Mando B. 03: General Badass

Chapter 3: Hunted by Terrorists

Danny's point of view

We arrive home exhausted and sleep long and deep. The next evening when Gino comes home, I'm horny and blunt. "Gino let's fuck. But let's do something we haven't done before."

"Hmm. How about the snow angel?" He suggests with a wanton smile.

"Whatever that is, let's do it. I've never considered applying for the  job of an angel because I'm not qualified." I giggle. "But since I've been Pope, maybe I'll at least get an interview. Let's do it. I cross my hands and clasp them and twist my body. "I love having a personal sex guru."

He pats my bottom playfully. "It's a reversed missionary position. You'll love it,"

"From the position of Pope to a missionary position; am I being demoted?"

He overdoes a head shake with exaggerated movements and answers in a sing-song voice. "I don't think so."

I don't need persuading. This missionary's mission is to position that missionary to fill my yoni with Johnny Long Dong.

We undress and slip into bed. "What do we do?"

"After we have some kissing and foreplay, you'll take the missionary position with your knees drawn up by bringing your feet close to your butt. Then I reverse directions and lay on top of you. We face opposite directions; my head is at your feet, and my crotch is over your crotch. Once I am in, you stretch out your legs, and you guide my butt with your hands as I thrust."

"That's weird. Why are you facing the opposite direction? You like my feet?"

An explanation follows a brief chuckle. "My penis will press hard against the bottom of your vagina instead of the top to rub your clit with its thick base. That will give your yoni an unusual and pleasurable feeling. Want to try it?"

"One Jewish missionary at your service, sir."    I lay on my back with my legs open and my knees high so he can enter with ease and slowly straighten my knees. I grab his butt and push up and pull down carefully the first time to experience the feeling of his hard manhood pointing in the opposite direction. Sensational!

The friction is turning my sex cave into a fiery furnace of love. God, I love this weird position.

The climaxes own me. That dick owns me. I am his sex slave, and he is mine. My slit grips his hard, engorged rod tighter than a used condom. I keep clenching and squeezing with my Kegel muscles to milk all I can get from his thick cock. Gino's moans blend with mine to create our own unique love song to heighten our pleasure.

We enjoy passion until Dick's starch ebbs, and my body is like a Raggedy Ann doll.

We're both blissfully spent and exhausted. And happy.    And in love.

"Gino, that was a marathon uphill after a hill in rain sleet and snow with warm sunshine in between," I say between sharp breaths. My heart is still pounding hard from the satisfying exercise.

"Danny, I have a deeper appreciation for angels. Snow angels I mean. What a different way to go deep and wide. You are one hot mama and a sensational sex machine. Sir Lotsa Cock's reservoir is dryer than the Sahara desert and he's more spent than twenty dollar bills in a lap dancing parlor. He's out of breath, too.

I rise up on my elbows and stare him in the eyes. "What would you know about lap dance parlors, Mr. Monk?"

He has a giggling fit and then pretends I insulted him. "I've watched HBO I'll have you know. Lots of chaps like their laps danced on."

"Asses that wiggle in your lap will turn sleeping Willie into a flagpole." It's my turn for a giggling solo. "Lap dancing for you would become pole dancing."

He shakes his head, still laughing. "I guess I've missed the opportunity to experience dancing laps, being a one-lap man." He kisses me behind my ear.

I snuggle under his arm and rest my head on his chest. "Anytime you want a hot ass wiggling in that lap, you know who to call."

"You got that right, Ms. Chief Hawk Boss Bird Mando with the hot wiggling ass."

The phone rings. I look at the screen. "Oh shit, it's Chuck."

"No problem; we'll send Kammy."

I put the call on speaker and answer it on the third ring. "Hi, Chuck. All is well at the white house and the Vatican, I hope."

"Never better. Listen, Danny..." He starts.

I immediately cut him off. "Danny? Not Mando?"

"This is a social call, sort of. That makes you Danny now."

I'm wary. Chuck doesn't make social calls.

"Here's the deal. The President and Vice President want to invite you to a private dinner at the white house to express their appreciation."

