by John Ringo
He'd left another satellite phone with Nielson for general communications and he speed dialed that.
"Keldara House, Dinara Mahona speaking, how may I help you, sir or ma'am?" a female voice answered in Georgian.
"God I love Vanner," Mike replied, smiling. "Hi, Dinara, it's the Kildar. I'm up over the valley in a chopper. Could you wake up somebody from the duty squad that knows how to lay in an LZ and ask them to put one on the lawn?"
"Yes, Kildar," the Keldara said. "I will do that immediately."
"Thanks," Mike replied. "We'll just tool around up here until you call."
"Pilot," he said, switching back to the intercom. "There's somebody getting up to lay in an LZ, but it will be a few minutes. You've got fuel?"
"Enough for another hour, Kildar," the pilot replied. "More than enough for twenty minutes or so up here and then flying back."
"Take a turn around the valley, then," Mike said. "I'll show the lady the sights."
Using the chopper, Mike pointed out the houses of the Keldara, who were probably wondering what the hell was going on, the new roads that were being laid in, the ranges, where the dam was under construction and Alerrso. Finally, the sat phone rang.
"Kildar, this is Killjoy," the former Marine said. "We've got chemlights laid out on the lawn. Best I could do at the moment. One blinking strobe at the end. Wind is more or less from the north, recommend come in from the south and set down at the lower end of the lawn. That will give him plenty of room to pull out over the house."
"Will do," Mike said, passing the orders on to the pilot.
* * *
"Hey, Killjoy," Mike said as he pulled back the doors to the chopper. "How they hangin'?"
"Still one lower than the other," Killjoy replied, his eyes widening at the sight of Anastasia. "What, you didn't have enough women in the house?"
"She's a manager," Mike replied. "Give me a hand with her bags?"
He shook the hand of the pilot and co, then helped Anastasia across the lawn. She was wearing four-inch spike heels and they sank in the cut grass. Finally, he just picked her up and carried her to the paved walkway.
"Welcome to Keldara House," Mike said as he set her down. They were by the door to the harem garden, which was standing open, so he led her in that way. "This is sort of the side door. Sorry."
"It is very beautiful," she said, looking around in the moonlight. Hard work on the part of the Keldara had cleaned up the garden so it was presentable again. The fruit trees and roses had been trimmed and the trees were in bloom, filling the garden with a heady scent.
"It is nice," Mike said. "It's the harem garden, technically. But since I don't lock the girls in anyone can come in here. Nice place to have a party."
"It would be," Anastasia admitted.
"Oh, introductions," Mike said. "Anastasia Rakovich, Corporal Lawrence Killjoy. Call him Larry."
"Pleased to meet you, ma'am," Killjoy said, setting her bags down and shaking her hand.
"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Killjoy," Anastasia said, formally.
"You don't generally get introduced, do you?" Mike asked.
"No," Anastasia admitted as they headed for the house.
"Would you prefer that I not?" Mike asked. "It's considered impolite in my culture. But so is having a harem."
"No, I would prefer to be introduced to people," Anastasia admitted. "If you're not, it makes you feel like a piece of mobile furniture. I want to meet people."
"Plenty of people to meet in the house at the moment," Mike replied. "The seven girls we picked up, the four I'm renting, about twenty trainers, the cook, the housekeeper and the girls that help out. Then there's all the Keldara, the people in Alerrso like Vadim, who's the local cop. You're going to be meeting a lot of people."
"That will be . . . different," Anastasia said, nervously. "But, I think, nice."
"Tomorrow, though," Mike said, yawning. "Tonight I'm for bed. Killjoy, any idea if anything's been done to set up for her?"
"Not as far as I know," the corporal replied.
"In that case, we'll just take her stuff up to my room," Mike said. "She can sleep with me."
"Bastard," Killjoy muttered.
"For the time being, Anastasia is taken," Mike said, definitely. "Pass the word. Later she can make up her own mind, but she's going to have to get used to the idea."
