Breaing Article 134

"Wright! What the fuck are you still doing here?" One would think that I'd have gotten used to that coming up from behind and yelling trick. NCO or not, sometimes he really worked my last nerve.

"Working Sarn't." I shoved a doodle paper under a stack of inventory. "Surely you've seen work before?"

"Don't push it private. Get outta here. See ya tomorrow."

"See you tomorrow, Sarn't."

"Not if I have anything to say about it." His Puerto Rican Brooklyn accent made that sound more ominous that it actually was. I perked up with false brightness.

"Finally! I get a day off." I flashed him a huge smile, he gave me a look of fake irritation.

"Foggettaboudit." He crossed his arms over his huge chest and laughed. "I do."

"Thursday night, you, me, the Auto Crafts shop. We still on? You promised to help me put in the 205. You're my only hope Sarn't, I don't know anyone else strong enough or smart enough."

He laughed at me, detaching himself from the door frame. "I'm married, you little hussy. Yeah, Thursday night. After that you're doin' all the little PM shit to my cars 'til I PCS."

"Yes, Sarn't." Changing oil and doing tuneups until he did a permanent change of station. Ugh. The 205 was worth it. I hoped.

Mendez abruptly snapped to attention. A moment later I heard footsteps on the uncarpeted steps leading to the dank storage room I optimistically called my office. I leaped to my feet and snapped to attention as well.

"As you were," the officer said loudly enough for me to hear it. Oh shit, I forgot the major's--

"Hello, sir, what can I help ya with?" Sergeant Mendez asked politely.

"Sent a note for some resupply, never got it." Oh hell. A chill ran along my spine and the flesh of my arms erupted into goose bumps.

"Wright, you get a note from the major 'bout some supplies?" Mendez demanded, stepping fully into my office. The major followed him.

Lie, Wright, lie. "Yes, sergeant." Dammit.

"What's going on down here, sergeant?" The major looked from the sergeant to my face and held his eyes there. I tried to keep from fidgeting.

"Sir?" Mendez shifted his weight.

I wanted to twitch myself, but didn't. The major's eyes never left me; his scrutiny was making me nervous and jumpy. I felt I should be at attention, but he'd released us from it already. Wisely enough, I kept my mouth shut.

"Wright is it?"

"Yessir."

"Why did the sergeant find it necessary to remind you that he was married?" The major had to sound smug when he said it, too. That made me angry. Son of a bitch, did he think I was some sort of man thief?

"Because I expressed the opinion that the sergeant was the only person I knew who was strong enough and smart enough to help me put my 205 in, sir."

"A 205?"

"A 205 is a-"

"I want to hear this from the private."

"Yessir."

"A New Process 205. It is a gear driven transfer case which is superior to the 208 which I currently have--a chain driven transfer case. Chains slip and cause the transfer case to slip out of four by. I get a better grip with the gears on the 205." I paused, waiting until just shy of disrespect. "Sir."

Mendez cut me a look that was meant to kill my attitude before it got started. The major frowned at me, our eyes meeting for the first time, ever. It was obvious that the major really didn't know what I was talking about. It was just as obvious that he didn't like it. I lifted my chin a notch and inwardly treated myself to a smug little smile. After a few moments of silence the major finally said, "Very well. Be careful what you say, you never know how it'll be heard."

"Yessir," I echoed along with Sergeant Mendez.

"I want a word with Wright, sergeant."

"Okay, see you on Wednesday, sir," Mendez said. He glared at me one last time for good measure, an oblique warning to behave. As if I would ever say or do anything wrong. I gave him my most innocent, wide-eyed look. He rolled his eyes and left.

"I'm going to let you off with a warning this time, private. I may not have known what you were talking about, but I sure as hell know what you were doing. Don't do it again." The major's words came fast and furious, his voice was deep and harsh.

"Yes, sir." Sir or not, there was no way I was backing down. My words and tone would agree with him, but physically I was stiff as a board, my eyes locked on the wall behind him. I hoped to hell that he couldn't read me; the major was famous for his ability to chew ass.

He invaded my personal space. He stepped up to me at my desk, his body less than a foot from mine, until it was either glare at his chest or look up at him. I purely hated it when men did that to me, used their greater size to try to intimidate me into doing something. Never one to be cowed, I looked up at him. That was a mistake; if anything, his expression goaded me further. Even an idiot could tell that he found me amusing.