"That's wonderful, Chuck, but we are laying low for a while. Terrorists are combing the earth for us. Besides, that is a lot of exposure, like ID checks and clearances, frisking, our names on the calendar and the Secret Service roster. Listen, Chuck, if you invite three people to dine at the white house so soon, the secret service guys who've met us will draw the right conclusions quicker than their regulation pistols. I don't like it."

"Danny, this is important to them." He begs.

"Staying alive is important to us. Suggest a meeting in three months on a military base, and we can have dinner on Air Force One." I make my demands clear.

"If we could get the other things waved would the white house work?" He's persistent, not prepared to give up. I'm not so sure I like this side of him. Is relating a negative answer to the President against his code of conduct, or is there a political agenda behind this?

"Chuck, we need our anonymity now more than ever because the Right Hand is searching for us. They can save a little face by humiliating us publicly like they'd planned for the Vice President, and end with lopping off our heads with a dull sword. "

"How about this: We dress you like secret service agents, and you go in with them? We could use the ones who know you. The director already knows you."

I shot Gino a questioning look. He mouths: "Not the white house."

"Chuck, have them agree on a date to reserve on their calendar, and we'll work out the time and place."

"Good. Second, both want you to receive some kind of award."

I sigh and make what I intend to be a joke. "Chuck, listen. The money America paid us is reward enough for us, but apparently they want to add something personal. Here's the best solution. I'm an O-6 in the Marine Reserves. Make that a seven or eight at a private dinner with the President and VP, the joint chiefs, and top Marine generals and consider the award debt paid. Use a vague reason for the file to avoid the Hawk connection."

"Thanks, Danny. I'll get back to you."

After the call I explain my suggestion to Gino. "Gino I hope he knows that was an exaggerated request to frustrate him into making a simpler arrangement. Anything above an O-6 is a General. They'll laugh and turn him down flat, and then he will lower his sites to a reasonable range."

His gleeful laughter is intoxicating. "You told him to make you a general? That's got a nice ring to it." He salutes, "General Danny. General Sterling. General Danny Sterling. Any way you say it is regal." He kisses me. "Besides, you're the only one singled out, not three of us. That man, Mando, is the face of the Hawks"

"You're not serious! First, about me being a general. That was an intended lark. I'm ten years short of time in active service, too young, and dick-less. And second, only me receiving an award of any kind is unfair. We are a team." I make a face. "Remember?"

He holds up both hands as if warding off a kiss from a  woman without lips. "No General Gino for me, thanks. Admit it, Danny; you're the brains behind these missions. Traditionally, the highest ranking officer receives recognition for an exceptional action, and that's you." He smiles. "Besides, a bright gold or silver tar pinned on your uniform is more than enough reward for me."

"You're sweet to say that, Gino" Blood rushes into my cheeks to paint them scarlet red. I smile softly. "But you'll always be the only star for me. You're my one and only forever."

He kisses me tenderly. "Correction: Hearing you say that is all the reward I need." He takes a quick breath. "Besides, Danny there is one fact we can't ignore: I am far too much of a public figure. It would be difficult to receive any public recognition and remain anonymous. Right?"

"Um, I guess so. Anyway, that was like you asking for two T and getting a meager two hundred fifty B." He shrugs.

Two days later Chuck is burning up the phone again. He is upbeat and giddy cheerful. Suspicion riddles my hope that he has good news. "Okay, Mr. FBI agent, what are you up to?"

I swear he giggles. GIGGLES! Now I know something's up.

"Stand by for the President and the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff to call in half an hour. Can you be available?"

"Yes, of course. I wouldn't dream of refusing a call from the president, you know that. But why? If this is a catastrophe, you'd tell me, wouldn't you?" I frown.

"Absolutely. This conversation is for your ears only, I reckon."

"Fine. I'll sit on my curiosity while standing by."

I wish Gino was home to hear the conversation. But then again, it might be an official thank you for serving my country, or some mission so deep only two or three people know about it. I'm torn between anxiety and curiosity.

Thirty minutes later the Chuck phone rings from a different number. "This is Mando."

A sophisticated, husky, velvet female voice says, "Mr. Mando, please stand by for the President of the United States."

