I was her Big Brother, Dear Abby and Father Confessor. Her Shoulder to lean or cry on and the one person whom she trusted, here. Trusted in all things, in all ways, beyond all others she knew here. I was her semi-constant companion, her guide, her drinking buddy and her friend. I knew more about her, understood her better, than any other she had ever known. In short... I was too close for her to consider a romantic relationship with. She loved me and couldn't imagine her life here without me, but it wasn't 'that' kind of love.
Of course, as in most matters of the human heart a two-edged sword was at play for I was smitten'... Cupid had shot me when my back was turned with a double dose of testosterone and emotional confusion reigned supreme. Having her around as much as she was often became physically and emotionally painful for me. Besides, she'd decided she was in love/lust with the guy in the next room.
We were both Air Force Cops and had finished our last 'Swing' (evening) shift. With twenty-four hours to elapse before we reported for our first Midnight shift, we always tried to stay up for most of the night in preparation for the shift change and changes in our sleep schedules. As usual, it was back to the dorms, a quick shower and change of clothes, then we headed downtown. A couple of servings of Giolza (Gee-ol-za: a Chinese pasta meat roll served with teriyaki and mustard sauce) and it was on to Tachikawa nightclubs for a little dancing, conversation and lots of drinking.
Tonight I'd taken her somewhere she'd not before been - a little club I'd found in a disreputable part of town. One of those places American GIs were not usually welcome. But I was, at first, I was only tolerated and later actually liked. When I found places like this, private spots where I didn't have to put up with normally loud drunken GIs. I was very protective of these places when I found them. Not wanting to either see them ruined turning them into a GI hangout, nor find my welcome withdrawn. I made many a good friend in these places during the eighteen months I'd been in Japan.
Lynn loved the place and promised to never go there without me, nor to take other GIs there.
After, we returned to my room in the dorm (I had a room to myself because of my grade - most, including Lynn, didn't) and continued our party. I kept the room stocked with Bourbon, cokes and ice.
About three AM we heard her boyfriend come in next door. She quickly made her departure, saying she didn't want to see him. She took a last large drink with her when she left, quietly letting herself out of my room and the building, returning to her own dormitory.
It was July. Sweltering muggy days and hot nights. The air conditioning was from massive swamp coolers mountedon the building's roof. Anyone familiar with them can tell you they are not very effective.
Another quick shower and I retrieved the makings for a sandwich from my small refrigerator. A glass of ice water and three aspirin (my personal hangover cure) and I was crawling into bed when I heard a familiar tapping at the window next door. Lynn had decided to visit Mark after all. I heard the window slide open and soon the iron framework of Mark's Bunk was slapping against the wall rhythmically. One problem I didn't have.
Having a room alone, I'd taken the bunks apart, stored the iron frames in an unused closet and turned the bunks into a single bed. Nesting the bedsprings, I'd placed both mattresses on top. It was still a single bed, but with a double thick more comfortable mattress. I didn't have the framing to worry about and it made the room seem more spacious.
Ten minutes after it started, the thumping stopped and the voices in muted conversation began. Listening to the tone and volume of the conversation, I found myself anticipating the direction it was headed. I rose from my bed, pulled the heavy curtains over the open window and unlocked the door. A few minutes more of steadily increasing argument and I heard a single loud sob from Lynn before the window again slid open and, after a moment's pause, slammed shut. Only three minutes passed before there was a light scratching of fingernails at my door.
"Come in," I called softly.
The door opened and closed quietly, the lock clicked and the light came on. There was Lynn in all her glory. Naked as the day she was born. Not an unfamiliar sight to me. It had become a twice weekly habit for her to get drunk and then walk naked from her dorm to Mark's window. After, though, she would always come to 'borrow' one of my shirts for the return walk to her dorm. Outside of my uniforms, I only owned seven civilian shirts, so twice a month I would have to stop by her room and retrieve those she'd borrowed. At least they were always laundered and neatly hung when I did.
