Chapter 8 – Ramsey
“I feel so bad that that happened,” I tell Monica, as we cuddle in the darkness.
Cuddling is something I’m not used to, something I don’t usually do. But it feels right at this moment, with Monica. I want to tell myself it’s the least I can do after scaring her half to death. But if I’m being completely honest, it feels nice for my own sake. It feels safe. Secure.
“And I feel even worse that I didn’t tell you,” I continue. “It’s just, so embarrassing. And since I didn’t think it would happen, I didn’t want to look like an idiot telling you about this weird… thing… that happens to me.”
“So it doesn’t happen every night?”
Her tone is curious, not judgmental.
“No. It hasn’t happened in a while. It usually comes and goes in waves. I guess this is the beginning of a new phase. I had kind of thought… hoped… I’d gotten it under control.”
I don’t say anything further. I feel like an idiot.
“Is there anything in particular that triggers it?”
“Stress,” I say.
Memories, I want to add, but I don’t.
“It’s probably because of the training tomorrow,” I admit.
“Intense, war-like conditions,” she agrees. “I understand. It sounds like you might have…”
She trails off, not saying it.
“PTSD,” I finish for her.
“So, you’ve been diagnosed?”
“No. No. Definitely not.”
I don’t want her thinking that.
“Ramsey, there’s no shame in it.”
“I know. But, it’s the way they treat us. No one knows, and you can’t tell anyone. Ever.”
That was another, selfish, reason I hadn’t told her. I don’t want anyone in the military to know. Not even my brothers know the full extent of it. They know I’ve had some “issues” and I’ve seemed rather “down” or “brooding” but that’s it.
I think Jensen knows a bit about what I’ve been going through, because he himself went through a trial with a PTSD defense, with Riley as his attorney. But I never came out and said the words to anyone, except right now, to Monica.
“Okay,” she says, immediately, and somehow, I trust her.
After all, I reason, why would she tell anyone? And how could she explain how she even knows personal information about me without also revealing that we were involved in an intimate, illicit “relationship”— even for just one night— which would be as detrimental for her career as it would be for mine?
“My brother Jensen was pegged as having PTSD,” I tell her. “He didn’t even have it. He was just supposed to use it as his defense in a stupid criminal charge, for defending our mom against some loser who was beating on her. All he did was step in to prevent that from happening at the time, you know?”
“Yes,” she says. “Or at least, I can imagine.”
“Well, they wanted him to claim that he had PTSD but then he would be placed on disability and he’d never be able to re-join his unit. He would have been screwed if it weren’t for Riley.”
“His wife?”
“Yeah. But she was his lawyer first.”
“That’s pretty cool.” I can feel her smile, even though I can’t see it.
“Yeah, but by saying he had PTSD he would have screwed himself over. Can you believe it?”
“I’ve heard that military policies can be pretty unfavorable to service members with PTSD,” she says. “And it’s unfortunate. You should be able to get help without being penalized.”
“Exactly.” I nod, although I doubt she can see me in the dark. “I know other guys who’ve had it happen to them too. They exhibit some symptoms, so they’re sent to a shrink, who they think is assigned to help them, but instead the shrink reports everything to the military, since the military is who assigned the shrink, and the guy’s out of his job. His livelihood. Everything he knows. When the very reason he has PTSD is because of the military.”
I shake my head.
“Is that why you have it?” she asks.
“I guess. I mean, I have had quite a few traumatic experiences while serving as active duty. But haven’t we all?”
“Sure,” she says. “Once my plane was shot down. It was from low range and I was fine. It was kind of like a miracle. But it was definitely traumatic. My brother died the same way, a few years later, and it was like re-living my own scary experience all over again, while losing my brother at the same time.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that. But I can relate. Once I was stuck in a fucking cave. We were propelling off a mountain and some enemy fire hit us, and we had to go hide in a cavernous part of the mountain. The debris exploded, and the hole was closed up, and we couldn’t get out. It was two days before they found us and got us out of there.”
“Wow,” she says, sympathetic but impressed. “You’re a modern day Tom Sawyer.”
“Like the Rush song?” I ask her.
She laughs.
“No, like the Mark Twain novel that the Rush song is based on. But you know, it’s fitting. It could be your song.”
“You know that song too? Really?”
“Sure. And it’s you. Rugged, independent, a warrior. It could be called Ramsey Bradford.”
“Very funny.”
“I’m serious.” She puts her head on my chest, and I run my fingers through her hair.
“Coming off as arrogant, but really it’s just because you can’t be bought…” she paraphrases the song before laughing, and then I do too.
