Alternate Memories - Ft. Meade

I awoke around 7:30, almost two hours later than usual, but it had been an unusual night. I could still taste Maribeth in my mouth and I consciously ran my tongue around inside to make sure. I thought I could get very used to that particular flavor.

Maribeth's regular breathing indicated that she was still asleep and I could think of no earthly reason to awaken her. I looked out the window and saw that the forecasts had been right, enough snow had fallen overnight that it coated the ground but the pavement was mostly clear, so it must have just been a flurry.

I had noticed that when we had slept together in the past that we were usually in one of two positions; either spooned with me cuddled up behind or me on my back with Maribeth's head in the crook of my shoulder, one hand on my chest and her leg over mine. This morning I found us in this latter position and I was finding holding her in this manner to be quite pleasant.

I thought about our oral explorations a few hours ago and I was filled with gratitude for the gift that Maribeth has chosen to bestow. It seemed to me that all barriers to pure intimacy between us were falling rapidly, andI knew that I had never been so comfortable in anyone's company as I was with her.

In a normal week, by this time of the morning I would be finishing up PT. The Company worked a five and a half day schedule. Saturday mornings were like any other day of the week, so it seemed strange to be still abed at this hour. I briefly considered getting up and doing my run, but with a naked woman draped over me, even I wasn't that compulsive. Every week I had a down day. It was usually Sunday, but I figured, what the heck, Saturday was fine with me.

Maybe I'd fall back to sleep and maybe I wouldn't, but in the meantime I thought about the woman I was holding in my arms. Most people, I think, would describe Maribeth's face as 'innocent,' but as I looked at her in the early morning light the word that filled my mind was 'angelic.' Even in sleep she had a smile on her face, and when I concentrated on the pale softness of her skin laying against me I was appreciative of what wonderful creatures women are.

Words fail to adequately describe my thoughts and emotions in those quiet moments before I felt Maribeth start to stir. When she did, our eyes met and the contented smile of her sleep broadened and formed dimples in her cheeks. Our eyes met as she looked up and said, "hi soldier," "hi yourself beautiful," I replied. I sensed her free hand caress my stomach as she felt the muscles there and then moved over my chest, her fingers running through the hair and finally finding my cheek with the coarse stubble that appeared every morning. She seemed fascinated with the rough texture and once she dropped her hand to feel her own soft cheek as if doing a comparison.

After a moment she sat up and ran her hands through her hair, gathering tresses and tying them loosely together on top of her head. As she stretched, her breasts also moved in a most interesting way and since they were only inches from my face, I could be excused for taking one of her proffered nipples into my mouth and flicking it with my tongue, which of course, I did. Maribeth gave a soft 'mmm' and pressed forward.

I wrapped my arms around her body and kissed her neck. Another low 'mmm.' Finally she pushed me away and said, "I need to pee." I watched her get out of bed and pad across the room heading for the toilet. As I watched her walk away I noted her cute butt which swayed in a decidedly feminine manner before she disappeared. I considered following, but got up and put coffee on instead. A few minutes later, I heard the shower, but by that time I had slipped on some shorts and was breaking eggs for my patented egg sandwiches.

When Maribeth appeared she had done the turban thing with the bath towel again, and fresh out of the shower she looked radiant. Opening her suitcase, she slipped on a pair of red panties and a knee length silk robe that had an oriental looking pattern. She tied this loosely. While it covered her nipples there was enough swell of her breasts visible that she wouldn't be losing my attention anytime soon.

She took one of the chairs at the small table and I poured a cup of coffee and handed it to her. I had no cream, so she made do with milk and the sugar was spooned directly out of the five pound bag it came in. Maribeth smiled and asked if I had enjoyed the previous evening's surprise? I was standing at the stove flipping eggs, so I answered over my shoulder, that yes. Indeed I had enjoyed her imaginative gift and I asked her if she had other similar surprises planned for the coming days?

Maribeth raised the cup to her lips, and looked back at me over the rim. "Perhaps, but it won't be a surprise if I tell you." Obviously the lady had a point. I finished assembling the sandwiches and joined her at the table. I asked her if she had anything she absolutely wanted to see while she was here? Maribeth gave me that smile she reserves for when I ask stupid questions. "Absolutely," she said, "I want to see if you can last the week."

