the cafeteria, we make our selections from the coolers and serving tables, which are constantly being replenished by three enlisted personnel. Then we go to the register and I tell the girl running it that I’m paying for both of us. As I’m putting the change in my purse, Nora’s finding us a table. About the time I walk up, two Majors are trying to get her to leave the table by pulling rank. I interrupt them. “Excuse me, gentlemen, but I think we were here first.”

“Yeah? Well you can…,” his jaw drops open when he sees my wings. “Have the table, Ma’am. We’ll eat over there. The abrupt about face taken by his friend causes the other Major to glance at me and he too beats a hasty retreat.

Nora says, “Thank you. Those two have been pulling that on me these past two days.”

I make a point of looking in their direction repeatedly, like I’m thinking of something for them to do in their spare time. They rush their lunches and depart in about ten minutes flat, trying not to look over their shoulders. Well, what’s rank for if you can’t help out one of the girls?

We chat and get to know each other a bit as we eat lunch. For prepackaged sandwiches, ladle soup, and mass-produced coffee, the meal is pretty good. A little heavy on the carbohydrates, and no salads available that I could find, but not bad.

Nora has been eating as fast as she can. I suppose she is accustomed to being needed upstairs so she has little time for lunch, “Slow down. The world won’t go away.”

She looks at her tray and then at mine and makes an effort to slow her consumption of her meal.

“I’m sorry, Lucy. I’m just accustomed to having little time to eat and needing to be back up at my job in case someone needs something in a hurry.”

“Well, the General said he assigned you to me both today and, if I am here, tomorrow. I don’t want to rush my meal and don’t expect you to do so either.”

Nora smiles and relaxes a little, “Lucy, you’re the kind of officer every enlisted person wishes they had. You have a relaxed attitude, which I think makes the work more enjoyable. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Nora. After we finish eating, I think I’ll grab a cup of coffee to take upstairs.”

“You don’t need to do that.” she says. “We have an office pot. I’ll show you. You just drop a dime in for each cup and Jenny takes the money at the end of each week and purchases more coffee and sugar, cups, and so on.”

After we dump the remnants off our trays and place them to be collected, we head up to get cups of coffee, where I drop a dollar into the kitty, taking my cup to the conference room.

Nora tells me that she’s going to open the safe and bring the first sets of papers in for me to examine. I tell her that I want her to remain with me as I read them, because I may have her search through other documents for particular items that interest me as I’m reading. Her presence will speed things up considerably, since I won’t be the only pair of eyes searching.

She’s gone about three minutes, then returns with a criss-crossed stack of papers about eight inches thick.

When she places them on the table, she breaks them out into separate piles, explaining what each pile represents and what time interval elapsed between them.

She says, “There are other files back in the safe which update these. I didn’t bring them because I wasn’t certain if you want everything at once.”

“Would you mind? Sometimes having it all makes it easier in the long run. We’ll arrange the stacks a little differently too. The row nearest this edge will be those from the earliest time period and each stack will be a separate source of information. The next row will be material that is more recent but from the same sources or new sources for that approximate time. We’ll continue this scheme until we have all of our resource stacks in place in a grid we can follow through time and down each trail of supposed sources, then we’ll begin to read.”

She quickly places everything she has ready, so I can begin reading while she goes back for the rest. When she returns, she places the new stacks and I see a pattern emerging, which is not a good sign. One for each source, a total of seven. Five of the sources are in the first row. Six are in the second row, five in the third and six in the fourth. The same five in the first and third rows and the same six in the second and fourth rows. Only four occur in all four rows. Patterns don’t occur like that naturally.

I would have expected the piles and sources to be scattered randomly, with new sources appearing as old sources dried up at random intervals, and with some sources contradicting others. That would be the normal pattern and flow of real intelligence coming in from the field, less tightly traceable to a relative handful of sources, more unpredictable in time, and much more likely to be untainted. That this intelligence is so closely bound in time and source for each row tends to indicate that some or all of the information was planted. I begin to check the dates the supposed intelligence has been obtained.

Again, it’s something I don’t like. The information in each row has only a two day spread, like someone has prepared a press release and disseminated it to the seven intelligence collection groups over a two day period. This is maintained throughout the columns and rows. Now I’m certain that this is either tainted or biased information, representing either honest collection of data foisted on the analysts by untruthful agents, or a dishonest assemblage of facts ‘cherry-picked’ from a much larger sample. The problem now is to try to discover the truth from this collection of misleading material.

I begin reading through the first piles, making notes on the many tablets Nora brought in for me, one tablet for each of the seven columns of information. I finish my first row and review my notes as it approaches 1430. I don’t like what I see. Flipping the sheets over to the second page, even on the tablets which have no notes, because there was no useful first row information, I begin again with row two.

At 1540 we have completed that row. My tablets again have information which tends to indicate some unseen hand orchestrating the information. I give Nora a new set of instructions as we begin on row three. The row goes faster as the updates have less new information. We start new pages again, and we start on the last row. At 1700, we finish and turn the completed pages over, leaving a blank sheet showing.

I ask her to fetch a black marker pen, fifty large rubber bands, some sticky tape, and two dozen folders as I proceed to tear a blank page from each tablet. When she returns I take the marker and write on each quadrant of the blank sheets S-1, T-A; S-1, T-B and so on to S-1, T-D then start again at S-2, T-A through D. I explain what it means as I go (source one through seven and time A through D), she understands and takes over the marker finishing the labels as I begin reviewing my notes.

We tear our new identification sheets into something resembling squares, then place a stack of information into each folder with the appropriate square taped to the outside of the folder, bundling everything in place with rubber bands. Finally we have seven stacks of two to four folders sorted by source and time.

The unused labels go into the shredder and then into the burn bag. Since it’s getting to be late in the day, I ask her to put everything back into the safe for us, so we can start fresh tomorrow.

By the time she returns, it’s already 1730, so I ask her if she’ll be able to make it back for mess in time. She says she’ll just pick something up in the cafeteria, so I ask if we could eat together again. I want to make three sets of copies of my notes, and then they’ll go into the safe until tomorrow. She goes off with my notes and returns ten minutes later with her jacket, cap and purse, the notes safely tucked away and ready for tomorrow. We go out to see if the General is still in his office before we go down for supper.

He’s still there, working late, if not burning the midnight oil yet. I knock and catch his attention.

“Come in, Lucy. How are you doing so far.”

“I think I can answer the first question for you, Sir. The ‘raw’ data isn’t raw. It’s been carefully prepared to look reliable on the surface, but it’s definitely been orchestrated by someone. I can’t tell you more than that just yet. I have the flavor of the individual or group behind it and will know more after going through my initial notes again. I have a number of theories building in my mind, but would prefer to delay revealing them until they’re ready to go in my full report.”

The General says, “So you’re suggesting that, as it stands at the moment, we don’t know if our agents were fed bad Intel by an unknown entity in the field, or if someone over here altered it to suit their own purpose.”

“Not to mince words, that’s correct, Sir. After I see the conclusions made from these field reports, I’ll be able to tell you more. Right now, everything is conjecture.”

“Good. Thanks. It’s pretty late. Ready to go home yet?”

Nora and I are going down to have supper in the cafeteria, then she’ll go home and I’ll be ready to leave at your convenience, Sir.”

He looks at his watch and says, “Mind a little company? We’ll eat in the Senior officer’s lounge. I just need a few minutes.”

“May Staff Sergeant Joi eat with us, Sir? If not, then I think I’ll go down with her to the cafeteria.”

“See those, Colonel?” he indicates the two stars on his coat, “I think they allow me to bring whomever I want into the lounge for supper.”

“Yes, Sir. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Just tell Staff Sergeant Joi not to get accustomed to it,” he says, raising his voice enough that she could probably hear him from the other room.

“I’ll wait in the outer office with her, General.”

“Fine. I’ll be along shortly.”

I go out and tell Nora that we’re eating in the Senior Officer’s Lounge and she looks a little hurt and begins to get up.

“Where are you going?”

“To the cafeteria.”

“Don’t you want to eat in the lounge?”

She looks at me strangely, “I’m invited too?”

“I wouldn’t go if you weren’t.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

We start chatting, telling each other tidbits about ourselves and some of the others working with us, until finally the General comes out of his office.

“Finished, finally. Let’s go, ladies, I‘m starving.”

We exit the offices and proceed to the elevator, taking it down to the second floor and then walk to the lounge. The enlisted men working there look at Nora a little strangely but they don’t want to argue with a General and a Colonel. We’re seated like it’s a restaurant and soon have someone delivering menus.

After ordering, the coffee and tea arrives, and appetizers are placed on the table. I take a small sample of everything and find it’s not bad. Not as good as the last few days I was in the hospital after my transition, but not bad. Nora looks like she is nervous and continues to look around at the lithographs on the walls and the tables covered with tablecloths with silverware instead of flatware, and china cups, saucers and plates.

I ask, “Just a little ostentatious, isn’t it, General?”

He looks a little apologetic, but explains, “We frequently have congressmen here, or out of country leaders of one kind or another. It wouldn’t do to take them down to the cafeteria. Then too, this room is shielded and swept for bugs and it has jamming equipment built in to prevent electronic eavesdropping, so we can discuss classified material here.”

He gestures to what looks like small air-conditioning ducts or hi-fi speakers above each table. “Each table has it’s own sonic generator above the table throwing a curtain of white noise around the table and its occupants. It isn’t 100% effective, probably closer to 20% or 30% for each table, but by the time the conversation makes its way out through one and in through another it tends to muddy up the conversations enough that nearby diners inside their generator’s influence can’t understand conversations next to them which occur at normal levels. Of course if one were to yell then that would overpower the measures taken. We just learn to talk quietly in here, so the odds are much more in the favor of secrecy.”

“Impressive, Sir.” Now that I’m concentrating, I can hear a slight whooshing sound, like the sound made by the air nozzles above the passenger seats on a commercial airliner, or maybe a radio tuned between stations — pure static. Hmmm.

---

 

To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 

 

previously:

Nora looks like she’s nervous and continues to look around at the lithographs on the walls and the tables covered with tablecloths with silverware instead of flatware, and china cups, saucers and plates.

I ask, “Just a little ostentatious, isn’t it, General?”

He looks a little apologetic, but explains, “We frequently have congressmen here, or out of country leaders of one kind or another. It wouldn’t do to take them down to the cafeteria. Then too, this room is shielded and swept for bugs and it has jamming equipment built in to prevent electronic eavesdropping, so we can discuss classified material here.”

He gestures to what looks like small air-conditioning ducts or hi-fi speakers above each table. “Each table has it’s own sonic generator above the table throwing a curtain of white noise around the table and its occupants. It isn’t 100% effective, probably closer to 20% or 30% for each table, but by the time the conversation makes its way out through one and in through another it tends to muddy up the conversations enough that nearby diners inside their generator’s influence can’t understand conversations next to them which occur at normal levels. Of course if one were to yell then that would overpower the measures taken. We just learn to talk quietly in here, so the odds are much more in the favor of secrecy.”

“Impressive, Sir.” Now that I’m concentrating, I can hear a slight whooshing sound, like the sound made by the air nozzles above the passenger seats on a commercial airliner, or maybe a radio tuned between stations, pure static. Hmmm.

---

Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Wed, 2008/11/26 - 12:50am, Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 28 is revised and reposted on Wed, 2009/12/30 - 03:48 PM. ~Sephrena

---

 

Racing a Greyhound:

 

Chapter 28

 

The meal was good, nothing to write home about but considerably better than the cafeteria and that wasn’t bad. Nora thanks us for allowing her to eat there and heads on home. I mention the need for a ride and the General calls down for a second car which will take me home. He is piling into his ride about the time mine shows up and we are both going out the gate one behind the other. My watch says 1900, late day. After moderate cross-town traffic, the car pulls up outside our house gate about 1940 and I get out and buzz the house, giving my name when they answer. The gate begins to open and I tell the driver that I’ll walk up so he can just turn around and go. That saves him a little time and gives me some badly needed exercise.

Entering the house, I hear Mom and Dad talking and wander into the room as I’m removing my jacket and cap, “Hi. Did you survive without me?”

“It was an effort. Do you need to go over there again tomorrow?”

“Yes. I’m about a quarter of the way through it all. If I arrive there about 0800 then I may be able to finish reading by 1000 or 1100. Then all that needs to be done is writing the reports. It’s pretty messy. I think I’m going to go sit in a hot tub for a little while before I go to bed. Have you heard from Randolf?”

“Not yet, but he isn’t overdue until the day after tomorrow.”

“Daddy, I have an idea. Whenever he goes out like this, add a wife to his cover whenever possible. One who is at home and who may call him to see how he’s doing. Just a few intimate chats as the days progress. That would give us at least an update on him so we know if he is okay or if he is missing. If he vanishes, then the wife could initiate a search for her missing husband without a lot of questions being asked as to why there has been no contact until he fails to return.”

“And I suppose you would be that concerned wife?”

“Not necessarily. It probably should be someone who knows the trade craft so they could say things to each other that a husband and wife would say but that are actually coded messages letting us know if he is still okay or if he is talking under duress. Maybe something when they are finishing talking like, ‘I love you, and her name’ which would mean he is okay. But if he says something like, I love you, kitten or lady or some kind of nickname then it means he has unwelcome visitors.”

“They probably do something like that now.”

“Oh. And I thought I had a grand new idea. Oh well. Goodnight, Mom,” I give her a kiss, “Goodnight Daddy.”

