Chapter 23: Double Duty

Thursday, October 18: Day 3

As promised, James joined me, first when I awakened with Lois, and then at breakfast. Harold, you and your staff please us no end.

Lois, her recruiting being successful, joined me for the night, and to be my Companion in the morning. She would guide Frankie, Curt, and Edie, and, as we thought about it, Marcyne.

Arlene and Vox awakened after their first night together. They looked into one another’s eyes, and giggling, moved closer until their noses touched. With the same whim, they rubbed noses, licked tongues, and reached down to finger one another. With a sudden movement, they whipped into their first 69. After a series of climaxes, Vox somewhat regretfully said, “It’s a workday, and I need breakfast. Shower first?”

“Nah. Nobody’s going to mind, and several are going to enjoy the scent of excited women. Let’s eat -- food, not each other -- and then go to your lair to get dressed.”

Breakfast and go

Gentle applause greeted Arlene and Vox, who not only were fragrant with lust, but swollen lips and mussed lipstick further indicated their activity. “You two ought to be the centerpiece on the table, but, sadly, we don’t have the time today. Terry would be my Companion today, with Marcyne with us. Mark and Frankie were the next pair, along with Shelley and Curt. Vox and Shelley also would spend the day together.

Arlene looked at Vox. “Maybe tonight, we’ll organize at least a small party, where we begin by giving a show, then get fucked side-by-side, switching partners.”

“Ooh, that sounds nasty. I love it.

“Today, we’re going to have two activity tracks, running in parallel: the team going to Atlantic Command in Norfolk, and the effort to integrate more clan members, working here.

“Let me review the Crisis situation. At this point, the President believes it was down to two choices: blockade or invasion. He had little confidence that air attack alone could eliminate the missile threat. We need to make sure that Keating and Tower, who are well-intentioned patriots, don’t push him into premature military action. Tower has some interesting ideas, such as his proposal, made in September, to form a Cuban government in exile. I don’t know if the MONGOOSE team even considered that.

“He doesn’t know, however, that the Soviets had sent six nuclear bombs for the Il-28’s, and twelve nuclear warheads for the Luna anti-shipping cruise missiles. Soviet Minister of Defense Rodion Malinovsky and Matvei Zakharov, chief of the general staff, gave local commanders authority “to make your own decision, and to use the nuclear means ... as instruments of local warfare for the destruction of the invaders of the Cuban territory and to defend the Republic of Cuba.”

In Wardrobe

Vox started out with Arlene, who needed no makeover but, like Vox, needed to groom themselves after a busy night. “It’s funny, Arlene, but while I’m fine at dressing other women, I’m not sure how to make myself nicely provocative. I’m too used to T-shirt and jeans.”

“We’re not that different in build or coloring, so let’s try for matching outfits. Definitely, we want something either skimpy, stretchy, or both up top. Flaring skirts. Heels. First, let’s think about setting off your auburn hair. Dark green? Different than Greta’s trademark Kelly green.

“I’ll put my bright red hair against a rich blue. Red microskirts for both of us, with black hose. Easy access, if we want to do a show. Nothing underneath.”

Science fair

Margaret, Greta, Paul, George, Vivian, and Arlene left on an early train to Norfolk, arriving at the office at 2 PM after their limo had quickly stopped at their hotel, and gotten them registered for a suite and their light luggage taken there. The women had, with Vox, spent some time coming up with outfits that were pushing the limits of sexy professional, but not club wear.

Paul had things simpler, in that a well-cut suit would cover any office seduction in which he would be involved. He wore a conventional, appropriately navy blue, suit. Paul and George were unaware that the Others had enhanced their sexual appeal to women.

Margaret also was in dark blue, with a soft white sweater underneath. Her pencil skirt was tight and buttoned. Vivian also wore a skirt, in gray, but much shorter skirted, over silver-gray hose and black pumps. Greta did flip her normal color choices, wearing a black suit with green scarf and belt, tan hose, and black boots.

George, who was in a preppy casual outfit of khaki pants, blue oxford shirt without a tie, and blue blazer, did the introductions. “Commander Devens, these are my teachers, Margaret Smith and Paul Asiago. My classmates: Vivian Levine, Arlene Russo, and Greta Norden. I’m George Lawrence.”

“I flew Corsairs with George’s father in Korea.

“Thanks, George. This is Arnie Black, who flies the A4 Skyhawk, Arvid Esterhazy, who is a back-seater in the Phantom. What do you have for us, or, within the limits of classification, would like to ask us?”

“Arlene is going to be the primary presenter.”

