This is a standalone story that should make sense even if you have not read any other chapters. I wrote this a year ago but have not got round to submitting it - sorry for the delay. Towards the end, this story ticks off a few different kinks - as always, this is fantasy (although partly based in real events). Thanks for reading.
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Andy checked his bow tie in the mirror a final time, made sure his miniature medals were sat straight on the breast of his bright red Mess Dress jacket and had a final look for any undone buttons on his navy-blue waistcoat before knocking back the last of his whisky and turning out the light to his room in the Officers' Mess. He strode out into the dark and set course for the opposite corner of the small British Army base in Yorkshire.
As he walked through the quiet darkness he exchanged a nod with a security guard; a huge German Shepherd trotting along beside him. Alone again he considered his first month in this new posting and decided he could count himself lucky. In his Battalion, he had been caught doing something (very) naughty with his Platoon's Medic - a non-commissioned officer. As he himself was a Captain this had nearly cost him his career, but instead the girl had been whisked off on a special assignment somewhere and he had been assigned to a large Headquarters up North. The work was nowhere near as exciting as being in his Battalion but it would certainly do his career no harm. He definitely did consider himself lucky.
A few short minutes later he was at the entrance of the Sergeants' Mess. Tonight was the anniversary of a Napoleonic battle. It had actually been a great British defeat, but peculiar to British culture, the Army celebrated its 'brave and glorious' defeats almost as much as its victories. So, some 200 years after the last short was fired, the Officers were invited to the Sergeants' Mess for drinks, dinner, drinks, toasts, speeches and more drinks. It was considered a badge of honour if you were still one of the last men standing in the bar when the sun was rising the next day. For their part the Sergeants' Mess would assign hosts to each guest to ensure they were so plied with alcohol that they crashed out long before that. The rivalry between the Messes was good natured and founded on grudging respect, so Andy was looking forward to this evening greatly.
Walking into the dimly lit entrance hall (which looked blindingly bright compared to outside) Andy was met by his host for the evening. He was slightly surprised that it was Sergeant Armitage; a rather pretty, late twenties clerk who worked in the office next to his. He looked her over in her long dress and high collared jacket deciding that while it was not exactly a miniskirt, she looked considerably more feminine than she did in her combats.
"Good evening Sir." Sergeant Armitage beamed at him, handing him a pint of lager with one hand. "A drink?" Andy nodded his thanks and took the glass from her. As soon as the weight had been transferred to him, her other hand came quickly over the top with a penny clenched between her fingers. One of the oldest tricks in the book was to drop a coin into someone's drink and, as it was embossed with an image of the monarch, to tell your victim that 'the Queen is drowning' which then forced the target to down the drink in one go, catching the coin in their teeth and therefore 'saving' the Queen.
Andy was not easily caught off guard. Without spilling a drop of beer, his free hand caught Sergeant Armitage by the wrist and jerked her hand away from the glass and towards him. The penny, already being released, dropped harmlessly onto the floor and rolled into the corner of the room. Sergeant Armitage squeaked as she came off balance in her heels and stumbled towards him, ending up with her warm body pressed to him, looking up at his face with trepidation; a situation that surprised them both.
They stood like that for an indescribably long two seconds, looking into each other's eyes before she pulled herself upright and blushed bright red. For his part, Andy managed to keep his composure and quietly offered "Well, this is a more hands on style of hosting than I am used to. I hope this continues. Shall we go on through..." The Sergeant, cursing under her breath, but managing to smile anyway, led Andy through into the ante room. The room was large, with lots of space for the fifty or so people stood in it. Its walls were covered in antique weapons, silver pieces stolen from the French hundreds of years ago, and oil paintings of Victoria Cross winners. It was a room that reeked of history and tradition and immediately put Andy at ease.
The same was not quite true of Sergeant Armitage however. She conducted her duties as a host well enough; ensuring his glass was never empty, steering him round the room to talk to different knots of people, reminding him of people's names when he stumbled. But throughout it all she seemed on edge and was knocking back gin and tonics at an alarming rate. Rather than calming her down, the booze seemed to be pumping her up more. In no time at all she was quite drunk and insisting, in a slightly manic way, that he should call her Michelle - something he refused to do.
This did not mean he was not enjoying her company. Despite the fact it was a bit like watching a car crash, Andy was interested in her anecdotes, amused by her (very unusual) laugh and just a little bit turned on whenever she leaned on his arm - which was often. Eventually they had spoken to everyone in the room that Andy had any desire to talk to and he caught her by the wrist again as they were moving across the room and pulled her towards the fireplace so they could talk just between themselves.
"I know a secret." Michelle said, giggling once they were alone.
"What's that then?"
"I know why you are here at a Brigade HQ rather than in your Battalion." Andy stopped sipping his drink and looked at her. "Your CO wrote a covering letter to the Chief of Staff when you were posted explaining the 'issue' that had got you moved. I do the shredding in the HQ but I read that one before I put it in the machine. It said you were found doing it in the back of a truck with a medic." Michelle was obviously very pleased with herself for knowing this information but Andy was far from happy. His hand found her wrist again and firmly squeezed. He leaned his face in close and hissed her ear.
"Sergeant Armitage..." he said through gritted teeth.
"Michelle." She interrupted. He ignored her.
"That is very sensitive information that could do me a lot of damage if it was public knowledge." He added menace to his voice as well as his imposing physical actions.
It was her turn to ignore him. "I'd like you to call me Michelle. I can't believe you called that Corporal by her rank the whole time you were banging her?" A drunken giggle slipped out, "Although I bet she called you 'Sir' didn't she?" Michelle leaned in herself, closing the distance between them to just inches and breathed so quietly he asked himself if he had heard her correctly "If you do to me what you did to her I will call you Sir, or anything you want..."
Before Andy could reply, a bugler marched into the room and played a short blast of deafening music before announcing that it would be five minutes until dinner was served. Sergeant Armitage sprang free from Andy's grip and headed for the toilets. As she walked she looked over her shoulder and smiled at Andy, making his mouth go dry as he considered what she might have just implied.