“Goodnight, Lucy, sweet dreams.”

“Goodnight, Lucy.”

-o~O~o-

Now for a bath.

. . .

Geez, I nearly fell asleep in the tub. Need to skip washing my hair tomorrow and do it the day of the embassy function, I want to look perfect.

I put on my negligée and robe and pad over to the bookshelf, pulling down my poor novel. I must have slept on it the other night because the binding has broken loose. I turn on my reading light and kill the overheads, then flow into bed.

Sometime later I wake up and put my novel on the night stand, then shut off the light.

-o~O~o-

Later, they wake me up in the middle of the night and tell me Randolf has been captured and I’m the only one who can save him. I find myself going to Germany where we manage to escape his captors, guns blazing all the way home. That was good, because we barely have time to make it to the embassy function. Somehow he got dirt on the cummerbund of his suit while we were running, so I borrow some makeup to wash it clean again.

My red, white and blue striped gown is now missing two of its stars. I must have lost them when I fell over the greyhound which had been trying to keep up with us ever since Rio de Janeiro. Rio was the only port available for our escape from the continent other than Bangkok and we knew they would be looking for us there.

We run out of ammunition as we rush into the embassy, out of breath. Somehow Randolf convinces them to allow us to borrow two machine guns to finish off his captors, who are still chasing us. We hose them off with green paint since the machine guns couldn’t use the blue.

Then we ask for asylum, because the next car arriving is a Mercedes. It disgorges three ladies, one of whom I discover is wearing a gown identical to mine even to the missing two stars. I’m about to go give her a piece of my mind, shortly after the first dance, when I go into labor and have our first eighteen children.

Oh, and somehow the ocean wasn’t there and we found it necessary to run back from London since we missed the train. The greyhound disappeared somewhere along the way, having gotten involved in a race with a falcon and a porpoise, who said that they were all going out for coffee, so they left.

-o~O~o-

Well, I never said all my dreams are realistic.

Morning peeks over the horizon shortly after my eyes peek out from under my eyelids. I feel like I’ve been run over by a truck, since yesterday was a bit emotional, not to mention mentally exhausting. Then I remember that I need to finish the analysis I was I was working on yesterday. I have no idea how to get there, nor do I have any concept of how to find his offices even if I find the correct corridor. That place is a maze. Probably because it’s an older building, replete with add-on after add-on.

Well, perhaps I’ll go in with Daddy, and then he can have a car take me over. Once there, the security guard downstairs can provide directions for me. I’m certain I won’t get lost. I will also have a chance to check on Randolf that way as well.

He’s not allowed to be captured because he is going to escort me to the embassy.

I walk downstairs for breakfast, putting my jacket, cap and purse next to Daddy’s jacket and cap in the front hall. I look at the wings gleaming on my jacket and remember that I need to stop at the exchange to pick up at least four more sets.

“Good morning, Mother, Father.”

“Good morning, Lucy. Would you like a little cantaloupe with breakfast? It’s pretty good for this time of year.”

“Really? Yes, I think I’ll try a slice or two, if they’re small.”

The steward comes in with my eggs, bacon and some tea. I ask about the cantaloupe as Daddy asks me how I’m getting to work.

“I thought I might go in with you and quickly check on Randolf, then catch a ride over. I’m not certain where we went so I hope the driver will know how to get there. The security people can direct me from there.”

“That’s good. As we ride in, I’ll arrange for your car. Whenever you’re ready, we can leave, I have a few things to do before we go, so don’t bother to rush.”

“Okay, Daddy. I’ll only need about ten minutes.”

“Good.” He winks at me, “Still afraid of going to the Israeli embassy?”

“I’m not sure…. For some reason I’m not as anxious about it as I was. Maybe the conversation about basic training Randolf and I’d had the night before he left was the shot-in-the-arm I’d needed to calm down. Then last night I had this absolutely weird dream in which I wasn’t at all afraid about going.”

“Good. I’d better be finishing up those things I mentioned. Come get me when you’re ready.”

“I will.”

Just after Daddy walks out, Mom leans over and says, “Tell me about your dream, Lucy.”

I go into all the gory details while Mom sits and laughs all through my story. I take small bites between my sentences, just in case.

After breakfast, I say goodbye to Mom and go find Daddy. He’s still doing things in his office, so I return to the front hall and put my jacket on, adjusting my cap while looking in the hall mirror. As I finish, Daddy comes out and grabs his jacket and cap just as the driver comes up to the door. Timing is everything.

-o~O~o-

When we arrive at his building, I rush up to check on Randolf while Daddy goes to a meeting. As I enter Randolf’s office I ask Eileen if he’s back yet.

“Yes, he just got in.”

“May I go in?”

“He just closed the door a few seconds ago, so go ahead and barge on in, he hasn’t had time to get in trouble yet.” She smiles at me, and winks.

I take her suggestion and do just that, taking him by surprise as he is about to sit down at his desk.”

“Hi, Princess. How did you…?”

I toss my purse on the desk and grab him in a tight hug, squeezing like I’ll never let go, then I pull back slightly, “Randolf, the next time you wait so long to come back without calling me and telling me you’re okay, I’ll slap you silly.”

I begin holding him tight once again, now with my head on his shoulder. He’s trying to pry himself loose and I just hold on tighter. “Promise me you’ll call.”

“Princess?”

“PROMISE!”

“Okay, okay. I promise. What is this? I’d almost think you like me.”

“I do like you,” I answer softly, “a lot more than I thought I could. I’ve got to go, though; I have papers to finish reading and a presentation to make. I just had to see that you’re okay, so I don’t go crazy today. OH! and thank you for the roses. They were beautiful.”

He finally manages to gently pry me loose and holds me out at arms length, looking into my eyes. “Does this mean the embassy is still on?” he asks, kindly.

“If you don’t take me, I’ll hound you until there’s no tomorrow.” I pout.

He grins. “I’m taking you, Princess. What happened?” Just then he notices my new wings and adds, “And what’s up with these?”

“I’ve been promoted, acting Colonel. I’m still paid as a Major though. You’ll be promoted soon as well, but don’t tell anyone I told you. I just had to know that you were okay.”

My arms tighten around him again, as he places his own arms gently around me, the perfect height for me, taller, but not too tall. We stand for a few seconds, relishing the feel of holding each other. As we relax our grip and start to stand back, I quickly give him a little hug before grabbing my purse and rushing for the door.

I stop and turn back. “What’s your phone number? I want to call you this evening, just to be certain I’m not dreaming.”

He gives me his number and I give him my direct line into the house, then I rush out.

Eileen smiles at me and gives me a ‘thumbs up,’ and flashes a ‘Well done!’ as I rush by.

I flash back, ‘Thanks,’ and am out the door, heading back down to see if my car is ready.

Lucy, now you’ve done it. Hugging him like that was dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb.

-o~O~o-

Daddy had given them a head’s up, but it’s a few minutes before a car is actually available.

They drive a lot of people around this time of the morning, evidently. They tell me that there’s one on its way from its previous stop and will be here in about five minutes. A minute or so later, they ask if it’s all right for two others to ride along, since their destination is nearly the same. I tell them that will be fine.

The car arrives and the driver comes around to let me in. I tell him that I’ll wait until the others arrive, and then ask which of us will be getting out first, them or myself.

He tells me we’ll pass by their building first, so I go ahead into the car and scoot across till there’s room for two more. I’m adjusting my skirt as they arrive. At first they’re a little confused, but the driver tells them that I’m headed to a nearby location, so I’ve agreed to offer them a ride in my car and will drop them off on the way. They get in, a Major and a Captain, thanking me for the courtesy.

I tell them, “Not at all. It only makes sense.”

We arrive at their destination and they get out. In a few minutes, I’m at that building again. I thank the driver and go in. Again, I check in through Security and receive the permanent badge they’d made just yesterday. They give me directions to the office I need and I’m off, looking for my General. Somehow, I manage to find the offices despite being turned around a couple of times. I did have to ask passers-by to set me on the proper path again, a few times along the way. I spot Jenny, and moments later see Staff Sergeant Joi. I greet them, “Hi, you two. Is the General in?”

“In and out. He has meetings this morning. He told me that Nora will working with you again today. I may need to get some papers out of the safe later, so I may have to borrow her for a few minutes every so often.”

“That’s fine. How are you this morning, Nora? Yesterday went a bit long. I’ll try to do better today, so you may be able to get home at a reasonable time.”

“If we get a free meal in the lounge again, then I think I can handle it.” She smiles.

I return her smile. “I’ll see what I can do. Could we have all the stacks we had yesterday. They can stay in the folders but they need to be organized on the table in the same manner, then we’ll add the new material.”

“Yes, Ma’am. As soon as I open the safe.”

“Nora? My name is Lucy.”

“Sorry, Lucy. Habit.”

“I understand. They are difficult to break aren’t they.”

“You’re telling me. Lucy, do you think we could give those two Majors another taste of their own medicine today if we tried?”

“That might be fun. I’ll see if I can dream up a suitable punishment for them.”

I go drop another dollar into the coffee fund and grab a cup, then go on to the conference room and begin to consider table space. I think we might place the folders closer together this time, since nothing will spill out, so they can all fit on the narrow end of the table. That will leave us the room we need.

“Oh good. Bring them over here, Nora. Let’s see if they will fit along this end.”

We arrange the folders and with a little overlap they do just fine. Nora has gone back for the second set of source folders which we place and she then goes off for the conclusions and my notes while I finish placing the original folders 5-6-5-6.

Unusual. Something’s obviously fishy here.

When she returns I have her place the new material at the other end of the table in a similar manner. It should also wind up in a 5-6-5-6 pattern, but it doesn’t. As she is placing that material I refer to my notes and use the marker to date each of the folders at the ‘raw’ data end. The dates tell another story which seems to confirm my suspicions. If I look at the original date for any given pile, the next data date is exactly 9 days. And the one after that 7 days and the one after that 5.

This is true in all seven columns except for the one’s that jump. If I look there, I find either 9+7 for the next piles or 7+5 for the couple starting in the second row and not completing until the fourth.

Far too many occurrences to be coincidental. Then the information found in them is nearly the same and in many cases the same phrase is used in several of the piles bearing the same date.

One more thing which indicates a master hand orchestrating the source information. I now begin to believe this orchestration occurred at or before the admitted source points rather than post collection. This means that we’re being led around like a bull with a ring through its nose.

Now I go on to the conclusion documents. It’s hard to imagine these are the result of the original material. Again I can see some hand directing the conclusions, but it’s different than in the previous material. The direction is the same but the flavor of the person producing it is different. It’s like the two are working for the same goal but not in well-orchestrated collusion.

They’re like two lumberjacks cutting down a tree. One is hacking away with his axe while the other is on the other side of the tree with a saw. They both want the same thing and that is for the tree to fall but they have different agenda’s to accomplish it. They are coordinated only in that they are both after the same tree, which tells me that they must find it difficult to contact each other, which probably means a mole in deep cover. This is looking very bad indeed.

As I go over the material, I talk through my conclusions and the reasons behind them to Nora, who, after yesterday’s tutelage, grasps it very quickly.

Now we compare the pattern in the conclusions and search for omitted data. Soon we have discovered that also and lay out the folders in the 5-6-5-6 manner as best possible. I ask her to bring more folders using a different colour, preferably red, and more rubber bands. She rushes off as I again tear out sheets of paper and begin making labels. This time my numbering starts at C-1, T-5 (conclusions/ Time) and continues for the piles trying to match them to the original material.

After everything is in folders and labeled we lay the new folders on top of the old noting some interesting things. First, there is an entire column of data which has not had conclusions drawn from it. And another column of data with four inputs over time but which has only one conclusion folder and only for the third input.

Secondly, there are double conclusions made on two of the columns of ‘source’ material.

I ask Nora to maintain the pile integrity but to return everything to the safe for now. As soon as we make copies of this new information we will begin to sift it to see what falls out, beginning with the column of data for which no conclusions were made and then with that data from which double conclusions were made.

Our pattern for the conclusions is 4-6-5-6 again interesting especially since with one column of data not concluded we should have expected 3-5-3-5.

Something is rotten in ‘Denmark’ and I don’t mean the cheese. As Nora returns from her third trip to the safe she brings the copies of yesterday’s notes and the new copies of today’s notes with her, my originals are now in the safe.

We lay out the notes in three separate but identical groups to show all of the material in sequence in each group. Now we first pay attention to the source information which has had no conclusions drawn. It seems normal enough but after an hour we find the elusive tidbit. This pile isn’t strictly necessary, since it contains data which is found in other source piles, but the omission makes no sense. It should have been considered as corroboration of the other material and, therefore, would have been vital for any real intelligence operation, unless the person directing the preparation of the conclusions is aware in advance that the source material has been orchestrated.

The individual here then would naturally ignore it rather than recognizing it as important to the analytical process. On the new pink tablets, my notes begin to spill over onto many pages.

Our attention now turns to the source information which has only one conclusion made for four source piles. Examination of this shows only one sentence which is important as it appears in no other source pile. That sentence has been carefully phrased to lead us down a specific fork in the possible paths of the source material. A fork I now believe was designed to lead us off into the woods, ‘safe’ territory, for the enemy at least, rather than find our way to a path which might lead us toward safety from very dangerous ground. An immediate response might still be possible, and might be effective, but just barely. The real data peeking through the holes in the smokescreen reveal glimpses of a catastrophic weapons system being readied for use on a global scale, presumably meant for terrorist extortion, but quite likely to slip from the hands of its presumptive masters.