"Standing by."

He comes on the line within two seconds. "Mando, this is Tom Sullivan, thanks for being available to receive my call."

I laugh. "Who wouldn't want to talk to the President?"

"Not you, I hope. The Chairman of the Joint Chiefs is with me. We won't take a lot of time. General?"

"Mando, this is General Hogue. We're still talking about what you did and the impact it has on the whole country and much of the world. Preventing those hospitals from being blown up is in itself a major happening. But the real issue is our CIA and Secret Service."

"CIA? Secret Service? How so General?" I'm not sure where he's going with this.

"You were the only one to anticipate the double assassination, and the Secret Service says emphatically they were helpless to stop the bomber in the bucket truck. They could not shoot him without triggering the bomb, nor could they get close enough to subdue him fast enough to prevent detonation because of his elevated proximity. You and Falcon  anticipated a dead man switch since it is common MO for terrorist and had a way to disarm it."

He coughs once and clears his throat.

"You went beyond what anyone else has ever done, and your window of opportunity opened and closed quickly, didn't it? You planned the defense against the bomb and provided another trained person and prevented the explosion. By the way, where did Falcon learn to throw that disc with such deadly accuracy and power?"

"I taught him, General. He's been training and practicing with me for six months, but I'll hasten to add he is already proficient in over twenty silent weapons."

"I figured as much. Another thing you are best at understanding   the terrorist mind enough to anticipate terrorists' actions and develop countermeasures. Isn't that correct?"

Why are we playing, this is your life? "General, whether I am the best at what I do I really can't say. As you pointed out, I know the terrorist mindset, and I know bombs. All we had to do was coat our disc with porcelain to avoid detonating the bomb when the wires were cut. We have the skill and power to cut those wires and wrists instantly. Terrorists are products of tradition. That is why they only consider traditional weapons. Therefore a ceramic knife or blade of any sort wouldn't occur to them."

"That's exactly what we discussed." He seems impressed. "None of our guys thought of that either, including the head of all our agencies. Their only approach was to foam a bomber that far away. That wouldn't work in this case, though, would it?"

"No, it's too slow. Being high up was brilliant. Ordinarily, the height would prevent disabling the bomb even if we had a method. Height and the element of surprise were on their side. We had one second. Two at the outside, therefore the discs were our only choice."

"Exactly. That is why I recommended to our Commander in Chief to promote you in a way that doesn't connect your promotion with recent events."

I'm feeling dizzy. "Promotion, sir?" It's not what I expected.

"Yes. We'll run the first promotion through now and announce it next week."

"Um, first promotion, sir?"

"A battlefield ranking of Brigadier General for leadership in the undeclared war in Morocco, with an automatic promotion for the one of a kind skill and leadership earns a promotion, correct?"

"Ummm, I guess so, sir. I'm stunned."

"For those skills and leadership, you should be an O-8 within the year."

I erupt. "A TWO-star general?"

He's laughing. "I recommended three stars but got shot down. Nevertheless, I am pleased, aren't you?"

"Flabbergasted is more like it." I still can't believe it.

"I would be disappointed if you weren't. When is your next reserve weekend?"

"Two weeks, sir."

"Excellent. That gives us plenty of time for the paperwork and for you to obtain the uniform and insignia. Oh, and one more thing, Mando. I want my position understood on the matter of these promotions. You've earned the promotions fair and square. These are not gifts. You earned them. Congratulations again."

"Thank you for saying that, General. That clarifies things for me."

A few seconds later the President takes over. "It pleases us to do this. Your code name will remain classified and protected. Congratulations Brigadier General."

I choke out the words, "Thank you, sir."

"Now for the last thing from me and the General may have something else. There is a request I want you to consider, General."

My muscles twitch when he calls me General.

"Sir?"

"If re-elected next year, I want you as chief advisor on terrorist activities."

"I'm flattered, sir, but a full-time position isn't advisable for me if I am to continue to be effective."

"Exactly. But to be frank, General, after your recent activities you will be on every terrorist organization's hit lists; don't you think so?"

I wince. "That is an absolute fact, sir."

"You know you will have to be inactive for a while to avoid being identified, right again?" He reminds me.

