“SO, A REAL OFFICIAL DATE, huh?” Ember asks, leaning against the Kappa Phi mailbox, the sorority letters lit behind her. She’s wearing a puffy North Face jacket, faux fur lining the hood that’s pulled over her head. She flashes a brilliant smile.
“Yes ma’am. If you ever get in the damn Jeep.”
She arches an eyebrow. “And here I thought an Army gentleman was taking me out.”
I chuckle. “If you only knew how ungentlemanly the Army Infantry really is, my dear,” I respond, hopping out and hoofing it to her side but careful to look for any ice patches. I open the door for her and present a hand.
She gives a little curtsy and hops in, a smirk on her lips. It’s quite endearing how she has to hike herself up into the lifted Jeep, like she’s doing a fucking pull-up.
Closing the door behind her, I make my way back to the driver side and hop back in.
“You comfortable, Madam?” I ask, smirking.
She looks around, seemingly taking in the interior of the vehicle as I pull away from the DG house. She gives an approving nod. “This is a sweet ass car! A lot better than mine.”
“It’s not a car. It’s a Jeep,” I correct her, and she rolls her eyes. I continue, “What do you drive?”
“A black El Camino.”
I shoot my eyes over to her. “The souped up El Camino that’s always parked in the lot across from the quad?”
“That’s her! Elvira. She’s my bitch.”
“Well, fuck, I wouldn’t call my Jeep better than that beauty. I’d take that ride any day. I love El Caminos. They’re classics.”
“I’ve always loved them too, but then again, around my house you didn’t have an option. My dad was always a huge fan, he had one when he was younger, and he bought Elvira when she looked like completes shit. Interior faded and worn through. The engine was a complete mess. The summer between my freshman and sophomore year of high school, while all my friends were poolside or going to the mall, I helped my dad fix her up. Isn’t wasn’t done with any understanding or agreement beforehand that I’d get her when we were through, or anything like that. I just wanted to spend some quality time with my dad. He surprised me on the last day of summer with the keys. He put a big red bow on it and everything. It was adorable. And so I got to drive her every day from my sophomore year on. My first year here he wouldn’t let me take her with me, and now, this year, I guess he’s lightened up a little because he finally let me bring her with me this year.” She hesitates for a moment and then adds, “Where are we going, by the way?”
As I take the highway on-ramp, I reply, “I wanted to get away from the college town vibe, so I booked us a table at this spot out in Slippery Rock. It’s called—”
“Gallagher’s?!” she cuts me off, waving her hands excitedly.
“Yeah, have you been there?”
“Not yet, but I’ve been wanting to sooooo bad! I saw it on one of my favorite shows a few months ago.”
“Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives?!” I’m shocked to learn someone other than me watches one of my favorite shows. “I’m seriously in love with that show, and I saw that episode the other night. It’s why I booked us there. Felt like kismet.” I smile as she buzzes with excitement, adorably so. “You are too fuckin’ cute.”
“And you’re too fucking sweet. Mr. Romantic over here. I’m sorry for talking shit earlier. I really was just messing with you, you know. I don’t do the whole car door opening thing. I just wanted to see if you would.” She grins.
“Good, because I was about to tell you there’s no way I’m hoppin’ my happy ass out when we get there and racin’ to your side to get the door for you. I hate those guys.” I laugh. “I consider myself a gentleman through and through. I’m a country boy with country values after all, but I put that shit up there with holdin’ a lady’s purse. It just ain’t right to do to a man.”
She laughs, patting her metal studded clutch. “I guess you won’t be carrying the ‘Bad Bitch’ for me anytime soon, then?”
I shake my head firmly. “No ma’am. You got two perfectly healthy arms more than capable of totin’ that thing around. You get in some freak accident and break both your arms, or get bacterial meningitis and lose ’em, well, then you hand that thing right over.”
She grins. “You are so fucked up.”
“Wait. Ms. Badass herself is callin’ me fucked up?”
“You are, talking about missing arms and shit.”
“I’m just bein’ informative. And you missed the moral to the story.”
“I must’ve.” She smirks.
“I’m just lettin’ you know there are circumstances where I’ll hold your purse for you. That should be a good thing.”
She shakes her head. “Glad to know if I ever lose my arms, I have you to carry my purse for me.” She hesitates, looking as if she’s stifling a laugh. “Will you pull the trigger too? Seeing as I wouldn’t be able to blow my own brains out.” She bursts out in laughter.
“Damn, woman. Who’s fucked up now? Talkin’ about shootin’ yourself if you had no arms. I know a few guys with no arms, you know.”
She shrugs. “And they’re probably the bravest motherfuckers in the world. I’m not so sure I’m in that category. I’m not sure what I’d do if I couldn’t finger myself.”
A laugh bursts from my lips and my eyes go wide. I look over at her with a grin. “Did you really just fuckin’ say that? Only you could turn a conversation about double arm amputees sexual.”
She shrugs, a smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “We all have our own weird kinks. Mine is leather bondage and amputee porn.”
I just shake my head.
She continues, “Besides, I don’t want you carrying my purse. The whole reason we pay so much for purses is so that we can show them off.” She cradles her purse tighter to her side as if she’s hugging it.
