Under Her Uniform

by Victoria Janssen

  She kissed him, quickly. “It’s all right. Thanks for sharing him with me, now and again.”

  “I do care for you, Bob. Quite a lot.”

  She was taken aback. They didn’t normally talk of such things. Was she supposed to say something in return? Daglish flushed. He swiftly kissed her, a soft pressure of half-open lips, a rub of stubble. She laid her palms on his cheeks and kissed him back, because she didn’t know what to say, and because in that moment she loved him with a melancholy pain.

  It was not the love she’d felt for Rob.

  She was grateful when Meyer returned with the cresol-soap. Hailey slipped free of Daglish’s hands to give the two men a moment together. She shut off the bathwater and pawed through the expensive French soaps displayed in a basket outside the shower-bath. “I’m going to have this lilac after,” she commented. “There’s some nice manly sorts, too.” She checked the towel rack; the towels looked thicker and softer even than the carpet.

  In the shower-bath, Daglish was engrossed in washing Meyer’s back. Meyer reached out a hand for her. There was just room, if you didn’t mind being close. They worked in silence without teasing, scouring briskly and passing the cresol-soap from hand to hand. The clean, warm water flowing over her head and body felt like the greatest luxury in the world, washing not only weeks of dirt but weeks of fear and tension down the drain. Meyer washed her hair for her, as he’d promised, and she was hard put not to groan while his fingertips scrubbed her scalp.

  After their baths, she wouldn’t have minded shaving them and trimming their hair, but Meyer said it could wait. They shaved themselves, companionably shoulder-to-shoulder at the sink, while Hailey, who hated to be idle, quickly wiped and rinsed out the shower-bath and tub.

  Naked together like this, Hailey always felt a little easier about being with them. Out of uniform, it didn’t seem quite as wrong to be fraternizing with her officers, and of course she didn’t feel quite as much like a soldier or even a batman when she couldn’t hide her breasts and cunt. It was almost like shedding a skin, to find the tender sexual creature underneath.

  The larger bedroom had a huge bed, piled high with feather quilts and velvety blankets. Meyer stripped off the heavier bedclothes and dumped them on a satin armchair. Hailey crouched on the bed, beckoning Daglish to her. “Come along, Daglish. I’ll warm you up for him.” In a moment, Daglish knelt opposite her, the sturdy bed barely seesawing with his weight. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him, gently and sweetly at first, like friends. She combed her fingers through his curls as she leaned back a bit and smiled at him. She cupped his clean-shaven cheek in her palm, stroking his skin with her thumb. “Maybe you’d like to have a go at Meyer while I watch?”

  The mattress shifted backwards as Meyer clambered on. “Starting without me?” He pressed himself to her back, all hot skin and jutting hard cock. Daglish kissed her instead of answering, then Meyer did the same.

  Sandwiched, Hailey closed her eyes and rested her head on Daglish’s muscular shoulder, breathing in the good scent of clean male skin, shivering a little at the warmth and contact, the friction of chest hair against her breasts and back. “This feels so good,” she murmured. “So warm.”

  She ran her hands up and down Daglish’s back, then lower to fondle his arse, which was exceptionally fine and deliciously firm. When she gently stroked between his cheeks, Daglish hugged her closer. Meyer nipped and kissed the tender place behind her ear; she gasped, arching into Daglish, his rapidly hardening cock poking into her belly, Meyer’s rubbing against her lower back.

  Meyer scraped his teeth along her jawline, his moustache tickling her cheek. She tried to wiggle sideways, so the two men could kiss each other again, but neither seemed inclined to let go of her. She wasn’t going to complain. Daglish slid down her front and started in on her breasts, first with his hands, then with his hands and his mouth. He’d learned quite a lot since his first attempt, back in the winter. She sank her fingers into his hair, feeling her thighs weaken.

