This story deals with themes of coercion and reluctant participation is a lesbian setting. If you think that you might find such material offensive please try another story.
Chapter 1
I had done tours of duty in both Afghanistan and Iraq but neither had scared me as much as this. It was not too late. I could still walk away and no one would think any the worse of me.
I checked myself in the hall mirror one last time. The GI Jane hairstyle had grown out and I had almost forgotten how lustrous, and just how dark, my hair was. It was still short but now expensively styled and it was hard to remember the last time I had worn full makeup. I had not been in a relationship for over two years.
My mother had been a minor film star in her native Italy and I had inherited her natural beauty. In some ways the army regime of cropped hair and no makeup actually enhanced my looks but the nature of my job and the considerations of my rank were enough to put most men off.
Oddly, there had been overtures made by two female officers at different times but, whilst I was flattered, I harboured no curiosity about a same sex relationship.
The doorbell rang again, this time a little more impatiently, and I took a deep breath. They had offered a hotel suite but that only made it feel more sordid; I elected to use my own home to give myself something familiar to cling on to.
I opened the door, not quite knowing what to expect but certainly not this.
I am five feet nine, in stockinged feet, but, in her heels she stood a couple of inches taller. At a guess she was five or six years younger than me, certainly no more than mid-twenties, but she had an air of sophistication.
I had laughed out loud when they asked me if I preferred blonde or brunette, as if it could possibly make a difference, but they had decided on the light haired option. She reminded me of someone, someone in Basra, but then I realised that I was thinking back to a film.
I had watched it in an army marquee, the only woman in an audience of thirty, all sat battle ready. It was an old film; a comedy about a man who finds a magic mask which transforms him into a green-skinned super hero. She reminded me of the girl in the film.
"Selina, you must be Christine..."
She was well spoken, which was a relief, but it took me a second to respond to the false name that I had chosen for myself. She held out her hand, not to be shaken, but as if she expected me to kiss it.
I stood to one side to let her in.
"Where do you want to do this? The bedroom or living room?"
For a moment she ignored the question and looked around my humble abode almost disdainfully which, given the circumstances, was a bit rich.
"It's up to you."
I indicated the living room and she walked through. It was a sparsely furnished room which was hardly surprising given that I had only lived there for days at a time over the past five years.
"No television?"
"I prefer to read."
"I brought a couple of DVD's, just to set the mood, but no matter."
She took in the simple furniture including my one indulgence an overlarge leather sofa set in front of the fireplace. I would often fall asleep over a book and I find it nice just to stretch out where I find myself.
"Can I get you anything? A drink?"
She looked down at the wine bottle already open on the table.
"Wine would be nice."
I filled a fresh glass, before replenishing my own, and handed it to her.
"How do we go about this?"
She did not answer immediately. She sat on the sofa and took a sip from her glass.
"Well let's start with you undressing for me."
It was not what I was expecting and my discomfort must have shown. She smiled
"No need to be shy."
I had been undressing in front of women, and men come to that, throughout my career, war zones are no respecters of privacy, but I had never felt this awkward.
I slowly reached for the zip of my dress and, once again, asked myself why I had made the effort. I could have easily done this straight out of the shower wearing a robe. It might have been more appropriate.
The dress fell to the floor and I was left standing in my new bra and pants. They were an expensive acquisition but I hoped I did not come across as trying too hard.
"Very nice...now the rest."
I took off the bra to reveal my breasts for her cool appraisal.
"I love your nipples....chocolaty."
I had my mothers Mediterranean complexion and my nipples were a contrasting shade of brown. I was not quite as well endowed as she had been but that was probably no bad thing given my active lifestyle.
I slipped out of my panties and resisted the temptation to stand with my hands in front of me. Instead, I stood with hands on hips, perhaps in an unconscious effort to seize the initiative.
I am proud of my body, a slim frame toned by many hours of exercise but not enough to threaten my femininity.
She looked me up and down her eyes finally settling on my sex. I had shaved just before she arrived and I was still a little red.
"You should try waxing."
I was not sure if it was a suggestion or an insult but I had no time to dwell on it. She stood up from the sofa.
"Come and undress me."
