by Jamie Knight
Settling on a pair of Doc Marten Air Wairs left over from my college days when I was trying to be edgy for a week; a knee-length plaid skirt and a cute pseudo-Victorian top with lace around the cuffs of the short sleeves, I clomped into the kitchen for a pre-date drink.
I was down to two bottles. Both of them Guinness, so that was something. Popping the otherwise immovable lid with the bottle opener built into the manual can opener, I took a long sip, holding it in my mouth, letting it work its way slowly down. I was going to be taking the bus anyway, so it didn't matter. Though I still didn't want to be too smashed before I got there. Made it far too easy to say the wrong thing. I had had just gotten my jacket, getting ready for the long, cold wait for the seven-fifteen bus when the buzzer rang.
Chapter Five - Jacob
There was something about Charlotte. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on. I knew that I liked her. It wasn't just her looks or her curves. Though I would be lying if I said I hadn't noticed her breasts. I was fairly certain that one would have to be a blind monk not to notice her figure. Even so, it was more than that. There was something else.
As I got ready to go to dinner, I had a bit of a spring in my step, which was something that hadn't happened in a really long time. I got out the closest thing to dressy clothes I still owned and went into the hotel room’s bathroom, starting up the shower. Using my right arm braced against the wall as support, I stepped over the side of the tub.
It was apparent that my thinking about Charlotte was having a physical effect. My cock was at full mast and throbbing. Leaning back against the cool, tiled wall, I wrapped my hand gently around the bulk of my shaft and started to carefully stroke. My mind drifted back to the training and Charlotte in her little black dress.
In my imagination, I fantasized about doing what I wanted to do to her. Stroking my hand gently through her hair, actually making her tilt her head back for more and exposing her smooth neck. Unable to resist, I imagined diving in like a vampire, licking and nibbling at her supple flesh, making her moan with delight. Slipping a hand down her neck, tucking it into the front of her dress, I gently cupped her breast, feeling the warm weight of it.
She pushed her dress down at the front, letting her beautiful tits free, her nipples already hard and sensitive. Working my way down her neck with soft kisses, I imagined going down over her chest and taking one of her nipples into my mouth, sucking lightly. Charlotte moaned deep and long, putting a hand on the back of my head. I continued to suck gently while caressing my hand up her inner thigh. Charlotte opened her legs as my hand approached her crotch, giving me easy access to her tight little pussy. Softly swirling my tongue around her nipple as I gently sucked her hard, little bud. I also massaged the outside of her pussy in light circles making her gasp and moan with pure delight.
When the sexy woman was ready, I stood her up and bent her over the table. Hiking up her dress, revealing her gorgeous ass, I imagined sliding Charlotte's panties down, and her stepping out of them, fully exposing her pussy and ass to me. I stroked my hard cock even harder as I imagined getting on my knees behind her and, taking her by the hips, burying my face into her pussy. Charlotte nearly screamed with joy, pushing back ever harder into my face so I might get my tongue even deeper into her pussy, bringing her to a body-shaking orgasm.
Giving her a moment to calm down, gently stroking the small of her back, I pressed the head of my cock against her tight little pussy and pushed slowly in. I managed to get about halfway into her pussy before she let out a soft cry. Backing off a bit, I took Charlotte by the hips and started to slowly move inside her. She shifted slightly with each of my thrusts.
Stroking myself even harder, working my cock to the edge of orgasm, I imagined picking up speed, pumping her tight little pussy. Charlotte moaned grateful hymns to the heavens as I pounded her to the gates of ecstasy.
I came harder than I had for a while into my hand in reality and deep into her pussy in my daydream. The Charlotte in my head nearly falling over as she trembled with orgasm, her knees actually buckling. Cleaning up, I scrubbed down, getting all clear and fresh for what might actually be my first date in nearly six years. No pressure.
With some help from Hayley who had come over to the Hotel as soon as I called, we were close that way, I got into the outfit she had picked out for me as soon as I had told her that I had a date with Charlotte. Hayley going so far as to tie one of her husband, Liam's, neckties on me.
“This is ridiculous,” I said, as she put the little rabbit thought the hole.
“You look amazing,” Hayley consoled.
“Amazingly ridiculous?” I asked.
“Oh, stop it,” she said, smacking me gently on the chest.
Dressed up nicely and smelling like an Irish spring, I went out to the Saturn to go and pick up Charlotte. I tried to get myself psyched up on the way with some heavy metal music. Like I used to do before going out on missions. It helped get me into a confident headspace.
I had gotten Charlotte's address from Hayley. I wasn't sure if either of us had told her this, which could lead to something of a surprise. Finding her surname, Foster, on the intercom, I pressed the button firmly and hopped for the best.
“Hello?” Charlotte asked, on the other side, a tang of surprise in her tone.
“Hi, it's Jacob,” I said.
“Oh, hi, I-I'll be right down,” she said in a way that very much indicated that she hadn't been expecting me.
