Dan's Revenge

We'd been on mounted patrol for 4 hours, heading back to base. The four marines in the Humvee were Sgt. Pete Johnson (me), Lance Cpl. Jim Rodriguez, PFC Ron Damon, and manning the mounted 30 cal. Cpl. Dan Adams.

I had just told Dan, "you better get your ass a little lower, there are hostiles in this area." He replied, "who gives a fuck, let'em shoot me."

There was the sound of a 30-cal. sniper's rifle. They say you never hear the one that gets you. Three of us heard it; Cpl. Adams didn't. There was a hole just below his right eye, and the only thing that kept the back of his head from being splattered all over the place was his helmet. PFC Damon jumped on the 30 and returned fire, as we got the hell out of there.

Rodriguez yelled, "What the hell was he doing, making himself such a target." "The poor bastard's been acting strange for a couple of weeks. Just seemed, he didn't give a shit anymore."

That evening, our guys, and everyone else that knew Dan, were grieving together, when Capt. Paterson, company commander came in. After everyone had come to attention, and told to stand at ease, he looked at me. "Pete, I've been collecting Cpl. Adams things to send to his wife. You, and the rest of the platoon, and anyone else that wants to, need to read these. He tossed two letters on the closest bunk, and walked out the door.

I picked up the first letter, and could tell from the return address, it was from Dan Adam's wife. I glanced through it quickly, then shaking my head read it aloud.

++++++++++

Dear Dan,

I am so sorry to tell you this, but I have met someone else, and am filing for divorce. I hope you understand; this loneliness while you're away for so long, is just too much for me. Please be safe.

Pam.

++++++++++

I put the letter back in its envelope, then opened the second one, apparently sent by someone else, a few days after the first one.

Glancing through it, before reading it aloud, I had to just stand there, and try to calm myself, before I was ready to speak.

++++++++++

Hey Dan,

What do they call you guys, Jarheads? You and I didn't get along too well when you were here. I always wanted to kick your ass, and in a sense, finally did. I've been fucking your, soon to be, ex-wife for a couple of months now. I want to tell you, that's some fine pussy. She's also becoming a first-class cock sucker.

She tells me all the time that my cock is bigger, and I know how to use it so much better, than the pencil dick she's divorcing.

As soon as she's divorced, we plan on getting married. I'll send you an invitation. Maybe you'll be back by then. If not, I'm sure you'll send a present.

Ben

++++++++++

Everyone in unison said "what a shithead, or some other words meaning the same thing.

We could kind of accept the letter from the wife, "what a bitch." If she had to, she had to. But the one from this guy Ben, was totally unacceptable.

I got together with the other three guys that were with Dan when he got it. We are all from the same area, all Marine reservists from the same unit, called to active duty.

We had three months to go before being rotated back home. We swore, when we got home, to do something for Dan, something to make this right. That letter caused Dan's death. He was distraught from the first letter from his wife, then the letter from this Ben guy right after that. He was so distressed he didn't even consider protecting himself.

The letter from Dan's wife at least had a purpose. The second one was just evil.

None of us were really close friends before we were called to active duty. We knew each other through our routine reserve training, and yearly two weeks field training; but other than that, we all led our own separate lives. A year of active duty, being together when being routinely shot at, brought us a lot closer.

I agreed to spearhead the effort, to right this wrong. I didn't know what I was going to do, but Lance Corporal Rodriguez and PFC Ron Damon said to let them know when they were needed. Even several of the other guys from the unit asked to be included if necessary.

I'm Sgt. Pete Johnson. When I'm not on active duty, I am Pete Johnson, citizen, age 27, single, graduate of Indiana University, and manager of one of my father's chain of tire stores. I have a great mom, dad, an older sister, who will take over operation of the chain when Dad retires, and a younger brother, also an employee of the company.

Finally, we were shipped home. If there was anyone disappointed in going home, I hadn't met 'em.

I was met at the airport by my father, mother, sister, brother, various uncles, aunts, cousins, etc., which was the start of a party lasting well into the next morning. I took a week off and just got reacquainted with civilian life, and spent time with friends.