More notes are scrawled onto my pink tablets. Now on to the double conclusions drawn from one set of source data. The flavor of the person preparing the reports is different in each set of conclusions but the underlying flavor of the orchestrator remains the same. Guidance has occurred here, but without the originator of the data realizing that the mole on the other end has pre-arranged conclusions already in place, just waiting for data to plug into the holes. More notes on the pink tablets. Considering the overall source material, I lay out a set of conclusions on the tablets and label them as Orchestrated.

Now I lay out a second set of conclusions and label them as ‘Mine,’ they are quite different and point us in a totally different direction. Reading my source notes I think about the possible nationality who could have orchestrated this. The flavor and mental processes don’t say German, Russian, or in fact any European country. I continue to think and perhaps fifteen minutes later have come up with three possibilities which I place on the tablet as One, Two, and Three in order of likelihood.

Now I do the same for the conclusions and come up with one national interest. I now feel 90% certain of the nationality involved in the underlying plot. Looking at my impressions, I see that my number two candidate for the origin of the source material and number one for the conclusions share the same nationality. This is a bit worrisome. I now have a fifth requirement which the General hadn’t specified: Identify the unique individual who orchestrated the conclusions. I ask Nora to type the original sheets of notes in the same manner as we have them placed here and then to make three copies of those typed notes. She takes the set at the other end of the table and goes out.

The questions are still running around in my head as I jot down more notes in the pink tablet. I don’t like what I’m finding. This isn’t Denmark any longer; the cheese seems to have come home to stink. I pop out of the conference room for a few seconds to ask Jenny if the General has returned. She tells me he isn’t expected until around two and then he has two meetings scheduled. I ask for an hour immediately following and suggest she not make any more appointments for the day since we may have to go out immediately afterwards or even during our meeting, in order to present the information I’m preparing in time.

She makes the appropriate notations in his calendar just before the phone rings.

I’m about to go back to the conference room when I hear her tell whoever it is that, “I’m sorry he is booked all day. How about tomorrow at nine?” I don’t know what the response was since I closed the door and hurried to the tablet to place another note. If someone ‘bumps’ me I’m certain she will let me know.

A minute later, I have an idea, and pop out to ask Jenny if we could obtain an organizational chart showing the personnel for the Agency which typically provides us with our data and analysis. She isn’t certain but will check on it.

Nora returns with the typed notes and we check them against the original copies.

They match, so I have her shred the copies of my handwritten material but not my handwritten originals.

Checking the time, it’s just after 1100 and there’s still something nagging at the back of my mind. I can’t quite place it. When she returns again I ask if she would mind going to lunch now rather than waiting. She’s amiable so I give her the pink tablets and my conclusion tablet to put in the safe along with the few papers still here.

“We’ll pull them out as soon as we get back. I’m up against a mental block and need a break.”

We meet out at Jenny’s desk and let her know we are taking an early lunch. ” We should be back in about forty minutes. Then we’ll watch the fort while you have lunch. Okay?”

She agrees and we head out for the cafeteria. Nora is finding us a place to sit while I have our meals on my tray and am getting my coffee. I’m about to go to the register, when I see those two Majors paying for their meals. I get out my money so I can speed through the process. As they leave to go into the dining area, I pay for the food and drop the change on the tray, then follow them out.

Again they’re over at the last table, which has been claimed by Nora. I follow them as they begin their harassment, coming up behind them and seeing that they nearly have her in tears already.

“Well, ‘gentlemen,’ since we seem to have the last table, I guess we’ll have to invite you to sit with us. Standing over at the counter would be rather demeaning, wouldn’t it?”

They don’t need to look, they know who’s behind them.

One of the pair gathers the courage to speak, and turns toward me. “Yes, Ma’am. I guess it is.” He seems a little crestfallen.

I smile at him, which he doesn’t expect. “Well, are you going to sit or not? There are four chairs, so we can all sit together courteously without problems, can’t we?”

They begin putting their trays on the table. The brave one says, “Yes, Ma’am. We were just waiting for you and the Sergeant to sit, Ma’am. Ladies first Ma’am.”

I sit and Nora makes a point of taking a little extra time, enjoying her moment, before she too sits and we begin removing our meals from the tray as the two men sit. I pick up my change and put it away. We all begin to eat and slowly conversation starts. By the end of the meal we are all chatting comfortably and we have all introduced ourselves. Nora and I begin to rise, so Jack and Bill get up immediately.

Jack, the brave one, says, “See you tomorrow. If we get here first, we’ll save you places.”

“I’m sorry, gentlemen, I have a prior engagement. Perhaps Nora would like your company.”

Bill says, “How about it, Nora? You’re welcome to eat with us.”

“Thanks, I think I might. If I get here first I’ll try to save a place for you both. Bye.”

They say good-bye as we leave, then they sit back down to finish their lunch.

Once back at the conference room, Nora goes to the safe for the typed notes, the pink tablets and my conclusions tablet. When she returns we begin again, still looking through the information for the elusive answer we need to identify the country which could be behind this. I’m beginning to think I won’t have the answer before the General returns. Nora has to leave; she’s scheduled to watch the desk while Jenny has lunch, so I continue the search on my own for the moment.

---

 

To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 

 

previously:

Once back at the conference room, Nora goes to the safe for our typed notes, the pink tablets and my conclusions tablet. When she returns we begin again, still looking through the information for the elusive answer we need to identify the country which could be behind this. I’m beginning to think I won’t have the answer before the General returns. Nora has to leave; she’s scheduled to watch the desk while Jenny has lunch, so I continue the search on my own for the moment.

---

Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Wed, 2008/11/26 - 8:21am, Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 29 is revised and reposted on Thu, 2009/12/31 - 07:12 PM. ~Sephrena

---

 

Different Roots:

 

Chapter 29

 

When Jenny returns from lunch, Nora comes in to assist me again. I’m no closer to the answer than I was two hours ago. She asks if I would like some coffee and I say, “Okay, with a touch of sugar, please.” Five minutes later she’s back with the cups and we sit for a few minutes sipping our coffee and chatting about her favorite topic…: Men.

“I really like Bill,” she says. “Once he opened up, he’s very interesting. I don’t think he ever took the time to get to really know a girl. I managed to learn a lot about him.”

She goes on for a few more minutes telling me more about why she likes him and asking what I think about him.

I’m still thinking about my problem with moles, and wasn’t paying as much attention as I should have been, but…. Suddenly, I asked, “What did you just say?”

“What? That he took first in light heavyweight boxing while at Candidate School?”

“No, about his name.”

“Oh that. Bill is just his nickname. His real name is Wilhelm. German ancestry you know.”

Everything falls into place. “That’s it!”

She looks at me like I’m crazy.

“That’s the answer to the problem I’ve been trying to figure out. Oh, not German, but that elusive answer about how someone could be American and also something else.” By now I’m scanning through my conclusions list and find the nationalities I listed under 1, 2, and 3.

“Now it makes sense. The people we’re looking at here have two nationalities. They may be Americans, but their ancestry is foreign. They were brought up in America, but are still thinking like foreign nationals, with some sort of loyalty to their country of origin in place of their duty to the USA. Here, let me add some information to this tablet and then you please type it up and make three copies. Then everything except one full copy should go into the safe with the folders.”

The General returns thirty minutes late. Nora has completed the typing and we have our original hand-written, and the original typed copies, in the safe. One of the duplicated copies of both the source and conclusions plus my notes for both, plus my own conclusions are in my briefcase awaiting the opportunity to be presented.

I change my mind — woman’s prerogative — and have all the folders brought into the conference room where we spread them out to show the time line, the duplicate conclusions and the missing ones. Now I wait. Nora exits the conference room to perform her normal duties as time continues to tick by. Finally, about 1600, he’s free and I ask him to come into the conference room. I seat him before the folders and begin to explain everything.

-o~O~o-

About 1730 I have finished and answered his questions. I covered the material again, but interactively, varying my presentation to accomodate his questions. I lead him through the incorrect conclusions and explain why they are incorrect. Then I take him through what I believe is the real megillah. He follows my explanation quite well, and understands the roundabout way I arrived at my theories and recommendations. He’s extremely interested in the nationality issue, and in the relationship between the first supposedly raw data and that of the conclusions.

I didn’t quite go so far as to say that there’s a mole in the Agency, but the inference is there, plain as the mole on someone’s face, and twice as ugly.

He takes another five minutes to digest everything and then asks more questions. I check my watch from time to time and he finally gets the hint.

“I want you to come present this tomorrow.”

Geez, there goes my chance to be ready for the embassy bash.

“I’d love to, Sir, but I have a commitment tomorrow at noon which cannot be changed.”

“A commitment?”

“Yes, Sir, at the Israeli embassy.”

He catches on fast.

“Oh. All right, I’ll arrange for the presentation to occur tomorrow morning at eight. Wait here a minute while I confirm that.”

He goes out and returns three or four minutes later.

“All right, Colonel. A car will pick you up at your father’s at 0700. It will stop long enough to pick up Sergeant Joi and then bring you both here and wait for you. Staff Sergeant Joi will remove all this stuff from the safe and the two of you will take the car to the briefing location.

Bring twenty copies of your conclusions, plus anything else you need, like extra copies for yourself and Sergeant Joi. How much was she involved in this?”

“I showed her how to make the deductions and some of this is her product. I double checked it, of course, but she developed the initial conclusions in some cases.”

“Good, then the two of you will be there. I’ll be there as well, but I’ll come in a different car. I want to hear this again and see the look on some of their faces, to gauge their reactions.”

“Yes, Sir. Is that all for today, Sir? It’s getting late again.”

“Yes. I’d advise making the copies now, since there may be no time in the morning.”

I guess I’m back to briefing Command-level decision makers. The only difference I see now is that I’m in skirts and have greater rank. And more difficult assignments.

-o~O~o-

“…that pretty much sums it up. Any questions?”

We’ve been here since 0800. The presentation was ready and waiting since 0810, and waiting and waiting. They finally all come in about 0850 and immediately launched into a round table discussion of other matters. Unfortunately being outspoken is one of my worst faults. I basically tell them, “Mr. President, gentlemen, I’m here to present developments concerning our vital national interests, but I don’t need to be here if you’re not interested in the information I was brought here to present. Go ahead and let World War III start without you. This time, the only thing that will survive is the amoebas.”

Even that didn’t sink in for almost thirty seconds. The Science Advisor was the only one who picked up on it. The General just sat back and watched. He’d already told me this was my show so whatever happened I needed to control it.

The Science Advisor manages to catch the atention of the President who quiets the whole group down as the Science Advisor asks, “Would you mind clarifying that statement?” The others just looked around like, ‘What did I miss?’

A few questions are directed at the Science Advisor with the hubbub starting to climb once more, until I finally yelled over them all, “Shut the hell up and listen and you just might learn something that will keep you alive for the next week.”

That got their attention for perhaps ten seconds. This group is good at talking but not so good at listening or comprehending. Maybe they simply can’t grasp the idea that any woman might know anything of importance. I start to feel like I’m not even in the same room with these men. I ponder the problem for a while, then direct Nora to pack our folders back into the briefcase. Looking around, I identify the major problem, the President’s Science Advisor, who’s engaged in an earnest discussion with the man sitting next to him, and decide to take decisive action. I pick up a pitcher of ice water and walk over to him.

“Would you care for some ice water, ‘Sir?’ ” I’m hoping that he won’t notice my sarcasm, so affect a pleasant lilt in my voice.

“Yes, thank you,” he says absently, without even looking at me, as if I were his waitress.

I calmly pour the pitcher over his head, which effectively halts all conversation and brings him to his feet sputtering and yelling. He sees me smiling and tries to give me a backhanded slap, the big bully, which I deftly counter before sitting him gently back down in his chair, which unfortunately has a small pool of ice water in it. It must have been uncomfortable, because he’s back on his feet a moment later, cussing a ‘blue streak’ as I walk away from him and take my place beside Nora. The rest of the men are now silent, wide-eyed, but silent.

I ask them calmly, “Are you all paying attention now? If so, then you might be interested to know that all life on Earth is on track to be destroyed.”

That produces a lot of smirking and snickers, until the President gets up and tells them all to shut up and listen to me. “I want to hear what she has to say,” he says, “and if I have to send you all out of the room in order to do it, then that’s what will happen. But if it does, don’t expect to continue working for my administration.”

Finally, a man said something, so that wakes them up enough that they start looking towards the small military contingent at one end of the table. They all sit back and for once are all ears.

I start with the ‘red meat,’ “I’ve discovered that a foreign interest is trying to manipulate us into attacking some foreign location, although we still don’t know where the imputed target is located, but their purpose, apparently, is to gain sympathy and followers who are willing to help destroy the United States. The target is apparently a self-regenerating biological weapons system of such potency that, if anything more than a thimbleful survives our attack, we can kiss all life on Earth, people, animals, trees, and mushrooms, goodbye forever.”

They don’t believe it, of course, but they are encouraged to listen, at least, as I explain.

I have only two hours remaining to make this presentation and answer questions so I launch into the spiel I’ve gone over several times by now. I finish the entire presentation in an hour and twenty minutes, carefully guiding them through the information and all the deductions springing from it, both those of the Agency and mine.

