Stockings and Suspenders (12 page)

“Lt. Ramsey, Station Zebra, mission
classified.” He looks me up and down, his eyes narrowed. The nametag on his
uniform confirms his identity as Lt. Ramsey.

“Ah, yes, Lt. Ramsey. Your commanding
officer is Capt. Torino.”

I give him a similar assessment—dark
haired with dark brown eyes. His skin is sun-kissed and he needs a shave. I
guess certain military protocols can be cast aside when only two men are around
to care. Lt. Ramsey is tall and broad-shouldered, his shirt a snug fit. He
fills it and the space he occupies without apology, but despite his size, he
moves like a much smaller, more agile man.

 “Capt. Torino is indeed my CO. If
you’ll come this way, I’ll take you to the office to meet him.” Ramsey brushes
past me without so much as a cock of his head to follow. Friendly guy. Not.

We enter a small cabin. A generator
chugs away in the background providing precious power to the equipment. The
temperature hovers between comfortable and stuffy.

He motions me to halt. “Please remain
here while I inform the captain of your arrival.” The door to an office opens
and he slips inside. I briefly hear a second male’s voice before the door shuts
and locks.

To my left is a tiny kitchenette area
with an anemic oven, range and refrigerator. I wonder how often the Navy
replenishes their food stocks. The voices within the office rise and fall,
their conversation animated, though I can’t make out their words.

To my right is another room. I stroll
over and peer inside. Two twin beds are pushed against opposite walls. Hopefully
the men work alternate shifts or Capt. Torino is a heavy sleeper. That or I’ll
need to lure Lt. Ramsey outside to deliver his Christmas present. I’m not a fan
of sex in the sand. Too much grit in the crevasses kills the mood.

In the great room are a sofa, chair
and end table. One wall is lined in books. An ancient stereo system occupies a
small table in the corner. Quite the social mecca they’ve got here. To my
surprise, the CDs include a wide range of musical styles—jazz, classical, rock,
hip-hop, even techno. I wonder who listens to which.

The makeshift coffee table is littered
with magazines; most outdated by at least a year. These cover a range of
hobbies—photography, shooting, off-roading. I find the odd girly magazine
slipped between the stacks but I suspect the majority live in the one room
where privacy is a given. That room is to the left of the bedroom.

A loud mechanical click precedes the
flung open door. A sandy-haired man of about twenty-five strolls forward, his
steps crisp and precise. I salute him since he’s the superior officer.

“Capt. Torino, Lt. Ferris, sir,” I
say.

“Lt. Ramsey tells me you’re here to
conduct an audit?” His expression is incredulous.

I assume a rigid stance, chest out,
hands at parade rest against my sides, and my eyes forward. “Yes, sir. Supplies
and other expenses, sir.”

“At ease, Lieutenant,” he says. He
saunters to the sofa where he takes a seat.

Lt. Ramsey catches my eye and shrugs.
I move to the seating area and take the chair, forcing Ramsey to sit next to
his CO.

“How long will you be here?” Capt.
Torino asks. “And why didn’t your ship bring us any additional mail, food or
supplies? The Navy is not in the habit of wasting trips to this remote
location. I assume you came by boat because we heard no helicopter rotors.” His
body language conveys suspicion and wariness.

“Sir, the SEALS dropped me off. As you
know, their entrances and exits tend to be discrete. Audits are intended to be
surprises as well.” I steal a glance at Lt. Ramsey. His face bears traces of a
smile, his eyes dance with what appears to be amusement. Am I missing a joke?

Ramsey leans his elbows on his knees
and purses his lips. “Still, it seems a waste of taxpayer dollars to send you
here literally empty-handed.”

“What makes you think I’m empty-handed?”
I quickly conjure up a suitcase and briefcase from my home and park them near
the tree where Ramsey confronted me. It’s a useful skill—the ability to
teleport not only myself but my belongings with a quick visualization.

Ramsey and Torino share a glance
charged with meaning. Ramsey nods slightly and Torino fires up the next
question, an obvious one.