"Will do, sir," the corporal replied.
* * *
CHAPTER NINETEEN
"Shower and bath through there," Mike said, pointing to the adjoining master bath. "If you don't mind, I'll take one in the morning after I work out."
"I do not mind," Anastasia said. "Would you mind if I took a shower?"
"Go for it," Mike replied.
He usually slept in the nude during warmer months but for her sake he put on a pair of running shorts and crawled into bed.
He had fallen asleep to the sound of the shower but woke up when she climbed in next to him. He reached over to tell her he was there and his hand hit a naked abdomen. Immediately, he was massively horny.
The shorts came off as he slid across the bed and one arm went behind her as the other lifted to her firm breast. He slid his tongue down the side of her neck, causing a moan of either real or expertly feigned pleasure, but when his hand crept down between her legs she was wet.
He'd been married and been with hookers, but this was something different. Having a woman around who was just there for the screwing, no questions, no headaches, no negotiations, was amazingly exciting. Despite that, he took his time. Aware of her professed preferences he pinned her arms over her head and added nips and bites to the licking, the whole time manipulating her clitoris. Her labia had spread of its own will, another sign that he was on the right track, and her body was quickly covered in goose bumps. He ended up nipping and sucking at her nipples, his finger moving in a medium fast motion that seemed to be her preference, and then, almost without warning, she came with a hissing shriek and a whole body clench.
With that he let go of her arms and lifted her legs in the air, sliding into her hard and reaching up to pin the arms down with his hands on her wrists. As he pounded her hard she panted and moaned, finally reaching up to bite him, hard, on the left shoulder. She stayed attached there, moaning into his shoulder, until she came again, almost simultaneous with his own climax.
"Oh, my God," she whispered as he regretfully slid out of her and fumbled a tissue between her legs.
"Are you okay?" Mike asked.
"I am far, far, far more than okay," Anastasia whispered, rolling over and sliding her arms around him. "Can I hug you? Please, Kildar?"
"I take it Otryad did not spend much time pleasing you?" Mike asked, sliding his arm around her and cradling her into his shoulder.
"I had never realized that sort of thing could happen," Anastasia said, somewhat bitterly. "He was the only man I had ever been with and he was nothing like that. He was there for his pleasure and a girl got whatever she could from that. Thank you for being different."
"Thank you," Mike replied. "I won't promise to work on you as much every time; sometimes I'll just want a quickie. But that was pretty quick, I have to admit."
"I will be jealous when you are with other women," Anastasia admitted. "I will want you all to myself. I could have fun with you many times every day."
"Too much else to do, alas," Mike replied. "Among other things, I have seven girls to introduce to sex. Care to help?"
"If you insist," Anastasia said, sleepily. "But I don't think two at once in the same bed is a good introduction. Start as you mean to go on. I need to clean up. Talk about it tomorrow?"
"Whenever you want," Mike said.
* * *
"You look like shit, Mike," Adams said, his fingers just touching the weight bar.
"Long day yesterday," Mike admitted, struggling to lift the weights. He'd gotten up to fast repping two-seventy-five and heavy lifting three-fifty, but at the moment he could just barely lift the two-seventy-five.<
br />
"And a very short night from the sounds of it," Adams said. "The squeals from your new girlfriend kept waking me up."
"It was really amazing," Mike said, setting the weights into their holder. They'd ended up screwing at least four times during the night, despite the time they'd gotten in. He really should have slept in today, but he'd been up at six for PT instead. "And I am officially worn the fuck out."
"You've got seven more to go, man," Adams pointed out. "What the hell are you going to look like in a couple of weeks?"
"Probably dead," Mike admitted. "But what a way to go."
"Equipment issue starts in an hour," Adams said. "You going to be there for it?"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world," Mike replied. "But I need breakfast first. And coffee. Lots of coffee."
"You're going to need lots of oysters, bud," Adams said, chuckling as he tossed the former SEAL a towel. "And Viagra stock."