I show them why the source Intel is tainted, and how we know this, and then I prove what the compromised Intel is hiding. Then I do the same thing for each of my findings, including why I think that the report from the Agency was slanted, how it deliberately led decision-makers away from any consideration of biological weapons, and what that implied.

I demonstrate the ripple effect and how it helps us to find the truth, and shows us where to look for the real answers. I show them how the real intelligence was camouflaged, buried in visual and intellectual ‘noise’ until the ideas which it concealed were rendered inconsequential.

“This is a serious danger, I believe. From the hints I’ve gathered, one national entity has been working for some time on a kind of ‘Doomsday’ deterrent to ‘protect’ themselves. Another group knows about this, but evidently doesn’t take their effort seriously, but does see that the first group’s paranoia about the USA would make them tempting targets, since any preëmptive attack would backfire, in their minds, because it would ‘only’ cause massive civilian casualties in the vicinity of the operation, and show the world that the original party was justified in feeling paranoid.” I look around the room and see a few of them are taking such a threat seriously, but I need more of them nodding their heads and looking grim.

“But I don’t believe that the first party can be that easily dismissed. The intelligence that slips through underneath the other party’s ‘painting the roses red’ strategy, and the quality of the scientists they’ve recruited, leads me to believe that the first party may have been successful in their effort, and have developed, as they planned, a self-replicating quasi-biological agent which attacks all carbon-based life forms, the ‘grey goo’ implied by the famous mathematician John von Neumann in lectures he delivered in 1948 and 1949, describing what he called kinematic self-reproducing automata which could make use of any and all environmental substances to recreate themselves, and only themselves, on a microscopic scale. The idea was reiterated, in a popular form, in a 1955 issue of Scientific American magazine, but evidently our first group has been running with the original concept for quite some time now.”

“The only way to destroy such creatures is to burn them out with plasma fire, that is, thermonuclear weapons, but a first nuclear strike by us, anywhere on the globe, would undoubtedly ignite World War III, and the von Neumann machines would eat whatever is left after the bombs stopped falling. It’s exactly this which causes me to desire more information, untainted information, about the potential target before it can be either moved or released, accidentally or otherwise, so we can create a strategic approach aimed toward neutralizing or destroying it safely. I sincerely hope that we can rise to the occasion, because otherwise it just might be that mankind has finally stumbled onto something that will end all complex carbon-based life on the face of the planet without even a whimper left behind.”

By the time I finish my presentation, they all look sick.

The first question comes and I answer it to the best of my knowledge, using the compromised information we presently have. I then present my argument for the existence of a highly-placed mole in the Agency providing the information for us. I provide my assumed foreign heritage and the ancestral background of that mole, suggesting that his parents, or his grandparents, are likely immigrants. They themselves aren’t necessarily involved in the treason putting us at risk, and the individual involved could have been recruited during the past few years, possibly during a visit to his or her ancestral homeland. My money is on it being a man, because whoever it was seemed to think like a man, but the probability is only eighty percent.

I continue, “We should CAREFULLY investigate the target that’s been dangled in front of us, just as we should VERY carefully investigate the parties behind this effort at sabotage, who are the real target. The best course of action might be to use a special forces team to infiltrate the development site, capture and spirit the weapon away to our underground nuclear test site in Nevada, and then destroy it there, with no chance of release into the atmosphere or the ground water.” I look around the table and see quite a few pale faces as the enormity of the problem sinks in.

Glowing in the dark as a result of war has just taken a great back seat to the potential for all of us to just melt away into puddles of goo, or some other equally undesirable transition into nothingness. “This is not so much a biological weapon as it is an ultimate doomsday device. We must place it somewhere where it cannot harm anything, and then burn it away. Destroying it where it presently resides might be just as dangerous as having it suddenly appear in the middle of our country. I think the scientists will bear me out when I suggest that the winds could carry any tiny remnants of this… ultimate poison all around the globe. And it’s not just a defense, but also a potential tool for global blackmail in the hands of anyone crazy enough to use it. If we don’t do whatever they say, then they might threaten to destroy all life, possibly including their own, by simply taking this weapon up to the top of a hill on a windy day and opening a jar of the vicious stuff.”

“I find it difficult to believe that the original developers, hard-headed scientists who wanted to protect their country after the war, would plan to kill themselves, or their countrymen, deliberately, so they may have had some sort of antidote or counter-agent in mind to attack the original weapon, but there’s no guarantee that any putative antidote has gone beyond wishful thinking, if they’ve made any effort at all. The other party may see it as just a plausible threat with no reality, or may simply not care. Blackmailers always seem to think that they hold all the cards, so people will instantly give them everything they want, but things will almost certainly slip out of their control, and with any slip, no matter how tiny, the damage would be done.”

I look at Nora beside me, who looks exactly as frightened as I feel. “All animals, fish, people, any life that is carbon based would die, eaten by these tiny machines. Bacteria might survive, or some forms of amoeba which are not carbon based, but I don’t know if any such life exists, since that sort of thing is not my field of expertise. You need to talk to scientists about that, perhaps the Science Advisor here.” I smile at him winningly, and he seems to have forgiven me, or has at least realized that he has enough trouble on his plate right now without pursuing a quarrel with the messenger. “The important thing right now is their timetable, which appears to offer us less than two weeks to not only find the location of the device or mechanism, but to determine any potential vulnerability of the target to infiltration or sudden assault, and to neutralize it.”

“Now the real problem. We can’t use our present agents in any way, other than as camouflage for our own operation, allowing them to wander down the primrose path laid out before us. We can specifically do nothing whatsoever to alert them, even if they’re in danger, because they’re already known to our enemy, as witness our enemy’s provision of intentionally misleading information to all seven collection teams over a multitude of collection times. We’re being led around by our noses, like cattle to slaughterhouse. Where we go from here is up to you. I’m only an analyst; I can advise, but can’t fly off to solve the problem in my invisible jet plane. I’m sure that we have teams available which specialize in these sorts of highly sensitive operations.”

I look at my watch, 1230, I’m unbelievably late.

I start gathering up my things, and flash to Nora, ‘It’s time to go.’ as I rise to offer my final words. “Thank you for listening. If there are no other questions I can answer, the information just covered is in the small synopsis folders before you, and it’s really all I know. I have another engagement. Thank you for listening, Mr. President, gentlemen.”

The President says wryly, “Thank you for enduring us. The next time you need to get our attention, though, would you just blow a whistle? I’m certain my science adviser would appreciate it.”

I give him a mischievous smile, “I’ll try to remember to bring one along, Sir,” and I sincerely hope that there is a next time. Thank you so much for your valuable time.”

Staff Sergeant Joi and I pack up our things and I put my uniform jacket back on.

This is the first that the men have noticed I’m an officer and not some kindergarten teacher in a uniform. Nora and I walk out of the room without waiting for a dismissal. The General follows us a minute or two later.

“You were kind of hard on them, Colonel.”

“Children should be seen and not heard, Sir. I’m unbelievably late, I need a fast ride home.”

He smiles and shakes his head, “Your Father warned me you were outspoken. He failed to mention impulsive and self-assured. One good thing though.”

“What’s that, Sir?”

“The next briefing you give to them, they will likely shut up and listen very quickly. I think I’ll only use you when we need the big guns.”

“Thank you, Sir. Nora and I make a good team. About the car, Sir?”

“Come on. I think that we just may be able to arrange something to get you home in a timely manner.”

He was correct. I did get home very quickly, in about a third of the time it would have taken by car. However, helicopters tearing up Father’s front lawn might just need to be removed from the list of usual options, even though it was a very small helicopter.

Geez, 1300. I have four and a half hours, at the most, to do everything…. Oh well, here goes. Calling down to security, I let them know that Lieutenant Colonel Scott is coming to pick me up sometime between 1700 and 1800. Now I dump my uniform clothes on the bed, sit at the vanity and remove my light peach fingernail polish.

Then I jump into the shower and rapidly clean off my makeup and scrub down.

My hair is next. Finally, I stand a moment to allow the water to drain off before wrapping my hair in a towel and then patting myself dry with a second towel.

I throw on my robe and make tracks for my vanity again. I dry my hair as best as the towels allow, using the hair dryer sparingly so I don’t turn it into a fly-away mess, then begin brushing. It’s 1330; I’m falling behind. Finally my hair is dry and silky, 1345. Getting everything out of the dressers and putting away my uniform takes another five minutes bringing me to 1350. I dust myself in scented powder, then dress in everything but the gown and shoes. Sitting at the vanity again, I put on my makeup and then do my nails. If worse comes to worst, I can finish touching it up in the car.

Makeup, twenty minutes. Two layers on the nails, fifty. Not bad, got them right on the first try.

Now fifteen minutes for the hardener. Geez! Okay, twenty-five. That took longer to dry than I’d allowed for.

Call down to the kitchen and ask for some carrot sticks, celery and mixed fruit to tide me over until later, less than five minutes. Check the nails…. Okay. Put my hair up, ten minutes. Check the time. Still looks close. Throw on my robe and answer the door. Receive the tidbits and return to my vanity while starting to crunch on a carrot stick again less than five minutes. Check my eyes and finish them to compliment the dark blue gown, ten tops. Check everything again….

Add perfume to all the vital places and a few not so vital. Check my hair and touch up my makeup just a smidgen, five. Put on my gown, situating it as I zip it.

Yes, I have lost just a little weight, nice. Find the matching shoes. Oh goody, where are the shoes? Find the shoes in the wrong closet and bring them out. Eight minutes. Open the safe and find the sapphires and the diamond tiara.

Remove them from their boxes, return the boxes to the safe and lock it, five. Put on the sapphires, and the tiara after three attempts. Check everything once again. I’ve lost ten minutes somewhere. Finish my tidbits, fifteen minutes. Wash and dry hands, four. Transfer money and ID, compact and lipstick to my clutch. Locate the invitations…. Okay, where did I put them? Oh, yes. Over there. Walk across the room to retrieve them and place them safely with my clutch, ten minutes. Take fur from closet, put on shoes, pick up clutch and invitations and go to bedroom door, three. Walk back to closet and return jacket, taking coat instead, wonderful, four hours and ten minutes and I’m ready. If he shows early, great. If he’s on time, great. Out the door and down the stairs…. In the hall, I place my fur, clutch and invitations on the couch ready to go, 1714. Whew! Sixteen minutes to spare. Nothing like a timetable.

I go to the hall mirror to check myself over once more. Okay…? Uhmm…, no. Out comes my compact from my clutch so I can touch up my nose, just a smidgen. Good. Not I can put my compact away and just lounge around, standing, of course. I know better than to sit in this gown.

-o~O~o-

“You look nice, Lucy. Your young man had better appreciate your effort.”

“Thanks, Mom. Wow, you look great in that. I don’t remember seeing it before. Is it new?”

“No. I’ve had this for several years. It was just in storage until we returned stateside. I didn’t bother getting everything out until just a couple of months ago. Then I put it all through the cleaners over the course of the last month and a half to freshen them. I really haven’t had the need for it until now. I thought, since you’re in dark blue, I could wear this dark maroon.”

“I thought I heard voices down here. Now this isn’t something I see everyday. You two are going to be the envy of every lady at the embassy.”

Daddy walks over and kisses Mom, “I hope I can keep my hands off you all evening. Maybe you’d better carry some Mace. I may become uncontrollable.”

I smile and Mom starts laughing, “Well, Phillip, you had best rein yourself in, at least until we return home again.”

He turns and looks at me, “Lucy, for someone who doesn’t want to go tonight you certainly have gone out of your way to make every other young woman envious. I hope your ‘Randolf’ is carrying a stick.”

“A stick? Oh, no.” I shake my head, “We used to say, ‘I’d better carry a baseball bat to keep the men away.’ Almost the same idea, and thank you for the compliment.”

The doorbell rings and it’s the driver for Mom and Daddy. Daddy asks if I have everything and I show him the invitations. He gets this stricken look on his face for a moment, but then he remembers and he checks his breast pocket, breathing a sigh of relief when he finds them. “I put them in there, so I wouldn’t forget them, and then forgot where I put them. When is he arriving to pick you up?”

“It should be any minute. Go ahead, we’ll find you when we get there.”

Mom lifts her mink from the couch and Daddy helps her with it, then they go out the door to the car.

I check the time and it isn’t quite 1730 so we’re okay. Even if we arrive a little later than 1800, that would still be all right.

They’re headed down to the gate as I close the door again. Winter isn’t here, but you can tell it’s on its way. The night air is getting chilly.

Mom and Daddy have been gone all of a minute when I notice car lights hitting the windows around the door. They must have forgotten something, they barely had time to get out the gate. I go open the door and see Randolf’s car driving up. Leaving the door open, I go to collect my coat, clutch and the invitations. I manage to work my coat on before I hear him at the door.

“Come on in,” I say distractedly, checking myself in the mirror again.

When I’m satisfied, I check to be certain I have everything and then turn in his direction, just as he enters the room.

He stops with a stunned look on his face.

“Wow. I told you that you’re a Princess. Nice. Very nice. I’ll be the envy of every guy there.”

“At least until they see Mom.”

“If she looks anything like her daughter, then your father and I will have the two best looking women at the embassy by our sides.”

He offers me his arm and we go out to his car. Opening my door for me, he allows me to get in and collect the wayward portions of my gown and coat until he sees that I’m clear, then closes the door carefully. Finally we are on our way.

“You just missed Mom and Daddy. They drove out about a minute before you arrived.”