I kept the two letters. I told Capt. Paterson I was keeping them, and he just raised his hand as if dismissing me. He wasn't going to say it was ok or not. He knew I had a use for them, one he didn't want to officially know about. I showed my dad the letters and explained the circumstances, and that I was going to start back to work, but may need time off occasionally. Dad was in the Marine Corps during Viet Nam; so, he knew how attached you get to your buddies.

The thing I didn't do was look up any old girlfriends. I didn't have a steady when I left, and anything that could become serious, would interfere with my sworn duty to my dead buddy, Dan.

First, I had to learn where Dan had lived, which wouldn't be difficult. His wife, or ex-wife, whichever it was now, would be close by, as would be this turkey, Ben.

After getting Dan's address I quickly found out that Pam had moved out, and neighbors didn't know where she moved. My guess, she probably moved in with her new boyfriend Ben. I started spending some evenings in bars around his neighborhood. It's amazing how fast you can become a 'regular' at a local bar. First, I discovered where Dan had worked, then I started going to bars around his former employer.

I finally ran into a guy sitting on a bar stool that knew Dan Adams. He had known both he, and his wife, Pam; both classmates. He didn't mention anything about Dan's demise, or that he was in the Marine Corps. He mentioned that he had seen Pam with some friends recently in Maggie's' Bar.

For several nights in a row, after leaving my tire store, I stopped by Maggie's bar, becoming a semi-regular. One evening I heard a woman being referred to as Pam. She was part of a group of about 15, that appeared to be co-workers, in for a little after work unwinding. She was a decent looking young woman, not especially pretty, but had a nice slim body, with a set of attractive C's.

If this was, indeed, my Pam, I wouldn't mind taking her to bed; and intended to do just that!

I didn't mention that through college, and on into my career, I've been considered quite handsome, and have always had very good luck with the ladies. I'm 6'1" 190lb. and keep my body well-toned, in spite of all this time I recently spent in bars.

If this woman was my Pam, and I thought she probably was; of the remainder of her group, there was one large guy that seemed to be attached to her, probably that jerk, Ben.

Ben is about what I expected; a big guy, about 6'2" 215, and just looked like a guy that had been a bully his entire life. He just gave off that look of someone that thinks he is a little more important than all those other poor slobs he's forced to associate with.

Some of the guys in Pam's group were playing pool, so I put my quarter on the table, indicating I would play the winner. I won a couple of games, and then lost, all the time starting to get acquainted with people in the group.

A couple of people were dancing to the jukebox, so I asked one of the ladies, not Pam, to dance. She seemed quite thrilled to be asked, and when I escorted her back to her table, she introduced some of her friends. Two of the people were introduced as "Pam, and her boyfriend Ben."

Going back to my drink at the bar, I heard several of the women giggling, and they asked the one I danced with, "who's the hunk."

I had learned, while dancing with Jeanie, by far the most attractive of the group, that they all worked for a commercial real estate company; and came into Maggie's bar two to three time a week, always Tuesday and Thursday, and sometimes Friday.

On Thursday I was at Maggie's, and again, sitting at the bar. When the real estate group came in, I played pool with some of the guys, then finished my beer at the bar. I ordered another beer, then went to the table where the ladies were sitting, and asked another girl, not Pam, if she would like to dance. I escorted her back to her table, and she asked me to go get my beer and sit with them.

In the next hour I got to know some of the ladies, and even started flirting back and forth with a couple of them, including Pam. The men in the group were friendly enough, but were really just tolerating me. I could tell they wished I would go find another watering hole.

First asking another one of the young ladies to dance; and a short time after that, I asked Pam. She readily accepted, and I noticed Ben was keeping a close eye on us the whole time.

I could tell I was starting to accomplish some of my objective. I was becoming a topic of conversation for the ladies. A couple of times, when a new girl came in with the group, I noticed myself being pointed out to the new girl. As planned, I had become a topic of conversation for the girls at the office.

Knowing very well that one reason I was so attractive to all the girls, was because I was the new kid on the block, and that has a limited shelf life. My plan had to move along quickly. After a while you tend to be just another piece of furniture in the room.