  Meyer followed her down. She ended lying on her side, Daglish thoroughly stroking and suckling her breasts, Meyer undulating against her back, his long legs tangling in hers, his heel rubbing along her calf. Meyer slid one hand over her hip and teased the lips of her cunt, murmuring endearments, kissing her jawline and the nape of her neck. Daglish nipped the underside of her breast.

  “Christ!” she said, digging her nails into his shoulders. His tongue circled her nipple, flicked it, spread firm against it as he sucked again, now interrupting his suckling with the occasional fiery scrape of teeth.

  Meyer’s finger parted her lower lips, nudging towards her opening, teasing there, then teasing her clit, then pressing his palm into her clit and rubbing, with just the motion she liked best. His breath scalded her ear. “Come for us,” he said.

  “Glad to—ah!” Daglish switched from one breast to the other, his free hand teasing her until she lost her breath. Meyer’s hand moved; his long finger slid inside her. He was half-covering her now, his leg pinning hers to the mattress. Daglish made a startled noise; she’d pulled his hair without meaning to.

  “Sorry—ah!” She closed her eyes and arched into Meyer’s hand, Daglish’s mouth. “Kiss me—”

  Both of them did, Meyer on the most sensitive spot on her neck, Daglish on her mouth. Then Daglish leaned over and kissed Meyer; Hailey grabbed an arm each, whimpering as Meyer’s finger stroked inside her. “Finish me,” she demanded.

  Meyer gave Daglish a last kiss, this one on the chin, and propped himself on his free arm. He withdrew his finger from her cunt, so slowly that she cried out, and drew circles on her lower abdomen before moving back to her clit. In a low voice, he said, “I want to see Crispin fuck you. Very slowly. Crispin, do you want to fuck Isobel?”

  Daglish ducked his head. She couldn’t see his expression; she grabbed his chin and forced his eyes to hers, arousal twisting with apprehension in her belly. To her relief, Daglish didn’t look horrified. He looked…her eyes welled with tears. She blinked them back, trying to think what to say. “Do you want to? Truly?”

  Daglish smiled, a sweet arrow to her heart. “I really would like to give it a try. But only for you. Don’t think I’ll be accosting women all along the High Street.”

  “I don’t understand why—”

  Meyer’s hand shifted on her clit and she gasped, squirmed into his touch. Daglish kissed her, aggressively tangling their tongues, as Meyer’s hand pushed her over the crest. After, she stretched languorously, rubbing her arse against Meyer before catching Daglish’s arms and drawing him down to her. “Come on, Daglish, come on, I want you in me.”

  Daglish glanced at Meyer, then settled himself between her thighs. To her relief, his erection jutted firm, bumping at his belly. He wasn’t lying about his interest just to please her.

  Meyer lay along her left side, his smooth cock sliding along her leg. She laid a bet with herself that both men had taken themselves in hand earlier that day, in preparation for this…or did she flatter herself?

  Why were they doing this? She was perfectly happy being the extra third in this unconventional relationship. Were they bored?

  She was wasting time worrying when she ought to be taking full advantage. She dug her fingers into Daglish’s arse and arched up to him. “Kiss me. Come along now.”

  Meyer sat up, fetched a pillow, and maneuvered it beneath her hips; a minor irritation distracting her from the darting tongue in her mouth, the square hands slidin
g over her breasts, the dark curls softly brushing her face. Her clit was tender from coming a few moments before, but she wasn’t satisfied yet, and Daglish had a fine thick cock. She was curious how it would feel inside her, and her curiosity was increasing by the second.

  When Daglish took a breather, she rolled her head to the side and asked Meyer, “You going to take him while he takes me?”

  “Not this time.” Meyer nuzzled one of her breasts, his moustache brushing little velvety trails of sensation along her skin; his free hand rubbed Daglish’s shoulder.

  “This is just for you,” Daglish said. He planted his hands on her thighs, spread them. He was guiding his cock with his hand; Hailey laid her hand over his, helping him slide into her.