“Where do you get the money for all this nice shit anyhow? I’m not quite in the fashion world, but I know enough to know you’ve got some high-end items.”
“You being judgmental, punk?” She points a finger at me.
I put a hand up, smiling. “No. Not at all. I’m just curious.”
“Well, it’s not Daddy’s money, if that’s what you’re thinking. Which is absolutely what you’re thinking.” She scrutinizes me with her eyes as she puts a finger near my cheek. I try to focus on the road, but it’s so close to my face, it’s hard to ignore. “I can see it in your face,” she adds.
“Not at all. I wouldn’t judge you if that was how you got such nice things. I call that a good family. Wish I had that shit growin’ up.”
“Well, this is one-hundred percent me. Except the car, I guess, but I put as much blood, sweat, and tears into her as Dad did. It was our project. Anyway, I actually do these YouTube videos—makeup tutorials, product testing, shit like that—and they’ve kind of blown up over the past year.”
“You make money off those things?”
“If you have enough viewers, yeah. Ad dollars.”
“That’s fuckin’ awesome. Go you!”
“Yeah, I had no idea when I started, but it’s been nice having that extra cash flow the past few months. Not having to rely on my parents and all. Obviously, I’ve been spoiling myself a little.” She pats her bag.
“As we all should sometimes. I’ve done the same. I did with this Jeep. Sometimes you gotta just go out and drop a couple Gs on somethin’ you don’t really need.”
“Or oftentimes,” she adds.
I navigate the Jeep onto an off-ramp and take a right toward downtown Slippery Rock.
“Again, no judgment. I treat myself all the time,” I assure her.
Hitting the dim lights of the scarcely occupied town square, I pull into a parking spot off the road as a wave of energy builds in my chest. Not a nervousness, but an excitement. A connection between two people hardly found in this life. A buzz of anticipation for the possibility of so much more.
“Are you excited?” I ask as I meet her on the sidewalk, locking my Jeep, and blowing hot breath into my cold hand.
“You bet your ass I am,” she says, winking. “Did you see the lamb shank on that Triple D episode?” She rolls her eyes in orgasmic fashion. “Get in my fucking belly,” she adds in a horrible Fat Bastard impersonation, and then she laughs.
“Hell yeah, I remember that. You better plan on sharin’,” I say, giving her a little hip bump.
“I’m only sharing mine if you share yours.” She pokes her tongue out as I open the front door for her.
“Thank you, sir,” she says as she passes through.
“No, thank you.” I smile, following in after her.
As we’re led to a table, I pull her chair out for her and wait for her to sit, and then I grab a seat in the one across from her.
“So, we’ve seen each other three times now. Spent the night together twice. And …” My voice trails as a mischievous smile spreads across my face.
“And?” she asks sharply, narrowing her eyes at me.
“And I feel like I know nothin’ about you.”
“Well, why haven’t you asked?”
I laugh. “Night one, you were wasted. Night two, I was wasted. Night three, we were, um, preoccupied.” I grin and she swats me across the arm with the back of her hand.
“Why don’t you ask away then, Geraldo?”
“Were you even alive when Geraldo was on the air?”
“I didn’t have to be to know who he is,” she retorts, a smirk fighting to break free. “Were you alive when J. Edgar Hoover was cross-dressing?”
“No, but—”
“No, but you know that he did s…”
“I mean, no one really has proof of that.”
She scoffs, still fighting the smile. “For Chrissakes, Bishop. Lincoln delivering the Emancipation Proclamation then. Or MLK’s ‘I Have a Dream’ speech. Were you alive for those?”
I shake my head, playing along.
“But you know about them, don’t you?”
I nod.
She shrugs. “So …”
“This conversation really got away from us.” I smile as the waitress approaches.
Em mouths, “I’m gonna get you,” as the waitress asks if we’d like anything to drink. I order my usual double Jameson on the rocks and she orders a straight Coke, I’m assuming because she doesn’t want to test her fake ID outside of Crescent Falls, where standards more lax. It reminds me of how much older I am than her and just about everyone else in this town.
After we order some crab cakes to start, the waitress departs, and Ember’s brows draw together.
“What?” I tilt my head.
“You’re quickly getting on my bad side,” she says matter-of-factly.
“Why do I get the feelin’ that ain’t a hard thing to accomplish?”
She swats at me again but misses this time, and I cheer victoriously.
“Not so fast, Grasshopper. For the student shall never overtake the master.” My eyelids close to slits and I throw a few karate chops through the air.
She laughs, shaking her head. “You are such a nerd.”
“And you’re out on a date with a nerd. What’s that make you?”
She snort-laughs, covering her face with both hands. “Either really generous, or goddamn stupid.”
I shake my head. “Rude fucker!”
“Hey, you started it,” she argues, poking her tongue out at me.
“When did I start it?”
“When you took me out on a date and expected me to behave myself.”
“Hey!” I point a finger at her, holding it there as I tilt my head and arch an eyebrow. “I never asked you to behave yourself. I just expected you to reserve the aggression for unsuspectin’ bystanders.”
“Oh, we could totally do that.”
“You have specific plans?” I ask, wrapping my fingers around the whiskey glass and jostling the ice as she sips on her Coke.
“Well, there’s a shit ton of suburbia shithole houses here with unsuspecting kids snuggled comfortably in bed,” she says.
