by Selena Kitt
“I’m supposed to evaluate you, not get to know you socially.”
“Okay, then evaluate me over drinks. If that goes well, then you can evaluate me in my apartment. For my part, I’d enjoy just observing all of you. No evaluation needed.”
It irritated her that his pass was actually exciting her. That she was reacting that way, letting a patient get to her emotionally, upset her. “Not a good idea. I’m not sure how a girl can be expected to resist such a subtle and elegant pass, but I have to. Besides, isn’t your apartment overstocked with women? I think I made it clear that I don’t do well in crowds.”
He arched his eyebrows and raised his hands. “I can always find room for one more. I’m thinking of buying a bigger bed.”
“The word is ‘scram’ Captain.”
“That’ll do until you remember the right one.”
She stood up to see him to the door but as they reached it, he turned to her, took her by the arms and kissed her. The suddenness caught her off guard, and before she could react, he smiled and went out the door.
In the vacuum his actions left, she went dazedly back to her desk, sank into her chair and stared at the computer. How could such a crude attempt to distract her, possibly seduce her, make her so aroused?
Fortunately her afternoon calendar was reserved for catching up on paperwork that could be postponed. She was exhausted.
The next day he stood on a parade ground in… laughter shook him. He had no idea where the hell he was. That morning he’d gotten into the back of the car and Corporal Evans had driven for three hours. Now he was at some damn military academy, which was ironic given how much he disliked academy graduates. They all came out with superior attitudes, even if the academy was just some jerkwater private high school like this one. Yet, he’d stood in front of the grinning clowns, cadets that is, and read the sentimental crap of a speech that Tina had given him, while she smiled from the back. The only good thing about this school was that they’d been forced to admit girls, so he didn’t have stare at pimply boys the whole time. Some of the girls looked a lot older than they must be.
Even when the ceremony finished, a war hero’s work wasn’t done. He’d be expected to have a drink with the warden, or headmaster, or whatever they called him, along with various financial backers of the school, some teachers, and probably various other vultures of fame. If the booze was good it wouldn’t be too tedious. And Tina was there.
Tina remained aloof, giving him a cold greeting. He smiled at her attempt to deny her own feelings and assert her independence. She wanted to show him that she was unimpressed, not touched by the afternoon in his bed. It was bullshit, of course. He’d seen the fire in her eye, felt the tremors of lust in her body. He’d felt her come alive. She’d responded better than he’d hoped, and damn well knew she loved it. This was to convince herself that she could maintain control.
The poor girl was horribly conflicted, and her strategy doomed. Her idea seemed to be that they would be an act, and go on the road. Someone had led her to believe that the Army liked the idea. They might, but being a marionette part time felt degrading enough without being assigned to it full time.
He considered getting drunk and hitting someone. That would make them reconsider the idea of using him to represent the Army. Despite the appeal of the idea, possibly getting arrested and making nasty headlines, would give Diane or just the paper pushers all the ammunition they needed to scuttle his re-enlistment, his return to active duty. It would be short-lived fun, but it wouldn’t prove anything. It would be better to think of something that might get Diane to see him more as a man and not as a wounded soldier. Acting out could eliminate the possibility of him getting her into bed for good. That would not please him.
Why was he even thinking of her? He had Tina, and Frieda when Tina had to play housewife. After the event, he’d drag Tina to bed and enjoy himself. Worrying about what Diane thought wasn’t productive.
So he sipped the good scotch, laughed at bad attempts at war humor, avoided staring too openly at the tits of the women (while staring enough so they knew they were appreciated) and generally behaved himself. He caught Tina smiling in the corner, as she looked over at him, past the man she was allegedly talking to. He considered the two women, their pros and cons. He had Tina and would enjoy showing her how he could elicit her bad girl side, but sooner or later that would grow old. He’d get tired of her—the posturing and schemes.
Getting Diane would require a long-term strategy. The damn professional relationship made it harder and he’d have to keep his eyes open for opportunity to get her closer to the inner wildness he’d seen. That would do the rest. There was more to her than she knew.
He wanted to fuck her with that wild side of her in ascendancy. Simple. Or was it? Something about her stuck him as… substantial was the word that came to mind. It wasn’t right, but on the right track. There was more to her than say, Frieda. Not more woman, but he sensed he wanted more from her than her body, although he wanted that very much
Chapter 5
Paul was sitting at his desk reading when Diane strolled in. She had Captain Foster’s file and tossed it on his desk, startling him. He looked at it, then sat back and grinned expansively. “Ah, the master counselor emerges from her den,” He glanced at the tab on the folder. “Captain Foster… how did the beginning of the search for his demons go?”