“We waved. I arrived at the gate and managed to drive in just before it closed.” He paused to look thoughtfully at me before continuing, “How are you doing, Lucy?”

“I’m okay. So far. I’ll see once we get there, and we walk into the middle of all those people.”

We arrive shortly after 1800 and quickly pass through the watchful eyes of security. My coat is taken and I place my stub into my clutch which I have no inclination of releasing to anyone other than for that short security check and sweep for bugs. We discover the room to be mostly empty but there are more people arriving every minute. We wander and I try to find Mom and Dad, finally spotting them talking with another couple whom I have not seen before.

I indicate their location to Randolf with a roll of my eyes and he turns and spots Daddy so we make our way in that direction as I listen to snippets of conversation here and there. As we approach, they part company with the other couple and again begin to start to network around the room. We catch up just before they approach someone who is in Soviet Dress Uniform. Daddy begins introductions of us all to the gentleman and after Mom, “And this is one of my daughters, Lucy, and her escort for the night, Herr Rudolf Klein of the German pharmaceuticals company Boehringer Ingelheim.

I do my best not to start at Randolf’s, I mean Rudolf’s introduction. I just continue to smile as the officer takes my hand and kisses it, in the French manner, and then tells me in French that he is enchanted. I reply, thanking him also in French, then ask how he is doing. He laughs and tells us he is afraid that all the French he knows has just been surpassed. His English contains much more of an accent than did his French. He warrants watching.

After Randolf and I wander away again, I nudge him gently and he cocks his head in my direction as we continue to walk. I tell him about the officer, his French and his English and my thoughts he might be worth observing.

“I agree, but for other reasons.”

We bump across another couple under ‘Rudolf’s’ expert handling and I make introductions anew since ‘Rudolf’s’ heavily accented English isn’t quite up to the task. After a minute we are again circulating. I poke him and again he leans his head in my direction.

“Be careful, you sound more like a Hungarian than a German.”

“That’s okay, I’m a Hungarian German.”

I give him a disgusted stare, “Maybe you’d better let me make the introductions.”

“That won’t work. Most of these people are from countries where the woman is second class and usually ignored. They expect the man to make the introductions.”

We come across another couple in whom ‘Rudolf’ has some interest. He again attempts introductions but the language barrier is too great. I can’t stand it and give my apologies to the woman for my escort’s apparent inability to properly use either their language or my own. Then in near fluent Lithuanian I make introductions for us. At my use of his ‘name’ ‘Rudolf’ clicks his heels and nods his head to them. The lady is very happy to have someone with whom to talk and wants to have a conversation.

I request a brief moment and then in careful English explain to ‘Rudolf’ that I am going to remain for a few minutes so he can wander around and I’ll catch up to him. To his credit he looks like he is trying to translate my sentence as he stands there then gives a nod to us and wanders off in the direction of the Chinese.

The lady’s husband also excuses himself and he wanders in another direction toward the Soviet officer. I’ll need to be careful. Now the Soviet will know I speak both French and Lithuanian. He’ll then suspect that I know others. The lady and I enjoy our conversation and she relates to me that she speaks English although not terribly fluently and has missed having someone other than her husband and any embassy staff with whom she may converse in her native tongue.

We have an enjoyable few minutes then I excuse myself explaining that if I don’t control my Escort there is no telling what trouble he may dig up.

“He might even try selling three or four hundred kilograms of Pharmaceuticals to some school teacher.”

She laughs in complete understanding and scoots me off thanking me for the conversation. We touch cheeks, having become sisters of a sort then I rush off to find ‘Rudolf.’ As I pass people I listen to snippets of conversation and come across someone talking about German Pharmaceuticals. I pause and interrupt for a moment, “I’m terribly sorry to interrupt. I’m looking for my Escort Rudolf Klein and I heard you mention Pharmaceuticals. Has he spoken with you and, if so, do you happen to know where he went from here?”

I asked in English, knowing they’d been talking in a different language. In halting English they explain that he has indeed been here and they point off in another direction, suggesting I might try over with the group of Israelis. I play dumb and ask which group is the Israelis. The one man comes over to me, placing a hand on my bare shoulder as he stands behind me and points out a uniform in the distance.

I give a slight curtsey and thank them. They smile and I’m off again, targeting the Israelis. The men return to their conversation, the momentary assistance to a young woman now dismissed as unimportant.

---

 

To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 

 

previously:

I asked in English, knowing that they’d been talking in a different language. In halting English they explain he has indeed been here and they point off in another direction suggesting I might try over with the group of Israelis. I play dumb and ask which group is the Israelis. The one man comes over to me, placing a hand on my bare shoulder as he stands behind me and points out a uniform in the distance.

I give a slight curtsey and thank them. They smile and I’m off again, targeting the Israelis. The men return to their conversation, the momentary assistance to a young woman now dismissed as unimportant.

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Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Sun, 2008/11/30 - 2:43am, Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 30 is revised and reposted on Fri, 2010/01/01 - 06:41 PM. ~Sephrena

---

 

It’s just another way to hide:

 

Chapter 30

 

As I search around the roomful of men, I start to feel panicky. My ‘protector’ is missing and I’m alone in a room full of strangers. After two more encounters with random attendees in my hunt for him, I figure out that ‘Rudolf’ is working the room in a clock-wise direction. I’ll have to go counter-clock-wise in order to intercept him. The pull to run out the door is getting stronger, but I start walking around the edge of the crowd, looking for my hero. I’m about half way around, so he can’t be far, when I glance off to my left and see what I think is an all-too-familiar profile across the room. I think it’s the creep, and I give a small squeak. His back is mostly toward me, so I start looking all around to see if Randolf is nearby, so maybe he can get me out of here.

I finally spot Randolf, I mean ‘Rudolf,’ and like a bloodhound, zero in on him as he moves through the room until I latch onto his arm like he’s a cool jug of water in the middle of the desert. He gives a momentary jump, but then turns toward me with calm assurance.

“You, Herr Klein, are a difficult man to track down. Could we go outside?” I plead at him with my eyes.

“Yah. Hier, ve shal out the garden to go, yes?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. He makes a terrible German.

I rush toward the garden doors, half towing him beside me. I’m not so much on his arm as clutching it as we move swiftly through the crowd toward the open French doors. Finally we exit the room, leaving the noise of conversations and the bright lights behind us as we move into the soft array of lawns and plantings that stretch out toward the high garden walls. The lights here are shaded to illuminate the paths, with a few spotlights shining up into the treetops, and one bright ring of floodlights shining up toward the flag of Israel flying at the top of a very tall flagpole. There’s no wind to speak of, so the flag droops against the pole, stirring faintly as little gusts of wind drift by.

I’m unimpressed by what must be beautiful gardens, and even by the open lawns, which offer at least no cover for potential assailants. I look around in panic. There appears to be no one out here, so perhaps everything’s alright.

He looks at me like I’ve gone crazy. “What’s wrong?” he says.

“I needed air. I thought that I saw him.” I’m glancing nervously from one end of the garden to the other, then back toward the doors that lead back into the hall.

Someone enters at the far end and I smother a yelp and duck behind Randolf’s bulk, hoping that he doesn’t see me.

“Lucy, relax. That’s one of the Israeli security agents.”

I peek past his shoulder toward the man walking toward us and vaguely recall having seen him when we entered.

The agent comes over to us as I cower behind Randolf. “What’s wrong, Sir, Ma’am? Are you all right?” he says.

“She’s having a panic attack. She thinks she saw someone who nearly killed her about a year ago. We’ll see how she is in a few minutes. Perhaps you might wait nearby, just in case there is a need?”

I see someone else entering the garden and again yelp and try find an avenue of escape. Spotting an open door with no one near it I am off and running. They are momentarily surprised and then are in hot pursuit. Randolf catches me just before I enter the unlit room. The security agent is suddenly between me and the doorway as he pulls out a radio and begins speaking into it.

Moments later, the other man is standing beside us, another security agent. Again I am looking around in panic. “I need to go home. I NEED to go HOME. I NEED TO GO HOME,” I moan, the last coming out in a wail as tears begin to drop down my face.

The first security guy says, “Have you a car here?”

“Yes, I drove her here. General Pendleton is her father. He will need to know I’m taking her home. Her mink is checked. At least she is still holding her purse.”

“Come, this way. Give me the ticket. I will have her coat brought out, while we go to your car.”

He gets on the radio again and starts talking. Somewhere in the conversation, I suppose that he passes along the ticket number and the need to notify General Pendleton.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Princess, You’ll be okay. You did great. You made it through more than an hour.”

“Where did all the people come from?”

“I guess they snuck up on us when we weren’t looking.”

He didn’t get a laugh back so he knows I’m in pretty bad shape. I see another man follow us out of the garden and I take a second look. If it isn’t the creep, then it’s his twin.

A small scream escapes my mouth, and Randolf quickly looks at me and then over in the direction I’m looking. He does a double take as well.

“That looks like him over there.” He says quietly to the Israeli agent, who turns and looks also.

The man is continuing to walk in our direction.

“It’s all right. He’s one of us,” he says, but he looks concerned.

I’m still not convinced. I continue to watch as he gets closer and closer while my eyes get wider and wider. I feel Randolf getting ready for a fight. I’m so frightened I don’t think I could do a thing. The man reaches us and begins talking with the other agent in rapid Hebrew, which reassures me slightly. Even this close, he looks like the creep.

I can tell that Randolf thinks so too, because he says, “You know something, you could be the twin brother of the man who tried to kill her last year.”

The man answers us with a thick Israeli accent, “So I have just heard. I’m sorry if I have upset you, Madam. Perhaps, if you remain out here for a few minutes, you will calm down enough to return.”

I watch him warily, the way a mouse watches a stalking cat.

“Perhaps this is the man you saw inside.”

“Inside? No, I have been out on the grounds all evening.”

So now we know there is at least one more who looks like the creep.

Randolf obviously realizes the same thing, because he pulls the man who looks like the creep aside and starts talking to him in hushed tones.

The agent looks through the glass of the French window, and turns back toward us. Again the radio comes out and flurry of activity erupts as an examination of the number of guests versus the number of invited attendees is quickly and quietly conducted. Daddy comes out and checks on me. Randolf says that he’ll take me home and wait with me until Mom and Dad return later. Daddy shakes his hand in appreciation and goes back in to Mom.

The report comes back, after three rounds of counting. There are three people present without invitations, at least one of whom must look like someone on staff. The extra people aren’t totally unexpected, from their expressions, but the idea that one of them might be masquerading is not exactly happy tidings for Israeli security, who now have men discretely circulating through the crowd. Randolf decides to take me home just after my mink is brought out to us.

-o~O~o-

My throat and mouth are dry and I’m still trembling. We hadn’t been driving long before I say, “Randolf, I’m not going to make it home. I feel like I’m choking; I need something cold to sip. Maybe we could stop for a cola at McDonald’s or something.”

“Okay, Princess,” he says. In a few minutes, he pulls off the highway, about halfway home, and I finally see the Burger King sign he must have noticed, or maybe he knew it was there, near the bottom of the off ramp. He parks in the lot and asks if I want to go inside.

I shake my head no. “I want to be ready to run in case he watched and followed us.”

“Actually,” he tells me, “if he was planning to do anything, he would have spooked you at the Embassy and then hightailed it to your house to wait for you to show up. That way he would have fewer witnesses and a clearer shot.”

I never thought of it that way. I guess that’s another difference between being a field agent and an analyst. Most of me still wants to run home, but now I’m having second thoughts. There’s no particular reason we couldn’t wait a few minutes.

Randolf must have seen my hesitation, because he says, “Princess, why don’t I take you to a restaurant? We can have a little bit to eat, and maybe some tea, so you’ll have a chance to calm down before I take you home. If he’s there, that will give him time to have a lot of second thoughts by the time we’re ready to return. We could even call for some roving patrols to begin about half an hour before we arrive. They could check out to rifle range and we can ask the inside security to search the house for a potential break in.”

I guess I’m so rattled I’m not thinking clearly. Everything he’s saying is so logical. I didn’t have a lot to eat today, so a snack, maybe even some real food, sounds interesting.

“Okay. I hadn’t planned to use my three week’s meal so soon, but let’s go. Do you know anyplace that will let us in dressed like this?”

He laughs, which somehow cheers me up immensely. “Well, I know a few places that are pretty nice, but even those might think we’re a bit over the top in evening wear.”

At least he gets a little smile out of me. I look at my hands and they are shaking.

I guess he looked too because he grabs them and I almost jerk away as he lifts them and kisses each one.

“Princess, this meal’s on me.”

“No, I can’t do that.”

He looks at me for a second or two and slowly reaches up to my face as I try not to flinch. He gently touches my cheek for a few seconds, then moves his hand away.

I shake my head and say, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. It’s just still difficult for me. I’m actually doing a lot better. A year ago, if you had done that, I would still be screaming and trying to claw my way out the door.”

He slams his hand onto the steering wheel and says, “If I ever get that son of a bitch in my two hands, he’ll rue the day he ever touched you, if he lives long enough. Any so-called ‘man’ who could hurt a woman this badly, and leave this much fear behind to plague her, doesn’t deserve to live. Do you think you could handle a restaurant, or would you rather just go home?”

