Taking his comb onto the porch, I sat in the swing and slowly worked the tangles out of my hair. Considering the position of the sun, it was near noon. "How did you find this place, sir?" I asked the moment he stepped out onto the porch. He scratched himself, then sat next to me on the swing. I snuggled against his side, one leg hanging with his, the other on the swing. He told me it belonged to a friend of his uncle or something. He'd used it before to relax, hunt or fish.
I listened to the rumble of his voice, not the words, as he talked. He wrapped an arm around me and started the swing rocking. He paused a moment when I slid my fingers into my pussy and began a leisurely rubbing. I slowly brought myself to a silent orgasm, laying against him and enjoying the feel of his heat, the smell of his skin, the sound of his voice. He hummed when I came, then resumed talking about his military career while I dozed off against him.
The major had taken himself off somewhere in the Porsche. He'd considerately enough left me a little note saying he'd be back before nightfall. He also ordered me to bathe. I was highly insulted. I went for a nice, long, anger-sapping swim in the lake instead. It was impossible to remain hotly furious in that freezing water.
Despite all of my worries that I'd been abandoned, the major arrived just before the sun started to go down. I heard the car from my position, in the water at the end of the dock, but studiously ignored him. I concentrated on dog paddling instead.
He was pretty hot under the collar when he finally thought to look for me at the end of the dock. He'd been yelling my name for a while, interspersed with orders to get my little ass there now. My traitorous little ass was twitching at the dirty little thoughts of the major running around in my head.
Disgusted with myself, I climbed onto the dock and sauntered unhurriedly toward him. I wouldn't want him to think I was actually obeying. He put his fists on his waist and glared at me, a muscle in his jaw ticking. I was suddenly reminded of Drill Sergeant Green and his favorite pre-ass-smoking-exercise-session phrase,
pain will make you think.
I stopped in front of him, dripping all over his shoes and slacks. I looked up at him sidelong, a little smile playing at the corner of my mouth. "Hello, sir."
"Just get your ass in the house, Wright."
Inside the door, I stopped dead. The major ran into me, nearly knocking me over. I rubbed my eyes, just to make sure I wasn't imagining things. The table had been covered with a white cloth, a silver service for two, and an elaborate centerpiece with flowers and candles. The major had soft, string quartet music playing from a radio on the counter.
I stared at this, my eyes bulging in horror. I was a hick born and bred, all the way to the marrow of my bones. Three pieces of flatware comprised my fine dining education. Five, if you counted the corn on the cob holders. Feelings of social inferiority swamped me. The major shoved a box into my hands, drawing my attention from my newest nightmare.
Diffidently, I opened it. Inside was layer upon layer of white cloth. "Put it on. I'll be back in twenty minutes." I dried myself off and put the thing on. It turned out to be a peignoir. I felt like an idiot.
The major approved of it rather vocally. He seated me at the table and served the first course from a set of sacks in the fridge. I nibbled at my meal, too nervous to dig in. I wondered at his motives for this little presentation.
The man wanted conversation. We discussed everything from politics and religion to sex and mud tires. In all of my fantasies about this man, not one time did he ever say anything other than fuck words. In all of my romantic dealings with the opposite side of the species, not one time did I ever find one who was interested enough in what I had to say to actually converse with me. Especially not when there was sex readily available.
The longer we talked the more I enjoyed his company. Other than Sergeant Mendez, who was married and therefore neutered in my mind, I hadn't ever sat down with a man and just had a conversation. A glimmering of respect for the major began growing somewhere in the recesses of my mind. Respect that hadn't been there before, at least not for him as a man. I considered it further and what I discovered startled me.
In my astonishment, I did something that I could not forgive myself for. Rage surged through me at this latest mental indignity he'd forced on me. Shoving the chair back and springing to my feet, I threw the napkin onto the table. "You are not going to do this to me, sir," I snapped, glaring at him with all of the misplaced, righteous fury I possessed.
"Do what, private?" He looked amused. That made me angrier. I considered throwing something at him.
"I will not like you, you can't make me do it." I bared my teeth at him. "Sir."
"That has to be the stupidest thing I've ever heard. Why the hell not?"
"You are a major. I am a PFC," I explained to him as if he were not only two, but mentally challenged to boot. "Sir."
"In this place rank means nothing. Here, I am the man and you are the woman and that's all there is to it. Do you understand me, private?"
"We aren't always going to be here." My glare deepened. "Sir."
"You already like me, Wright. Sit down and eat your dessert. You have no idea how hard it was to pick the damned thing out." He picked up his own fork and eyed me over it.
I hated it when he was right. I sank into my chair and glared at the dessert. I wasn't going to eat it, not even if he ordered it. The major was apparently familiar with my mulish expression. He set his fork down, a muted clink on the china. "You didn't like the dinner." He sounded almost, well, uncertain. I looked at him suspiciously, but no insecurity showed in his impassive face.
"I liked it, sir."
"Then it's me. You don't like me."
"I like you, sir." There, galling as it was, I admitted it.
"Then what's the problem, private?"
"I can't have you, sir." I stared at the chocolate confection on my plate and twiddled the small dessert fork.
Abruptly, he was beside me, pulling me to my feet. I sucked in a breath, I hadn't heard him move. His eyes locked on mine, his fingers undoing the placket in the front of his trousers. He grabbed my hand, sliding my fingers into his soft cotton underwear. My hand was full of his hardening penis. My eyes widened. "You have me, private." His voice was visceral, belying the highly polished, civilized veneer of the elaborately set table and his perfect manners.
"That's not what I meant, sir."