"Was there something else you wanted, sir?" I kept my voice carefully neutral.

"This bugs you doesn't it, private?" He even had the gall to sound amused.

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Denied, it was a rhetorical question."

"Yessir." My anger tasted like bile.

He slapped something that sounded like paper on my desk. The motion stirred the air, giving me a good whiff of his cologne and the muskier scent of his skin. "That's a list of resupply for my office. Deliver it first thing after formation tomorrow."

"Yessir."

"Try to behave."

"Yessir." My impulse was to double up my fist and slam it into his smirking jaw. I managed to stop myself. Barely.

"Good. Have a good evening, private."

"You too, sir."

Pivoting sharply, he left my office, whistling. He'd gotten the better of me and that pissed me off even more. I would be damned if he'd ever do it again.

I left my desk a mess, something I ordinarily don't do, and charged through the door. I wanted to get to the PX, post exchange, and buy a few things before it got too crowded. Buying something always made me feel better. Stupid really, but there it was. I picked up one of those little red baskets, dropped my headgear into it, and stomped through the store to find the perfect panacea to make myself feel better.

I'd managed to lose the crankiness somewhere between the automotive and lingerie departments. I picked up a pair of jeans, some undies, a couple of quarts of synthetic motor oil, and a new bottle of wine. I was sniffing on some perfume when I felt the heat of a body behind me. I stiffened, knowing who it was before the scent of his cologne reached my nostrils.

"Private Wright."

"Hello, sir." Back came the sour mood.

He squatted down next to my basket, the heavily starched fabric of his BDU trousers delineated every plane of the muscles in his thighs. I shut my eyes for a moment, imagining those same camouflage trousers curving faithfully to his ass. Now if he'd just take off the BDU blouse and the thin brown tee shirt beneath it. "Wine? Old enough to drink?"

"No, sir. I just like to carry it around the store and pretend," I snapped before I could stop myself. Brain goes into gear before the mouth does, Wright. He chose to ignore my sarcasm.

"I never pictured you as the white cotton type, Wright." He moved the package of panties out of the way and picked up the wine. I narrowed my eyes. "Let me see your ID card."

"This can't be legal," I muttered under my breath. Instead of arguing, I passed my ID card to him, the one with the horrible picture of me sweating in my PT gear. I would check with someone later, JAG maybe, about what he was doing. But, right now I had a very nice shot down the front of his BDU blouse to the soft brown tee shirt that hugged his chest. What was I thinking? I couldn't do this. I snapped my head around, staring blindly at the perfume display.

The next thing I knew the vee of his chest was in my face. He held my ID card under my nose by two fingers. "Still with me, private?"

"Yessir." I snatched my ID card and stuffed it into my pocket. He stood over me for a few more relentless breaths. The smell of his skin invaded my lungs. Had he been someone else and had we been somewhere else, I would have leaned in and licked him. The urge to do just that was so strong I started to move forward. I caught myself in time, my eyes darting to the side. I wondered if he'd noticed.

"Carry on, private," he said finally, the sauntered away. Well, inasmuch as a man like that could saunter.

Bright and early, in my freshly starched BDU's, I carried the box of requested supplies to the major's office. I stuck my head through the door to the open bay where most of my chain of command did their work, and sighed in relief. It was deserted. The major's door stood open, the lights were off. I took a deep breath. Okay, Wright, dash in, deposit supplies, dash back out. That was the plan.

"Private Wright, weren't you taught to knock in basic training?"

So much for the plan. I cringed, skidding to a halt. "I was unaware that your office was occupied, sir." I did an about face, coming to attention. He bent over his desk in the dark, regarding me silently. "I apologize, sir, it won't happen again."

"See that it doesn't." He leaned back in his chair, making it squeak. I jerked. "Left face."

What the hell for? I wanted to yell. Instead, I pivoted and faced left. I could feel his eyes on me, burning holes in my uniform. I could almost feel the fabric scorching.

"About face."

I about faced, wondering what in the hell he was doing. I stood at attention, staring at the mini-blinds on the window. It was still dark outside and no noise came from the open offices beyond his door. The sounds of my breathing matched his, exaggerated to my ears.

"Left face." He stood up. "I like to see my soldiers taking pride in their uniforms. Keep it up. Dismissed."

