by Tia Siren
He looked to his left when he heard footsteps approaching from the tile floored corridor.
“Hello I'm Dr—” she stopped speaking when she saw who it was.
“Jesus H. Christ,” he murmured.
“Come this way,” she said red-faced and flustered. He smiled and followed her.
“Sit down here,” she said when they reached her room. He sat in a chrome-framed chair that wasn't at all comfortable and waited for her to take her place in a leather chair opposite.
“First of all, please stop smiling at my embarrassment. What happened yesterday was a one off. Don't think it will happen again.”
“Of course,” he said as sincerely as he could.
“I don't make a habit of that sort of thing, I'm a professional woman.”
He loved the way her cheeks had colored up. “Of course. I understand,” he said on the brink of hysterical laughter.
“Right. I do hope that I’ve made myself clear. Let's see now, er… Commander Hughes…”
“I think after yesterday it would be appropriate to call me Ashton,” he interrupted.
She scowled. “Please Commander, no more reference to what was plainly a huge mistake on my part.”
“You're blushing,” he said. “Was it so bad? I really enjoyed it. You're a great fuck…”
“Commander!” she barked. “Stop or I will have to make a note in the file for your superior. I am not military, but I am entitled to report your behavior to Captain Williams if I see fit.”
“What about your behavior yesterday?” he continued. “It was so naughty, do you think I should tell the teacher?” He mimicked a telltale voice, “Miss, Dr. Gilmore had her panties down around her ankles in the bushes yesterday.”
Vanessa picked his file up and began to read. “Why are you here, Commander?”
“I have no idea. It's a fucking waste of time. Let's go for another ride.”
She ignored him. “Seven men, dead. Don't you think that is the reason you are here? Don't you think it is reasonable for the Navy to require some kind of therapy to make sure you are fit to return to combat duty?”
“Yesterday was all the therapy I need. How about you lie on the desk and we get down to something more useful.”
Vanessa put the file down and looked at him. He was so handsome, so cute and such a good fuck. He made her feel like a school girl, his constant teasing was making her wet, and try as she might, she didn't think she was capable of continuing the interview in any kind of professional capacity. Shall I, she thought? Shall I stand up and offer him my ass again, slip my panties down and let him in?
“Alright Commander, you win. Go home. Take some time to think about your situation. I want to see you back here next week. This time without all the sexual innuendo. “
“Okay,” he said.
“For therapy only. Do I make myself clear?”
“Fucking me will be the best therapy you ever had.”
She shook her head and pointed to the door.
Chapter 4
Candy Albright was having a very bad day indeed, and so were her kids. She and Mike had never planned to have four children, it just kind of happened. They were very in love, and every time Mike came home on leave, they would hit the sack and create another child. Mike used to joke that when he returned to his family there was always another mouth to feed.
The day he died, Candy's life fell apart. The doctor prescribed tranquilizers, which had dulled her senses to such an extent she didn't care about anything anymore, including the welfare of her kids. Her mom came to visit one day and was so shocked at Candy's indifferent behavior she threw all her medication down the toilet. Able to feel again, she started to care for her family, but in the evening when the kids were in bed she would curl up on the sofa and sob until she had no more tears.
“Shut up, Jesus, you're driving me mad today. What's the matter with you?” Candy screamed as she pulled into the gas station. Her outburst had no effect whatsoever. Brian continued to pull Lilly's hair, Melissa, the singer in the family, continued to perform an out of tune version of a Justin Bieber song, and Johnny continued to play with an action man that kept saying. “This is your commander speaking.”
Candy knew very little about cars, but she thought one of the front tires looked a bit flat, so she'd decided to do something she'd never done before: use an air pump. She pulled up at the air line and jumped out. She looked at the tire, and it was flatter than when she'd set off, she thought. She bent down, unscrewed the valve cap and took the air pump from its hook on the wall.
Candy hadn't seen Ashton at one of the fuel pumps with his bike. He'd decided to go for a ride, maybe stop at a cafe and drink a coffee. The last thing he'd expected was to be confronted by the wife of one of his dead men.
“Will you stop that!” Candy shouted when Johnny began to smash action man's head against the car window. “What the hell am I supposed to do now?” she said to herself when she looked at the gauge. There was something written on it about PSI.
What the fuck is that? she thought. Lilly began to cry when the pain of having her hair pulled got too much, forcing Candy to open the car door and plead with Brain, the eldest child, to stop hurting his sister.
Watching Candy struggle to hold it together reminded Ashton what he'd promised when they'd spoken at Mike's funeral: he'd go around to her home and take care of the yard and some of the heavier chores. He'd meant to, but he hadn't been able to face her; every time he'd thought about it, he'd put it off. If he was any kind of a man, he'd go over and help her with the tires, he thought. Instead, he got on his bike, started it as quietly as he could and sneaked away.
Once he was home, Ashton sat on his sofa and stared at the vodka bottle, which stood seductively on the sideboard opposite. He ran his hands through his hair and groaned. He stood up, closed the blinds, and against his better judgment unscrewed the cap from the bottle.