  Oh, he felt good. She closed her eyes, rolled her hips, grabbed his arse and pulled him more deeply inside her, ran her hands up and down his braced forearms. “God, you’ve got a nice cock.”

  “Feels different,” he said. “From being inside Gabriel.”

  “Bad?”

  “No…no.” He withdrew a fraction, slid back in. She made an encouraging noise; he thrust again. “Gabriel,” he said.

  Hailey opened her eyes. Meyer sat on his heels next to them. He stroked his hand down Daglish’s back, then smacked him lightly on the rear.

  The next few minutes were more fun than she’d had in months. She talked Meyer into letting her suck him while she was being fucked, and brought him off in record time. Daglish, perhaps because his main interest was Meyer rather than her, took a considerable time to approach climax. He fucked her slow and steady until she lost track of time, and a near-continuous stream of moans and cries flowed from her mouth. Meyer stroked her hair, slid beneath Daglish and suckled her breasts, rubbed her abdomen in concert with Daglish’s thrusts until she came twice over, but still Daglish didn’t stop until she’d come a third time, crying out with it. Afterwards she was limp as an empty sack.

  She blinked sleepily at them, holding Daglish’s hand as Meyer sucked him off. She drifted into sleep before they’d finished.

  She woke in the wee hours, sandwiched between the two men. Meyer was watching her; she could see the gleam of his eyes in the trickle of electric light from the bath, which they’d neglected to shut off. She laid her hand on his chest, rubbing. “What was all that about?”

  Meyer propped himself on one elbow, clasping her hand to his chest with his free hand. “Marry me,” he said.

  This was a dream. A very strange dream. “Don’t be an idiot,” she said.

  “Not the response I was hoping for.”

  “That’s because you’re mad,” she hissed, hoping Daglish wouldn’t wake.

  “No, I’m not. Fact one, you like me and you like Crispin. Fact two, we can satisfy you in bed, both of us. We’ve just proved that again. Fact three, we can provide for you and your family. You wouldn’t have to be in the army. Fact four, you would be protecting Crispin from any dangerous interest.”

  “And you.”

  “Yes, but it’s Crispin who’s most important. Isn’t it?”

  She withdrew her hand. “I can’t.”

  “Isobel—”

  Daglish sat up. “Christ, you just asked her, didn’t you.” He reached over, turned on the lamp.

  Hailey’s stomach twisted uncomfortably. “I can’t do this. No.”

  “Tell me why,” Meyer said.

  She was bleary, not in the best state to put her thoughts in order, but she didn’t wait anymore, not for anything important. “It’s not the sex,” she said. “Meyer, Daglish, it’s not the sex. It’s good, more than good. It’s—married is—”

  Daglish brushed hair off her forehead. “I’d marry him if I could.”

  “I know. That’s what’s part of it. You love him.”

  “I think I do.”

  Meyer said, “Crispin and I can’t marry. You and I can. Lots of people marry for less.”

  “Don’t I remember hearing you almost got married once before?” she asked.

  “She called it off, not me.”

  “But you were glad. Weren’t you. Because you weren’t in love with her.”

  Meyer grimaced. “I wish I hadn’t told you that.” He held out his hand to Daglish. “May I have my specs?”

  “Seeing me better isn’t going to change my mind,” Hailey said. She took a deep breath, collecting herself while Meyer put his specs on, sat himself cross-legged to face her and Daglish.

  Daglish said, “It’s all right, Bob. I thought you would tell us no, but Gabriel wanted to ask.”

  “It’s a good plan,” Meyer said, jaw set mulishly.

  Hailey took his hand in hers, then reached across and took Daglish’s hand as well. “I love you both, I think, but not like I’d love a husband. Not like you love each other. Not like I loved my Rob, who died.”

  “We’re here,” Meyer said. “Rob is not.”