Her suit was of dark green, emphasizing her flaming red hair. Under the jacket, she wore a satin camisole. She stood, taking out a collapsible pointer, and took her transparencies to the overhead projector. “Cuba, [map] of course, is in the news. Several Senators have spoken of Soviet ballistic missiles being emplaced there, with SAM batteries protecting them. Our concern, from our preliminary analysis, is that an attack without at least the same kind of electronic warfare support as used by SAC, in bomber attacks on the Soviet mainland, will fail. Anti-radar missiles could help, but as we understand, none are anywhere close to deployment. Decoy drones are, however, a possibility.

“As loyal Americans, we definitely don’t want to explore any of our findings in public, at least unless they are retrospective.”

The audience nodded, annoyed at the Senators. Margaret and Paul radiated reassurance at our data.

As she put transparencies onto the projector, standing beside it, she made sure to bend over in the direction of at least some of the audience. Vivian and Greta crossed their legs, carefully but not ostentatiously making sure that their skirts rode high. Margaret, mostly standing, unbuttoned some of her skirt buttons, ostensibly for freedom of movement but also to let her long legs flash against the somber black suit.

“We assume a typical base has an SS-4 SANDAL regiment, with ten missiles. A picture from Russia showed that the support area surrounds the launch area, separated by triple barbed wire. To get past that fence, one must pass a guard station and enter a tunnel.

“How the hell did you get that?” Margaret and Vivian reassured them, telempathically, that we were utterly loyal citizens.

“Testimony to Congress. That, news reports, and a bit of U.S. military information.

“We also have Congressional staff sources.” True enough, but they didn’t need to know that wasn’t how we got the more sensitive information, such as the number of aircraft striking a target. “You’re aware of the detail in some recent speeches in the Senate?

“We have the SS-4 base at the center of a defensive triangle, with SA-2’s at each vertex. “A SA-2 has a range of about 30 km (19 mi), a minimum range of 8 km (8,000 m), and an intercept altitude envelope of between 450 and 25,000 m (1,480 and 82,020 ft.). American doctrine is to launch two missiles at each target, but the SA-2 is completely command-guided, and requires the full attention of a FAN SONG radar to direct it. Normally, there is a single FAN SONG per battery site.

“Each SA-2 battery, and the SS-4 in the center, is protected from low-level attack by multiple gun systems. We are assuming only light and medium, since the heavy guns, such as their 85 or 100 mm, have not been seen in recent May Day parades. That got some impressed nods. The most powerful likely one is 57 mm, of which there are towed and self-propelled versions. This has a maximum horizontal range is 12 km (7.5 mi), with a maximum effective vertical range of 4.5 km (14,750 ft.). Theoretically, the guns have no minimum altitude, but they also have to acquire an incoming aircraft. The lower that aircraft, the less warning the guns will have.

“Their towed S-60 57 mm gun has a separate FIRE CAN radar. A popular military magazine mentioned that the Russians are working on a 23 mm self-propelled anti-aircraft gun (SPAAG), which would have a much greater rate of fire than the ZSU-57-2. We are speculating that the radar associated with this AAA piece, called GUN DISH, may be adapted to the 57 mm guns in Cuba. That makes it far more lethal at low altitude, as it can lock on faster than human reflexes permit.

“We emphasize: if they bring in radar-directed ADA, the figures that we’ve heard rumored: eight fighter-bombers per SAM site and twelve per MRBM site, will fail.

“When attacking with napalm or cannon, strike aircraft have to be at extremely low altitude, perhaps 100 feet. You can attack with Snakeye high-drag bombs, or, but right in the teeth of the ADA, dive-bomb for maximum penetration.

“We suggest that a first wave has to come in low, clearing the guns, and then hitting the SAMs with napalm and small bombs. Ideally, we have a suppressed defense and can dive-bomb the ballistic missiles from medium altitude.”

The discussion became intense. Devens called in two civilian women, assistants to the military men: Dawn Cunningham, an illustrator and editor who maintained the technical library, and Mary Maguire, their target mathematician. Dawn was tall, thin, deeply tanned, and very blonde, with blue eyes. Her dress was long, of a dark blue slightly patterned fabric, with buttons from neck to hem. She clearly liked being out on Virginia Beach, and, we imagined, in a very brief bikini.

Mary, a busty redhead, reminded Margaret of Arlene. In these pre-Tailhook-scandal days, it was quite common for officers to fraternize with female civil servants. It quickly became apparent that these two were highly competent, but also quite attractive. They weren’t quite sure what to make of a crew of equally attractive women, even more provocatively dressed, although they were used to partying with Aviators.

