Wolensky sighed. He signed the paper in front of him, and handed it to Benwick. Wolensky stood up and held out his hand, which Benwick shook gratefully.
“I’m going to miss you, grunt,” Wolensky said. “Just looking up your family’s history in the Corps since the Revolution is enough to make me want to stay in. What are you, James L. Benwick the Twentieth, or something?”
“I’ve lost count, sir,” Benwick replied, grinning.
“Any family still alive?”
“Scattered around,” Benwick replied carefully. “My folks passed on a while back.”
Wolensky nodded. “Very well, Jim. Dismissed.”
“Yes, sir,” Benwick said as he snapped to attention and saluted smartly. Wolensky returned the salute, before Benwick spun around stiffly and left.
Wolensky sat down again, and again perused the folder. James Lancelot Benwick, Wolensky smiled to himself. I guess you can’t pick your name, with an old family tradition like his, Wolensky thought.
Lancelot drove away from the Twenty-Nine Palms base with very mixed feelings. He knew saying goodbye to Wolensky and the men in his Marine battalion had been a necessity. With the technology and identification processes Lancelot had to fool in continuing his purgatory of waiting, he could no longer stick around in the service for very long. Over the centuries that passed after his arrival in America, he had established a line of family without actually having a family. Until World War Two, he was able to serve without complications. Respecting technology’s pace, Lancelot stayed in for a maximum of seventeen years now, before his continued youth drew attention, and retirement complications arose.
Moving to a different area of the country, Lancelot would establish a residence, wait for a number of years, and then rejoin the service. He used his imaginary family’s exemplary Marine Corps service since the Revolutionary War as a means of being inducted as a young son continuing his family’s commitment. Unfortunately, the scars he carried would be a problem the next time he enlisted, due to intricate computer images and record-keeping. The Corps gave him an opportunity to do what he did best.
Lancelot parked his old Chevy in the parking place matched to his apartment number. Living off base had made it easier to keep his private life private. Walking through the complex, he went over in his head the tasks he had yet to do while making his move. Lost in thought, he was only fifty feet away from the entrance to his apartment when he spotted Julie, one of his neighbors.
“Were you even going to say goodbye?” Julie asked irately.
“Hi, Julie,” Lancelot said, opening his apartment door. He wanted to avoid having a conversation in the passageway while in his Marine Corps fatigues. “Would you like to come in and tell me what it is you’re so pissed off about?”
When Lancelot stepped aside after opening the door, Julie marched in without a word. She was twenty-five, and worked as a civilian on the base. With long blonde hair and a model’s figure, Julie determinedly had to fight off the attention she received on and off the base. They had become friends, because Lancelot dated no one, and had not once flirted with her. As with many women Lancelot had known over the centuries, this had encouraged rather than discouraged Julie’s attention. Since the temperatures were in the nineties even in late September, Julie wore a dark blue tube top and jean shorts.
Lancelot took off his fatigue cap and top. He gestured for Julie to sit down at his small kitchen table as he pulled his tee-shirt out over his belt.
“Want a beer?”
“Sure,” Julie answered.
Having taken two beers out of the refrigerator, Lancelot poured Julie’s beverage into a glass. He set it down in front of her, and sat down across from her. Lancelot took a long swallow of beer, the air-conditioned atmosphere and cold drink giving him instant pleasure. Julie sipped from her glass. Lancelot was a good listener, because he had very little he could share of his past. Having mastered the knack of inserting common-sense observations at pertinent intervals and very seldom talking about himself, Lancelot made friends easily.
“Don’t try and deny it,” Julie said suddenly. “I know you’re leaving the Corps, and the manager told me you gave him notice on the apartment a month ago. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Look, Julie,” Lancelot reasoned, “I know we’re friends, but-”
“Don’t pull the ‘just friends’ card on me,” Julie cut him off. “We’ve known each other over three years, most of which you’ve spent overseas. I’ve told you things I don’t even tell my girlfriends. Now, you just up and leave without a word.”
“I’m no good at goodbyes,” Lancelot asserted, trying to placate her. Only the Lord knows how difficult this would be if I’d allowed an affair to happen, he thought.
“What about me?”
“We’re friends, Julie, but nothing more. I don’t understand why you’re so upset. We’ve never even been on a date. You’ve had a steady stream of boyfriends for nearly the whole time we’ve been neighbors.”
“You’re gay, aren’t you? C’mon, you’re out of the Marines now. You can admit it.”
“I’m gay because I didn’t have a relationship with you?” Lancelot grinned calmly. “Would it make you feel better if I said I was gay?”
“Yes, but I know you’re not…damn it. I’ve seen you get a hard-on when we were out by the pool together, and I wore my string. The women living in the complex call you donkey-dick behind your back. Since you’re-”
Lancelot laughed uproariously at the nickname he had earned without his knowledge. He remembered the times by the pool when Julie had almost managed to make him break his rule. She tried to hold on to her grim demeanor, but lost it watching Lancelot laugh. It was many moments before she could speak.