A few minutes later, she appeared, looking a lot less formal than I did. Our positions basically reversed from the training day. I quickly got the tie off before she got a good look at me.
I got a good look at her, and she looked amazing. A bit more modest in terms of the amount of skin shown, but still very sexy in a different sort of way. Her outfit still accentuated her assets, so to speak, but spoke more to her personality and creativity. She never looked entirely comfortable in the little black dress, now I understood why.
“Ready?” I asked.
“As I'll ever be,” she said.
“Joke?” I asked.
“Half-hearted attempt,” she concurred.
I opened the car door for Charlotte, trying my best to act like a gent, even Charlotte having to duck a bit to get into the sedan. Squeezing myself into the driver's seat, I started up. The loud music blared up right where it left off. I reached out to turn it off when Charlotte put a hand on mine, stopping me.
“No, I like it.”
I hit the button to start the track again at the beginning and pulled out onto the road, both of us head-banging as we went.
We could smell the Frying Dutchman long before we got to the doors. I had looked the place up out of curiosity. In addition to the apparent pun relating to the legend of Davy Jones, the place had, in fact, be opened by one Pieter Van Pelt. Who had come to L.A. with a degree from Delico Kookstudio, a relatively good command of English, some start up capital and a dream. Really inspiring when you thought about it.
The interior was nicer than I would have thought. Particularly given the reported prices. Not interior fountains and live string quartets, which I've never really seen the point of honestly, but it was clear that an interior designer was not only hired but actually gave a damn. The server — who looked like she was wearing with the nicest version of her own clothes — pulled out our chairs, put down two menus, and disappeared with no annoying chat about the specials. Something that had always somewhat annoyed me.
“That was wonderfully terse,” I said, looked in the wake of the server.
“No wasted time here,” Charlotte agreed.
I was more nervous than I should have been but was doing my best to hide it. One of the first things you learn in the service is to hide weaknesses. Or any other kind of emotion for that matter. Properly trained soldiers were among the most coldly rational people I had ever encountered.
Charlotte was nervous too. I could see it in her body language. Slumped shoulders. S
haking hands. Evasive gaze.
“Nervous?” I asked.
“How did you know?” she asked.
“Instinct. I am too, honestly. I have really had much contact with anyone recently. Pretty much just Hayley and my therapist. In terms of long-term exposure anyway. I've been feeling pretty isolated, really. It's honestly surprising how easy it is to talk to you.”
“I know what that's like,” Charlotte confessed.
“Really?” I asked.
I would have thought she would have a lot of people around her. She was so hot and understanding and smart. Everything I could ever want or need in a lover or a friend.
“Yeah. I guess I've been isolating myself, too. I'm pretty sure Hayley asked me to come work at the firm to get me out of the house. It never really felt the same since my fiancé was killed in action in Afghanistan.”
“You too, hey?” I asked, this sounding very much like something my sister would do.
“She did the same with you?”
“Sure did. Not that I'm surprised, really. She has always been looking out for me.”
Charlotte smiled and took my hand. There was a spark of electricity between us. I knew we were there to set up a fake romance, but this was starting to feel real.
Chapter Six - Charlotte
At dinner, I felt excellent. I had gone so long without talking to anyone; it was amazing how easily I was able to open up to Jacob. I knew we had really only known each other for a day, but I felt really comfortable with him. It didn't hurt that he could see that I was nervous and admitted that he was too. Rather than making me more self-conscious, he really put me at ease, and we were able to talk a lot more freely.
It felt terrific to have contact with a man again. I wasn't sure I would be able to connect with anyone, but the spark between Jacob and me was getting to be undeniable. It wasn't just because he was sexy. That was certainly something that I noticed, his size, and handsomeness hard to miss. Though there was a lot more than that. There was something about him that seemed really comfortable. Like I could tell him anything, and he wouldn't judge. He also had a vaguely haunted look, like someone who had been through hell and come back, by the skin of his teeth, to tell the tale.
We ordered as much food and drink as we dared, still not knowing for sure when we were going to get paid despite technically having jobs. A fact which made the outing, my first in months, felt like a celebration.
“That looks about right,” Jacob said when the orders arrived.
“You know what Oscar Wilde said about thrift?” I asked.
“No, what did Oscar say?” Jacob asked, tucking the napkin into the collar of his shirt
with his right hand.
“The only way to truly console one's self for having no money is extravagance,” I said, trying to put some flourish on it.
“Interesting,” Jacob said, with a grin that made my knees weak.
I tried to get my head right and remember why we were there. “So, what are you thinking we should tell the landlord?” I asked.
“I've been thinking about that, and I'm not actually sure it matters in terms of trying to directly dissuade him on what he thinks about PTSD. It should be enough to show that there is a stable person there as well. We might even want to put the apartment in your name if it comes down to it,” Jacob explained.
“I have an apartment,” I said.