I rear my head back, my forehead wrinkling in confusion. “And you’re wantin’ to kidnap these kids or…?” I arch an eyebrow and she bursts out laughing. Some of our fellow patrons glance over at us.
“No, you idiot. But we could always scratch a stick against their windows, wake them up, and then maybe, like, pretend to be zombies or something.”
“I was thinkin’ kill a few beers at Lookout Point and hit some golf balls. Or, like, maybe bust up a few mailboxes. I ain’t tryin’ to get on some sex predator list.”
“Pussy,” she mutters, taking a sip of her drink, but smiling wide against the rim.
I shake my head slowly, handling my own glass. “You’re pushin’ it tonight, woman. I’m not afraid to bend you over my knee in front of everybody.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “Shoot, I thought you’d never ask.”
I chuckle, nodding my head in approval. “Now that sounds like a better plan than creeping around some kid’s bedroom window.”
Shrugging, she says, “It’s not that bad of an idea. I mean, mentally scarring some kids for life, that shit would be funny.” Her lips turn up in a wicked grin.
“Jesus, woman. Why do I get the feelin’ you lit your Barbie’s heads on fire?”
She scoffs. “Barbies? I had action figures growing up, mister. And yes, I would make them slaughter each other, and some, occasionally, at some point or another may have faced the wrath of a flamethrower aka my Bic and a can of kerosene.”
A laugh escapes my lips. “We would’ve been real good friends back in the day. I was a little fuckin’ pyro too.”
“Well, yeah, that would’ve been nice had you not grown up in the roaring twenties.” She pokes her tongue out at me.
“I have a toothbrush older than you,” I quip.
“And you’re on a date with me, you little perv.”
“Hey, I’m the older man with the younger woman. I think that makes me smart in society’s book. You’re the younger woman with the older man. That makes you kind of gross. I’m a senior citizen, for Chrissakes.”
Her hands meet her mouth to catch her laughter as the waitress approaches with her pad and pen. Ember spots this and does a little happy dance.
After the waitress takes our food order and departs to grab us a fresh round, Ember leans her elbows on the table and sets her chin against her palms. She looks so cute this way, adorable even, and I find it impressive that this woman can be so many things all rolled into one—girl next door adorable, hotter than the Texas sun, and sexy as all fuck.
“You’re staring, old man.”
I grin. “You’re gorgeous, young lady.”
She drops her hands to her sides and smiles. “Why thank you.
“So now that I get some alone time with you, tell me about what makes you you. I wanna know it all.”
“That’s such a broad topic,” she responds, chuckling.
“How about this… What was growin’ up like?”
“Well, my mom is my best friend in the world. I learned everything I know from her. She took care of me and my brother when my dad died, and never, not once, did she ever feel sorry for herself. She pushed on for us. To give us the life Dad would’ve wanted for us.”
“God, I’m so sorry. When did that happen?”
“When I was twelve. Car wreck. He was coming down a road where he had the right of way and a drunk driver ran a stop sign on a cross street going sixty and hit him. Killed him instantly, or so the EMT says. Mom never did let me see him. She wanted my memories of him to stay untarnished.”
I think back to my first deployment, three months in. I had only been in the Army a little over a year at that point. I was scared shitless. We were coming in from a mission one day, hot, tired, disorientated, and right when we turned onto the road leading to the base, an improvised explosive device detonated underneath the Humvee in front of mine. Up until then, I didn’t know what complete destruction was.
I think about dismounting my own Humvee to check on them and walking up on my squad buddies Specialist Adam Landon, Private First Class Greyson Matthews, and Sergeant Tony Morrison, left in pieces inside the tattered Humvee. Blood and flesh coated the interior, along with torn bits of uniform and the most awful smell I’d ever experienced. There was also the screaming. I’ll never forget the screaming. Private Jackson Perez lay in the backseat, alive, but his life was fleeting. Both legs were severed at the hip. There was too much blood and flesh to see whether he’d lost more than that. He didn’t have to. The color in his face drained quickly as his eyes rolled around in his skull.
And, eventually, the screaming stopped.
I wonder if I’d rather not have those memories; if I could remember Landon, Matthews, Morrison, and Perez as I knew them around the smoke pit, bullshitting about women, and home, and freedom.
“Do you wish you had seen him?” I ask, trying to busy my mind, but regretting the question immediately.
She takes a moment to think before she shrugs. “I don’t know. I was livid with my mom at the time. Absolutely fucking livid. But as I got older, I started to understand. When I read the autopsy report in high school, it made all the sense in the world.”
“Fuck, that’s terrible.”
“But like I said, my mom stepped up. She took on the role of mother and father for my sister and me, and she kicked fucking ass. She’s my hero.”
“What’s her name?” I ask.
“Leaona.”
“And what does she do?”
She narrows her eyes at me. “You wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”
“Try me out.”
“She writes romance and erotica books.”
“You’re shittin’ me,” I say, a bit of disbelief in my tone.
“I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”
“For real, she writes, like, Fabio books?”
She laughs out loud, shaking her head. “Well, it’s come a long way since those days, but yeah.”
“And your sister? What about her?”