Maggie's this Thursday, seemed to be more crowded than usual. Pam showed up with her real estate group, and to my pleasant surprise Ben wasn't with her. When the dance floor started to get a little crowded, I asked Pam to dance. This time I held her a little closer, and she didn't seem to object. When the first song ended, I held her hand and kept her on the dance floor through a second song. Again, no objection. We danced the second one, and I escorted her back to her table, holding her hand the whole way, and sat in the chair beside her.

I had sat with the group multiple times now, and danced with each of the ladies several times over a period of a couple of weeks. I'm sure the office gossip was; which of the girls would he ask for a phone number, or something more than just a dance. If it had been a group of guys, there would be money wagered on it by now.

After dancing with a couple of the other girls, I asked Pam again. This time while we were on the dance floor, I asked for her phone number, and was ignored, like she never heard me.

Leaving the dance floor, we held hands, and again I sat beside her. A few minutes later I felt something being put in my hand under the table.

I figured this bitch couldn't be true to her man; in this case, Ben. When she had been with Dan, she couldn't even wait three more months for him to be rotated back to the states. She had to send him a 'Dear John letter'. She wasn't the prime villain in Danny's death, that was that asshole Ben, but all Dan's friends, including me, knew she was partially to blame.

Pam had now won the office prize. She could go back and tell all the girls I had asked for her phone number.

In her mind, at least in the near term it was "Ben, Ben who?

Through this whole process I forced myself to think only with my big head; get revenge for Dan, but my little head kept yelling for attention, "how about the one in that group that you really would like to pursue, Jeanie."

This whole thing, why I hadn't really gotten back into my life, was about my commitment to Dan, and his unnecessary death, caused by two uncaring people. However, as part of my plan in getting to know the coworkers, the one I really wanted to get to know was Jeanie. I did learn that she was divorced, no kids, 26, about 5'6", blond, and I also learned that I was absolutely enamored with her.

What bullshit for my brain to deal with! My plan was to get close to Pam, drive a wedge between her and that ass Ben, then deal with each separately. However, in doing that, Pam had to think I had chosen her to pursue over the other girls in her office. On the evenings I sat at Maggie's, trying to work my way closer to Pam, Jeanie was right there; but I had to almost ignore her. So pretty, soft eyes, looking at me, seeming to say, "please notice me!"

Several days after getting Pam's number, I asked her to go to dinner with me. She said, "oh, I shouldn't, I'm kind of committed to Ben, but I guess a dinner wouldn't hurt. Naming a restaurant on the other side of town, well away from prying eyes, she said, "how about Luige's. I love their food." She told me to meet her at a Wendy's, which was well away from the apartment she shared with Ben.

We drove thirty minutes to Luige's. After a bottle of wine, and a very nice meal, I asked, "there's a bar with a large dance floor just down the street. My friends tell me it's very nice, and I should check it out. You want to try it?"

She thought about it for a minute, "I probably shouldn't, but maybe just a dance or two."

We ordered a drink, which turned into two, and danced until she started leaning into me, rubbing my cock with her body, which was increasing its size dramatically.

"Why don't we stop by my apartment for a quick nightcap. I've got some brandy you will love." I didn't even give her a chance to respond. She was in my arms, with our tongues intertwined before she had a chance to say no. I'm sure this two-timing bitch would have said "yes" anyway.

Even though neither of us should have been driving, I got us to my place safely. I got out then opened her door. We walked into my apartment arm in arm, and we didn't bother with the brandy.

Even though I was doing my sworn duty to my buddy Dan; lack of pussy over a long period of time kind of takes over a man's senses. Nothing mattered other than getting this woman naked as soon as possible, and getting something inside her, whether it be fingers, tongue, cock: it didn't matter which was first. They were all going to get their chance. Even though I really disliked her because of what she did to my buddy, right now getting her fucked was my total objective. I sure hoped she was on the pill, because I couldn't have stopped if she told me she was a leper.

After resting for a while, and finally getting to the brandy, we went for another round. I sat my empty glass down, and reached over and ran my hand up the inside of her thigh, then massaged her clit very gently. That got her excited enough to reach over and use her talented mouth to get me as hard as I've ever been. I moved into the missionary position, and used her body solely as an object to satisfy me.

She was living with Ben, and supposedly "out with the girls" tonight; so, after a quick shower it was time to get her back to her car.