I want to go home but I know I need to start to trust people again. I’m hungry too, but I need to go home. I need to hide. To hide? Hide?! I’m just beginning to realize what’s been done to me. I’m no longer looking at life with the idea that I can handle whatever comes at me. I panic and run without even thinking. My confidence and pride has been taken from me, and fear and cowardice pushed into the void. I’m an intelligent woman, a third degree black belt, and an American soldier. A year ago, I was in Vietnam, in the middle of a shooting war, infiltrating behind enemy lines armed only with a pistol and my wits. Why am I afraid? Why do I collapse in fear whenever I think he’s near me? Why should I recoil when a decent man tries to touch my hand? He should be afraid of me.

I make up my mind. “Randolf…, would you…. Would you please touch my face again?”

He looks at me and sees that I’m still afraid, but trying to control it. “Princess,” he says gently. “It frightens you. As much as I would like to touch you, I don’t want to bring that kind of pain to you.”

“Randolf, please. I’m trying to break through a barrier inside myself. Please help me. Remember basic training?”

I see him looking at me and trying to decide if I’ll be alright. Now his hand is coming up and again I flinch, but manage to accept him touching me on my cheek. He waits a few seconds and his other hand comes up to my other cheek and softly touches it. Suddenly, I’m perfectly calm. Petrified! But calm. He takes this moment to quickly bend toward me and kiss my lips, then he backs away as though nothing ever happened and I come out of my trance.

“Randolf….”

“Sorry, Princess. I couldn’t resist the opportunity.”

I’m not frightened now; If he’s going to kiss me, then he’ll have to learn how to do it right. I lean over and take his surprised face placing my lips against his and give him a kiss. Not some anemic little peck, but a kiss.

“That’s how it’s done,” I say to him indignantly. “You need a bit more practice.”

He starts laughing.

I look at him and start to feel a little miffed. What am I, chopped liver?

He doesn’t comprehend, but manages to calm down enough that after two or three attempts he is able to say, “Aren’t you still frightened? You don’t appear to be shaking any more.”

I’m not shaking. I look at my hands and they’re perfectly still. I’m perfectly calm. Everything was in a haze before, but now it’s all clear again. I don’t know how I am looking at him but he gets this funny look on his face like maybe he made a mistake and I’m not the timid Lucy he knew, but some tigress who appears to be considering having him for supper.

I lean over, taking his face between my two hands again and kiss him, longer, deeper, and more sensually. He asked for it, now he’s got it. Let’s see him handle it. This time we stay under for ten or fifteen seconds. We back away for air and then I am right back into it. Lucy girl, you’ve got to stop this before you get in trouble. Stop it, Lucy, before you get in…. Oh, never mind, but if you wake up pregnant don’t blame him.

That thought gets my attention. I sit back into my seat and examine the way my body feels. It feels quite well, thank you. Randolf is sitting there smiling, but apparently unwilling to re-engage.

My breasts are slightly enlarged and I think I’ve become moist somewhere. I didn’t think I could ever feel this way again.

“Princess….” He’s hesitant.

I quickly put my finger on his lips. He’s just staring at me.

I whisper, “Randolf, could you touch my face for a moment? Please don’t kiss me, just touch me.”

I hold up my hands to show that they’re not shaking. His hand reaches over and is against my face as I lean my head into his hand. I didn’t flinch and my hands are still rock steady.

“Yes,” I say, and smile.

“What?” He’s bewildered.

“Yes, I would like to go out to eat supper with you. And this is our three week’s agreement. I want to get that bet behind us so that, if we continue to see each other, it’s because we like each other and not because you owe me on a bet.”

“Princess, I would like to take you out, bet or not.”

I give him a grateful smile.

He looks at me a little oddly. “Uh. I think… that is…. Maybe you’d better take a look at your face in the mirror before we go….”

My face? Oh, my makeup. I pull down the mirror on the sun visor and he turns on the overhead light. Even in this light I look a mess. Oh, Geez! No wonder he was looking at me with a little less enthusiasm than I’d expected.

“Randolf, could you take me home for about fifteen minutes, so I can touch up my face a little. I’m not sure that racoon eyes are ‘in’ this season. Then, if you’d still like to take me to supper, I’d very much like to go.”

“Deal.”

He starts the car and we’re on the highway again in moments.

Less than ten minutes later, I’m home. We leave the car outside and go in together. I leave him in the living room while I go upstairs. In less than fifteen minutes (my new record, a personal best, I think) I’ve removed my makeup, moisturized, buffed my skin with tissues and cotton balls, and put on new makeup before exchanging my coat for my jacket. Then I’m back downstairs in the front hall, about to allow my handsome escort to take me out to supper.

He says, “In case you hadn’t noticed, your coat shrank while you were upstairs.”

I smile at him with gaiety in my eyes.

“Now that’s something I never thought I would see.”

“What’s that?”

“You’ve actually come out of your shell. After all these months, I was wondering if there was still a happy young woman buried deep inside.”

He opens the car door for me and, while his hands are busy with the car and his keys, I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him again. Not as deeply, nor as long, but a kiss none the less. I hear his keys hit the pavement.

His arms find their way around me and we stand there, forehead to forehead, for perhaps thirty seconds, before he collects himself and says, “Come on, lady, I’m hungry. I didn’t eat since breakfast so I’m looking forward to going out with good company just as much as you are.”

Now I do laugh. Oh, not a belly-bursting gut-wrenching laugh but a happy chime, music, literally, to my own ears. I haven’t felt so free in a long time. “I’m hungry too.”

-o~O~o-

We’re finally on our way and arrive in twenty minutes at an upscale restaurant.

We’re still a bit over the top, but not TOO badly. The food is good and the company great. We manage to keep our hands off each other. Most of the time anyway. It’s the funniest thing. I like the way he touches my arm. Soft, like a Golden Retriever, but with underlying strength and the will to use it for my protection. We leave and drive slowly home. The car door is opened and he walks me to the door.

“Randolf, I had a wonderful time. Thank you. Thank you very much. You’ve been great therapy. See you Monday in the cafeteria?”

“Well, I was kind of hoping you would go out on a date with me tomorrow during the day. There’s a nice little park and a carousel, and hotdog stands and even a cotton candy booth. We could watch the model sailboats, walk the path around the lake and just spend a little time alone. Well almost alone. There will probably be four or five hundred others there but the park is pretty big so we aren’t likely to be tripping over them.”

“I thought you said it was a little park.”

“Well, ‘little’ is a figure of speech in this case. It’s about a half mile on a side. Not huge, but not the corner lot type of park.”

“I’d like that. A real date. Afterward maybe we could go to a little Italian place not far from here for supper, Dutch treat?”

“I could say no, that I’ll pay, but I think I’ll lose the argument. Okay. That sounds great. Dutch treat. Pick you up about ten?”

“I’ll be ready.”

He watches me open the door and go into the house, then he turns and walks down to his car as I stand just inside the door watching him get in and drive away.

I close the door and check in with security. Mom and Dad are still out but are expected within an hour or so. I take my pumps off and walk up to my room in my stocking feet, feeling the carpeting wrapping around my feet with every step.

In my room I put away my jewelry, take off my gown and hang it, sliding the shoes into their proper place next to several other pairs below the gowns. I continue to undress and then go wash my face. Now dressed in my nightgown and robe I find my novel and lie down on my bed to read. A strange thought passes through my mind. I haven’t used that thing since the weeks I was mating with the creep and getting bashed. What if I’ve collapsed in all these months? What if I couldn’t be intimate with Randolf, even if we did want to be married? I get up and start digging through my dressers. Where did I put it? I spend perhaps forty minutes searching and finally give up. I can’t imagine where it could be. I’m a little disappointed and worried. I’d like to know I could do it if I wanted to.

I go back to bed as I hear Mom and Dad arriving upstairs and entering their room.

Thirty minutes or so later Mom knocks and then comes in, sitting on the edge of my bed. “How are you doing, Lucy?”

I smile at her. “I’m doing wonderfully, Mom.”

She looks at me a little strangely. “That’s an odd answer, considering that Phillip had said you were a basket case when you left.”

“I finally got over it. In fact, I think that the terror that creep planted in me is gone, although the creep still exists, and may well still be a danger. Randolf and I made it home just fine, but we stopped along the way and I had a chance to talk with him for a while. We even went out to dinner later and I got back in just an hour or so before you came home. I think that my irrational fear is gone now, although I still believe that he represents a danger to me, and probably to other women as well. He’s a sadist, I think, just like those creeps were back home, but my fear has been replaced.”

“Replaced? With what?”

“Resolve. Determination. Anger. Joy. Love…? We went out to eat at a really nice restaurant. I enjoyed it and I didn’t collapse even once. In fact, I had fun. He’s going to pick me up tomorrow morning and we are going to a park he knows of, where we’re going to walk and ride the carousel and talk some more. Maybe I’ll even find out what his deep dark secret is.”

“His secret? Lucy, I think you should talk with Phillip for a few minutes. We’ll both be right back.”

What’s all this? Is he an axe murderer or what?

They return together, Mom sits on the bed again while Daddy stands.

“Tell her, Phillip. She’s going to start dating him, so she needs to know.”

“What is it, Daddy? What’s wrong?”

He looks like he isn’t comfortable at all. “Lucy….” He stops, then starts over, “Lucy, I shouldn’t be the one to tell you this, he should. So you can’t let on that you know until and if he tells you. Understand?”

Geez, it must be something terrible. “I understand. I won’t mention it unless he tells me.”

Father looks like he’d very much like to be somewhere else. I can see him collecting his thoughts, as though he’s trying to decide where to begin.

“He was married, Lucy. She was killed and he blames himself. It wasn’t his fault, no one could have done more than he did but still it happened and he just withdrew. Oh, he kept working. He did just as well as ever, but the assignments he began taking were all the riskier ones. We don’t know if it was in penance or a subconscious desire to join her in death, or what.” He made a little shrug.

“They’d been married about six months when it happened. It was maybe five or six months earlier than that time you were interviewed in ’Nam. They were in East Germany at the time. Things had a way of heating up quickly and cooling just as fast back then. Hell, they still do. She was an operative as well, half of a husband-wife team. We don’t know exactly what happened. Whatever it was took place while they were both still in East Berlin. They made for the West and the Sandkrugbrücke at the Invalidenstraße checkpoint but something happened somewhere along the way. Shots were fired, according to the statements of witnesses we managed to contact several days later, but we don’t know anything more than that.”

“They continued on, at that point still unharmed, and had made it through the communist checkpoint and were crossing the bridge into the British sector when another series of shots rang out. She was dead before he dragged her to the British side. He was wounded, but not critically. The British rushed onto the bridge with weapons ready but no more shots were fired, and no one had seen where they came from. Some say the Red guards at the checkpoint, while others say they came from an upper floor of one of the buildings nearby. The bullets which hit them weren’t the standard Warsaw Pact military issue used in the guard’s weapons, but more likely those of a Dragunov sniper rifle, longer and heavier than a standard round, so they could have been fired from anywhere within half a mile. There were plenty of potential hide sites in the nearby buildings. There may even have been more than one sniper.” He paused for a moment, remembering what were evidently still troubling memories for him.

I wondered how well he’d known them. He and Randolf worked in the same building, so… I looked around, wondering if she’d been a guest here. Mom obviously knew them both.

“At any rate, she was dead in his arms and he was badly hurt but alive. He blames himself, because they were scheduled to return to the West the day before and he delayed to get more information. He still thinks if they had returned on time she would still be alive. There are no indications that would be true, but that is what he believes.”

“Then why would he want to date me, if he’s still in love with the memory of his lost wife?”

“Who knows? I’m only telling you this so you will tread lightly. Don’t get involved too deeply or you might find yourself emotionally hurt again.”

I sit and think about this for a moment or two.

“Thank you, Daddy. I’ll be careful. I know that going out with him will help me. I looked to him for protection this evening and somehow that made everything click. I’m doing better in the psychological department now. I’d like to date him a while to help me continue to improve if nothing else. Maybe it will help him too.”

“That would be good. The rate at which he’s going right now is burning him out. We don’t know how he’s doing it. It’s been maybe eighteen to twenty months since his wife died, but if he’s going to go into meltdown, it won’t be pretty. I just hope you’re not near him when it happens.”

Mom and Dad go back to their room and I decide to put the novel on the night stand and go to sleep. I lay there for what seems like hours thinking about everything. Why can’t I just have a nice simple life? Everything I do seems to have all these unforeseen repercussions waiting to come down on me like an avalanche. Why can’t the men I run into be like I was? I’d like to think that I would have been a Prince Charming for some Princess without bringing a lot of baggage to our relationship. Now I’m the Princess and I can’t find a Prince Charming who doesn’t carry several tons of doom and gloom along with him.

You’re dumb, Lucy, You’re dumb. If you hadn’t kissed him so much, then he probably wouldn’t have asked you out tomorrow and everything would be okay.

Of course the additional date or dates might help me, but at what new cost? Why does the world have to be so complicated? I guess I’m like the lead in the movie South Pacific, a cockeyed optimist. Maybe I should take her song to heart ‘I’m going to wash that man right out of my hair.’ As if. And who am I to talk about baggage? I had a boatload of it long before I entered the program that made me what I am today, and it obviously wasn’t the big secret I’d thought it was at the time. They found me, didn’t they?

I need to find my action group and go back to work there. It seemed so much more simple back then than things are now. Interacting with men simply complicates my life in ways I’m not prepared to accept. Then again, I want a family. That almost requires me to have a man in my life. How do I find a nice one, who isn’t encumbered with ghosts, or poisoned by hatred for women? I need to move to Venus, or Mars, or Jupiter, or somewhere. Somewhere logical.