“Cassia…” She hesitates, her eyes meeting the ceiling as she thinks it over. “I love that girl, but she’s a spoiled little shit. She’s the youngest at eighteen, so she got everything her little heart desired. She’s awesome, just a bit of a wild child right now. I worry about her graduating and starting college. She may finish needing a new liver.” She laughs.
“I surely can’t judge. I’ve been known as a bit of a wild child myself.”
“Why am I not surprised?”
I nod, smirking. “I like to meet expectations.”
“So, what about you? Any siblings?” she asks.
The waitress brings our new drinks, temporarily interrupting our conversation. I thank her, turning my attention back toward Ember as the waitress turns and walks away.
Taking a sip first, I lick the stray whiskey from my lips and say, “Only child here. Always wished I had a big brother though. But I’ve managed to make some really great friends over the years. It’s just a shame because they’re all over the place these days.”
“Yeah, I can relate. Everybody from New York ends up going somewhere else for college. It’s just too damn expensive staying in state. So, people end up all over the northeast. I also don’t really get along with most girls. I think they find me intimidating.”
“I can see why.”
“Hey, I’m a sweet girl when people aren’t fucking idiots.”
“I can see that too, and I’m sure your friends can as well, but you do carry that bad bitch vibe. I think a lot of other women are intimidated by project unabashed confidence. I can relate. Most people assume I’m an asshole because I speak my mind.”
Nodding, she says, “That’s why the majority of my friends are guys; they’re easier. And that’s why Zane and Brady are the only ones I really know around Crescent Falls from back home. Well, them and my best friend, Holly.”
“Is she a Kappa too?”
She nods. “We came here together. She’s my lobster, and pretty much my guardian. If it wasn’t for her, I may not have made it out of our freshman year alive. I stress quite a bit. She’s always been the motherly, nurturing type. Even when we were kids. Really good at calming me down if I get overwhelmed.”
“It’s good to have friends like that. I’ve always found myself in that role with my past friendships. In high school, I befriended all the kids who got picked on. It hurt me so much to see them treated like shit without the ability, desire, or, I guess, fortitude to fight back. A few of them I tried to give fighting tips to. I told them the truest words that I’ve ever learned, which are, when you stand up to a bully, that motherfucker will back down. They pick on the weaker ones cause they know they won’t fight back.”
“So you’re a fighter, huh?”
“Eh, I wouldn’t say that.” I work to keep the grin off my face as the blatant lie slips through my teeth. “But I’ve been in my fair share. I think every man needs to be in at least one fight. And he certainly needs to take a punch, so he knows his chin ain’t made of glass.”
“I’ve been in a fight before. Once.”
“I don’t doubt that one fuckin’ bit. Tell me the story.”
“It was my senior year. I was with the same guy all throughout high school until he cheated on me that first semester. I dumped him, and he moved on to that bitch. So anyway, fast forward to the second semester and he’s still dating her but hitting me up again. So, what do I do?”
“Revenge fuck?”
She shrugs. “I mean, she knew he was mine when she decided to open her legs for him.”
“So, that’s what you fought over?”
“Kind of. I sent her a picture of him sleeping naked in my bed with the words ‘got ya, bitch’ written on it. She lost her shit. Started spreading rumors around the school about me—prostitute, diseased, stinky pussy—whatever, that shit doesn’t bother me. Never has. But then she started talking shit about my dad. Everyone from where I grew up knew my dad. He was the mayor for a long time before he got sick of dealing with the bureaucracy of it all, but they always wanted him back and they all still loved him. So shit spread around quick. She told people my dad had cheated on my mom and molested me. When it got around to me… I lost my shit. The minute Holly told me at lunch, I marched over to where she was sitting, snatch her tray, her food spilling all over her, and I smacked the sneer off her face with it.”
“With the tray?!”
“Yup. And then I threw the thing and just went crazy on her. Started throwing wild fists. I probably landed a quarter of them, but it was worth it.” She laughs. “The vice principal had to pull me off her.”
“Damn!” My eyes go wide. “You are a bad bitch.”
She shrugs, a playful cockiness in her mannerisms. “You don’t talk about my family and get away with it. Especially not my dad.”
“Nothin’ but respect for that. And I wholeheartedly agree. Some fights are worth fightin’. So, did you get suspended for it?”
“Expelled, actually. They wanted to charge me, but my mom spoke with her mom, talked to her about the issues I was having after my dad’s death, and luckily, her mom agreed not to press charges if I went through this anger management bullshit. I had to finish out my degree in this summer school program and earned a boxing fracture on both hands. That was fun!” She lets out a laugh. “You should’ve seen me trying to tie my shoes with casts on both hands.”
“Not to mention other things.” I laugh.
“Lots of things.” She rolls her eyes.
“No lie, I had this buddy at Walter Reed—that’s the hospital in D.C. soldiers get sent to after gettin’ injured. So this guy was on foot patrol and got hit by a buried improvised explosive device. It took off one of his arms clean, and the other was left danglin’. It ended up gettin’ cut off too by the time he made it to D.C. So, this guy, awesome fuckin’ dude, he would get piss drunk with me and just talk endlessly, about everything. I loved it because it required little of me. The days I was feelin’ like a pile of shit, we’d go out, grab some beers at the bar, and he’d just tell stories.”
