Fraternization Ch. 02

"Well, I'm so happy to meet you Kelly. Mark has talked non-stop about you."

"He has?"

She laughed. "Its all good Kelly. Come on in the kitchen with me while I start supper and I'll tell you all his hidden secrets." She opened the refrigerator and passed out cold beer to both of us and took a long swallow of a bottle she kept for herself.

It turned out that Martha's husband Patrick was a classmate of Mark's and the three of them were old friends. When he had mentioned to them how much trouble we were having finding somewhere to go, they had offered the hospitality of their home.

"But your husband is an officer too. Won't he be a bit leery of our situation.?"

"Not him," Martha smiled.

When Patrick arrived home, just as we were putting the steaks on the grill, I began to understand. My first thought was that he seemed a bit old, in his mid-twenties, to be a Second Lieutenant. Then I saw the Combat Infantryman's Badge on his chest and the big "Horse Blanket" patch of the First Cavalry on his right shoulder, meaning he had served with that unit in combat. I was to find that he had served a term as an enlisted man before he went back to college and got his commission. He had met and married Martha while he was still a Buck Sergeant. As he put it, that automatically put him on our side.

Later on, Martha was to confide in me that when they were in college, Patrick was gone monthly and often in the summer, as he had remained in the reserves to supplement their meager GI Bill income and what she got from substitute teaching. He had to drive all the way to Alabama for his monthly meetings and to Ft Bragg in North Carolina for his summer training and the courses he was taking. Someone, apparently more than one guy, had got the idea that Martha would be vulnerable to their wiles and had made themselves pests until Mark had confronted them and convinced them of the error of their ways. She was very glad, because it had reached the point where she was afraid she was going to have to tell Patrick and she knew he would not have handled it as quietly as Mark had. So they were friends, they liked him, and were more than happy to welcome him, and his enlisted girlfriend, into their home.

Patrick and Martha's house proved to be a godsend. I might be exaggerating when I say that it saved Mark and me, but it wouldn't be by much. Here we had a place where we could relax and just be together, spend the night without worrying about who might spot us together. It also provided us with a rendezvous, so he didn't have to hide around the corner of the barracks while I peeked out of the windows.

Someone might have asked why we simply didn't find a house off-post together or say "To Hell With the Army" and get married. Its not that simple. Oh, we probably wouldn't have been court-martialed but non-judicial punishment, called an Article 15, or even a letter of reprimand would have pretty much ruined Mark's career. I didn't plan on being a soldier forever but I knew he did. I had about a year left by now on my three year enlistment. We agreed that if what we felt was as strong as we both believed, we could wait that long. To get married anyway. We weren't prepared to wait that long for certain other things and now we had a bedroom set aside all to ourselves.

We did learn caution in showing up unannounced, even though we had been told repeatedly "Anytime at all, no need to call" and had each been given a key. We usually spent the weekends there, but an unexpected post training holiday had left us both with the afternoon free. When we met at the PX dry cleaners and realized this, we immediately took off together. I guess we never stopped to think that Patrick would be off too and that perhaps he and Martha wouldn't be expecting company.

In vague self-defense I would like to claim that we didn't see Patrick's car. Yes, as it turned out, his car was at the dealer getting serviced. But we didn't know that as we slipped in through the back door and started towards the living room so we could tell Martha we were here. Of course, we expected she had heard the car doors, never realizing that her attention might be occupied elsewhere. We turned the corner and backed up in a hurry.

I know, I know. We were evil, wicked and hardly the best of friends to watch what was going on. We peeked, just our eyes showing around the corner and my hand over my mouth to keep from exclaiming, then or later.

Patrick was sitting at a desk. He was wearing his Class-A greens. The blouse was unbuttoned and the tie pulled down. His feet, clad in shinning jump-boots, were on the desk and he had the stub of a cigar stuck in the corner of his mouth. His hands were behind his head and he growled around the cigar.

"Sergeant! Come in here Sergeant."