If I could have kept my military bearing and done so, I would have run like hell. I'd been stared at before, but never like that. Never with eyes that seemed to reach out and physically touch me. My overactive imagination was running away with me. I had to stay away from the major before I did something incredibly stupid.

The Auto Crafts Shop was pretty much deserted Thursday night. I racked the truck while Mendez fetched the transmission jack from the clerk. After arranging the tools to do the work, Sergeant Mendez and I began the nasty chore of wrestling the 205 onto the transmission jack.

"What is that thing?"

I jumped, landing flat on my butt, my head knocking into a pair of solid thighs. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment, hoping he would go away. He didn't.

"Hello, sir." I slowly pulled myself away from him, then to my feet. Did I sound sulky? I sounded sulky.

"You need to cut your caffeine intake, Wright," Mendez observed. I shot him a glare, he looked like he was enjoying this.

"What's going on here?" the major asked.

"We're stickin' this transfer case into Wright's truck, sir." Mendez glared back at me. "A little help here, Wright, I'm not holdin' this thing all night."

I scrambled back to help lever it onto the jack, taking the precarious balance of weight from Mendez. A pair of arms wrapped around me and the major's hands reached to help steady the weight, then place it on the jack. "You are in the way, private," he informed me. I shut my eyes for a moment, savoring the major's almost intimate embrace. I know he was only helping us out, but that didn't stop me from wanting to rub my body against him and beg to be petted. Mendez considered us for a moment, eyes narrowed. Suddenly I resented both of them. The major for giving me a taste of what I could never have and Mendez for spoiling it. Irrationally, I wanted them both gone.

"I don't need your help, sir."

"Don't take that tone with me, private."

"Sorry, sir." I glared at Mendez some more, daring him to jump to the wrong conclusion. I didn't know what the major was up to, but it certainly wasn't what was going through Mendez's beady little eyes. The hands pulled away from the greasy transfer case and the arms pulled away from me. I felt the chill along my back, suddenly bereft of the major's heat. More than anything, I wanted him to press against me again. Biting the inside of my cheek, I kept myself from blurting something irretrievably stupid.

"This is the transfer case, sir. It regulates whether or not the truck is in 2 wheel drive or 4 wheel drive," Mendez supplied into the silence. "Private, go take a powder."

"I don't powder my nose, sergeant." I looked from Mendez to the major, unsure of what to do. The undercurrents passing between the two men were making me nervous, and that horrible I-should-be-at-attention feeling was growing stronger.

"Get!"

I got. I went outside, circled around to the open bay door next to the one my truck was in and eavesdropped.

"-know what the hell you're doing, sir." Mendez was bucking for trouble.

"Don't take that tone with me, sergeant."

"Wright is good people, sir. Don't fuck with her like that, she acts tough but she's naive as hell. She don't need your brand of trouble." Mendez's tone shocked me, then I gasped, highly insulted. Naive!

"I have heard enough, sergeant."

"I know what you're doing, major," Mendez snapped. "I won't see her hurt by the likes of you."

"That's enough, sergeant!" Then the major belted out a long low string of something I couldn't hear that kept turning Mendez's face redder.

"Yes, sir!" Mendez eventually growled loudly enough to echo through the bays. The major abruptly pivoted. I ducked back out before he could see me and pretended a great deal of interest in the trees across the parking lot.

"What did you overhear, private?" The major came up behind me and halted so close that I could almost feel the blood throbbing through his body. I spun around to face him, backing a few steps.

"I didn't hear a thing, sir." I crossed my arms over my chest and stared mulishly at him. He considered my expression, then the area above my crossed arms for a few moments.

"Carry on, private," he finally said, then headed across the parking lot to a row of parked cars. Frustrated for some reason I didn't understand, I watched him climb into a Porsche.

"I'm not doing this by myself, Wright!" Mendez bellowed. I could feel the major's eyes boring into me through a windshield that reflected the sky. Suddenly nervous, I bolted for the safety of the Auto Crafts Shop. Mendez watched me approach, the same concerned look in his eyes that my father always had whenever I climbed into Gregory Hansen's pretty blue chevy truck. Thankfully, he didn't say anything. I really didn't want to hear it.

It took a lot of cursing and sweaty work to get the transfer case tucked up into place, the brand new u-joints hooked to it, and the dirty drive shafts– one heading to the front differential and one heading to the rear– settled in. Finally, hours later, it was done. Mendez lapsed into a brooding silence while we wiped the tools and cleaned up.