“Wait, I hate to interrupt, and I hope this doesn’t come off as inappropriate, but how did he drink the beer with no arms?”
“A straw.” I chuckle, eyeing her with a ‘duh’ look on my face. “He always had to use a straw.”
She hits her forehead with her palm. “Holy shit, I’m an idiot. Sorry, please, continue.”
“Well, after a few months of this, I got comfortable enough to start askin’ questions. Of course, you don’t wanna be disrespectful. The man lost both his arms at twenty-three, for Chrissakes, but obviously, curiosity is a motherfucker.” I pause as the waitress brings over our plates.
She sets them down and asks, “Can I get y’all anything else?”
“Just another round, please. Thank you.” The waitress nods before departing, and I turn my attention back to Ember. “So, anyways, I had two questions that had been naggin’ at me from the moment I met him, and I finally felt comfortable enough to ask him.” She takes a bite of her food, her eyes on me, when I ask, “You don’t have a weak stomach, do you? This might not be the best thing to share while we’re eatin’.”
She waves me off, chewing her food, before she says, “No way. Iron gut. Continue.”
“Well, I always wanted to ask him how he jerked off and how he wiped his ass.”
She nods, a slight look of shame on her face. “I was wondering that too.”
“Well, first off, he laughed in my fuckin’ face about the jerk off question. He goes, ‘Bro, I got no fuckin’ hands, what the shit am I supposed to jerk it with.’ He was awesome about it though. Told me our occupational therapist, Harvey, got him a pocket pussy. It’s really the only way. He puts it on the bed and then goes to town.”
“When you say puts it on the bed …”
“He uses his feet.”
“That’s amazing.”
“Yeah, the dude could do just about anything with his feet by the time he left Walter Reed. Harvey, he’s still a great friend of mine, spends his life makin’ sure these men and women comin’ back real fucked up learn to adapt to their new normal. He helped me a shit ton.”
“Sounds like an incredible guy.”
“He’s the best. Biggest heart out of anybody I know. And his love and dedication toward the people he serves … it’s incredible.”
“It’s good to know people like that are taking care of you guys.”
I nod, taking a bite and washing it down with some whiskey.
“So, what about wiping his ass?” she asks, and then takes a bite.
Swallowing first, I reply, “This is the craziest fuckin’ part. So, this poor guy had to learn to wad up the toilet paper with his foot, sit back on top of his foot like he’s stretchin’ his quad, and he’d have to kind of grind against the paper. Can you imagine?”
Her face answers for her. She shakes her head slowly with wide eyes, a hand meeting her mouth. “Oh my, that poor man.”
“Yeah, I felt terrible for askin’ honestly, but then I remembered all the times people asked me about my eye. People are curious by nature, some more than others. I guess, at the end of the day, it’s better to ask and learn, than to not and just assume. He took it in stride like everything else in his life. Even with all the difficulties, all the rehab—I mean, he was there for four years before I got there—he still kept a level head and cool demeanor. He spent the majority of his damn twenties at Walter Reed, re-learnin’ how to do everything. And even with all that, he was still one of the happiest and kindest people I’ve ever met.”
“You guys are all so freaking brave.”
“It’s guys like that I look up to. He never stopped fightin’. Always kept a smile on his face. Never complained. If I had lost my arms, or been burned all over, or lost my dick … fuckin’ hell, some guys gotta shit in a bag for the rest of their life.” I shake my head. “I don’t know, those people inspire the fuck outta me. They’re the brave ones. They’re the ones keepin’ the rest of us lucky ones in line.”
“You’re pretty inspirational yourself, you know?”
Smiling, but feeling awkward, that tight uneasy grip beneath my sternum, I say, “I appreciate that.”
“I appreciate you! I appreciate you telling me about yourself and your life. You’ve lived so much already. It’s crazy to even think about. It makes me want to spread my wings a little bit.”
I grin. “You gonna join the Army?”
She shakes her head firmly. “Not a fucking chance. I don’t like being told what to do.”
“Yeah, I didn’t much either comin’ into it. Fuckin’ hated it actually. Luckily, I was young, and the drill sergeants were just scary enough that I kept my fuckin’ mouth shut.”
I chuckle, Staff Sergeant Giles immediately coming into mind’s view.
His hulking body stood just behind me as I held a tray in the chow line. It was the smell of Brut that let me know it was him, and it scared the daylights out of me. I spent the first two months of basic managing to stay invisible through the drill sergeant’s eyes, and then, there he was, the biggest, baddest fucker of them all, standing right behind me.
All I could wonder was what the hell I had done to piss him off.
“Private,’ he said, in a half whisper, half growl, grabbing the rifle slung to my back. ‘Why in the fuck is your safety not on?”
My heart sank, breathing halted; my mouth immediately went dry.
‘I … I don’t know, drill sergeant,’ I whimpered, scurrying to put my rifle on safe.
I spent two hours low crawling back and forth across a football-field length patch of mud after that, as he held onto my rifle, being forced to shout, “I miss my rifle. I miss my gun. I’ll get her back. When I stop being dumb,” the entire time
I didn’t make any more mistakes.
“Was basic training hard? I’ve asked Zane, but he doesn’t really say much.”