At that, we both laughed so hard that Maribeth almost spilled the coffee she was holding onto her lap, and I had to admit that the lady had countered with the perfect answer. She had caught me in mid-bite and I almost choked before regaining some measure of control.

I remembered that neither in our day in Norfolk, nor in any of the days we'd been together in Dayton had I ever asked Maribeth what she wanted to do. In every case I had made the plan and had basically said "come with me." She had willingly followed and seemed to enjoy it all. As I looked at the beautiful woman sitting across the table I became conscious, perhaps for the first time, how much Maribeth had come to trust me.

As we finished breakfast, I was aware that I was sorely in need of a shower, and I suggested that perhaps Maribeth would like to unpack while I showered and shaved. As I rose to clear the table, so did Maribeth. She stepped forward and wrapped one arm around me and kissed me. Her other hand caressed my cheek feeling the roughness and she whispered, "shower, but don't shave." I looked at her and she nodded, emphasizing her request.

Later standing under the needles of hot water I thought about Maribeth's request. I knew that there were things about her that I regarded as hallmarks of her femininity; her hair, her eyes and lips, the way she walked or used her hands, the treble of her voice and the soft feel of her skin, the scent of her all combined in such a way to create a creature of immense beauty. I had never particularly thought about what women might say about masculinity in the same way, but perhaps Maribeth was opening that door. I wondered what else I was going to learn from her.

When I emerged from the bathroom, I noticed that Maribeth had gotten dressed. She was still sitting at the table, but was now engaged in brushing out her long hair. She looked up as I padded past and gave me a playful slap on my bare butt as I headed to the dresser. She told me that as soon as the steam dissipated she needed to use the bathroom mirror. I assumed she needed the bathroom mirror to put her hair up in the way she usually wore it. This thought caused me to focus on another big difference between the sexes. My hair maintenance consisted of a quick shampoo and about a ten second dry down with a bath towel. I honestly didn't know how much time Maribeth had to spend on her's, but it sure was a lot longer than ten seconds.

In the shower I had decided that since it was kind of a sloppy day that we'd hang around the post. I anticipated giving Maribeth the 'nickel tour,' show her where I spent my day and perhaps introduce her to some people. I was thinking we'd go out in the evening, probably back to the officer's club, but I was considering a trip to Sledgehammers. That would be a stark contrast. I decided that I would mull on that decision for a while.

Since I owned so little in the way of civilian attire, and since we would be staying on post, I decided on dress fatigues and boots. Maribeth had disappeared into the bathroom and the door was partly closed but I could hear her humming some tune that I didn't recognize. The radio was still playing softly in the background and I was enjoying the harmonious clash between the song it was playing and the soft tinkle of Maribeth's voice. I poured another coffee and waited for her to appear.

A few minutes later she did and she stopped immediately as soon as she saw me. We looked at each other and both said, "wow," almost in unison. Maribeth had wound her hair in loose pigtails and had then looped them around so that they looked like a crown on her head. I had never seen her hair in exactly this style, but it was fantastic. She had on a pair of dark grey wool pants and short topped low heel boots. The big surprise was the Kelly green Wright State sweatshirt.

Maribeth looked at me and noting that I had opted for a uniform, she said, "don't you look handsome." I hadn't consciously thought about the fact that since I went on active duty, Maribeth had not actually seen me in uniform. A second later she pulled me to my feet and worked herself into my arms. My nose sort of buried itself into her tresses and I smelled something that was sort of like perfume, but more subtle. I suspected it was just a little of the fragrance from the shampoo and a lot of just Maribeth. She raised her head and for the first time since we got up, we kissed.

I had come to appreciate the different sort of kisses that Maribeth and I shared, and I was conscious that each conveyed its own special message. This one I labeled the "I'm happy and love being with you" kiss. Nothing more and nothing less.

