Grim Fairy Tales
Chapter 11: Lingering War

Copyright© 2001 by Knave of Hearts

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 11: Lingering War - As civilization destroys itself, some people just want to find a home. Simon Woodsman is one of these people and he's prepared to do what ever it takes to make his dream a reality.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Mult   BiSexual   Post Apocalypse   Anal Sex   Sex Toys   Slow   Violence   Military  

Still dreading the consequences of Bobby's visit, Simon unpacked his office and then drove back to the main base to find a place to live. After receiving the usual bureaucratic runaround, he finally found the right office and convinced then to assign him a room in the in the "Q", a boarding house for the officers. The Q was an old Victorian house that stood in a line with other gently decaying houses along a small inlet. Simon found it's stodgy gentility completely at odds with the reason he was there. Climbing the stairs, Simon inspected the small room he'd been given and resignedly slung his gear into the closet before going in search of a meal.

Standing on the Q's broad porch, it was hard to believe that he had been warm and snug in his own bed in Staunton with Arabella less than a week ago. But the world had turned on its head in those mere four days.

Although long distance phone calls were strictly monitored, Simon had waited in line patiently for the chance to call and explain things to Arabella. He knew that she would be angry about the terse email, but he needed a chance to clarify the situation before the Government's goons made any house calls. When he had finally been able to call home, Granny had been proud of the fact that she and her protégé had found "other company" since he was gone.

Saffron had spared no detail of how big and virile this new partner was. Listening to each lurid detail was like being stabbed with a hot poker. The bottom line was that Arabella had left town with another man. No one knew where she was or when she would be back. Trying to bury the resentment and disappointment he felt, Simon stepped off the porch and walked down the tree-lined street towards the temporary Officer's Club that had taken over a small restaurant.

Simon ate dinner alone and then wandered into the bar. It was a loud smoky place dominated by boisterous knots of people, everyone talking and laughing too loud but still managing to be drowned out by the country music blaring from the corner. A few tried to start conversations and his experiences in Washington allowed him to blend in. Simon was amazed that he had left the ruins of DC only six months ago. He noticed that the club's clientele were mostly Army officers. The patches on their arms revealing the presence of no less than three battle groups - self-sustaining brigade sized forces. Had there been only one, or maybe even just two groups, then JTF Phalanx might have been a demonstration of force. But having three groups, a total of over 4,500 soldiers, showed the nation that the government was through negotiating.

The loud, smoky atmosphere of the bar was full of people talking about work or telling war stories and Simon quickly determined that he would be happier some place else, so he returned to the Q. He noticed that a new crowd of people had arrived while he ate. A group of young Naval and Marine officers sprawled on the porch with their drinks in hand, talking loudly about their plans for the evening.

Although Simon introduced himself, his rank and the fact that he was Army made him an immediate outsider. The newcomers all belonged to a flotilla of small raiding boats that the government was using to blockade the shallow waters of the Eastern Shore. Their commander, a tall, square Marine named Alex Putnam, introduced himself and tried to strike up a conversation, but the secret nature of Simon's mission kept the exchange vague and general. Alex, tiring of the polite game and anxious to go out for his first evening of liberty, soon excused himself.

Simon, glad to have been able to leave the party so politely, made his way to the parlor of the Q and found a bottle of whiskey in the cabinet. Settling down in a chair to enjoy some solitude, he had just finished his first bourbon and was making notes in his hand held computer about his ideas for the Palladium when a young, tan blonde woman walked up and claimed the chair next to his. Subconsciously he took in the various patches on her camouflage uniform, signs that established her place in the rigid hierarchy of the military, and introduced himself.

"Simon Woodsman."

"Ensign Patricia Claire" she responded, holding out her hand.

Simon shook her hand and invited her to be comfortable. "Now I don't know how the Navy does things," he smiled at her, indicating that he was being humorous, "but I think that I can still buy you a drink without being charged with sexual harassment."

 
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