I laugh, giving my head a quick shake. “Zane’s basic training and my basic training were vastly different. I’m pretty sure the Air Force’s is even shorter than ours, but yeah, way less privileges, way more bullshit, plenty more sleepless nights and smoke sessions.”
“Smoke sessions? You could smoke cigarettes in basic?”
I chuckle, shaking my head. “Fuck, do I wish that’s what smoke sessions entailed. No, it means when they punish you for whatever transgression may have happened through exercise. Whether you played a part or not, most often, everyone would feel the pain. They make you do all kinds of labor-intensive exercises over an extended period of time. It’s fuckin’ miserable. I swear to Christ, when I first got there and went through those first few smoke sessions, I thought my body was gonna collapse in on itself like a dyin’ fuckin’ star.”
We both laugh.
“So you hated it then?” she asks.
I shake my head immediately. “Not one bit. Were there times I hated? Absolutely. Plenty of ’em. But it made me the man I am today. I was a degenerate punk. I hated authority—teachers, cops, my parents. Hated school. Hated feelin’ so goddamn trapped in that little town. It was suffocating. I’ve always considered myself a bit of a free spirit. I’ve always had that desire to travel and explore, to be adventurous. It’s one of the reasons I joined the Army. And it gave me what I yearned for.”
She shakes her head, a look of understanding in her features. “I so feel you there. I had the choice of staying in New York for school. I got accepted to SUNY Oneonta, and my mom wanted me to stay really bad, but I just felt so trapped there. Claustrophobic. I knew everybody. I always felt like there was more out there. One day, I want to go backpacking across Europe for like a month or two. Just get away and video blog every step of the way. I think I could really find peace that way.” She pushes her nearly clean plate away from her, her eyes distant as she looks to be lost in thought.
“I think you should. Sooner the better. I don’t know if you want a family or not down the road, but from what I’ve seen with friends, that always snuffs globetrottin’ out pretty quickly. And then you get to the point where you say, ‘Okay, we’ll travel once the kids leave the house,’ but by the time the last kid’s out, you’re both so broke from puttin’ ’em all through college that you don’t have the money to do the travelin’ you intended. So, then you say, ‘Well, we’re only fifty. Still young. Still plenty of time. We’ll save up money and travel when we retire.’ Well, by the time sixty-five rolls around, you’re up to your neck in hospital bills for your diabetes and gout, and generally don’t enjoy leavin’ your couch, let alone the fuckin’ country.”
She chuckles. “Jesus, you’ve thought this through.”
“My mind’s always goin’.” I shrug. “There’s a gerbil just runnin’ his ass off in that wheel between my ears.”
“Same here. As for the ‘having a family’ thing, while I do want to one day, it’s about the last thing on my mind right now. I’m in no hurry to start a family, and unless it’s absolutely right, I’m in no hurry to meet anyone either. I believe when the time is right, the universe will put everything into motion.”
“So, what would I be considered?” I grin. “A placeholder?”
“You? You caught me by surprise to be honest. Completely.”
“How so?”
“You’ve seen the idiots here. They aren’t much better back home. My experiences with men have not been good. To put it as bluntly as possible, my relationship lineup is a collection of assholes, liars, and douchebags with one thing in common.”
“What’s that?”
“They were excellent actors. They portrayed themselves to be the ultimate catch. They did everything right—held the doors, paid for dates, bought nice gifts—but it was all for show. Once they wooed me and won me, the façade started to fade. Before long, you’re waking up to a complete stranger with a penchant for verbal thrashings and violence.”
“I’m happy to say I don’t fall into that category. Actually, violence against women of any kind is on my list of ‘Things That Get You Fuckin’ Hit.’ Right up there with animal abuse.”
She nods. “Yeah, that shit makes me sick.” She abruptly snaps her fingers. “Oh, I completely forgot, I wanted to ask this earlier, but we got sidetracked. Where is your friend now? The one who lost his arms?”
“Oh, Jude? He’s livin’ back home now, just outside of LA. He left Walter Reed about a year before I did and started school out there. We still catch up on the phone from time to time. I’m actually really fuckin’ proud of him. Last time we talked, he told me he had taken a semester off and pursued stand-up comedy and was actually startin’ to get some notoriety around the scene. Got himself an agent and everything.”
“No fucking way. That’s so awesome!”
“Yeah, so obviously I’m tryin’ to get out there at some point and catch his act. Pretty fuckin’ sweet he has the balls to do that. I’ve acted plenty in my life, but to stand up there and try to make people laugh …” I hook a finger in my shirt collar and pretend to let in air. “No fuckin’ way. That’s gotta be the hardest thing ever.”
She shakes her head. “Nope. I couldn’t either. But I definitely have mad respect for those that have the balls to do it. So, acting, huh? Is that what your major is?” She smirks, leaning in, adding, “It’s kind of hilarious you’ve already been inside of me and I still don’t know your major.”
“Yeah, isn’t that supposed to be, like, the first thing a person asks when they meet another in a college town?” I chuckle. “No, I’m undecided right now. I’ve thought about actin’. I’ve thought about it a lot. But I also know the likelihood of makin’ it is slim to none. I’d be better off usin’ my retirement pension to buy lotto tickets.”
“Wait, so you get a monthly pension?”
“Yeah.”
“A good one?”