On a coffee break, Margaret began talking to Mary, who, she learned, also had a graduate degree in mathematics but barely made use of it. The two rapidly became friends. Mary pulled out some graphs that she had developed. “Commander -- this isn’t a “Bill” question -- may I use these classified analyses of radar ranges and enemy reaction time? Bluntly, these kids have independently confirmed them.

A little later, Margaret mentioned to Mary, “I hear that the officers party hard.”

“Hell yes.” She gave Margaret a long, deliberate look. “One of the Naval Aviation traditions is sensual leg and bush shaving, if you’re interested. They also like to watch women with one another, which I do with Dawn. Are you, by any chance, interested?”

Moving Mary into a corner, Margaret quickly kissed her, touching her lips with her tongue, and, shielding her with her own body, touched her breast. “What do you think? Oh, the rest of us play as well.” She giggled a bit. “George, blushing like hell, suggested that we get a suite, not from any direct knowledge but from things that his father let slip. Paul is a submariner, who said that they don’t party as hard but certainly aren’t opposed.”

Naval office hours start disgustingly early, so the official day was over at 3:30. Paul told the group, “Our school has a special deal with the hotel, so we have a suite and dinner coming. Want to join us and keep talking? We even have a projector.” He sent out telempathic confirmation of our sincerity.

The senior officer laughed. “Sure. We’re all single.”

Paul, Margaret, and Mary got into the back seat of one car, driven by Arnie. Margaret and Mary made sure their thighs were touching. Mary’s skirt wasn’t as short, but she slid it up for Margaret. “Just look, though, in the car. These horndogs love watching women playing with one another, but it’s not something to publicize.”

Arlene and Dawn were in a second car, with Arvid driving, and Vivian in the passenger seat. It was smaller than Arnie’s car, so Arlene and Dawn pressed their legs together without risk. Arvid, waiting for stop lights, did stroke Vivian, but he wasn’t concerned if he was seen kissing and touching a pretty girl.

In a third car, Bill drove Greta, without the distraction of other passengers. “Bill, don’t kill us both looking at my legs. When we get to the hotel, you’ll see everything I’ve got.”

At the suite, lust was in the air. Greta looked at Dawn. “Wow. You have an incredible tan.”

“Thank you! The Aviators help me keep it up, with suntan oil and the like, to say nothing of their shaving games -- of course, I have to take off more clothes for you to see that.”

“First, though, I promised Bill that he’d get to see me.” She moved to where he was sitting and began to strip, purring “I often like it on the rough side -- and with more than one partner. Hey George! Want to come with us?”

“Oh yeah?” Dawn agreed. “Me, too!”

Greta, stripped down to stockings, moved to Dawn and began to undress her. Bill enjoyed watching Greta’s pale hands against Dawn’s deep tan. Greta called to George, “Come here and help with her.” Dawn, excited to try a young, vigorous man, dropped to her knees near Bill, and took George into her mouth. He didn’t realize that he had been given a gift of attraction to women. Catching Bill’s eye, Greta kissed and licked all over Dawn’s body until Dawn quivered.

By now, Bill was undressed. Greta walked toward him, gestured, and then straddled him in reverse cowgirl, knees on the couch next to him.

Paul and Margaret, on the couch, got Mary between them, kissing her and fumbling at her clothing. Arnie, on Margaret’s other side, fondled her legs and then her pussy. When Arnie inquired “Want to move to a bed?” Margaret nodded emphatically.

Arlene was on her knees, still clothed, in front of Arnie, sucking. Paul glanced over, noted her stocking tops showing, one of his fetishes, and became even more excited.

Lust was in the air, now joined by moans. Unsaid were the mental forces that were helping the Navy officers take their guests even more seriously. Were they to have tried to explain the interaction to peers, however, they would simply have spoken of hot women, both visitors and staff, drawing no suspicion in their culture.

Back at the ranch

We had several new people to get into the spirit of what we do. After the morning exercise, Lois, Shelley, Frankie, Carl and I were relaxing with Marcyne. James Bong went around the group, head-bumping. Marcyne said “I’d swear that the cat understands everything I say.”

Indeed. What kind of foolish quadruped does she consider me?

I had wondered if James had disclosed himself to anyone. Lois slid next to Carl. She did give James a knowing look. After me, James had spent more time with Lois than with anyone else.

Shelley and Marcyne started out cuddling a bit, talking about Marcyne’s wrestling Arlene. Marcyne turned to Terry and I. “Would you mind if I watched very closely if I were next to you when you made it? Shelley or Arlene would also be fun.”