  She blew out her breath. “You’re not like him, either of you. You’re not like me. I’m not meant for the likes of you. Can you imagine bringing me home to your ma, Meyer? A Christian, with her hair cut off, no good account of herself for all that time she was in the army, pretending to be a man? Someone whose ma and sis live in a rundown bedsit?”

  “I’m not ashamed of you,” he said fiercely.

  “You would be. Even if you didn’t mean it. And I…Meyer, I don’t want to live your kind of life.”

  “You could work. An education to get a better sort of job, if you liked. I can give that to you.”

  She closed her eyes, didn’t speak. She didn’t want that, any of that. She didn’t want to always have his eyes on her, worrying, trying to keep her safe and happy. She could manage that for herself.

  Meyer’s eyes remained steady on her face. After a long silence, he said, “You’re sure.”

  “I’m sure.” She opened her eyes, squeezed their hands. “Don’t let’s spoil our leave. Please?”

  Daglish kissed her, next to her ear. “Thank you for telling us the truth.”

  Meyer blew out a frustrated breath. “I wish you agreed with me.”

  “Well, I don’t. But I’ll fuck you cross-eyed if you want.”

  He laughed. “Oh you will, will you?”

  * * *

  After she’d refused Meyer’s marriage proposal, they’d been back on their normal footing pretty easily, so far as the sex went. Inside her, it was a different matter. She’d known before she didn’t really belong with them, and now it was starting to make a difference. Any time she wasn’t naked, she now felt a touch awkward.

  She hung back when they viewed an exhibition of pen-and-ink drawings in some little gallery where they served wine and little slivers of cheese. When the three of them ventured to a smoky little club, she nursed a whiskey through the first few numbers, then left early.

  She wasn’t sure if she could go on leave with them again. It hurt too much, to be reminded that much as she loved Meyer and Daglish, as good as their bodies could make hers feel, she couldn’t ever truly have them. Didn’t really want them. It made her lonely to watch them together. She wanted what they had for herself.

  She wasn’t sorry to go back to the trenches. Returning from leave was always hard, but this time Hailey felt made of lead.

  Thus, a few days later, it was a big relief to get called in, officially, to see Major Fournier of French Intelligence. He was a tall, lanky man who always looked disheveled, even if his uniform was freshly pressed. Hailey knew him from a few months back.
He’d been responsible, indirectly, for her being in Paris with Meyer and Daglish that first time.

  The captain’s dugout wasn’t that large. It held a small table with four wooden chairs crammed around it, a cot for Meyer, his trunk, and piles of crates that couldn’t be stored anywhere else. The crates had been rearranged a bit so the sleeping area was marked off. The walls had boards slapped over the dirt, and an oilcloth served as ceiling, but the floor was just hard-packed.

  Captain Meyer had one of the chairs, Major Fournier another. When Hailey entered, she was surprised to see Southey there, too, standing at ease with a cup of tea.

  Meyer waved a hand. “Have a seat if you like, Hailey. We’re looking for a couple of volunteers, and I’m not sure how long all of this will take.”

  “No, thank you, sir. But I wouldn’t mind a cuppa.”

  Fournier spoke accented but otherwise excellent English. As soon as she was sipping her tea, he started in on the briefing.

  “One of my agents was captured by the Boche, in the occupied territory. She was carrying maps received from a British spy. She had not had time to encode the information written on them. She hid the maps inside the cottage in which she was captured. Soon after, due to the foolishness of her captors, she had a chance to escape. Unfortunately, she could not retrieve the maps.”

  She, Hailey noted with interest.

  That was the mission then: get the maps.

  Meyer said, “Our Colonel Oldham was…displeased with this outcome, and after a great many angry telegrams back and forth, it appears we’re to send a couple of our own men to recover the maps. We happen to be rotating out of the line tomorrow, so we got the nod.”

  Fournier added, “If you would like to volunteer, there is bonus payment set aside.” He named a sum. Hailey’s interest flared. That would take care of expenses for her mother and sister for nearly six months, even at wartime prices.