I nod.
“You dumb fucker!” she shouts, eliciting annoyed looks from the surrounding tables, but a smile stretches across her face. “If you make a good pension, why don’t you chase your dreams?”
“I could ask you the same question.” I finish off my whiskey, grinning at her against the rim of my glass. “I assume if you’re makin’ money on YouTube, you probably have a lot of followers.”
“Quite a few, yeah.”
“Wait, how many?”
Her eyes fall to the tabletop and her face goes a little red as if she’s gone bashful. “It’s so lame.”
“What is?”
“Talking about this stuff. It’s boasting.”
“I asked the question, so it doesn’t count as boasting,” I argue, and she rolls her eyes, letting out a heavy sigh.
“A little over a million and a half. I’m one of only a small percentage who’ve reached a million.”
“Holy fuckin’ shit!” I say, eyes wide, and it garners a throat-clearing from a neighboring table. I put a hand up and mutter a sorry before turning my attention back to Ember. “I figured if you were makin’ ad money, you had to’ve been doin’ good, but a million and a half? That’s a stupid amount.” I chuckle as she sips down the last of her drink through her straw. “So, it further supports my argument. You’re obviously makin’ pretty good money with that many subscribers, and you said you wanted to do video bloggin’ in Europe, which, seen by that many people, would be fuckin’ huge. So why wouldn’t you take time off from school now, and go chase your own dreams?”
She has a half frown, half smile on her face as she crosses her arms. Rolling her eyes, she says, “I guess you got me there, shithead.”
“Aw …” I tilt my head, a ridiculous smile on my face. “Have I mentioned how much I love your terms of endearment for me?”
“Have I mentioned I wore my sharp heels tonight?” She quirks an eyebrow as the laughter exits my mouth.
“You ready to get out of here?”
She nods. “Yeah. You ready to burn off our dinner?” She bites her bottom lip, a one of a kind look of seduction on her face, and it takes everything I have not to take her into the bathroom right now and fuck her silly.
“You have no fuckin’ clue,” I say, shaking my head.
We barely make it through my front door before she pounces on me, grabbing at my junk and kissing my neck. As I shut the door behind us, I realize my roommate is in the kitchen grabbing a bowl of cereal. He looks right at us, his weasel face scrunched in confusion as she sticks a hand down my pants, unaware he’s watching. I go to say something, but her hand against my cock has it ticking its way to full form.
“Sorry, dude,” I manage to say, as I have an internal battle between mind and cock.
Ember shoots her eyes over to him as she yanks her hand out of my pants, and then bursts out in laughter. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” she says, turning back toward me with a wide smile still on her face. She mouths an ‘oops’ and says, “I’m gonna head to your room. I think I’ve made a fool of myself enough already,” she says, blowing me a kiss and turning on her heel toward my room.
“Um, hey man …” my roommate Matt says in that Milton voice of his. “Can I, uh, talk to you for, uh, just a second?”
I cross the living room to the kitchen counter. “What’s up?”
He cranes his head around to look toward my bedroom and then back at me. “Um, the last time she was here, uh, you guys were kind of loud, and uh, you know, the walls are, you know, they’re thin, so I hear everything.”
I think first about the amount of times I’ve heard his stupid fuckin’ video games all the way in my room with both doors shut.
Motherfucker may drink Code Red all night to stay up for his Call of Duty missions, but some of us gotta fuckin’ sleep.
“I’ll try, man, but I don’t think we were really bein’ that loud.”
“Well, I mean, I kind of, uh, I heard moans and stuff, and she was saying your name quite loudly. You know, if you could just keep it to a minimum.”
I nod, my lips pinched together to keep the curse words in. “Okay, we’ll try to do that for you, Matt.”
He takes a bite of cereal and the glasses slide down his nose. “I, um, I appreciate it,” he responds with a mouthful of soggy, half-eaten cereal, pushing his glasses back into place.
I turn, a wicked smile stretching across my face as I make my way to my room. I shut the door and walk straight toward Ember, who lays on my bed clad only in black Victoria’s Secret lingerie, her eyebrow arched seductively. She’s taken by surprise when I grab her hand and pull her up to her feet. I then squat just a bit, wrap my hands around each of her thighs, and pull her legs up, indicating for her to wrap them around me. She does, crossing one foot over the over behind my back and locking in as I push her against the wall with a thud. My lips are a breath away from hers.
“He said we were too loud last time,” I whisper, smiling. “I want to fuck you till the whole goddamn complex can hear you.”
She smiles wide, her eyes beaming as she nods. “You better get started then.”
I smirk, and then my lips crash down on hers as I kiss her hungrily.
Walking her back to the bed, I lay her down again, and she says, “If you really want to make me scream, you have to do that trick with your fingers again. My God, it felt so good.”
“Oh, I can definitely do that and more, woman.”
“You going to make me pay for being a bad little girl?” she asks, tilting her head and pouting.
“Oh God, gorgeous, I’m gonna do more than that. I’m fixin’ to make you come more times in one night than you have in your entire life combined.”
Her eyebrows lift, and she says, “That won’t be very hard with the duds I’ve been with. We better shoot for twice as many just to be safe, huh? Now, what the fuck are you waiting for, soldier?” She slips a hand down to her panties and pulls them to the side, exposing that beautiful pussy of hers, glistening now from how wet she is already. She points with her other hand, arching her eyebrow.