"Yes Colonel," came Martha's voice. She, well, "sashayed" is the best word I can think of, into the room. I know my jaw dropped and I bet Mark's did too.

Martha was wearing the uniform of a female E-5 Buck Sergeant. I was later to discover a receipt in the desk in "our" room showing she had bought it from the Post Thrift Store. But if I had ever worn a uniform THAT altered to the office, well one of two things would have happened. Either everyone would have died laughing or I would have been hustled out the door on my way to company punishment.

For starters, the skirt had been hemmed five inches or more above the knees. I mean, it just barely covered Martha's butt. Black heels could be worn with the uniform skirt, but not three inch spike ones. There also was no sign of the khaki shirt that went under the green blouse.

Martha put one hand on her hip and gave a little bump and grind. "Yes, Colonel?"

"Get your steno pad and take a letter. Its right there." Patrick pointed to a footstool.

"Anything you say Colonel," Martha turned and bent over. She bent way over. Over far enough to reveal that she wasn't wearing any panties.

Patrick put his feet on the floor and tossed the cigar butt onto the table. I almost giggled. From the brief expression of relief that washed across his face it must have tasted terrible. I knew neither of them smoked. He leaned forward, putting his hand on Martha's leg and began to stroke the back of her knee with his fingers.

"Why Colonel! Whatever are you doing?"

Patrick didn't answer. Rather, he ran his hand up the back of her leg and over her bottom. She half turned, away from us fortunately, and he grabbed her wrist with his other hand. With one quick jerk he pulled her into his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck. He kissed her and unbuttoned her blouse enough to slip his hand inside it. She leaned against him, her hand working down between them. From the muffled noise that Patrick made, it wasn't hard to guess where her hand was.

Mark managed to shake himself out of the frozen state we had both been in. He grabbed my hand and pulled me slowly backwards until we were safely out of sight. Then we tiptoed for the back door, Mark closing it as carefully as though he was disarming a live hand grenade. We hurried for the cars.

I'm so horrible. I could NOT resist taking one last peek through the window. Martha was leaning across the table, gripping the far side with her eyes closed and an expression of pure bliss on her face. Patrick was behind her and it looked as though her skirt was bunched around her waist while he was thrusting for all he was worth. Then Mark absolutely jerked me away.

We quietly backed out of the driveway. I waved at Mark to follow me. We drove to shopping center parking lot, where I locked my car and leaped into Mark's. I had him drive to a secluded place a friend had told me about that was off the railroad right of way.

As soon as Mark parked where I indicated, I reached over and turned off the ignition. He opened his mouth to say something. He managed to get out was a strangled grunt before I frantically unfastened his pants and buried my face between his legs. All he could do was hang onto me as I put one hand down the front of my slacks and masturbated wildly as I sucked the cock I had seen was about to burst.

We never, ever said a thing to Martha or Patrick about what we had seen that day. I think Martha suspected something when we took to almost always calling before coming over. A few months later when the two of them told us she was pregnant, I'm pretty sure I saw her look at that table and blush.

With the help of our friends, we finally made it through. I completed my three years and was honorably discharged. We had already been going to marriage counseling at the Post Chapel so the next day we mailed the wedding invitations and a month later I was Mrs. Ashe. Martha was my Matron of Honor. Patrick was Mark's best man and he and a group of officers lined the stairs from the chapel with their sabers forming the traditional arch for us to walk under. Jeremy came to live with us and eventually Mark adopted him, with Stu's grateful permission. That made family life easier, as it meant all of our children had the same last name. Those children still enjoy hearing about how a flat tire was responsible for their being here.

By the way, when you're discharged you turn in all your equipment, except for one Class-A green uniform for you to wear to your home of record. I still have mine. It comes out of the closet every now and then. After all, Mark IS a Colonel now and it would be a shame for him not to have a horny WAC secretary sometimes.

(The End)

(Thank you to my dear friend Marian, as always, for her advice and corrections. Since I can't resist "improving" a story right up to the moment I submit it, any mistakes are solely my responsibility.)