“Where are your things? Even if you
were planning on being in and out in one day, you’d still at least need
documents and writing instruments. And why Christmas day of all times?”

I heave a sigh. This is where my
acting lessons come in handy. “I’m sure you don’t want to hear about how
seniority or lack thereof sometimes earns a seaman the bottom of the barrel
duties.” Torino appears unmoved. Ramsey coughs. “My things are not far from
where Lt. Ramsey found me. I stashed them in the brush until I could establish
contact.”

Ramsey stands. “I’ll go retrieve
them.”

“You won’t find them without my help.”
I stand, prepared to accompany him.

Torino
snickers, and he too stands. “Fine. You two go get Lt. Ferris’s bags and
conduct your audit. I’ll clear out a spot for you in the office, and Lt. Ramsey
will help you with anything you need.” He turns to leave but spins back around.
“When are you leaving us, Lieutenant?”

“My transport arrives at twenty three
hundred, sir.”

“Tonight?” Ramsey asks from where he
stands at my side. “They promised to have you back for at least a sliver of
Christmas, did they?”

“Something like that,” I say. My lips
curl into a shallow smile. Let the games begin.

“Lead on, then,” Ramsey says,
motioning toward the door.

Chapter Two

As we walk, I plot my reveal and
delivery. I can materialize the bags anywhere. I’m aiming for a spot that’s
soft, shady and sand-free. Absent that, up against a coconut tree works too.

“Are you sure you remember where you
left them?” Ramsey moves into step beside me on the narrow trail. “We’ve nearly
made one revolution around the perimeter of where I found you.”

Uh-oh. My sense of direction when
bipedal sucks big time. I’m used to teleporting myself to my destinations. I
rarely worry about routes or maps or distances.

On the left, the sun is starting to
peek above the treetops. Oh-nine-hundred, I’m assuming.
Calm down, Chrissy.
Don’t screw up by being impatient.

We enter a shady grotto. Perfect. I
project the suitcase and briefcase high up in a coconut tree. Let him figure
out how I got them up there. A giggle slips out as I stop and point up.

His eyes follow the path of my finger.
“Jesus H Christ! You parachuted in? Where’s the chute then?”

Oops.  I didn’t consider that option,
but if I agree, I’ve lied about the Navy SEALS dropping me off. Do SEALS
parachute?  I give an exaggerated shake of my head. Perhaps I’ll leave the good
lieutenant with a mystery to ponder after I’ve fucked his brains out.

“I didn’t parachute.”

“Then how?”

“Classified,” I bite out.

Ramsey pulls his head back in a
classic gesture of disbelief. I sniff a hint of sarcasm too.

“Fine. You can get them down then.” He
leans against the tree, one ankle atop the other, both arms crossed at his
chest.

Showtime
!

I close my eyes and draw upon my
pheromone stores. I’m kind of like a skunk only no man runs from me, except the
gay ones—my gaydar is one hundred percent accurate as I’ve sadly discovered a
few times. Hetero men can’t smell my scent, but they can feel its effects. I
open my eyes. Lt. Ramsey hasn’t shifted from his position, though he has raised
his eyebrows a tick. This going to be harder than I thought. Santa wouldn’t
gift me to a gay man, surely. The jolly fellow might be fat and sexless, but
he’s not stupid or mean.

Maybe this guy needs another dose. I
squeeze my lids shut and with a grunt, pump out as much attraction juice as I
can.

“Are you alright, Lt. Ferris?”

He’s laughing at me? How dare he! Fine!

I snap my fingers and my bags
materialize at my feet. Ramsey springs to attention, a pistol I didn’t even
know he carried drawn and pointed at the menacing briefcase.

“What the hell?” He raises his gun and
points it at me. “Who are you?
What
are you?”

That’s better.

With one hand I reach up and undo my
top two buttons.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his
brow furrowed.

“It’s hot here. The captain’s not
around and you don’t outrank me so I’m making myself comfortable.” I unbutton
two more. My red bra should be about ready to make an appearance.