“I don’t think he’s a total mess. He’s smarter than he lets on, and more intelligent than his scores suggest. He’s suffering to a lot of emotional shock of the ‘how did this happen to me?’ variety. And, unless he’s bragging, he’s compensating for the unsettling aspects with abundant sexual adventures.”
Paul raised his eyebrows. “And you are surprised?”
“Not surprised, but maybe disappointed. There’s an interesting man lurking in there, but trying so hard to be a soldier makes him hide it. You want to know if he fits in now, and I’m wondering if he’s ever fit in the Army. I think he might have forced himself to meet expectations. Between that and bedding women he clearly thinks about what’s happened to him without getting any useful answers. I suppose that romping with convenient women provides a distraction. And a serial orgy undoubtedly seems safe and tranquil compared to what he’s been through. Being a hero, and a hit with women is confusing matters for him.”
“No doubt you will put him on the strait and narrow post haste.”
She frowned and held out the folder. “I think he might need a man’s perspective. He isn’t relating well to women at the moment.” She grinned. “Or, from your perspective, maybe he’s relating to them too efficiently.”
“You think he shouldn’t be scoring big time on the back of his celebrity? How many men could resist taking advantage of the opportunity? He sounds more virile than disturbed to me.”
Paul’s humor didn’t always strike her as appropriate. “It’s a juvenile attitude, Paul. In some men I’d accept that, but I think some of his sexual conquests are attempts to strike back at the military. If I’m right, he might need help.”
“Strike back? What would he be striking back at them for? He is doing everything he can to stay in the service. That doesn’t make me think he’s nursing a grievance.”
“His hero status doesn’t thrill him. It makes him feel phony. As I said, I think he’s buried part of who he really is and the trauma is making him see all of himself again. On top of that, you know how real heroes are often uncomfortable with all the attention, the celebration of the horror and glamorizing what happened.”
“So what’s your problem? You seem to have the man fairly well figured out.”
“I think it might be better if a man did his evaluation.”
“Now I never thought I’d hear such a sexist comment from you.”
She tried to think of a professional way to put things and then gave up. “He’s hitting on me. That makes the situation awkward.”
Paul took the file, scowling as he flipped through it. “The only problem
I’ve got with your request is that you are too damn good. I never would’ve gotten that far in two sessions. You are amazing. He needs you. And from what I’ve heard and seen, he barely talks to men. Yes sir, no sir, and little else. Besides, therapy is not the goal here.”
“He talks to other soldiers. He has an affinity for making friends when he wants to. I agree he doesn’t generally seem sociable with the senior officers, but I’ve heard him in normal conversations with orderlies and other men at the office.”
“Really? Maybe his response to the brass is part of the resentment you were talking about. He knows they haven’t been where he’s been, yet he is supposed to act as if they are all in this thing together.”
“Good insight. Maybe you cane that. Let him talk to other patients and see what come out.”
“Another insight of mine is that you are the perfect person to see if he is damaged.”
“Despite my sexist attitudes about his macho behavior?”
“I never said Captain Foster wasn’t a headache. Of course, if while you were talking to him, you managed to cure him instantly, that would solve the problem.”
“Interestingly, he made the same suggestion.”
“That you cure him?”
“Better. He suggested that I’ve already worked miracles that render him free of any angst or doubt whatsoever. He began the session trying to convince me that our one hour together had been just the tonic he needed to get his taut ass back out into combat again. Or at least on active duty.”
“Taut ass? Is this a new clinical term or a slip of the proverbial Freudian tongue?”
“Neither, just a reminder that the actual woman under this white coat sees him as an attractive man.”
Paul pushed back from his desk. “Di, no one is more aware of that actual woman than I am. Your womanly qualities sometimes make it hard for me to think straight. But it’s unfair of you to address Paul the man when dealing with a question for Paul the boss of the sexy woman in the white coat.”
“Now why on earth would I want you thinking straight?” When he didn’t answer she read his face and saw he was speaking from the heart. She was enjoying their relationship, but for her it was casual. She liked Paul but she wasn’t in love with him. “You and he have some attitudes in common.”
“Should I be flattered or worried?”
She grinned. “Your choice. When I didn’t fall for Foster’s ‘everything is great doc; you can send me home’ routine, he shifted gears and announced that having dinner with him would help me understand him and his problems better. I told him I understood them well enough at long range.”
“I see. Since we share that strategy, how about I co-opt his inquiry? How about having dinner with me?”
“You’ve put so much effort into timing this to make it seem like it just occurred to you, I don’t see how I can refuse a meal and conversation.”
“Great.” He grinned. “We can negotiate anything more over dinner.”
“No negotiating.”
“Fine. I’ll happily go straight to unconditional surrender.”
“Much better. That makes for a fine dessert.”
“Surrender goes nice with port.”