And what would that accomplish, Lucy? It’s just another way to hide.

---

 

To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.

 

 

previously:

I need to find my action group and go back to work there. It seemed so much more simple back then than things are now. Interacting with men simply complicates my life in ways I’m not prepared to accept. Then again, I want a family. That almost requires me to have a man in my life. How do I find a nice one, who isn’t encumbered with ghosts, or poisoned by hatred for women? I need to move to Venus, or Mars, or Jupiter, or somewhere. Somewhere logical.

And what would that accomplish, Lucy? It’s just another way to hide.

---

Admin Note: Originally published on BigCloset TopShelf by T D Aldoennetti on Mon, 2008/12/01 - 1:42am, Air Force Sweetheart -- TacPzlSolGp Chapter 31 is revised and reposted on Sat, 2010/01/02 - 12:07 PM. ~Sephrena

---

 

WHO is Claire?:

 

Chapter 31

 

Sometime around one or two I wake up after a series of weird dreams. You know, the kind where you know you’re having a strange dream, but can’t quite remember what it was when you wake up. I do, however, remember where I put that thing. I snap on the light on the night table and get up in the muted light, not bothering with a robe. I carry the chair from my vanity over to the closet and stand on it to reach one of my hat boxes and lift it down from the shelf. Sure enough, here it is, cleverly disguised as a chic pillbox hat with a little veil.

Geez, it’s huge, I don’t remember it being that big. Scary.

I leave the chair in the closet, so I can put the hat box back later on, then I go into the bathroom to look through my medicine cabinet so I can find the lubricant, just in case.

I lay on the bed and rearrange my nightgown and the bedcovers, then begin trying to entice myself to produce lubricant. No dice. I hope I haven’t waited too long. I put a little from the tube onto the thing and begin again. It enters a little, so I add just a little more lubricant. As I continue I am finally rewarded with my own and I continue until I reach about the depth the doctor’s want. I wonder what would happen if I go further and finally stop with just a little more of it in me.

Now I just wait for the clock. I start reading my novel and awaken about forty minutes later with my hip joints stiff and sore from being splayed out like that. The thing is stuck. With great care, I manage to get it to move and finally slide it out of me. Thank God. Putting my legs together entails a few grimaces but I manage. With aching muscles, I manage to hobble into the bathroom, where I clean myself and the thing. Afterward, I put it back into its protective pink plastic container and put everything away again. The chair goes back over to my vanity and I go back to bed.

Now that I’m beginning to be more comfortable around men, or at least one of them, I’d better be able to accomplish the deed if I should haappen to wind up with a real fiancée. I think I know what’s happening with Randolf too. It’s called transference. I guess he’s feeling that if he keeps me alive and away from the creep then he is making it up to his wife. Just as long as he doesn’t begin thinking that I am his former wife. I need to be careful around him. He’s a nice guy and all, but I don’t need to wind up in a love triangle when my rival is already dead. I’ve seen this movie before, and have no desire to be the second Mrs. de Winter to his mysterious (and dead) former wife’s Rebecca. It’s all a little too gothic for me.

I go back to sleep and have weird dreams about him using my life energy to bring his wife back from the dead so now I’m the one who’s dead. Now that’s scary. I’m down in a coffin screaming and yelling for someone to come let me out but I’m covered in mud and spiders. Nasty dream.

WHAT? Oh. The alarm clock. I almost never sleep until it goes off. Thank goodness I don’t go to work today, I’d already be thirty minutes late getting ready. The weather is cooler now but during the day it still isn’t bad yet. In the low seventies, usually. I turn on the radio to find a weather report so I will know what today’s going to be like. Whoops! I almost missed the forecast. The announcer is just running down his list of quick summaries and he’s on the Maryland suburbs already. Ah, seventy-four in Springdale. Close enough. Scattered clouds cooling to sixty in the evening. Okay, I can wear my nice green walking skirt and blouse with my white merino sweater around my shoulders until it begins to cool, then I’ll put it on. I like my legs out and cool so the long skirt will be nice, I’ll still feel the air but will look a little dressy. We are going walking, so flats, no, I’ll wear my white sneakers to match the sweater.

My clothes planned, I go take a shower and wash my hair. Then go through the ritual drying.

Brush, brush, brush. I must have been sleeping on my head all night, since my hair is a mess. Brush, brush, brush. That took a lot longer than usual.

I put on my undies and sit to apply some makeup. Enough that I have some on but not enough to make him realize it. Light colour on the shadow mostly to match my eyes and a hint in my eye shadow toward the forest green skirt and light green blouse. I need to take my wig off tonight and wash and brush my own hair. It’s almost four inches now, so I’ll only need about seven more years to match the length of the wig. Meanwhile, it’s hot, with my hair providing extra insulation under the wig.

I take the skirt and blouse from the closet and hang them temporarily on the coat hook as I continue dressing. I pull two petticoats — for warmth as well as shape — and some thin white socks from the dresser and take my white sneakers from the closet, then start dressing in earnest. I put my shoes on first, so I don’t wrinkle my blouse bending over, then start with a full slip and the two petticoats and go on from there, finishing by pulling down the bottom of my blouse from under my skirt, carefully arranging the pleats just so, then transfer my things to a small white purse to match my sweater. Now where is that sweater? Figures, bottom layer. Smells okay, the sachet is still doing its job.

Careful inspection shows me that the sweater looks okay too. Good.

I find a pale green bow and tie my hair so it hangs long down my back with the bow down toward the nape of my neck. Hmmm… maybe a little too girlish. Drop the bow. Ahh, ponytail. YESSS.

0700. I hope there’s still time to make breakfast. Down I go to find Mom sipping her coffee.

Daddy is already in his office away from the office.

“Hi, Mom. What’s for breakfast today?

“Eggs however you want them, Coffee, toast and peach marmalade, either sausage or ham. You’d better go out and let them know you’re here or you may miss out. I think they are already into clean up.”

“Be right back, Mom.”

I scoot out to the kitchen to see the cooks in the midst of cleanup with some food still waiting to be prepared.

“Hi, Lucy. We were beginning to think you were going to sleep in. Anything that’s still out we can fix for you.”

“Cool, how about three scrambled eggs, two slices of toast, coffee and a small to medium slice of ham?”

“Glad you want the ham. All the sausages are gone until we pull another frozen block out to thaw. Okay, get on in there and the coffee will be along in a minute. The food will follow shortly. Go on, I know you like to cook, but this is my kitchen and you’re in the way.”

I pretend to pout and he pretends to be annoyed, then I go to the dining room while saying, “One of these days you are going to teach me how you make that wonderful salad of yours. I’ll make a point of annoying you until you do.”

“Heaven forbid. How about next Sunday, a week? I’ll schedule it into the luncheon meal.”

“Sounds good to me,” I call back as the door swings shut.

After breakfast I put on my lipstick and check myself again then sit with a novel to wait until Randolf drives up.

I hear a car in the drive before I finish a single page.

-o~O~o-

Well, I really enjoyed that first real date with Randolf, as well as all the following dates, once to the National Symphony Orchestra for an evening of Brahms, which was delightful, and we were lucky to hear it, because they went out on strike the very next week. It was great fun as well, at least for me, to be able to dress in evening wear and not be ‘on call’ at an embassy or consulate, dancing on the edge of espionage with a report due the next day.

Most of our dates weren’t quite that grand, but we explored every inch of Randolf’s park, and became familiar with a number of local restaurants, went to movies (I loved Doctor Zhivago — Omar Sharif and Julie Christie were wonderful together — and of course I deeply empathized with Lara’s troubles) and a few home games of the Washington Redskins. Randolf said that he was looking forward to seeing the Bullets play when basketball season rolled around, because it’s a faster game, so I began to think that my own troubles were over. Randolf’s deceased wife (or her ghost, whom I imagined by now to be a cross between Mata Hari and Luciana Paluzzi’s Fiona Volpe, the femme fatale and assassin from the last Bond movie, all busty and titian-haired and exotic, the perfect spy) never came up, and Randolf was just a nice guy with a really weird job.

-o~O~o-

The lunches in the cafeteria have become a tradition. Every working day that we’re both available for lunch, we spend together. That turns out to be slightly more than half the working days. We spend our meals in happy conversation and regale each other with stories of the places we’ve seen or lived in during our travels around the world.

Soldiers tend to seize the day wherever they go. We’re often strangers, surrounded by strange cultures and people who speak unfamiliar languages, so they savor all those moments of amazement and joy they stumble across, the sunburst of a tropical dawn, the interesting face in a marketplace, the taste of fruits without names that they’ve never seen before, the aromas of mysterious cuisines wafting through the air of towns where all the signs and advertisements are written in strange letters and symbols, all those moments which might never be repeated.

We remember too all those brief minutes with our comrades in arms, things we’ll carry with us into our old age. A joke, a smile, a moment of picturesque awareness shared with relative strangers, cast together at random under a bright blue sky, surrounded by the breathtaking hues of exotic flowers and lush greens we’ve never seen before, conjuring instant nostalgia for moments we all realize may never be never be repeated in our lifetimes, may be the very last moments of happiness, even joy, for some of us.

I tell him about the TacPzlSolGp and the fun I had working with the “young” men and women. I think back and resolve to ask Daddy about them again. I’d still like to know whether they’re still around.

I also tell him about ‘Grandfather,’ the old taxi driver. After I got out of the hospital, I’d tracked him down and explained what had happened. I paid him for the days I should have been there, and gave him a gift for his grandchildren telling him that I was returning to the States but, should I ever return, then I’ find him and he’d be my only driver again.

Randolf and I have begun to spend more time together on weekends.

After the first four months, we’ve been spending a lot of time together. The past four or five months have been almost a blur, with every Saturday our day to explore the local sights and attractions. We’ve been to the Smithsonian several times, toured the famous battle sites of the Revolution and the Civil War, Fort Washington, of course, and Harpers Ferry, where John Brown launched his abortive insurrection meant to free the slaves. We drove the long road to Appomattox and back, starting long before the sun’s rise and ending long after it set, but worth it to see where Lee surrendered and the USA was re-formed, took the somewhat shorter journey north to see Fort McHenry in Baltimore, where Francis Scott Key wrote the Star Spangled Banner as the British shelled it in 1814.

We spent time lazing on the many beaches on the shores of Chesapeake Bay as well, and hiking park trails all around the area, all together encompassing the small portion of the world we have available to us.

He received his promotion and we’re both extremely busy, but somehow we manage to make the time for our lunches and Saturdays together.

We’re returning late one night from a delightful excursion to Philadelphia (Yes, we saw Independence Hall and the Liberty Bell, and had genuine Philly cheesesteak sandwiches from Pat’s King of Steaks); we’d started early and are ending late. He’s taking me home and we’re talking about our day, and the strange series of events that set all the wheels in motion that somehow resulted in our winding up together.

We’ve been driving for a while and are both caught up in our conversation and memories of the day’s events when I finally realize that we missed the exit to the highway back to my house.

I say, “Randolf, you missed the turn-off.”

“Missed what?”

“You missed my turn-off. We’re past it.”

“What turn-off?”

“Randolf, you’re taking me home. We missed my exit.”

“Home? Claire, what are you talking about? I am taking us home.”

Oh Geez. Well, I can’t say I wasn’t warned. Unsure of what I should do, but not wanting to betray Father’s confidence, I ask, with appropriate displeasure, “Who’s Claire? Randolf, are you seeing someone else?”

He glances at me and back to the road, “Claire, what are you….” Then suddenly, his eyes open wide and he snaps his head back toward me, staring at me, the road forgotten. I see the road going slightly left as we are going slightly right and scream. He looks back just in time to avoid the railing and gains control then slows, pulls to the shoulder and stops.

“Randolf what are you doing? This isn’t funny. Take me home.”

He looks at me as though he’s confused.

“Randolf this is me, Lucy. Remember? Who’s Claire?”

I’m beginning to guess that he hasn’t a clue what’s happened to him.

“Lucy? Lucy! Oh God. I’m sorry, Lucy.”

“Who’s Claire? Are you seeing someone?”

“I… no… That is….”

“I think you’d better take me home, Randolf. If you’ going to see someone else, then I don’t want to go out with you anymore.”

“Lucy, please let me explain.”

“Explain what? That you don’t like me anymore? That I’m nice to date but you need someone else? I can’t play that game, Randolf. It has to be me or someone else. I don’t share well, so you have to choose.”

“Lucy! It isn’t like that. There’s no one else.”

“Then who’s Claire? I think she qualifies as someone else.” I have a hint of anger in my voice, even though I’m deceiving him, because the whole situation ticks me off and I know damned well who Claire was, even though I hadn’t known her name until just now. I’d thought that he was over her. Silly me.

“Claire’s dead,” his face suddenly becomes rock hard. I’ve never seen him like this, and it’s a bit frightening. I think that he may be going into some sort of melt-down right now and here we are by the side of the road with a few cars whizzing by in the darkness and no people in sight. I put my hand on the door-handle ready to jump out and run for my life should he decide to drive off before we resolve this, or he does something crazy.

His face softens again, “Claire’s dead,” he says in a voice so quiet and hollow it’s like everything which made him Randolf in my eyes has somehow dissolved into nothingness leaving only a husk behind.

He turns to me just as I’m easing the door handle up so I can push the door open and be out in a split second. I don’t relish the thought of traipsing around in the snow dressed the way I am, but that’s better than remaining at the mercy of someone who might become violently insane at any moment.