"Chief, they're teenage virgins," Mike said, toweling off. "Viagra is not going to be necessary."
* * *
Three buildings had been completed as part of the construction. The issue was taking place in a building that would later be converted to a weapons and storage building. At the moment the lower floor was simply an open shell with a solid counter made of tables hooked together running down the middle.
The Keldara were entering through the north door and being issued their uniforms, boots and field gear by Keldara females who had been chosen for the job. The militiamen had already been broken down into six mixed platoons and assigned their two primary instructors. The instructors were already in field uniforms, Canadian digi-cam, with their rank badges, the badges of former units, specialty badges and subdued flags marking country of origin. They were standing by to answer questions as the Keldara got their issue but the issue was proceeding without a hitch.
As the Keldara entered they were each given a large duffle for their gear. Instead of being a standard seabag it had a zipper down one side and folded out. The bags were a civilian design from L.L. Bean that Mike found far superior to the standard seabag the military used, especially in these circumstances. They then proceeded down the tables, being issued hygiene items, uniforms, boots, underwear and basic field gear and cold weather gear. Mike had checked the duffels and all the gear would fit, if placed in carefully. The women had been instructed on how to load the gear and all the militiaman had to do was slide his bag down the counter and have it loaded. Each station had a list that had the name of the militiaman and his sizes in clothes and boots. Since the men were known to the women it was easy enough for them to issue the material. At the end the bag was zipped, the integral backpack straps came out and the Keldara was ready to go get it set up.
Once Team Oleg was completely issued, the two primary instructors, Matt Randolph and Duncan McKenzie led them off to their barracks. Mike followed the team over to the open bay barracks and watched, leaning against the wall, as each of the militiamen was given a designated bunk and footlocker.
"Right," McKenzie said when all the troops were in place by their bunks. "Open your duffels. Remove one bath towel, one hand towel, the small container of shampoo, the bar of soap, one uniform blouse, one uniform trousers, one pair of socks, one pair of underwear, one T-shirt, your forage cap and one pair of boots." As he gave the orders, he held up each item from a pile on the table at the end. "Ensure you don't disturb all the other crap in there, or you'll be all night sorting it out. Don't touch the envelopes on your bloody beds; we'll get to them in time." The senior NCO of Team One was a veteran of the Black Watch and had a noticeable brogue even in Georgian.
Each of the items was in a plastic wrapper and there was quickly a large quantity of plastic scattered around the room.
"Efram," the senior NCO said to the closest troop. "Grab a trash bag and get that all sorted out. Each of you pick up your litter and stuff it in the bag as Efram goes by."
Once the litter was collected the NCO had them get out of their civilian clothes until the entire platoon was standing in the bay naked, then had them wrap the bath towels around their middles.
"Most of you lads don't know what a bar of soap is for," McKenzie said, striding down the runway in the middle of the barracks. "We will now conduct a class on the taking of the shower. Bring your hand towel, the shampoo and the soap."
He led the platoon into the bathroom and had Oleg get in one of the four stalls.
"Right, two controls," the NCO said, brusquely, pointing to them. "The left hand is usually the hot and will be marked, as this is, in red. The right is the cold. Upon one holder is a bar of soap. This is for use on the majority of your body. In the other is a bottle of generic shampoo. Shampoo is for use on the hairs of the head. In a pinch, soap can be used for shampoo and vice versa but we won't get into advanced hygiene at this time.
"Oleg," he continued, stepping back out of the stall, "ensuring that the majority of your body is out of the stream of water, turn the left control, the hot water control, in a clockwise motion to full. Wait until the water is running hot, then turn the right control, the cold, to a position of desired temperature. This may require turning down the hot, depending upon the relative thermal characteristics of the waters involved."
He led the team through the class on taking a shower, including washing behind their ears with the hand towel.