“Oh, I know, you wouldn't have to live there. We would just need to convince him that you're going to be there. I'll pay the rent after that,” he explained.
“Might he get suspicious when I'm not around? Is that the kind of thing that he could check on?” I asked.
“He lives in Santa Rosa most of the time. Not really known for spot checks. Basically, the only time we would be seeing him is when he shows us the place. If you're really concerned, you could move in with me.” He raised both his eyebrows.
“Oh!” I said, blushing furiously.
“I think that might have come out wrong.”
“Really?” I asked, not sure that I wanted it too.
“Not really, no. I actually meant it the way you heard it, I just wasn't sure if it was too soon,” Jacob said.
“Feels like it should be but no, not really. I mean, it could work. At least as friends at first.”
“That would work for me,” Jacob said.
“I'm surprised, honestly.”
“I can see that. But honestly, I really just like talking to you. I haven't felt this comfortable with a woman who isn't related to me since I was discharged. I mean, there were women around, but my company was all male, and there were some pretty strict anti-fraternization rules,” Jacob explained.
Without meaning to I had images of hot girls in military uniforms that Jacob would steadfastly ignore, so was his dedication to the rules. I really had to admire that kind of self-control.
“You were in the army?” I asked, it not occurring to me before.
“Yeah, for five years. That's why I have PTSD. Seeing someone get blown to bits will do that,” Jacob said, surprisingly calm.
“I-I didn't know,” I said, taking him by the hand. He didn't pull away. Instead he squeezed back.
I was honestly shocked. It had never occurred to me that Jacob had been a soldier. Part of it made me really nervous. I had already lost two soldiers in my life and wasn't keen on losing another. It was absurd, but some part of me was already falling for Jacob. Though it didn't really feel like love at first sight. It was like we had known each other for years. I hadn't felt that good or talked that openly for a very long time. Despite the risks of heartache, I decided it was worth it to stay.
“I didn't tell you. Kind of went out of my way not to, honestly. People tend to freak out a bit when they find out. Most of them don't want to know. Especially people with friends or family who are still deployed. They want to think that they're going to be fine. Alive or dead tends to be the only two narratives. No one seems to want to know about those in between. The ones who make it out alive but not the same.”
I listened to him carefully and noticed something about the way he spoke. There was something very familiar about it. Not only the words he chose but how he used them.
“Is that what really happened to your arm?” I asked.
“Yeah. It was actually from a roadside car bomb. The only reason I survived was I happened to be in exactly the right place and had time to turn. Otherwise, the piece that went into my arm would have gone into my chest, and my company would have no survivors at all.”
“Your entire company died?” I asked, shocked.
“The brass thinks we were targeted. Or at least I was,” Jacob said.
“Why?”
“I was a sniper. You can only kill so many enemy combatants before they take notice,” Jacob said, with surprising neutrality.
“Were you in a vehicle crash?” I asked.
“Yeah, Humvee got flipped a while before that. That was the first attempt we figured. The drivers were killed, but everyone in the back survived, and we all got extracted. To add insult to injury, it was on the way back to the base that the second bomb, a car bomb this time, went off sending shrapnel and flames everywhere. Apparently, they really wanted me dead. Kind of flattering in an odd way.”
My mind was swimming. The biggest thing that stood out was that this man was a sniper. That was something that the other Jacob I had been corresponding with had told me about himself. And when he had stopped writing, all I had heard about from the higher-ups was about the Humvee flipping. Apparently, they didn't want anyone to know about the second attempt, but it rang so close to what I had heard about the Jacob I was writing to before.
And oh my God, his eyes! How many men could there possibly be with eyes like that? I had never seen a picture, but the soldier’s powers of description were amazing, and I could visualize them in my head. And they looked exactly like the eyes that were looking at me across the table.
&
nbsp; “Were you ever part of a military pen pal program?” I asked, my voice shaking.
“Yeah, how did you know?” he asked.
“What was the name of the person you were writing?” I asked, as though I didn't know.
“Charlotte as I recall,” he said, trying to remember. Then he glanced down at the table.
I squeezed his hand even harder, making him look up at me, his eyes glistening like sapphires the restaurant lights.
“You want to hear something crazy?” Jacob asked.
“Try me,” I said, not sure how things could get any odder.
“I actually wondered about that when you said that your fiancé was killed,” he admitted.
“You did?” I asked, even more surprised.
“It just seemed like too much of a coincidence,” he whispered, shocking me into silence by the sheer irony of the situation.
Here I was holding the hand of the man I had written to years ago. It was amazing.
Chapter Seven - Jacob
The scene at the table turned into a kind of tableaux. Neither of us speaking or even moving as the truth hit us like a freight train. The food laying on the table was like a still life. I couldn't even hear the pumped in music anymore. Everything in me was focused on Charlotte and the moment in which we had both become trapped like a kind of time warp.
Charlotte was the one I had been writing to. The one who made me feel alive and kept me going when things seemed the worst.