After we broke, I explained my general idea for how we would spend the day, and as I expected, Maribeth was more than okay with it. I told her to wait a few moments while I warmed up 'Charlie' and took care of any snow that needed to be brushed off, but that turned out to be minimal, so soon we were seated and our tour began.

It was about a ten minute drive to the Company compound. Because leaves had been phased, half of the unit was there working or training. I pulled into a parking spot and we went into the headquarters building. Captain Buffardi wasn't there as he had chosen this week to take leave and had gone home to New Jersey. First Sgt. Morris was and I introduced Maribeth. In the last few weeks Sgt. Morris had seemed to accept my existence and while we'd never be bosom buddies, we'd found a way to work together. With Maribeth he was charm personified, he offered her coffee and said he'd be happy to show her around if I needed to be elsewhere. Maribeth laughed and thanked him for the offer and said she'd keep him in mind...if I needed to be 'elsewhere.'

The three platoon leaders all shared an office next to the Captain's. It consisted of three grey steel desks all pushed against the walls. Since I had a small framed picture of Maribeth, she immediately deduced which was mine. Normally it would have been littered with training manuals, schedules, rosters and other artifacts of everyday Army life, but today it was clean as I had dumped all of that stuff into one of the drawers before I left work on Friday.

No one else was there so a quick look was all that was necessary. The entire compound consisted of the headquarters, a building we used for classroom training, and a mess hall. We shared a motor pool a couple of blocks away and bachelor enlisted lived in a barracks about a mile away. We walked into the mess, but since we were between meals - late for breakfast, early for lunch - there wasn't much to see. The coffee urns were still hot and would remain so all day. It is well known that the Army actually runs on caffeine.

I didn't expect to see many people in the compound and didn't. Most people would most likely be in the motor pool area, so that was our next stop. Surrounded by a chain link fence and consisting of one large steel building with about six maintenance bays, the motor pool was essentially two acres of blacktop. Normally a truck company will have about sixty tractors, three recovery vehicles and a mix of stake and platform trailers, tankers, lowboy heavy equipment haulers and jeeps. This would have filled this entire expanse, but we were making due with about 5% of that and sharing what we had with a unit permanently assigned to the post.

I walked Maribeth over to one of the big M-52 tractors. A Spec-5 from second platoon who I didn't know, but who's name tag said Vought, saw me walk up with Maribeth and saluted. I asked if he wasn't time critical, would he show Maribeth the truck? He smiled broadly and helped her into the cab and put her behind the wheel. He ran around to the passenger door and climbed in next to her. From the ground she looked tiny sitting in the huge vehicle. For the next few minutes I watched Vought giving her a quick orientation, which was capped when I heard the starter grind and the engine started. Maribeth looked impressed.

The other piece of equipment which captured her interest was the one combat forklift we had. Imagine something about twice the size of a normal forklift mounted on four seven foot tall tires. The two axles were interlinked so when the steering wheel turned so did the wheels, both front and back. Likewise the fork not only went up and down, but could tilt and move left and right as well. If anything it resembled a hulking steel dinosaur.

We ended up spending the entire morning at the unit. I was surprised by the degree of Maribeth's interest in what we saw. In one of the maintenance bays three soldiers were installing new pistons on an engine that had been removed from one of the trucks. We watched for several minutes and Maribeth had gotten one of the mechanics to explain what they were doing. He seemed to be enjoying this distraction and as we walked away, Maribeth nodded in his direction and remarked, "he's cute."

I halfway considered taking lunch in the mess hall, but truthfully I was ready to get out of Dodge. Army mess food isn't as bad as it's usually alleged, but it won't normally win any culinary awards either. The one exception to this rule is Thanksgiving. On that one day I have to admit that the feast the Army lays out takes a back seat to no one except maybe grandma.

It so happened that I had discovered a nice little restaurant almost by accident. It happened to be at the post bowling alley. It only had about six tables, and the menu was limited, but what it lacked in quantity it made up for in quality. I don't think it even had a name of it's own, but it served a half pound cheeseburger that was to die for. Maribeth and I found the last open table and I didn't even bother asking her what she wanted. Two house specials with fries and two Cokes.

