When the new year began, many of Sonia's co-workers at the airline quickly vied with one another to request the week of Christmas off, despite it being one of the busiest times of air travel in the nation. Likewise, some fought to avoid the wave of Thanksgiving travelers and requested to use their vacation hours at that time of year. Sonia gladly worked those weeks. It gave her a legitimate excuse not to go home to Tennessee and her mother, who seemed unable to escape the memories of her father who was killed under friendly fire in the first Iraqi War in 1991. She did join the line of requests, though she rarely had a difficult time getting her prefered time: the last week of May. There was some pick-up in travel at that time of the year, with graduation celebrations and the beginning of summer vacations, but Sonia mainly worked international flights. There was even quite a bit of travel into New York City for the week, but her bosses usually granted her request.
For that reason, Sonia was perched along the banks of the Hudson River with thousands of others as seven ships belonging to the United States Navy, the United States Coast Guard, and the Canadian Royal Navy floated upstream. Sailors in uniform stood on the decks, waving back to the crowds welcoming them to the nation's largest city for the annual Fleet Week Celebration. Some of the sailors were looking for their sweethearts or mothers. Others were eyeing the towering skyscrapers with amazement. Some had their arm around their buddy's shoulder, a conspiratorial smile on their faces. These were men who had been in New York for Fleet Week before. They were ready to introduce their rookie shipmates to a whole new world. Sonia looked forward to Fleet Week the way children looked forward to Santa Claus and their birthday.
While the parade of ships was the official kickoff of Fleet Week, the real festivities for Sonia would begin tonight with a bar crawl. The younger sailors would enter the first bar they found and spend all their money on booze and hookers. The older sailors knew they could avoid the hookers' prices if they travelled a little farther into Manhattan, but they would also have to pay more for the drinks, and sometimes the price of dinner for their date was greater than the price of a call girl. The girls who went to those establishments were looking for love. Sonia's favorite pub fell in-between. She was not looking for a long term relationship. She wanted to have fun, and wanted to have a lot of it.
By the time she reached The Brook, several of the sailors were already a few drinks into their week. The music pumping through the speakers was loud. Sonia danced into the mob of bodies with a bottle of beer in her hand. It would be the last drink she would pay for with her own money all week. Most of the sailors had worn their dress blues or whites as part of the parade, so they still had on their Dixie Cup sailor hats, their scarfs, and their wide-legged pants. She eventually found herself dancing with a tall, dark-haired, dark-eyed sailor. Words were not necessary as their bodies brushed against each other. He held onto her hips, pulling her against him in rhythm with the music. She rocked with him, pressing her breasts against him as they moved. She had her arms around his neck, so that no more than a whisper separated them, even during the faster songs. She felt his body responding to their movements. She dropped one of her hands to the front of his navy trousers, lightly dancing over the erection forming.
They made their way through the sea of of uniforms to one of the bathrooms. As soon as they were in the room, he pinned her to the wall, his mouth attacking hers as he reached behind her to thumb the lock into place. She had both arms around his shoulders, pulling him close as her tongue dove into the depths of his mouth. He squeezed her breasts through her sweater before his hand reached down to grab the hem of her short skirt. He inched it up to her waist, his mouth never releasing hers. Sonia moaned against him as his fingers danced along her slit. As his fingers pushed between her lips, he was pleased to find her already slick and ready for him.
He didn't waste any time opening his fly and pulling out his cock. He placed his hands on the backs of her thighs and picked her up, pinning her between his strong body and the door. He pushed his cock into her slick opening with one hard thrust. She groaned as her body adjusted, and then his hips began moving back and forth. His motion was slow and steady at first, dragging his long shaft nearly out of her before driving back into her depths. She gripped his shoulders and tightened her thighs around his hips, locking her ankles as he increased his pace.
