The Dance
September is an interesting month on base here. With the Air Force birthday being this month there's usually at least a gaggle of different dog and pony shows and different events. Since my flight with Ashley two months ago I have been hoping to run into her again and let her know how to get that bra back. She should really have to work at it.
This year there is the Air Force Ball at the end of the month that a group of my friends have all been volun-told to go, which is basically like saying that it was HIGHLY-RECOMMENDED that we attended by our leadership or in another way, we didn't have a choice and were attending the dance.
I never like wearing my full Dress Blues as it means I need to get my medals rack updated and keeping track of the Air Medals I have seems near impossible nowadays with the multiple wars. That being said it looks pretty impressive when it's all put together and makes all of us aircrew look more like a Mexican General than just some shuck that gets paid to put a bag on and play around in a plane and every now and then stick your pole in someone else's hole.
My friends and I will all be going to the dance together and hopefully leaving separately with a new companion. None of us are looking forward to it other than to get a good look at all the wives dressed up and ignored by their husbands. They usually make for easy picking by us arrogant zipper suited sun gods. I always thought that term was funnier than it was derogatory.
I know many of my friends and flybys that had an inflated self-image but many of them were just regular folk. There is for sure something about a flight suit that makes some girls weak in the knees.
About an hour from the party starting I dressed up in my monkey suit and looked like a big blue smurf and I grabbed my bus drivers hat on the way out the door. I hopped in my friend Jimmys new black Chevy Suburban and we headed into town for the hour or so we needed to be there. Along the way Rick in the back seat pulled out a big cooler and started handing out beers to everyone in the SUV.
If we are going to have to be somewhere, you might as well do it hammered. Many trips were spent with this thinking and I think by now I've forgotten more places than most people visit while they are in the military.
When we reached the hotel the dance was taking place in, the parking lot was already full and Jimmy had to pull his SUV into a dirt area behind the hotel. It was dark and no one noticed as the three of us all stood behind the SUV and relieved ourselves against the mesh fence. Now that we were sufficiently drunk and of the right mindset we ambled into the hotel and found the Grand Ballroom without much fuss.
The three of us opened the door to the large room that seemed a football field in length and width with tables and chairs around the outside and a small dance floor in the center about 30'x30'. There is a stage in front of that trimmed with red, white, and blue bunting around it to hide its legs and a backdrop of blue with more bunting and the required American flag and other items that the decorators always seem to put in these things like balloons and streamers across the ceiling.
Tonight will be such a waste of time I thought and saw in my friends eyes as we looked around the room searching the crowd for friends as well as the nearest bar. We located the bar before we noticed anything else and all of us bellied up to the make shift tabletop and each ordered 2 more beers each. Not one of my finest nights but I would be happy to forget all of these formal events.
We located a table close to the bar and quickly sat. I've never been one that enjoys my back to the inside of the room as I feel uneasy with a bunch of people behind me so I sat facing the dance floor and the interior of the room.
I sat drinking my beer and watching the couples talk and dance and enjoyed the talk my friends were carrying on until I noticed someone in the crowd. Suddenly my pants got tight and I smacked Jimmy on the arm and asked if the Suburban was unlocked? He said it was, and that suited me fine. Our practice was to leave whosever car we took somewhere unlocked to allow anyone of us successful with a lady to take her there for a little privacy.
With that information I stood up and made my way over to a grouping across the dance floor. There were two couples seemingly deep in conversation. There was Colonel Johnson, our Wing Commander, that stood straight and tall, he was older with a head full of salt and pepper hair, skinny and good-looking for the 60 years that his body held.
The woman hanging on his arm was his wife Brenda and was fuller figured with a sparkling silver dress that hid her figure as it hung like a moo-moo and left her quite shapeless. I could tell she was uncomfortable and held onto him for protection from judgement and of ridicule by the other women and unkind fellows that are all to common. From my point of view though she must have had a great pair of tits. The way they sat on her chest they were easily DD or even F and I would get lost playing in that fun-zone, but thats not tonights target, maybe another day.
Tonight I am aimed at the woman opposite them. The man stands leaned in towards the Colonel and is intently listening to what he has to say. He has the stripes of a Tech Sergeant on his sleeve and I figure that he's doing his best job of brown-nosing that he can. The woman standing next to him is way out of his league.
She's in a deep red, floor length dress with a slit up her left leg that reaches her hip, the top of her dress is tight to her body and is pushing her breasts up to eye level making her already large breasts even larger. This beautiful woman is my flight buddy Ashley.
As I walked up to them The Colonel first noticed me and gave me a broad smile and bellowed "Hot damn Charlie! How did they wrangle you into this thing?" And he clamped on me with a bear-hug.
"Well sir, they promised me a 6-pack of beer and a stripper! I've had the beer now I'm just waiting on the stripper" I told him as I looked at Ashley. She heard me and brought her left hand up to her mouth in surprise at my candor and I noticed the wedding ring on her finger.
The colonel laughed, and smacked me on the back "Charlie this is Sergeant... Sergeant Harron. Thats right, this is Sergeant Harron and his wife Senior Airman Harron." As a fellow flyer we had been on more than one flight and knew each other pretty well. His wife looked like she was use to this rhetoric and just seemed bored with it.
"Actually I know this beautiful woman here and I wanted to check with her and see how she enjoyed the ride I took her on last month." I said.