“Anyway,” I continue. “When my brother was trapped in the burning helicopter, I thought about when I was stuck in that cave, thinking for sure that I would die. I imagined what he was going through, and it was that much more traumatic. So that’s why I say I can relate. And I don’t know why I have PTSD and you and others who have experienced similar things don’t.”
“It just affects everyone differently,” she says. “But nobody is immune to feeling some effects from everything we’ve experienced.”
“That’s true,” I agree.
“So what will you do if the military finds out?” she asks. “About your PTSD, I mean?”
“I’m just trying to make sure that doesn’t happen,” I tell her. “I’ve been kind of… self-medicating. Doing my own therapy. That kind of thing.”
“Oh really. Like what?”
“My music, for one thing. I was in what you could loosely call a ‘band’ in high school. But I hadn’t touched my guitar since then. I picked it back up, after I realized that maybe it could help. And it does, I think. I’ve also gotten into MMA.”
“Martial arts?”
“Yeah, I go to Jackson Gym here in Albuquerque. It’s where a lot of world-class MMA fighters have trained. I’m nothing near that level, but it just helps me blow off some steam.”
“Nice. And you like to pick up random girls and bring them home.”
“That’s definitely another stress relief,” I agree, and we both laugh again.
She snuggles up against my chest, and that does it. I’m hard again, just feeling her naked body against mine.
“Speaking of stress relief…” I say.
I kiss her, and she kisses me back, willingly, eagerly.
We’re close enough that I can see her body in the moonlight that’s peeking in through my curtains. I peer at the curves and valleys, the softness and the strength of it. I’ve never seen such a perfect body: voluptuous, fit, fine.
I love that I can have it, tonight, all night, that it’s all mine. I’m on top of her and grabbing her supple ass before another minute passes. She spreads her legs and winds them around me, arches her back, puts her entire body on display for me, gives it entirely to me.
I take it, ravenously, wholly, but holding back just a bit so that she can’t tell how deeply I’ve fallen for her body. A man’s got to keep some self-respect. And we both know this is just for one night.
I ease myself into the opening of her pussy, which is still quite wet, and quivering, from earlier. I can slide in without lubrication, although it’s still tight, and it feels so good inside.
I kiss her, and she moves beneath me, already squirming.
I love that I’m fucking her naked pussy with my raw cock. I’m so glad she told me she can’t get pregnant. Being in the military and subject to routine STD testing as part of our physicals, I know we’re both clean.
So there’s nothing I love better than being inside her without any barrier between us. Just my cock moving in and out of her, in rhythm with her grinding hips.
“Ramsey, I still feel so good,” she says, catching her breath.
I love to feel her curvy ass, her soft skin. I push myself deeper inside her, in and out, out and in, nibbling her nipples and then squeezing her breasts, as she comes again and again. I love how easily she comes for me, how effortlessly her body opens up and lets go for me.
I can feel my cock stiffening even more, pulsing, and throbbing.
“I’m going to come in you,” I tell her.
“Good,” she says, still moaning a bit as another orgasm ripples through her, causing her pussy to shake and my cock to throb even more.
“I’m not wearing a condom. I’m going to come in your naked pussy.”
It’s been a long time since I’ve had unprotected sex. There’s a thrill to it, a secret aura of desire and possession mixed together. The knowledge that I could get her pregnant.
Sure, she indicated she’s on the Pill, but that doesn’t always work. What if my sperm has the power to transform this one night into many more…
Shut up, Ramsey, I chide myself. Stop being ridiculous and just enjoy this moment. Don’t let yourself get crazy.
I know it’s just a primal urge to impregnate, to conquer. But it still feels good on a physical and emotional level. To empty myself into her, and to know that my seed is spilling inside her.
I pump my cock deep within her while shooting my cum into her warm and welcoming pussy. She moans into the pillow while I grunt, doing my best to keep quiet.
That’s it, Ramsey. Just fuck the girl. Get the job done. That’s what you’re good at.
I’m proud of myself for holding back my twisted fantasies while letting go of my load. I feel it throughout my entire body: a release I needed so desperately I didn’t even know it. I feel lighter, yet fuller at the same time.
I sink into the pillow, caressing her head with one hand, my other hand wrapped possessively around her waist, as if someone might try to climb into my window and steal her while I’m sleeping.
She’s still mine, for the rest of the night.
“Good night, Ramsey,” she says, in a barely audible, calming whisper.
“Good night, again, Monica.”
And what a good night it is.
I just made love to a beautiful, mysterious woman. I claimed her, and she let me take her. I know I’m about to sink into a peaceful sleep. And I have a feeling I won’t be having any more night terrors tonight.