An hour later, the bottle lay empty on the floor. Ashton still sat on the sofa, but now tears streamed over his cheeks.
Chapter 5
“Thank you, Warrant Officer Lopez,” Vanessa said. “I am going to recommend to Captain Williams that you return to work. Your therapy has been a great success and you have been very cooperative.'
“Thank, you Dr. Gilmore. May I say how helpful you have been?”
“I am pleased you have made so much progress. PTSD is not to be underestimated, so please come back if you have anything at all you want to talk about.” Lopez got up, stood to attention and saluted. “I'm not in the Navy, you don't need to salute me,” Vanessa said.
When he'd gone she looked down at the file on her desk. The file she'd been reluctant to open: the file marked Commander Ashton Hughes. There was no doubt in her mind that he'd made a huge impression on her, such an impression she didn't want to read any negative things about him. Reminding herself that she had to remain professional, she picked the file up and opened it.
The first page was a summary of Ashton's military service. He'd joined the Navy at the age of sixteen as a Seaman Recruit, the lowest rank possible. By the time he was eighteen he'd made it to the rank of Petty Officer. At the age of twenty, he applied to become a Navy Seal and went to an assessment center where he broke several long-standing records in some of the physical endurance tests. After that, he'd gone to Illinois, to the Naval Warfare Preparatory School, and been highly commended for his dedication and ability. There was a whole list of results from the BUDS training he'd done over the twenty-four weeks of Seal training, and then a list of places he'd served at upon completion of his training.
As she read, Vanessa became more and more aware of what Ashton had been through over the years. There had been special operations in all the world's hot spots including missions in Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya, and Syria.
It was the last of those countries that she turned her attention to. The file contained a detailed report of Ashton's last operation in Syria. Vanessa was well read, knew a lot about current affairs, and
she was aware of the term ISIS. The report set out the circumstances under which Ashton had been sent to Syria. As the commander of a unit of twenty men, he'd been tasked with freeing three US hostages. All three were journalists who were likely to be beheaded at any moment.
The more Vanessa read, the more she was certain Ashton's mental state could be nothing more than fragile. He and his men had been dropped, at night, into an area the CIA had identified as the place where the hostages were being held. When they'd landed they'd soon realized that the hostages were not at the location provided. The location was, in fact, an ISIS barracks. Ashton found himself severely outnumbered, and during the firefight which ensued, four of his men were killed and three captured. Ashton, unwilling to put his surviving men at further risk, had called in air support while taking refuge in a nearby farm building. From the building, they’d watched as their captured colleagues had their private parts cut off and were then beheaded. Finally, there was a note that Ashton had been suspended from further duty until he gave more specific details about the incident. The report indicated he'd been less than forthcoming.
Vanessa snapped the file shut and opened the office window. She took some deep breaths and began to wonder if she would be able to repair the kind of mental damage that must have been done to Ashton. Having to watch his fellow soldiers die in such a brutal fashion must have affected him massively. If it hadn’t, there was something else wrong with him that no amount of therapy would fix.
Vanessa felt a lump forming in her throat, as she remembered some of her own mental anguish. The time her mother had been killed by a truck, the time her beloved dog had died, and the time her heartbroken father had told her he didn't want to live anymore.
It wasn't going to be easy to help Ashton, she knew that, but she wanted to help him. Not because they'd had sex, or because she found him hotter than hot, not even because she knew she was falling for him. She wanted to help him because of the awful nature of the incident. She would have wanted to do that for any member of the US Forces.
Chapter 6
“Good morning, Commander,” she said when Ashton walked into her room. He sat down and didn't say anything. “You look tired, are you alright?”
“Of course, why wouldn't I be?” he asked.
Vanessa lowered her voice and took on a sympathetic tone. “Ashton, I have read what you have been through, and I would like to tell you how sorry I am that you had to experience that.”
“How are you, still a bit sore?” he asked.
“What? No, of course not. Ashton please. I’m begging you, be sensible. We both know what you’ve been through. There’s no way a man can go through what you’ve gone through and not be affected in any way. I refuse to believe that you have a heart of stone. I know that you need help.” He rolled his eyes and looked at the way her ample breasts touched the table when she leaned forward. “Let me tell you how I want to play this. I want to—” she said.
“I know what you want to do. You want me between your legs.”
Vanessa cleared her throat as she felt herself beginning to blush again. “For now, I want you to talk to me about the incident, and as you do, I want you to tell me what pieces you find difficult to talk about.”
“I've got a better suggestion. How about you stand, pull your skirt up and show me that wonderful ass of yours.”
She needed to ignore his flirting. It wouldn’t get them anywhere. “Tell me, from the beginning. You were dropped by parachute into the area, and then?” She saw his eyes twitch and noticed the corner of his mouth begin to curl up, a sign of anger.
“I'd rather talk about you and me. Come on, let's get out of here. This is shit. We can go for a cruise and maybe even go to the bushes again.”
“I’m afraid we can’t do that right now, Commander. You aren't ever going to take this seriously, are you? You want to be stubborn. You want to prove what a man you are. I know you realize how much you're suffering. That's why I don't understand why you won't talk to me. Is it because I'm a woman?”