He finally broke the kiss so that he could breathe, the harsh sound of his ragged gasps echoing off the linoleum walls of the bathroom. He was moving faster, slamming her back against the wall with each forceful thrust. She responded with a grunt each time. Her anticipation of Fleet Week made her an easy conquest, and with very little effort on his part, she found herself beginning to peak. Her body tightened and tensed, and then she was screaming at the ceiling as she crested. After weeks at sea, he had also looked forward to Fleet Week, so he didn't care that she was easy. He followed quickly, exploding inside of her with a final hard thrust.
Her feet slid down to the floor, but she was grateful he was holding her upright still. He was gasping in her ear as he struggled to catch his breath. She kept her arms around him, loving the feel of his strong shoulders underneath her hands. She leaned her head against the door and smiled at him, her hands cupping his face. She pulled him down for another long, slow kiss, their tongues twining together as his hands came up to caress the gentle swell of her breasts. His body was starting to respond again when the door wiggled, followed by an insistent pounding, reminding them where they were. They both laughed softly. He threaded his fingers through her thick hair and rested his forehead against hers. "I guess everyone will know what we've been doing," he muttered apologetically as they separated enough to adjust their clothing.
Her laugh was musical and sultry. "If I cared, I wouldn't be in here, would I?" She took his hand, unlocked the door, and led him back into the throbbing crowd of the bar. She winked playfully at sailor waiting for the bathroom, who in turn saluted her partner with the bottle of beer in his hand.
She released his hand and waded back into the crowd. He struggled to keep up with her, hoping for another round in private. He stayed with her for a while, but there were too many drunken sailors, too many willing young women, and too much alcohol. He turned around and she was gone.
Sonia enjoyed the night of dancing and drinking and flirting, but she did not find another partner. She went back to her apartment alone and was up early the next morning to continue her holiday with a tour of one of the ships. She joined the queue and made her way to the front of her group to be able to talk with the sailor leading the tour between stops. He introduced himself as Owen and responded to her flirting. She brushed against him whenever she had the chance. He struggled to continue his spiel through her obvious interest. She took his arm as they reached the end of the tour, hugging it between her breasts as they walked across the deck. "How about a private tour below decks?" she whispered in his ear.
He glanced around nervously, scouting the location of any superior officers. "Wait over here. I'll be right back," he assured, patting her hand as he disentangled from her grip. He finished the tour, leading the other visitors off the boat. She stood at the railing, turning her face into the wind. She watched the crews of other ships, allowing her imagination to run away with her while she waited for Owen's return. "Have you gotten separated from your group, Miss?" an authoritative voice suddenly asked.
She turned to face the ranking officer approaching her. She glanced over his shoulder, but did not see Owen approaching. "I suppose I have," she said with a smile. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and wet her lips as her eyes swept the insignia on his uniform. "I was just appreciating the view, Ensign Rochester. I'm Sonia." She lowered her voice in invitation, stepping closer to him. "I enjoyed my tour of your ship. I would like to see more of it."
Hypnotized, he moved toward her. "Is that so? And, what other parts of the ship were you hoping to see?"
Her hip made contact with his as she playfully answered. "Oh, anything down below. The engine room, where it's nice and loud, or the sleeping berths."
"There you are!" Owen suddenly exclaimed, rushing over to them. "Where did we lose you? The rest of your group is waiting on shore." He attempted to take her arm, looking nervously at Rochester. "Thank you for escorting her, Sir."
"We were having a lovely conversation," Rochester answered. "I'll see her off."
Owen opened his mouth to argue, then closed it in frustration, realizing he had lost a golden opportunity to his superior officer. They were both surprised when Sonia settled the dispute with a soft laugh. "Perhaps you could both escort me?"
Owen gaped, uncertain how to respond. Rochester just smiled. "That sounds like an excellent idea. What do you think, Petty Officer Gibbs?" He took Sonia's arm and began walking away, giving Owen the option to follow or not. Owen did not think about the choice for long. He hurried to her other side, but allowed Rochester to take the lead into bowels of the ship. They made several turns through the narrow hallways. Sonia chatted with them both as they walked, putting them at ease. Rochester finally stopped at a door, unlocked it, and pushed it open for them. It was a supply room filled with towels and sheets.