Pam might be my sworn enemy, but she's also great in bed.

I decided to let the gossip settle a little. I knew Pam would tell someone about our little fuckfest, which means she might as well announce it to the world.

My only regret of having Pam in my bed, was that Jeanie would surely hear the gossip. She and I weren't an item to anyone else, but we were to me. I hoped when this revenge thing was over, she would at least give me a chance to explain.

After about a week, I stopped by Maggie's after work. Several of the girls snickered as I walked in and sat at the bar. After a while, Ben, flanked by two large guys, walked up to where I was sitting, "Pete, I really never liked you. Now Pam tells me you were hassling her and her girlfriends when they were at a bar just trying to relax.

"If I hear about you harassing my girlfriend again, me and my buddies are going to stomp a mudhole in your ass. And while we're talking, maybe you should stay out of Maggie's bar also."

At this point, the bartender, who is also the owner, cut in. "Ben, I'll decide who stays out of Maggie's, and who doesn't."

Ben turned to me as he and his buddies walked away. "You heard me asshole."

I turned to the owner/bartender: "If anything comes of this, remember who started it."

So, what I took from that little exchange, Ben had heard some rumors about Pam and I; and Pam covered her ass by telling him she was totally innocent; that I had come into a bar where she and her girlfriends were, and harassed them.

Imagine how pissed he'd be if he knew she spent a couple of hours naked in my bed.

Things were coming to a head. It was time to get my buddies involved.

Jim Rodriquez and Ron Damon are both the kind of guys you want on your side in a fight, whether it be with some middle east fanatics, or a group of homegrown losers.

Jim is about 5'10", 210 pounds of solid muscle. If ever you wanted to find Jim, when we weren't on a mission, look in the weight room. Like most of the guys in our unit, he can always be counted on without question.

Ron is a goofball except under fire. At base, he's always into some kind of mischief, or making someone laugh at something he said, or some goofy thing he's done; but under fire he transforms into the calmest warrior I've ever seen. He's about the same height as Jim, but 20 pounds liter.

I asked both of them to meet me at a local bar the next day after work.

After explaining everything, they each had a couple of questions. We talked about the fact that the two guys who will be with Ben, or however many there are, are not really our enemy. We have to do what we have to do with them. Our enemy was Ben. He was fucking Dan's wife while Dan was called up, and that letter is the reason Dan got taken out by the sniper.

Jim said, "hey Sarge, a couple of my buddies, who were over there, and who you know, asked me to include them if anything materialized on this. I won't mention any names, so you don't have to lie if everything goes South, but they'll be with us. If you can go in with overwhelming strength, why not do it."

We made our plans, not knowing which night it might happen. It would either be Tuesday, or Thursday, the two nights the group always went to Maggie's.

We were all set up for Tuesday, but when I saw Ben come in without his two friends, I knew it wouldn't be that night; he wouldn't do anything without help. I knew how to make it happen for sure the following Thursday.

He was standing with Pam, glaring at me. I walked over and said, "you warned me about harassing Pam at that bar. How pissed would you be, if I told you there were no other girls at their 'girls' night out', just Pam and I. We had dinner at Luige's, then went dancing, then back to my apartment. She's a great fuck."

"Oh, maybe you haven't tried it, but those three little moles on the inside of her left thigh, right next to her pussy... she gets all excited when you rub those.

"Well, it was nice talking to you. Got a date, have to go. See you Thursday!"

Ben wouldn't be able to accept that. He'd have to get even as soon as possible, and Thursday would be the next time we'd see each other. I hoped he didn't beat the shit out of Pam and get locked up. We'd have to wait till he got out of jail, then start all over.

I laugh when visualizing him forcing Pam to get undressed so he can look for moles in private places. They are actually there. When she was at my apartment, I looked for something on her body no one would know about, unless they were intimate with her.

Thursday we were ready. As planned, Ron Damon showed up at Maggie's about 6:00, and sat at the bar, nursing a beer. He called to let me know what was happening. He saw the guy I had described as Ben. It looked like he and three other large men were separated from the others. Ben moved back and forth between his three friends, and the larger group, but the three friends didn't seem to know the rest of the group.