While waiting for the food, Maribeth gushed about what she'd seen at the unit and kept thanking me for showing her what I do for a living. She said some of it meshed with her general understanding, but it involved so much more than she imagined. The combat forklift was one of the most amazing things she'd ever seen. I told her that in the U.S. truck companies didn't have any of those, but it was my understanding that because of the field conditions in Vietnam we were going to be given a few there.

The cheeseburgers arrived and I waited to see what Maribeth's reaction would be. The burger was almost too big, but when she bit into it her eyes got big and even though her mouth was full, she mumbled, "this is gooood." I just smiled and nodded. It was an interesting lunch which included Maribeth asking a hundred questions, some of which I actually knew the answers to punctuated by the constant background noise of rolling balls and falling pins.

The tour of the rest of the post took about an hour. Truthfully outside views of the PX, the Commissary or the base gym were probably forgotten as quickly as I identified what they were. The highlight was probably when we drove by the encampment of the 11th Cavalry Regiment with their Walker Bulldog tanks and Bradley Fighting Vehicles. The "Black Horse" Regiment was also mobilizing for deployment to Vietnam, but I didn't know when they'd be going. Trucks are cute, but tanks are lethal, and a whole lot more impressive.

As I drove us back to the BOQ, Maribeth leaned across the center console, kissed me on the cheek and told me how much she enjoyed the tour. I thought it ranked right up there as "easy duty."

Back at the BOQ, I told Maribeth that we should check out the "Ready Room," which was our informal name for the lounge and was located just behind the front desk area. Since it was now Saturday afternoon I anticipated that there would be at least some people there watching a college football game on the TV. When we walked in, that assumption proved to be correct. There were about a dozen people including Joe Grim and Diane as well as another woman that I hadn't seen before.

The game was Maryland vs. West Virginia and it was midway through the first quarter. I wasn't a fan of either team, but I knew that most years the Mountaineers usually kicked Maryland's ass. Maribeth waved at Diane and I told he to go say hi while I got us a couple of drinks. I retrieved two National Bohemians, "Nattie bo's" from the refrigerator and filled out a chit which I put in a jar on the counter.

Joe Grim was watching the game on TV so I joined the small group. Both Joe and I had played football in college so we got into a discussion about the pros and cons of what Maryland was trying to do since they had the ball. Sure enough, the very next play, I could see West Virginia bring its safeties up close to the line of scrimmage and the Maryland sweep was shut down immediately. I made the comment that I had played quarterback in high school and even at that level the standard procedure was if we saw safeties that close then the two wide receivers were supposed to just take off no matter what play had been called. We all agreed that the Maryland coaching staff wouldn't survive this season.

The game wasn't that interesting but Maribeth was, so I went back to see how she was doing. The third woman in the room had joined Diane and Maribeth and they were obviously talking about us since they would laugh and nod in our direction. The third woman turned out to be Major Ryan's wife Marjorie. This struck my funny bone because I had just finished reading Joseph Heller's novel Catch 22 which had a character named Major Major who was actually a Major, hence Major Major Major, so I immediately thought, oh Major Marjorie. It's really sad how my mind works sometimes.

Maribeth told me that later everyone was going to go to some restaurant in Baltimore and we were invited if we wanted to go. None of the women seemed to know the name of this place so I had to go ask Major Ryan what they were talking about. He said they were going to the Rathskeller, which I knew was more of a bar than a restaurant, but it has good German beer, and a limited menu. I said I wasn't totally sure if we were going, but if so, I'd see him there.

I asked Maribeth if she wanted to stay or go on up to my room? She quickly said goodbye to Diane and Majorie with some non-verbsl communication passing between them, took my arm and waved goodbye. I wondered if that non-verbal message was, "sorry girls, we need to leave because I plan to get banged really good." Nah, Maribeth would never...

However, once inside the room, with the door barely clicking closed, I wondered if I had perhaps called it correctly. Maribeth was in my arms immediately and our tongue's began to dance. If there was any lingering doubt about what Maribeth wanted, it was soon put to rest when she took my hand and pressed it against her left breast, and when she broke our kiss long enough to whisper in my ear, "fuck me."