Lt Ramsey’s Adam’s apple bobs up and
down. “Lieutenant, please stop right there.” The gun disappears into his
waistband.

I do, but I fix my gaze on him, my
lust lasers set to stun. After I douse him with their full strength, I smile.
“My apologies. I didn’t mean to offend you. Turn around then while I change
into shorts and a t-shirt.” I twirl my finger like a tornado.

He relaxes and his eyes zero in on my
chest. He’s seen a flash of red.
I’ve got you now, Lt. Ramsey.

“I wasn’t offended. I just didn’t know
what you were doing. I still don’t understand how you made your bags appear as
if by magic at your feet.” His gaze is fixed on my throat. A light breeze cools
the trail made by a single drop of sweat on its journey to the valley between
my breasts. The heat from his eyes follows the same path, leaving steam in its
wake.

“I told you it was classified.” I
unbutton two more and pull the shirt from the waistband of my pants. “Last
chance to turn around.”

The corner of his mouth upturns. “I
think I should keep you under surveillance,” he says.

Off comes the shirt. The lieutenant’s
eyes darken. I unbuckle and withdraw my belt from the loops. He watches like
he’s the cobra and I’m the charmer. My pants fall to the ground in a puddle at
my feet. I kick off my shoes and step away from the discards.

Ramsey purses his lips and says,
“Damn!” on a loud exhale.

Time for the money shot. I spin around
and bend over stiff legged to open up my suitcase. I give him a golden view of
bare ass cheeks and a scrap of red lace that barely hides the entrance to
paradise.

“Oh fuck me,” he mutters.

I slide my hands up the backs of my
thighs and peer around to where Ramsey stands. His hand drops to his crotch
where it appears to hover, or is suspended. Hmm, wonder which. Oh yes, I know.

“See something you like, Lieutenant?”
I straighten up and walk toward him, a feline grace in my step.

His jaw goes slack, but he remains
rooted to his spot, one hand failing miserably at hiding his erection, the other
rushing in to provide backup.

I reach behind me and unfasten my bra.
Holding the cups against my breasts, I slide the straps off my arms and pause
in front of him. “It’s too hot to wear this. I hope you don’t mind.”

He slowly turns his head side to side,
almost as if in a trance, before blinking rapidly. “Uh, no. I don’t mind. You
can take those off too if you like.” His finger points below my waist.

With a grin, I nod and let the bra
fall to the ground. His gaze dive-bombs to my breasts, and his hands twitch
where they are fighting a losing battle against a beast raging to be freed. I
reach down and slide my fingers beneath his hands.

“Very nice, Lieutenant,” I purr. The
hard ridge of his cock is indeed nice … and sizeable. I lick my lips and send a
silent thank you to Santa for giving me to someone able to express such
enthusiastic gratitude.

Ramsey moves his hands out of my way
and allows me to first unbutton then unzip—snick, snick, snick—his pants.
Defeated by their last task, his hands find my breasts. I close my eyes and
moan as he squeezes the flesh. He runs the pads of his thumbs over my nipples,
hard as diamonds.

I dive in and seek my prize, hot and
straining into my hand like a dog seeking its master’s touch. My pussy meows
and drools. The fist of lust draws back and smashes into my solar plexus,
demanding satisfaction. The succubus itch rouses and can’t be stopped except by
feeding upon the sexual energy of the man in front of me.

I lean in and kiss his lips softly.

“Careful what you play at, Lt.
Ferris,” he mumbles against my mouth.

“I’m not playing.” I kiss him again.
Our lips part and his tongue slips inside. I chase it back into his mouth with
my own.

A low growl rumbles from him to me as
he clamps an arm around my waist and snatches my body against his. His grip is
tight and controlling, and I revel in his need.

The insanity slips over me like a
well-worn glove, and a red haze floods my brain, driving out rational thought,
leaving only desperation and hunger. I rock against him, my pelvis straining
against his hip, begging for attention. I’ll take what I need once the red haze
has complete control of me.