"In general, you will be under time for showering," McKenzie said when the whole team was done and standing around in their towels. "The term is shit, shower and shave. We will conduct a class on the use of a razor, which few of you are old enough to need, later. For now it's time to get your pretty new uniforms messed up."
For many of the Keldara the uniforms were the first completely new clothes they'd ever had and for now they found the clothing exciting rather than a pain. There was a fair amount of conversation as they changed and McKenzie got redder and redder as they took their time.
"Dawdling over clothing is for women!" he finally bellowed. "Anyone not in uniform in fifteen seconds is going to give me fifty push-ups to show they can motivate!"
As it turned out everyone made it by the timeline and McKenzie nodded in satisfaction.
"Now, on each bed, if you lads haven't fucked off with it, is a sealed paper envelope, you will open the envelope and place all the items on your bed, carefully."
In the envelope were two lengths of 550 parachute cord, a short length and a long one, dogtags, rubber dogtag mufflers and ID card. The latter was a heavy plastic card slightly smaller and thicker than a credit card with their picture, name and vital statistics on it.
"Right, this is the ticklish bit," McKenzie said. "First of all, everyone ensure that it is their picture and name on the ID card. If you're not sure, ask the lad next to you if that's your face. Remove the thin cords from the long section of 550 cord, then slip the longer chain into the sleeve thus created."
He led them though the process of setting up their dogtags, with the ID card hanging on the chain as well.
"The ID card is the Kildar's innovation," McKenzie said, glancing over at Mike. "Besides the writing on it, it has a microchip inside to hold other information. As if anyone is going to be going around with a microchip reader."
"The medics will be issued one," Mike said, calmly. "As will a doctor if we ever have one assigned permanently. And the hospital in Tbilisi is going to get one as well. Having medical background info will be useful. Better than carrying around a bloody file."
"We will now, carefully and precisely, transfer the material from your duffel to your bloody footlocker," McKenzie boomed. "And you will do it by the numbers or I will have your ass. After that you will be taught to properly make a bed and square this ratty ass barracks away to my satisfaction."
Mike spot checked on the teams for the rest of the day, watching them get settled in. The instructors were firm but not particularly hard; that would come later. At the moment the Keldara were just getting used to their lives being regimented and instructed in very basi
c living standards. The Keldara took baths from time to time, mostly in the streams, but they had never had access to running water, or light switches for that matter, so every little item had to be explained. Mike and Nielson had, they thought, carefully thought out the introductory period, but it turned out there were various small problems that cropped up. Some of them the instructors handled, but a few Mike had to consult on. He also passed information from one team to the others as the problems cropped up and were dealt with.
The Keldara were fascinated by everything. Mike had had a washer and dryer installed in each of the barracks with power from heavy generators set up near the gravel pit. The fact that they could be used for washing clothes was a novel innovation to the Keldara. Light from light bulbs they'd seen in town, but had rarely had the opportunity to turn on and off. Mike found one of the instructors nearly apoplectic at a young recruit who had been turning the lights in the bathroom on and off just for the fun of it.
The training in equipment and barracks maintenance continued into the night but Mike had been firm. Until they got into full-scale training the recruits were to bed down at a normal time. By ten-thirty everything but a fire-guard light was off in each of the barracks and the trainers were back up at the caravanserai by eleven.
"Looks okay so far," Mike said as the trainers gathered in the livingroom for a late-night beer.
"Looks good," McKenzie said to nods from the other trainers. "Not many who are completely brain-dead, none really. A bit confused but they'll get past that."
"And they all think we're nice fellows," Vanner said in a mock brogue.
"Big party this weekend," Mike pointed out. "Everybody ensure they have a good time."
"So when do you start training your draftees?" Killjoy asked, grinning.
"Oh, I think Monday will do," Mike replied. "And on that note, I'm going to get to bed. See you bright and early tomorrow."
When Mike got to his room, Anastasia was already there.
"Do you mind if I sleep here, tonight, Kildar?" the girl asked. She was dressed in a nightgown and robe and sitting on a chair.