This shit is beginning to drive me mad, he thought. “You're a fucking hot woman, beautiful beyond imagination. I don't want to talk to you. I want to do other things to you. There is just one thing driving me crazy.”
“And what is that?”
“The fact I can't open your legs and suck on your clit until you come so hard you scream.”
Vanessa gulped hard as she felt jets of excitement filling her lower half. She took a few seconds to compose herself before replying. “Commander Hughes, I know you are not an ignorant man. Your responses tell me that you are refusing to cooperate for a deep-seated reason that you don’t want to confront. Your behavior shows me that you cannot show respect for me and, likely, for any woman. I wish I hadn't done what I did in the park because you didn’t deserve me. If you can't talk to me sensibly, I will conclude that you have no respect for me. I will recommend that someone else be put on your case to counsel you, as you have not shown me that you will cooperate with these orders.”
“Oh, I do respect you. I respect every inch of your wonderful body. Every single solitary inch.”
“You may leave,” Vanessa said. She hadn't wanted to say it. She wanted him to lay her on the desk and have his way with her. “Please don't return. Your supervising officer will contact you with further orders as to who you will be seeing in the future.”
When Ashton stood up Vanessa noticed he was aroused. “I'm the best you'll ever have,” he said, putting his hand on his bulge. “The biggest and the best.”
She stood up and stared at him. “Get out.”
#
A mile down the road, Ashton pulled his bike into a small country lane and stopped. He took off his helmet and looked at the cows that grazed in the field next to him. “Fuck it. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he shouted. A startled cow looked at him as if to ask what the problem was. The problem was, he felt guilty about so many things he could hardly bear it anymore. At that moment, he felt a heavy burden of guilt over how he'd just behaved in front of Vanessa. He knew she didn't deserve it. She was a good woman, trying to do her job. Maybe she even believed she could help him.
Later, Ashton woke up in the middle of the night on the sofa. When he went to the bathroom, he tripped over an empty vodka bottle.
Chapter 7
She lay on the sofa with her hand between her legs, thinking about what Ashton had said to her that afternoon. She closed her eyes and imagined his body. She'd never actually seen him without a shirt, but she could imagine how he looked. He was in the shower, soaping his body. First the huge muscles of his chest, over his six pack abs to his hard buttocks, dipping a hand between his legs before reaching his wonderfully hard…
The phone rang, jolting her out of her thoughts.
“Shit,” she moaned pulling her hand out of her pants and snatching the phone up. She looked to see who it was, took a deep breath and hit the answer button. “Hi Dad, how are you?” she said, making her voice as light and cheery as she could.
“Hi honey. Have you been jogging? You sound a bit out of breath.”
“No dad, I was in the yard and had to run to the phone.”
“I just wondered how you were, you know, in your new home,”
Vanessa smiled. Her dad was wonderfully thoughtful. Her mother had been lucky to have a husband like him. “I'm doing okay. It's a nice apartment, nice area of town.”
“Have you found yourself a husband yet? A naval base is a great place to do that.”
“Not yet. But you're right there are some really hot guys walking around.”
“What about work? All okay?” Vanessa hesitated. “Or not?” he said when he sensed there may be a problem.
“I dunno, dad. I don't know if I'm really up to it. I thought when I started to take an interest in PTSD it would be a good idea to work with the military. Maybe I've bitten off more than I can chew.”
“What makes you say that? You're well qualified. You know what you're doing.”
“It's
just a case I'm working on at the moment. Some bad shit happened to a guy and he doesn't seem to be able to talk about it. I wish he would.”
Her father sighed. “I guess there are some darn awful things that happen to people in the military. All I can tell you is how I felt after your mom was killed. I was lost, and I couldn't talk about it. You know better than anyone how it was eating away at me, until I nearly killed myself. Do you know what made me better?”
“No, tell me.”
“Friendship. The doctors tried to give me therapy, but talking to a stranger about my dead wife didn't help. The day I went to see Marge and Bob and allowed myself to cry my eyes out, was the day the healing process really began.”
“Aw dad, I didn't know about that.” She listened as he continued, feeling her heart melt as she remembered her father’s pain.
When Vanessa hung up she thought about what her father had said. Maybe it would work, but did she want it? Perhaps Ashton would open up to her if she dropped the professional doctor stuff and got closer to him as a friend. Perhaps pillow talk would do it. She liked him, she loved the way he wanted her, and the dirty way he spoke to her made her wet. But was it ethical to have a relationship with a patient? Of course, it wasn't, and if anyone found out she'd probably lose her license as a doctor. But seeing the hurt in his eyes pained her terribly, and she was desperate to release whatever demons were messing with his head. Besides, she already planned to have herself recused from the case.
“Jesus,” she muttered as she wrestled with her conscience. “His ego is bigger than the Grand Canyon.” And that was the problem, she concluded. It was highly likely he'd made a mistake that had contributed to the debacle in Syria and his ego wouldn't let him admit it or talk about it. There was only one way, but it terrified her.
Chapter 8
“Wow, look at you,” Ashton said after he'd opened the front door.