"Wright." Great, here it comes. Once again the eerie similarity to my father kicked in. This time it was the sorrowful hangdog expression that came with my too short prom dress. "You watch out for the major. He has something of a reputation. He was kicked out of his last bat for fuckin' around with a female sergeant. Got sent here."

"I'm sure the major has no interest in me, sarn't." I considered the times I'd run into the major in the past few days. Nah. Had to be coincidence, this was a small post after all.

"You just be careful Wright."

"I will, sarn't, I can take care of myself."

Less than 24 hours later, I wasn't so sure. Friday afternoon PT was usually without a run, just the usual front leaning rest position, in cadence... EXERCISE! Hun, hoo, hree, hun! And its friends sit-ups, flutter kicks, and other cleverly devised methods of human torture. So Fridays at noon, I ran.

It was a comfortable run, just me, the dirt trail, and the trees. It was almost a weekly requirement for me, a way to unwind from the stress that had piled up for the past five days and just be free. Most of the people who knew me thought I was psychotic because I enjoyed running. Soldiers have to run all of the time, why anyone would run voluntarily, let alone love doing it, was beyond them. I just lost myself in the feelings of my blood moving warmly through my body, the stretching and flowing of my muscles as they propelled me down the trail, the steady regulation of my breathing, the sensations of the clean, earthy air pulling through my lungs, and soft crunch of my footsteps on the dirt.

"Private Wright." The major's voice intruded suddenly. I leaped forward, my upper body outrunning my feet, which instantly couldn't figure out how to run and tangled with each other. I hit the dirt with an ignominious oof. Too add to my confusion I was swept up into the air moments later and set gently on my feet. I staggered, confused about which way was up for a heartbeat of time.

"Hello, sir." I pressed my palm to my forehead and silently demanded to know why me? Might as well get it over with, I figured, and looked at him. My first thought was that he was naked. The major was naked and I almost lost my balance again. A shake of my head and a second look proved that to be wrong, he was wearing a tiny pair of nylon runner's shorts in an olive drab green color. I recognized the cut, half of a hijacked marine PT uniform.

"You okay, private?"

"I'm fine sir." Okay Wright, eyes off the major. Okay, anytime now, Wright. Now Wright. I wasn't listening to myself. I couldn't take my eyes off of his chest, full of hard, muscular planes tapering into abdominal ridges. His skin was sheened with sweat, which only emphasized the utter masculine beauty of his nakedness. There was that word again, naked. The major. Naked and sweaty. I had to get out of there. "See you later, sir."

"Wait one, private. You took a nasty fall, are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm fine, sir." Was I squeaking? I sounded like I was squeaking. He eyed me as if he weren't so sure.

"I'll pace you, make sure you're okay."

Great, a pissing contest in the making. I didn't have much for top end speed, but I could go for a long time and at a decent clip. After the first couple of miles most guys couldn't keep up. I briefly considered pretending to be hurt, so I could go to sick call and get away from his naked chest. I just didn't think I would get away with it, I wasn't a very good liar. Reluctantly, I turned down the trail again. "Okay, sir."

It surprised me that he ran in silence. It had always been my experience that running partners get chatty, and I hate to run and talk at the same time. Running is an introspective activity, I preferred to let my thoughts roam while doing it. Not that my thoughts went much farther than the naked chest I couldn't keep from staring at out of the corner of my eye. He matched my stride easily enough, running in time. Irreverently, I recalled a cadence from basic...

Mama and papa were lyin' in bed Mama turned to papa and this is what she said PT Good for you Good for me Gimme some...

The sexual innuendo smacked me in the face, hard. In my mind's eye a fantasy developed that was so real that I almost reached for him. He turned to me and wrapped himself around me, his mouth and tongue plundering me, my fingers yanking the shorts down...

"PRIVATE!" His voice lashed out at me, catching me completely by surprise. I jumped again, this time only staggering several steps before I caught myself. I wheeled on him.

"What?" I bellowed, the remembered who I was bellowing at. I hoped the conciliatory was enough. "Sir?"

"We're back at the gym. Are you sure you didn't hit your head? I've been trying to get your attention."

"I'm sure, sir, I just think too hard sometimes, sir."

"All the same, I want you to report to sick call, then report to me in my office. I'll notify Sergeant Mendez."