Five foot six, dishwater blonde, and one-hundred twenty-eight pounds. A heavy Vee of blondish brown curls below and heavy bottomed breasts with perky upturned nipples above. She had slightly wide hips and heavily muscled thighs. Yet her waist was narrow and her long neck was always straight. She slways held her head high with a sparkle in her blue-green eyes and a ready smile. Lynn was an exceptionally attractive young woman. Though she had stood before me in this fashion many times before, she had never seen me naked since I slept in my BVD's and a T-shirt.
Expecting she only wanted to borrow another shirt I pointed to my closet. "You know where they are. Don't take the orange and brown print shirt though, I want to wear that one later when I get up."
Tears and mascara streaks were drying on her cheeks, her eyes still tear misted as she simply stood and looked at me for long moments. "I need a hug. Can you please hold me for a few minutes?"
Without a word I slid out of the bed and crossed the two steps to her. Slipping my arms inside hers, I wrapped my left around her waist and pulled her naked form close. I slid my right hand up her back and used it to guide her head to my shoulder as the dam of her tears broke free once more. Long minutes we stood there, me simply holding her, gently rocking her from side to side as she soaked my shoulder and her body shook and quivered with silent sobs. Finally a single long shudder passed through her and she seemed to calm a bit. Guiding her to my bed I sat her on it's edge and moved to turn on my stereo, increasing the volume slightly so we could talk without our voices carrying through the walls. Sitting beside her I gently placed one arm around her waist and held her as we talked.
I'm not meaning to be rude here, but it was the same story I'd heard from her frequently before. She gets drunk, throws herself at him, fucks him silly (which doesn't take long), they argue and she accuses him of cheating on her (He does - but I don't like him and she knows I don't, so I'm careful to stay out of that). They fight some more and he tells her to leave. Many of their regular dates end this way too. Of course, the telling was interspersed with a multitude of 'Bastards', 'Assholes' and 'Son-of-a-Bitches'. But this time it ended differently...
"... and he leaves me so frustrated, Damn it! In the times we've been together I've only had one orgasm, that first time. I really think it must have been an accident. He never seems to care about my needs, only his own. Damn it!"
Her arm was around my waist, her head on my shoulder as we talked, or rather; she talked and I listened, making small appropriate sounds and non-committal comments here and there. As she finished I hugged her close once again and kissed her forehead, whispering, "He doesn't know what he's fucking up, does he?"
She made a sound like a cross between a sob and a guffaw and hugged me tightly for long moments before finally sitting straight once more and wiping at her eyes.
"So, what now? Do you want another drink? Do you want one of my shirts for the walk home? What do 'you' want?"
"I want to go next door and cut that bastards balls off... I want to get drunk again and just pass out... I want to stay here and cuddle with you... I don't know what I want. I know I don't want to look at or think of him for a while. I know I don't want to go back to my own bed - not alone, I don't want to be alone right now. I just want to be held. I want to know someone cares. Can I stay here and sleep with you tonight? I don't want sex, but I would like to have you hold me as I sleep. Would that be okay with you?"
Crossing to my wardrobe I opened a drawer and tossed her a couple of towels and a wash cloth. "You can stay if you wish, but you're going to shower first. You smell of alcohol sweat, dried sex and Mark's cologne. Soap, shampoo and conditioner, if you wish them, are in that closet, second shelf," I said, pointing. "Besides, I really don't want to see 'that' face when I first wake up. There's a mirror inside the closet door."
She staggered twice crossing the room. Checking herself in the mirror she made a face. "Don't blame you for not wanting to wake up to that," she said with a grin. "But I don't know about taking a shower here. This is the guy's dorm, after all."
"No sweat. I'll stand guard for you while you clean up. Use the end shower and the wall will hide you from anyone coming into the bathroom. I'll make sure they don't come closer." Retrieving a belted silk smoking jacket for her, she donned it like a shorty robe. I pulled on a pair of cut-off shorts and we headed for the latrine. She leaned heavily on me as we moved.
.... There is more of this story ...