“Lucy, I’m sorry. I just… We are having so much fun that I….” His eyes close for a few seconds, then just one sob escapes his lips. “Claire’s dead…. My wife is dead.”

He sits there for perhaps three or four minutes just staring into the distance. I now firmly believe he has gone catatonic. Suddenly he is moving again and looking at me as I edge the door very slightly open in preparation for flight. His voice has returned to near normal and his eyes, instead of that vacant stare into infinity, have returned to what seems to be a reasonable concern for our relationship and fear that his present actions may have jeopardized it.

“Lucy, I’m okay now. Let me get you home and then I’ll…. I’ll tell you all about her and what happened.”

I’m all in favor of going home. A light snow is beginning to fall again. It’s quite cold out for this late in the season, and I’m rethinking my chances outside the car. Maybe Randolf isn’t as crazy as he looked just now.

“All right. Take me home and you will then come inside and we’ll talk.” I put a little ‘I’m not convinced’ into my voice and finish opening, then shut the door once more to be sure it’s latched.

He nods his head and looks around as though uncertain of his location.

“My exit is about two miles behind us,” I tell him.

He looks back again as though disoriented, his gaze once again listless and unfocused. This isn't good.

“Randolf, Washington is that way,” indicating the road ahead of us, “The exit to take us toward Northwest Baltimore is back there.”

He seems to have found himself again. We’ll have to go further toward Washington in order to find an exit so we can turn around. Crossing the median is impossible, not to mention illegal, due to the snow piled there from a winter season which has been a little warmer this year, but not warm enough to melt the snow away completely, so what’s left of it has coalesced into dirty brown icebergs of ice, salt residue, and road dirt. We’re well into March with occasional snow storms still, and it shows no sign of letting us off the hook anytime in the near future.

We find another exit about three miles further and he gets us turned around aannd headed back to my turnoff without another word out of him. We finally come to my exit and make the transition winding up on the highway leading off away from downtown Baltimore and on toward home. Nothing further has been said as we drive. Another twenty minutes finds us approaching the gates of the property and I fish in my purse for the little control security gave to me. I push the button and in a few seconds the gate begins to open. Randolf drives us up to the house. I let myself out of the car as he is exiting his side. He halts and watches me as I close the passenger door.

“See you tomorrow, Lucy?”

“I don’t think so. If you won’t explain, then I don’t think we need to see each other any more, except as work requires it.”

“Fine, just fine,” he says coldly. He gets back into the car and drives toward the gate.

My shoulder’s slump and I turn and go to stand in the doorway as my eyes begin to fill with tears. I stand by the door for a minute or two willing him to return and talk with me. All I hear is the howl of the wind as the storm is growing and I am chilling. Finally I close the door and walk upstairs to my room where I prepare for bed. I place my fleece lined boots where they may dry, after wiping them off, and then hang my clothes. Claire. Well, now I know his wife’s name.

If only he had talked with me. He needs to let her go. We need our own lives. I guess that isn’t possible for him. She haunts him. No that’s not right. He forces the memory to haunt himself. I can’t compete with that. I am not nor do I want to be Claire. I finally fall into sleep, tired from the day and the sudden emotions encountered at the end of it.

I wake up in the morning with the sun pouring through my window shades. The clock says it’s eight fifteen. I’m late for… No, this is Sunday. I think I’ll put in for two weeks leave. Maybe go home and visit Mom and Sis. Maybe spend a little time alone. Give me time to think. Anything. I just can’t face spending time with Randol… Colonel Scott. I’d better become accustomed to that now that we are no longer an ‘item.’ Colonel Scott. He can go live with his memories, I can’t compete with them and I’m not going to do so. I’ll put in for a transfer. Daddy won’t like it but I need some distance. It was so nice,though, for a while. I really like him…. Correction, I really liked him.

“Lucy? Lucy, are you well?”

“Come in, Mom.”

“I had thought you and your Randolf were gone all night but security said you came in about midnight.”

“He isn’t ‘my’ Randolf, Mom. In fact he’s still Claire’s Randolf.”

“Claire?”

“His dead wife. He came apart on the way home last night. He can’t let her go.”

“Did he hurt you? Are you all right? I’ll tell Phillip,” she had come over to sit on the bed next to where I’m laying but begins to get up to go tell Father.

“No. No, nothing like that. He just forgot who I am. He thought he was driving home with Claire and it took about ten minutes to bring him around so he could bring me home again. I liked him, Mom. I really liked him.”

I break out into heavy tears and sobs and sit up to hang onto Mom as I cry out my sorrows.

Eventually I am able to talk again.

“I asked him to come in and explain but he just drove away. I’m not going to waste my time trying to pry him away from a memory. If he can’t handle flesh and blood when it’s right in front of him then that’s his tough luck. There’s someone out there for me and I need to find him. I’m just running out of time.”

I’m doing better now that I’ve had a good cry so Mom goes out again. All the other women at work will be overjoyed to find he is on the ‘market’ again. I suppose I didn’t mean that much to him after all, if he was dating me because he sees his dead wife in me. I was right about transference. I wonder if she looked like me.

I have a headache. Filling a glass with water I take two aspirin before soaking in the tub and getting dressed. By the time I finish it has clouded again. That’s fine with me, that’s about how I feel — clouded.

I have made my bed but need some more sleep so I lay back down on top of it and take a nap. My dreams are chaotic culminating in me being shot running across a bridge. I feel a hand on my arm and look up to see Randolf for the last time but it isn’t him….

“Mom? What?”

“You are a difficult one to awaken. Lucy, it’s nearly lunch. Are you going to come down or stay in your room moping all day?”

“Lunch?” I reach over and look at my clock. 11:50. Great, Colonel Scott has really gotten to me.

“I’ll be right down. I guess I’m just not much in the mood for company at the moment.”

Lunch was good, as usual. There’s been no word from Colonel Scott. Daddy comes out of his office to join us. As we’re nearly finished, I seize the opportunity to ask him about two weeks leave. Mom gives him a glance, ‘don’t ask.’

“I don’t think we have anything pressing at the moment. How’s your work backlog?”

“I’m current. I finished the last on Friday and turned it in. Unless something comes in tomorrow, my plate is clear.”

He thinks about what he has going on, “Nothing seems urgent. I suppose we could cut the orders and give you some time off. Going to spend it with Randolf?”

“Colonel Scott and I aren’t spending time together any more. I’d like to go home for a couple of weeks to visit my mother and sister. Time to think for a change. Maybe I’ll put in for a transfer.”

His eyebrows show confusion as one rises and one drops at my answer. He looks at Mom who simply shakes her head, ‘DON’t ask.’

“Okay, I’ll arrange for the orders to be cut today and faxed back here to me. We can copy them in my office and you could leave from Baltimore this afternoon. Why would you want to go visit in the winter? It will still be difficult to get around.”

“I just need to go, Daddy. I… I can’t talk about it.”

“Did he hurt you? He won’t get away with it.”

“NO. No he didn’t hurt me. At least not physically. I simply can’t compete with Claire.”

“Claire? He told you about Claire?”

That name seems to have come up an awful lot lately.

“Claire was his wife. His dead wife. He didn’t have to tell me. I knew who it was as soon as he called me by her name.”

“Oh. He finally told you?”

“No,” I say again, and have to tell the whole story again, which winds up ending with me running upstairs to my room in tears again.

Mom comes up and holds me as I’m wracked with grief and sobbing uncontrollably in her arms once more. Déjà vu. I really need that vacation. I need to erect some protection around those horrible memories, so I don’t fall apart every time I think of him. I am finally doing better and Mom goes out allowing me to cleanse my face yet again.

Sometime later there’s a knock at the door and Daddy comes in with twenty copies of orders allowing me two weeks to find myself.

“Lucy, where did you last see Colonel Scott?” he asks me.

“Here. He brought me home around midnight and then wouldn’t come in to talk. The last I saw him he drove out the gate. Why?”

“No one seems to be able to locate him. Was it snowing when he left?”

“Yes. Pretty hard. The steps had ice on them too. I nearly slipped coming in.”

“Okay. Thanks. We’ll try to follow his path starting here and assuming he was going home.”

“I don’t know if that will work. He seemed… distant… like he was in a fog and couldn’t find his way out. I’m going to come help find him.”

“No. You’re not. We’ll find him. You are going to Wyoming. You’re on leave, remember?”

“Daddy, leave or not, I can’t just let him be wandering around lost somewhere when he needs my help.”

“Yes, you can and you will. Despite the fact that you asked for them, these papers are orders, Lucy. They say that you’re going to Wyoming, and that’s exactly where you’ll go. I don’t want my daughter to wind up seeing someone she loves possibly going, or gone, completely off the deep end. You don’t need that. You need to remember the happy times you had with him and fully recover from your own problems before you’re strong enough to take on this burden, so you will let us handle this. Now pack. You’re scheduled to go to Wyoming on an airplane at 1950. That gives you about two hours to pack, an hour to get to the airport and thirty minutes to wait for the plane. Now move, Colonel, and travel in uniform.”

Daddy sounds mad, “Daddy don’t hurt him. Even if he has finally flipped, he was still protective of me.”

“We won’t, Lucy. We just want to find him and be certain he’s okay.”

As I pack, I worry. I finally finish and have three cases plus my cosmetics. I’m dressed in uniform and I’ll draw more money from my account if I need it after I get to Cheyenne. I can pay for my ticket with my Visa card. I feel like I’m deserting Rand… I mean, Colonel Scott, under fire.

The car taking me to the airport is right on time. My luggage goes into the trunk and I go into the back. We arrive just under an hour later, what would have been a thirty minute trip in the summer.

Check-in goes smoothly, and I’m waiting for the passengers to disembark so they can begin boarding call. My connecting flight to Cheyenne from Denver is at four thirty tomorrow morning, about ten hours from now. I’d better sleep on the plane as much as possible.

I feel the elevator sensation as we lift off the runway. I nap until I finally feel the bump of our arrival in Denver. I’m emotionally drained. At least this time there was no forced sex and I wasn’t beaten, not physically anyway.

I really had hopes for this relationship. After all our conversations we found that we both want children, I want children just as much as he does; we've both seen more than enough death. He wants a ‘touchy feely’ relationship, and so do I.

We’d both like to live in Maryland, somewhere between DC and Baltimore. We both like our work and are willing to allow the other to continue in their work, even if I become a Mom. We’ve gone so far as to pick four names for our children and to decide we want two girls and two boys. I even called Mom a few times to ask her about the eggs and about how I might increase the odds in favor of one gender or the other, among the other things a girl needs to know, and which I never had the time to learn.

All the generous and loving support he’s given me these past months has finally allowed me to come back out of my shell. But now he needs me, and what am I doing??? Running away. Coward.

In the airport, I eat another of those vending machine ‘somethings’ they misleadingly call ‘snacks’ as I wait. I’m seated near the boarding counter and my luggage is checked through. The room is nearly empty.

Again I nap, waking with a crick in my neck a little over six hours later to the increased sound level. It’s about thirty minutes to boarding so I find an open restroom and take care of things, then rinse my face and pat it dry with paper towels. Fresh makeup and I’m a new woman. I return to the lobby to check in for the short flight to Cheyenne.

It’s too dark to easily see my luggage but I think I recognize a case or two as it goes on board. From the luggage I’d say we have four or five flying. I guess Cheyenne isn’t all that big a tourist stop even though it’s the Capitol. Maybe I’ll lease a car and drive across the state to Yellowstone. That might be fun. Then I remember, the park is probably closed for the winter months. Guess I’ll just start doing things alone again and see if I have a chance to find myself.

The visit with Mom and Sis might help. I could always fly out after a week and go somewhere warm like California or Arizona or someplace for my second week.

We land and I’m pulling on the heavy uniform winter overcoat even as we exit the aircraft. It’s five thirty, still a bit early to call Mom. Sis might be up, Tony goes to work about six as I recall and Janet follows him in at about eight. Then again I could just lounge around here for an hour or so then call Mom and take a cab.

Good idea. I go to get a cup of coffee.

Huh? The price has gone up again, to thirty-five cents, for coffee that tastes like they use a whole tablespoonful of recycled coffee grounds per gallon. It’s highway robbery. Oh well, you can’t complain to a vending machine. Someday they need to put a small café, or maybe a coffee stand in here. Of course it would probably go bankrupt, as there isn’t enough traffic to support it. Time creeps along like the weather has frozen it to the consistency of salt-water taffy, but finally 6:30 comes along, looks around, and decides to go back to sleep.

I figure I’ll give Mom until seven, then call. I check to see that I have enough change and then go for another cup of vending machine coffee. It looks like instant and tastes like ditch water, but it’s better than nothing.

At 7:08, time speeds up a little and the sun is just making its appearance, throwing a dusky grey light through the cloud cover. A light snow is falling and people are moving around the terminal again. I opt for the phone call and a cab. As I walk out the door into the chill morning air, the sun is just beginning to brush aside the clouds, so it can warm the cold Earth beneath.

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To Be Continued….       © 2008, 2009 by T D Aldoennetti & Rénae Dúmas. This work may not be replicated or presented in whole or in part by any means electronic or otherwise without the express consent of the Author (copyright holder) or her assigned representative. ALL Rights Reserved, including but not limited to ownership of Characters, final content decision, and more. This is a work of Fiction. All the characters and events portrayed in this book are fictional and any resemblance to real people or incidents past, present or future is purely coincidental. An Aldoennetti Original.