“Of course not. Damn, I’m hot for your back and shoulders, if nothing else.” Terry wondered about her breasts, covered by her exercise clothing. “Harold, I don’t think Marcyne is ready for a full group.” Marcyne looked relieved. “Let’s take her to my bedroom.”

Terry, who was wearing a casual skirted exercise outfit, sort of like a black wet-look tennis outfit, looked softly at Marcyne. “OK, you get to call the shots here. The rest of us will have fun no matter what, but I know this is new and challenging for you.

“I trust Harold, although I don’t want much direct sex yet. Harold, is there anything that would appeal to you?”

“Just looking at you naked would be a fine start. Hell, I enjoy just looking at those strong legs of yours, which I can see. I’d love to stroke them. I’d love to kiss you, if no more than just on the lips. I’d love to watch you have pleasure with another woman.”

Terry said to Shelley, “Let’s start off pleasuring Marcyne. Marcyne, you initiate whatever you do with Harold. Now, you mentioned leg play and tribbing. Would you and Shelley like to intertwine legs and kiss, maybe in your clothes at first?”

“That sounds like fun. I appreciate that you’re taking it slowly. Harold, I do find it pleasing for you to admire my legs. I want you to watch. Maybe once Shelley and I start taking clothes off, you can stroke my thighs. They might feel weird, however, with the hair.” I realized that Marcyne’s legs were unshaven, although the hair was sparse. “With this crew, I might just shave, but I’ve never done so.”

“Marcyne, it’s your call. Some of us can also give some very sensual leg shaves.” I thought for a minute. “When I was having a procedure that involved a large needle in my groin, I was asked to shave down there. Thinking back to it, being smooth there felt quite nice. Would it interest you to shave me? Geese, ganders, and all that?”

The thought of fondling her made me quite hot. Terry moved to sit on my lap, rubbing her firm buttocks against my groin, but keeping on her clothing. She whispered, “Take it slow. Of course, you can do anything you can imagine to me. Play with my legs so Marcyne can see it.”

“Marcyne, Arlene and I also are very good at shaving each other. Legs are straightforward, but the harder part -- well, hard is more for guys...”

“Terry, my dear, I’ve seen your nipples get hard enough that I worried they’d take out my eye. That’s also true for your daughter.”

“Yeah, yeah, Harold. As I was saying to Marcyne, we both like to have some fun with our pubic hair. I’m not a natural blonde, but I find some people get very turned on by knowing that. Arlene, however, is a real redhead, and she excites people when they know hers is the most rare of hair colors.”

I insisted, hoping I wasn’t giving away my experience of a past life, “Yes, but I do it in a sensual way.” Breathing a mental sigh of relief, I remembered how I had learned that. “Sensual shaving is a big thing among Naval Aviators, and I had a couple in my family.”

Marcyne was fascinated. “Wow. While I’ve always loved tribbing, the several of you are teaching me new leg games. Yes, I’d like to be shaved, at least on the legs. Let’s start with having women do it, but let’s also literally warm up in the hot tub. Maybe Harold, Terry, and Arlene can join me? Oh, I remembered that Arlene’s in Norfolk. Maybe Shelley, then, since she and Arlene resemble each other some? Terry, you do the shaving, and then Harold can make it with you while I cuddle Shelley and watch you two, or something like that? I don’t want to make this too complicated!”

“To be honest, I’ve never watched fucking, close up. I gather all of you like it a lot, so maybe I have something to learn.”

“Marcyne, love...” which was very true from our younger days, “I’m on the exhibitionistic side anyway, as certainly is Terry and maybe Shelley?”

Shelley nodded. “Hey, I was shy, but I still liked to be watched when I was twirling, in a short tight outfit!”

“Marcyne, you’re giving me a fantasy that maybe we could make real. Get your face near the fucking, but let me stroke and kiss your thighs while we do it. Not to scare you with my guy parts, but I’m very, very hard just thinking about it.”

“Harold, given that I know you won’t put your cock anywhere that I don’t want it, I’m sort of flattered to see it hard. I might want to take a closer look, because I’ve never really looked at a hard one.”

Terry laughed. “I’ve seen a hell of a lot of them, and he has a nice one. Let’s go to the hot tub. I’ll set up a massage table in the same room, with warm towels on it, and I’ll shave you on it.” We adjourned to the tub room. Shelley and I helped Marcyne into it, while we hugged and gently kissed, and then kissed harder. Terry joined us, kneeling in front of Marcyne and using her hands on her front. After a while, with Marcyne breathing hard, she was assisted to the table.