“I’m serious, Jim,” Julie continued after taking a gulp of her beer. “At least tell me why you’ve never made a pass at me.”
“I’m nearly ten years older than you, Julie,” Lancelot smiled, thinking ten years, nine centuries, give or take a few decades. “I can appreciate you without having to launch into something we’d both end up regretting. I liked having you for a friend, and I thought you liked being my friend.”
“Blah…blah…blah,” Julie mumbled, irritation creeping into her voice. “Haven’t you ever heard of friends with benefits?”
“Yeah, and I know for most of reality, the term is bullshit,” Lancelot retorted. “We’re both single, and live in the same complex. If-”
“Wait a minute…are you giving me the ‘don’t shit where you live’ line?” Julie broke in with an angry gesture, evoking appreciative laughter from Lancelot once again.
“Okay, I give up,” Lancelot said finally, holding his hands up in surrender. “Is there anything I can say that you won’t take the wrong way?”
Julie sipped her beer without speaking for a moment, realizing how silly she must seem to him. “I…I can’t stop thinking about you, and now you’re leaving.”
Lancelot reached across the table and covered Julie’s hand with his. “You’re a beautiful woman, Julie. I won’t make any more mundane remarks about complicated relationships. I’m your friend. Friendships are precious.”
“That’s another thing,” Julie replied softly, taking Lancelot’s hand in both hers, “you don’t talk like any grunt I’ve ever known. When are you leaving?”
“Tomorrow morning,” Lancelot answered.
“Shit!” Blinking back tears, Julie pulled away and leaned back in her chair.
“I’d like to sign over my Chevy to you. I’m not taking it with me,” Lancelot said. “It’s not much, but it runs pretty well.”
“Gee… thanks.”
“Can you give me a ride to the bus station tomorrow morning? It’ll be early, because I know you leave for work at seven.”
“Sure…I guess,” Julie agreed, and then sat up with a cunning expression that instantly aroused Lancelot’s suspicions. “On one condition.”
“And that would be?” Lancelot asked hesitantly.
“I spend the nigh
t.”
“Here?”
“No, on your outside doorstep!” Julie threw up her hands in frustration.
“That’s not a good idea. You don’t even know me, really.”
“No strings attached, Jim,” Julie added. “I take you to the bus station tomorrow morning and no whiny, clingy crapolla. I’ll even help you pack. Until then, I say goodbye to you like a best friend, and you can prove to me you’re not gay.”
“I’m already packed,” Lancelot declared, chuckling.
“Don’t make me hurt you,” Julie warned, shaking her finger at Lancelot, who engulfed her whole hand before she could pull it back.
Julie pulled away unsuccessfully. It was as if her hand had entered a force field. She felt no pain, but yanking or twisting did not move Lancelot’s hand even an inch. Julie tried prying with her other hand, to no avail. Lancelot began pulling her inexorably toward him, with Julie squealing and fighting to get loose. Laughing and threatening Lancelot in the same breath, she began struggling in earnest. When Julie planted her feet against his chair, she grew surprised to find that she was still drawn forward. Grinning, Lancelot suddenly pulled Julie over his right knee, locking her legs down with his left leg.
“Jim! Let me go this instant.”
Lancelot ripped Julie’s shorts down with one tug, as both button and zipper gave way, revealing her red thong underwear.
“What the hell… Jim…” Julie twisted upwards with flailing hands, only to be pressed down so tightly and snugly by Lancelot’s powerful right arm that she grunted for breath.
He leaned down toward Julie, where she continued to try and force her way up.
“You’ve been a naughty girl,” Lancelot whispered, bringing his open hand down suddenly on Julie’s buttocks with a resounding smack. He continued the light but audible spanking, varying his timing until Julie writhed on his lap, but not in pain. He released her.
“Think you know me now?” Lancelot asked, kissing Julie’s shoulder and neck.
In answer, Julie grabbed Lancelot’s head with both hands, sealing his mouth with her own, while maneuvering to straddle him. Julie stopped, pushing away as she gasped for breath. She felt as if she were on fire. “How…how could you know…I’d be turned on… by-”
“I listened,” Lancelot answered. “You told me one time out by the pool, after we had a couple of beers, that you’d nearly had an orgasm when your Dad spanked you during your tenth grade year in high school. He was so pissed at you for skipping school to hang out with the local gang-bangers that he treated you like a spoiled child.”
“You brat!” Julie blushed, remembering the story. “I was three sheets into the wind, and I wanted you in the worst way by the pool. You just kept sitting there listening to me as if I was the most interesting woman on the planet. Why the hell didn’t you spank me right there by the pool? Hell, I’d probably have stripped for you.”
“It wasn’t right then, and it’s not right now.” Lancelot met Julie’s eyes steadily with a smile. “I didn’t want to piss you off now by ignoring you, so I gave you something I thought would excite you.”
“It didn’t work,” Julie whispered, leaning closer until the couple’s lips were nearly brushing together. “Finish me, Jim. You’ve started it. Finish it.”