"Yes, sir. They'll want my team eliminated before they plan more actions."

"Quite so. Therefore a job that demands your attention and expertise would be an excellent way to lie low. If you go to ground on your own, you might die of boredom."

"Yes sir, but I already advise the white house and pentagon on these things. What change are you suggesting?"

"A position that would make you available for brainstorming on cases that are small, nevertheless, just as important. If you were to serve officially, that would be all the more justification for your involvement in anti-terrorist activities. Since you're already associated with the anti-terrorist committee as an advisor, there would be no need to explain your involvement in situations like the recent one, and therefore give you more freedom."

"True sir, but I am dying of curiosity. What do you have in mind?"

"I want to offer you two options for involvement that offer a perfect cover for your actions and expertise."

"I'm eager to hear them." He is driving me crazy dragging this out. Get on with it already.

"The special position I mentioned is my advisor on Terrorism. You will advise all branches and agencies when required," he revealed.

"Wow! That is a surprise. But Mr. President, doesn't being associated with that division increase the possibility of being identified?"

The President chuckles before saying, "Maybe, maybe not. If so, the title would have to be more subtle. I'll save the second one for later. Now the General has something else to tell you."

They switch places again.

"Just one more thing, General, the President and I request your presence to join the President for coffee in the Oval Office at fourteen hundred hours a week from today in full uniform. Can you do that?"

I'm still getting used to my new rank. "Why, certainly, sir. Should I go early to get through the screening?"

"Meet me at ten till in front, and I'll expedite the procedure."

"Thank you, sir."

"Unless you have anything, we'll say goodbye."

"One thing, sir. Phantom Hawk, our transporter that was with us for the last two rescues is from China on a green card. We need her. I've spent over two years training her and would hate to lose her. As you saw in the VP's rescue, she's invaluable. I hope her contribution to America's freedom and way of life qualifies her for U.S. citizenship. Can you help with that if you agree?"

"Absolutely. I'll have the paperwork emailed to you, and you can bring it when you meet with us next week."

"Excellent. Thank you sir, that's all I have."

"Then we'll bid you a good day, General."

When I return my phone to the counter, I am in a daze. "Damn! I need a shot of hard liquor and a dose of hard cock to settle down from this news. Damn! Gino can give me his hard-on later, but time for the hard liquor is now. I go to the wet bar and pour a double shot of fine Kentucky bourbon whiskey and down it in two gulps. Ahhhh. One goal down; I can't wait for number two.

I flip the empty shot glass over in the sink and call Danny to tell him the news. "Can you believe it? Five hundred B and two promotions within thirteen months! That suggestion was just to get them out of my hair about awards. I never expected to get a twenty-year promotion in ten!"

He is laughing. "It is excellent camouflage, though."

"Plus,    Kammy is getting U.S. Citizenship. Isn't that great?"

"Boy, that's a powerful lot of powerful news, Danny." His laugh is rich and musical. "I mean, General Danny."

"I have four words to say to you, Mr. CEO."

"Let me have them."

"Come home, let's fuck."

He he-haws and guffaws. "Good strategy General. Prepare the battlefield and be ready for a showdown."

***

That evening the three of us discuss the promotion. Kammy thinks ahead well and searches for hidden agendas automatically.

"General Danny, what are they building?"

"I don't follow. What is who building?

"The President and General Hogue."

Gino is on alert. "You think this promotion is one of many steps planned to put Danny where someone wants her? Like, it's just the beginning, not a single act?"

Her lips are in a tight straight line as she gives a brisk nod. "Exactly. Not just one star, but two. Then you have a week to get your uniforms for a meeting with the President in the Oval Office. As a General, you'll pass scrutiny by the Secret Service quickly, and practically be anonymous walking through the halls of the White house or Pentagon. And on top of that, what's this new position, and why does it require a General?"

"Don't know, but there is one more crucial thing I haven't told you, Miss Mighty Midget. This one is about you. For you and only you."

Her hands fly to her face in anticipation. She shrieks, "What? What-what-what?"

"In a couple of weeks, you, Kam Ching, will be a dual citizen."