“Fuck,” I mutter, shaking my head as I look her tan skin over, dropping down and kissing her, nibbling my way down her stomach and meeting her clit with my hot breath.
She gasps as I slide two fingers inside her, come hithering as I lick around her bud in soft strokes. Her body tightens and then quivers in cycles as I continue applying pressure, so anxious to taste her sweet cum.
When her eyes start to roll back in her head and her toes curl, I know I’m close. Picking up the pace, her whimpers grow to moans, which—with fingers moving as fast as a metal guitarist’s—turn to screams of pleasure as she begins to squirt.
“Oh. My. God,” she screams, her words broken up by the force of my fingers inside her and the power of her climax. “Oh my fuckin God!” she yells out, louder now, as more cum squirts from her pussy than I’ve ever seen.
“That’s it, baby. Come for me,” I say, and she gasps, her skin flush, her body writhing. Her trembling hands reach out aimlessly. “Stop, please. Oh my God, you’re killing me.”
I grin, slipping my fingers out of her and giving her clit a peck. As I lift myself off of her, she lets out a heavy, pleasured sigh, and then stands, putting two hands to my chest and pushing me onto the bed.
“It’s your turn now,” she says, her breathing heavy, an eyebrow arched. She squats, pulling my belt from the loop of my pants on the floor and standing with it. She folds the belt in half and extends it out in front of her.
“You gonna spank me? I don’t know if I like the sound of that.” I eye the belt skeptically.
“No, but when I’m done with you here, I want that thing.” She points to the Big Bro paddle Sarge gave me, which now hangs on my bedroom wall. “And I want it hard.”
“You serious?”
She nods her head in this innocent, yet seductive manner. “But after I’m through with him.” She reaches down with her free hand and brushes the tip of my throbbing cock, which is tenting my boxer briefs. Abruptly, she wraps the belt around my wrists with a mischievous little twinkle in her eye. “Now, you keep your hands to yourself or a spanking will be in order. Understand?”
“Are you sayin’ I can’t pull your hair when my cock’s in your mouth? Because I kind of love that.”
With my hands now bound, she stands straight and points a finger at me. “Don’t. Move.”
She traces a finger from my pec, down my stomach, to the bulge in my boxer briefs. After teasing the tip of my cock with her finger, she grabs ahold of the waistband and pulls them off, tossing them to the side.
“Mm, such a pretty cock,” she purrs, dropping to her knees and wrapping her fingers around me. “Does he want to touch the back of my throat?” she asks, tilting her head.
My heart races, my desire for her relentless. “Fuck yes. I need it, baby. I need that hot mouth.”
She smiles, licking just the tip with a soft stroke, but even that sends a surge of energy through me. “You have a nice thick cock,” she says, and the word ‘cock’ leaving her lips is just about the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard.
“You’re pretty good at gettin’ him up in a hurry.”
“I guess now it’s my duty to keep it that way then,” she says, an eyebrow arched with her fingers wrapped tightly around my shaft. She switches her hand with her mouth and takes me deep, down one inch at a time, until her face touches my stomach, the tip of my cock at her throat.
She gags a little, and it turns me on even more.
I throw my head back, gasping as I fight against the tight belt. I want to touch her, to grab a fistful of hair and make her go faster, but I don’t. I can’t.
She sucks harder, faster, bringing me right to the edge, my toes curling and thighs seizing, before she slows it down. She looks up at me with seductive eyes, my cock going in and out of her mouth, and the sight of it has me so turned on I can barely stand it.
“Please, baby. Please. I’m so close. So fuckin’ close.”
She moans to my words, and the hum against the head of my dick has my legs going numb.
She pulls my cock out of her mouth, and in the most innocent voice, asks, “Does Daddy want me to swallow his cum?”
I nod, my heart racing, my body ablaze. “Fuck yes. I want you to take down every fuckin’ drop.”
“Yessir,” she says with a smile. Returning to my cock, she sucks and strokes it, faster and faster and faster. She knows I’m close so she picks up the intensity.
“Oh my God. Right there! Right there! Yes!”
Just as I climax, she takes my entire dick down, further than I thought it could ever go. Holding it there with her top lip meeting my pubic bone, the cum drains from my cock down her throat.
As she pulls away, taking a step back and observing me, I try and catch my breath. My buddy is in an all-out buzz.
“Oh my God, woman. That. Was … incredible.”
“Why, thank you,” she says, blushing a little.
“No. I’m not fuckin’ kiddin’ here. Welcome to the ‘Best Blowjob I’ve Ever Had’ club. Members … one.”
“Shut up,” she responds, waving me off.
“I’m serious. And that trick you did at the end. Oh my fuckin’ word. I can’t even process a fuckin’ thought right now”
“It was hot watching you come.” She hesitates, arching an eyebrow, adding, “How about you put that giant cock inside me now so I can make you come again? What do you think?”
I shake my head. “I think you need to get that sexy ass over here and sit that pretty little pussy on my dick. That’s what I think.”
“Any other demands, Sergeant?”
“Yeah, get me that paddle off the wall before you do. It’s time for some corporal punishment.”