“I’ll still be leaving tomorrow morning,” Lancelot reminded her with a sigh.
“It’ll be your loss, but at least you’ll know it by the time morning comes,” Julie replied, leaning her head back as she rubbed herself provocatively astride Lancelot.
“Easy there,” Lancelot soothed
“You…you’re driving me crazy,” Julie whispered.
Lancelot slowly straightened, carrying Julie up with him as if she were weightless. He carried her into the bedroom, and laid her down on his bed. Stripping off his clothing, Lancelot felt a twinge of worry. Julie watched him with open-mouthed desire. She moved to meet him, even as he envisioned a rough goodbye the next morning.
Julie pulled him down to the bed. “Don’t think about it. I see those goofy regrets forming in your head before we’ve even done anything. You promised to let me stay the night. Don’t make me have to stay alone, Jim.”
“Until morning’s light then.”
* * *
Hours later, Julie felt Lancelot’s touch. “Holy Christ, get away from me,” Julie murmured tiredly. “Get that thing out of my back. Go to sleep.”
“It’s not even nighttime, Julie,” Lancelot pointed out. It had been a long time since he had made love to a woman. As she had urged, he willed away the regret that plagued him. With stroking fingertips and lips working along her neck and shoulders, Lancelot awakened answering movements of desire in Julie.
Minutes later, Julie whimpered and jutted against him, no longer interested in sleep. Lancelot slowly picked up the pace of his seductive ministrations until she spun around to face him, all thought of resistance fading. An hour passed in what seemed a moment leaving Julie lying on her side, left leg twitching slightly, and arms crisscrossed over her breasts. Both she and Lancelot were slick with sweat, even in the air- conditioned air.
“I…I’ve changed my mind,” Julie gasped, waving her left hand weakly. “Why don’t you leave now and…get a head start on your trip.”
Lancelot laughed, kissing the top of Julie’s head in appreciation. “You promised to stay the night, baby. You aren’t backing out now, are you?”
“I won’t survive until morning,” Julie retorted, pointing toward the door. “Get out.”
“This is my place,” Lancelot reminded her, massaging Julie’s neck.
“Ummmm…yeah, just do that for a while. Maybe I’ll let you stay.”
Chapter Five: Near Disaster
Julie pulled up at the bus station with Lancelot sitting quietly next to her in jeans and tee shirt. She glanced over at him questioningly.
“You could change your mind and stay here,” Julie suggested after a moment.
“No…I can’t.” Smiling, Lancelot covered her right hand where it lay on the seat, clasping it gently. “Thanks for the ride. I hope the Chevy works well for you. I left a forwarding address on the table.”
“I saw it,” Julie acknowledged. “That was a hell of a night, and see, I’m not clinging to you. How about I come up and visit you sometime?”
Lancelot brought Julie’s hands up to his lips, and ignored her question. “Thanks for everything.”
Lancelot opened the passenger side door after popping the trunk release. He went around the car to retrieve his duffel bag. Wistfully, Julie watched the muscles rippling under his tee shirt as he moved. Leaning over toward the still-open passenger door, she remarked, “I can’t believe you carry everything you own in one duffel bag.”
Smiling, Lancelot nodded as he pulled the bag free and closed the trunk. Crouching near the open door, he shrugged.
“I knew I’d be leaving, so I donated whatever junk I’d collected. I have other stuff up North. The weather’s cooler there, too. Take care of yourself, Julie.”
“I’ll be walking bowlegged for a week. If I’m sore for any longer than that, I’m going to bill you,” Julie warned, starting to shake a warning finger at Lancelot, and then pulling it back, as she remembered what happened the last time she did it. “Bye, Jim.”
Lancelot laughed appreciatively and straightened up from the car as he closed the passenger-side door. With a wave, he turned away and walked toward the bus terminal. Julie sighed. Sometimes there really is too much of a good thing, she thought.
Three days later, after Julie returned home from work, someone knocked on her door. Julie peered through her security opening, seeing a young woman with long black hair and a beautiful angular face. Thinking it must be a saleswoman, Julie gritted her teeth in preparation for getting rid of her quickly. She opened the door with the grim look Julie saved for people she wanted nothing to do with. The young woman wore tattered jeans and a faded green halter top. An old, pull-around suitcase stood upright next to her. This i
s no saleswoman, Julie decided. Probably a grifter.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” the young woman said. “I’m looking for James L Benwick, and the manager told me he’d moved away only days ago. He also said you might know how I could reach him.”
“Who are you, and what do you want with Jim?” Julie asked suspiciously.
“I…I’ve been looking for him for months, and…” the woman turned away, her hand at her mouth as she tried to keep from sobbing.
“Shit,” Julie muttered, walking outside and picking up the woman’s bag. “C’mon in, kid, and we’ll sort this out. Are you old enough to have a glass of wine?”
“I’m…twen… I’m eighteen.”
“Old enough,” Julie replied. Smiling, she set the bag down inside her apartment and closed the door. “Follow me.”
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