I awoke the next day at zero six hundred, and for a second I thought seeing Sara had been a dream. Once I came to, I hurriedly got dressed. Pat and Vic were already waiting for me. The rest of the guys on my Team were beginning their day as well.

Pat slapped me on the back. “So, you want me to distract, maybe kick up a sandstorm, so you can get some alone time together?” My boys always had my six.

“Sounds like a plan. How’s Annie?” Communication here was limited, so Pat had to deal with hearing news late sometimes. There were so many dudes here that all of them wanted a piece of the action. Thank goodness for the communication hall, even if our allowed time did suck ass.

“Good. No longer having morning sickness. At least that’s what she told me last time we were able to talk. We find out the baby’s gender on Friday. I’m excited to find out, man. But I’m sure it’s a boy.”

Vic cackled. “In your dreams, Walsh. It’s a girl, and you know it.”

Had to hand it to Vic—he was probably right. All Team guys ended up with girls. Frogman’s curse. Something about our balls being frozen in the cold water made our sperm only shoot out X’s. One of our buddies had six daughters. Six! That was a Team in itself. But I’d show these fools how it was done. When I decided to have children, I’d take a month of leave and head to Hawaii first. Warm that shit up.

I glanced at the schedule: Two meet and greets with the football players, performance from the cheerleaders, and autographs. There were hundreds of soldiers here, so the shows would be split in two. I’d be attending the first show. Then tomorrow they’d be transferred to the next base and repeat the same routine. They’d only return here on select nights till they left.

We skipped the football player meet and greet—been there, done that. But no way in hell was I going to miss Sara dancing for me.

I dragged Vic and Kyle early to the auditorium. American flags adorned the concrete walls, and plastic fold-up chairs filled the floor. I needed a good seat. Within minutes, the hall was filled with sailors, SEALs, and Marines.

After a cheesy introduction by some nameless comedian, the girls took the stage. I only had eyes for one. Sweet Jesus, Sara was fine. She came out in cutoff daisy dukes, a red tank top, and blue cowboy boots. It wasn’t the typical white shorts the dancers normally wore but I’d take it. She discreetly blew a kiss in my direction. Any guy who may have seen it probably sported an instant hard-on. Yeah. She had that much pull.

The lights dimmed, and the unmistakable guitar riffs of AC/DC’s classic “You Shook Me All Night Long” began. Her eyes glued on me, Sara twirled her hips, whipping her hair back and forth. It was as if she was my own personal dancer. And every time her eyes glossed over with need, I pictured her face when I’d made her come. She’d sported the same intoxicating expression. Her movements were perfectly in sync with her squad, but Sara stood out. The curves of her body, the precision of her steps, the warmth radiating from her smile. I’d seen tons of dancers in my time, on and off the pole, but Sara was in a class of her own. The audience was mesmerized. I closed my eyes for a second, imagining we were back in the club in San Diego, and she was dancing only for me—not for a room full of horny men.

The song ended, and the roars from the claps echoed throughout the room. Maya grabbed the microphone. “Hi, everyone. As captain of the Sparks, on behalf of the San Diego Wildfires and ourselves, I want to thank you for inviting us here to perform for you all. It’s truly an honor for everyone on the squad to be entertaining our heroes.”

The audience clapped as Sara took the microphone next. And the guys grew louder when she winked. “Hello, everyone. I’m Sara. For this next number, we’re looking for three volunteers.” Her gaze turned to me, and my hand popped up in the air, like some involuntary response.

Of course, she chose me. By the way she was just eye-fucking the shit out of me, it wasn’t even a question. And then two other men were chosen, a Marine and sailor. She ran off the stage, emerging a minute later dressed as a sexy Santa.

Another cheerleader pulled out three chairs and motioned toward me and the two other men to sit. Score, I’d be getting some sort of a private dance after all. Just a very public one. One where I couldn’t touch her like I wanted.

Each guy had a cheerleader by their side. Then the song “Santa Baby” started playing. Modernly sang, it was the Taylor Swift version, and not my favorite rendition by Eartha Kitt. I had more memories associated with the original. But since Sara danced around me, waving some feathery boa in my face, I didn’t give a fuck who sang. As long as I had a good view of her ass, Humpty Dumpty could be playing. I’d get down with nursery rhymes. Fuck it.

I relaxed into the chair, thoroughly enjoying my PG lap dance. Pat and Vic were laughing their asses off at me. Fuck them, this dance was the closest any of us got to getting laid since we’d arrived. Those two could go jerk off in their racks later tonight, alone. I was going to get some pussy.

The song ended too soon and Sara kissed me on the cheek. So did the other two shitheads picked. I’d take what I could get for now but would arrange something for later tonight.

When I thought no one was looking, I whispered in her ear, “Leave your window open.”

Momentarily, she froze. Her upper lip quivered, but she was a good actress. She gave me a friendly hug, and shooed me off the stage.

Back in the audience with Pat and Vic, I formulated a plan. All I needed was the top of an empty bunker, a sleeping bag, and her willing body. It was going to be a banging night. In more ways than one.