Four weeks since the emergency draft, and he was losing his mind. Stuck on base, his time and energy sucked into training, catching up, getting fit and reacquainting with his unit from prior years of reserve duty.
There'd been no specific thing that set him off on this particular day, but all the same... Coming in from the late afternoon sun, he stormed into his barracks in a fierce sweat and wild temper. Sometimes, the triggers were just as simple as a look by someone, or a vague memory of what, or who, he lost in his civilian life by being here. He didn't have a quick temper as a civilian, something else that frustrated him to no end. But his regular life, only weeks behind him, couldn't be further away.
He paused as he bulldozed through the door. The room was shockingly empty. All the better.
He had been one of the first to show up at base after the war broke out, and after sorting out his situation, he had spent some spare minutes sitting on the edge of a cot, watching the guys, many familiar, many not, stream in. Eventually his head had ended up in his hands, as he considered everything that was going to change - and stay the same - over the days, weeks, probably months to come.
In recent days it had occurred to him that for the weeks since getting back into uniform, for the most part things weren't changing much. He was a reservist, like everyone else here, and they had mainly spent time getting their acts together, training in new skills, running drills in full gear and oppressive heat, and spending miserable empty hours on guard duty, staring into space. But the buildup of frustration, anger and pent-up energy was eating away at him. There was nothing to pass the time except fueling his own burning fury and then abating it by fantasizing about his wildest desires. Which, admittedly, had become a lot more... wild... the longer he languished in his own sweat and army-issue polyester.
Passing through the rows of cots, he reached the end of the room, a few metal frames away from his own. He stopped short. Something - someone - was in it, but before he could get pissed that some jerkoff was asleep on his bed, she (a she?!) shifted herself to face him.
He was stunned. Was this a mirage? He felt his mouth open as he stared.
This was a familiar face. Very familiar.
Thankfully she could tell he was speechless. "Hi... Um, surprise..." Her voice sounded meek, not her usual self, like when they often sat together at coffee shops or stifled laughter together in the hallways at work. She was airy, playful and happy to joke around when things got boring at their desk jobs. Not to mention... well, if he was being honest, she was often the target of his fantasies, even during less fiercely horny times before reporting to duty in a testosterone-filled rage.
He's always appreciated her dark hair cascading down her shoulders in carefree waves. She was small, but grabbable (he assumed) from the way she moved her hips when she walked, especially in her usual look of tight workout pants and cropped t-shirts. Occasionally she wore shorts, and on those occasions he'd unabashedly take a closer look at the curves of her calves, her soft thighs and the way the jean pockets hugged her round ass.
They had been fast friends when he joined the office three years back, and the reason they never became more was a matter of... timing, mainly. Maybe it also had to do with the fact that, well, she could be aloof and he never felt he had a clear shot. She could go from playful innuendo to strictly business in seconds.
Now, he couldn't comprehend that she was here, on his base, in his bed. How did she get here? And why? And how? But the questions never made it past his gaping mouth.
"Yeah... I know what you're thinking... how? Why?" He watched her slowly get up and realized she was wearing something he never ever saw her wear, not at work and not at the cafes together: a summery dress. Straps delicately hugging her tanned shoulders, soft white and pale pink and blue stripes running down the length of her small frame. As thin and airy as the fabric looked, it was still no match for the sweltering heat of the season; she had a sheen of sweat across her face and neck; her dark hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail.
He was still dumbfounded but approached the cot. "Yeah... I am thinking those things..." He looked her up and down. She was much shorter than him, as always, but here, like this, he felt himself towering over her in extreme; overpowered. Something about that made him desperate to grab her. He had to restrain himself; the pent-up, anger-fueled energy he was containing inside him would utterly destroy dainty little her, and besides, for all their years as friends (peppered with occasional reserves training) she didn't know this side of him. Frankly, just a month prior, neither had he.
He suddenly remembered he was in full uniform, melting into something way worse than a delicate sheen of sweat; he was pooled in it. Slowly, he began removing layers of gear from his top half until he was standing in front of her in his undershirt, cargo pants and boots. He watched her watch him as he did it. All that training must have paid off; her lips parted just enough as she looked him up and down from her place on his cot.
"So, um," he sat on the cot across from her and ran his hands through his hair. "Are you going to enlighten me?" He looked at her and she smiled shyly.
"Well... I know this is crazy..." Was she blushing? "And I guess I have no idea if this makes sense or not... but you know, it's been weeks now and... I had heard about, um..."
Her stalling was making him crazy. He felt an urge to shake her. Spit it out, woman. He wasn't sure if he had said it out loud or with his face, but he noticed her eyes widened as she looked down at her feet.
"I had heard that a lot of soldiers were, um, getting, um, favors, you know? Support? Help... from women... friends... and I..."
Before he could fully process what she was implying, she took a step forward, rested both her palms on his shoulders, straddled his thighs with her legs and slowly lowered herself onto his lap. He froze; was this happening? After years of hanging out, joking around, being friends with, admittedly, a delicate, not-so-subtle sizzling energy between them? Was she here, right now, on his lap, placing her hands on his chest, inches away from his mouth?
She leaned in, her eyes on his chest. "And I... well, I wanted to join the effort. You know, ready to serve any way I can."
She met his gaze and locked her lips onto his. She was trembling, slightly. It was weird, for sure... in their coffee dates or hallway conversations, they mainly joked about work or playfully teased each other, in a friendly way. Now, she was sitting on his lap and he didn't even feel the need to hide his increasing hard-on.
He decided he was ok with how desperate for this he actually was and pressed himself against her, feeling her nipples brush against his chest through her dress, against his t-shirt. Apparently, she wasn't wearing a bra, which he confirmed after placing his rough hands on her soft, exposed back. He ran his palms down to her hips, and held her there, pressing her down against him. Her breathing got heavier which made him press her down harder, grinding her against him.
Four weeks... god I need this... but...
He pulled himself back and looked at her. Her lips were still parted, her chest softly heaving. She looked up at him.
"I can't believe I'm saying this," he whispered. "But. Are you sure?"
Before she could respond, he heard voices right outside the barracks and quickly pushed her off him. She let out a small squeal and steadied herself, just before he grabbed her by her arms, just below her shoulders. His tone was rough.
"Listen to me - hide yourself. There's some supply closets back there... hide and I'll find you." He let go of her, and seeing the red marks of his grasp on her arms, realized he had grabbed her too tightly. It's not the worst I could do... He watched her ass bounce lightly in the soft fabric as she scurried towards the dimly lit corridor.
-----
Holy shit. How many times had he fantasized about her? Way back before the draft... He was intoxicated by her. For a couple years now. And while he knew there was something there, he figured she wasn't the type to risk their friendship or their jobs to cross a line. Or maybe he wasn't?
Either way. There had been signs it was mutual but neither had made a real move until he found himself in a sweaty uniform, confined and caged in an army base, and somehow, her straddling him.
After about 40 minutes, and making sure the area was clear, he headed towards the hall with the supply closets. Had she made it? Had anyone found out? He ached with the idea that he had had this chance and then some idiot officer had found her and kicked her off base.
Ready to serve?! Holy shit.
Did she mean it? Was this a really bad joke? Or worse, would she chicken out? Honestly, he wasn't sure if he could let her do that. Putting on this uniform caused a stir for most, and he was no exception. And four weeks cooped up like a caged animal, fomenting rage, horny as fuck - he took an opportunity to adjust his hard-on under the thick fabric - honestly, she stands no chance.
He approached the furthest closet from the entrance and turned the knob. Unlocked. It was pitch black inside, and he realized after feeling for the light switch, it wasn't working anyway.