She left the office glad feeling good. On the other hand, the sneaky bastard had deftly managed to avoid taking her problem off her hands.
Despite the joking, she had no doubt Trevor Foster was going to be a problem. If he insisted on pursuing her, if he wasn’t simply teasing her, trying to get a rise from her, she would have to deal with the fact that the man interested and intrigued her very much. If things went further she’d have to examine her feelings because the twinges he could make her feel were powerful. She might have to choose between dealing with a man and a patient and she had no idea what her choice would be.
“So who else is on your mind?”
Trevor looked at Frieda and caught he knowing look in her face. She lay naked on his bed, her head propped up with her hand, staring at him. “What do you mean? What could possibly be on my mind other than you.”
“You’re distracted this evening. I’m sitting her experiencing long moments of boredom while your attention slips from my stunning body and goes somewhere else. My guess is that you are thinking of someone else—a woman, of course.” She licked her lips. “I want to know who the bitch is so I can have her killed.”
He laughed. “Jealous?”
“Nope. I don’t own you, and don’t want to. But I like to be proactive. We’re having fun and if I have her killed it will keep my life simple and soothe my hurt feelings. It’s unkind to think of another woman when you are with me. Besides, I’m curious.”
“Curious about what?”
She grinned. “Okay, here is the plot—I’m guessing that she’s someone you are attracted to, but for whatever reason you haven’t managed to fuck her. That makes her potential competition and it’s harder to compete with a woman you only know as a desirable object than as a real person.“
“What makes you think it’s someone I haven’t had?”
She licked her lips. “Because I think you imagined screwing her while you were inside me. If you’d had her, you might think about her, but it would be different.”
Her directness made him feel awkward and he examined her face, her body language, trying to tell if she was angry with him. He decided she wasn’t. A little put out, and bored in the moments she mentioned. That made him like her even more. It was a relief to be with someone so pragmatic and who didn’t want an emotional relationship. She was having fun screwing him and he doubted she cared who else he screwed. He hadn’t even wondered if she was fucking other men. She could well have been in bed with another man when he’d gone over and found she wasn’t at home. He’d fucked Dorothy without a twinge of guilt. But at any rate, it wasn’t much for her to ask that he stop thinking of someone else when he was with her.
“Yes, my mind drifted. That wasn’t nice and I’m sorry about that.”
“Who is it?”
Again he saw she was curious in a friendly nosy way. He couldn’t resist telling her. “It’s the woman the Army assigned to decide if I’m a head case. She’s suppose to find whatever demons lurk inside my head and determine if they are debilitating enough to make me unsuitable to march twenty miles across the desert in the hot sun and shoot guys in turbans. All we do is talk, but she’s attractive and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t take a close look.”
“You like her.”
“She intrigues me. Like you, she is a no bullshit lady, and bright. A little intimidating, to be honest.” He shrugged. “I doubt she has any interest in me and she is serious about her work and the idea of even having a drink with a patient is apparently a big no no.”
Frieda laughed. “I can understand why she gets to you that way.”
“You can?”
“Let’s see… we have a hot woman, who is going to have a big influence on your career. She is tough minded, so no pushover, which turns you on.” She laughed at his expression. “See, I get you. Because she is also a professional and might be getting inside your thoughts more than you want to admit that gives her a bit of leverage. You worry that she might see through some of your macho bullshit and are tickled that she might like you anyway, if you can ever find a way to kick over the official barrier between you.”
“Have you been reading my email?”
She stroked his face. “Every chance I get. And your face. I learn a lot from a man’s face.” She ran her hand over his leg and up to his crotch. “And even more from his cock.”
“The emotional response a man can’t disguise even if he wants to.”
“And now, my good captain, I’m afraid you’ve exceeded the quota for talking about other women for the entire month. You’ll have to lust after her on your own time and get back to focusing on me.”
He leaned down and kissed her, tasting the desire on her lips. He pushed her on her back, seeing the delight on her face, the anticipation as he moved over her, trail
ing wet kisses up her body, sucking her nipples, giving each equal time. He forced the image of Di Anders into the deep recesses of his brain. No way would he let a possible conquest interfere with his enjoyment of this delicious woman in the here and now.
He spread her legs apart and Frieda moaned appreciatively at the touch of his face on her warm and musky cunt. “Much better,” she said, running her fingers through his short hair and pulling his mouth against her swollen pussy lips and drawing up her knees. “Much, much better.”
It was better. Frieda was as delicious a woman as he’d ever known and as she became more aroused, and her juices began to flow, he collected them on his tongue. He’d been wrong to let his mind drift. He’d make it up to her in the way she would appreciate most, but fucking her, spending in her while he kept her body, every tasty molecule, in his awareness.