Chapter 19

I got what I wanted but I couldn’t leave for a couple of more weeks. The delay ended up being much better than I thought it would.

When I left the orderly room with my orders in hand, I walked over to Charlie Company and introduced myself to the first sergeant per the direction of 1SG Blakemore. Top Kennedy hooked me up with my new platoon sergeant. The PSG was a Sergeant First Class I had seen around but never met. His name was Rist, and he seemed like a straight shooter.

Rist gave me the usual welcome speech.

“I talked to Ron Edwards about you before I agreed to accept you, Sergeant Pulaski. He had good things to say about you. So did your first sergeant ... mostly. So welcome aboard,” Rist said.

I looked at Rist in confusion.

“Mostly?” I asked.

“Yeah, mostly. Top Blakemore said you tended to think with your dick. I figured that was okay because we’re deploying and how much shit can you get into in two weeks? Anyway, be here for reveille Monday morning ready for PT. I’ll introduce you to the platoon and you can meet with Lieutenant Collins, the platoon leader.”

I did not move into the C Company billets because it didn’t make sense to relocate for only two weeks.

I went through my field gear that evening and tossed aside the items I planned to DX (Direct Exchange). I kept a couple of items that fit perfectly, or things I had a sentimental attachment to. I blamed my superstitions on my former Ranger Buddy, JP. JP somehow convinced me that the gear I was wearing when I took the round in my vest was ‘lucky’.

Saturday morning, I was dressed and sitting in my room reading e-mails when my phone dinged. I looked at the screen and it was Vivian from the collision center. I hadn’t canceled our appointment even though I was no longer in the market for a car. I had decided to wait until I returned from this deployment to shop for an automobile. I rationalized that it would be rude to stand the nice lady up, but the truth was I liked Vivian and spending the day with her beat the shit outta going to the gym.

I’m outside Johnny she sent.

On my way I sent back.

I exited the barracks and saw her car idling at the curb. I trotted out to the car, pulled open the door and squeezed my big ass into the passenger seat. I turned toward the driver to say hello, and almost jumped back out thinking I was in the wrong car.

Wednesday when I slid out of Miss Vivian’s silver Camry, she was wearing a brown knee-length tweed skirt and a pink Cardigan over a modest white blouse. Her gray streaked hair was in a bun, and she had glasses on a chain around her neck. She had a good figure and nice legs, but she still looked like an older school librarian. Today, a woman in a cornflower blue sundress with long auburn hair sat in the driver’s seat wearing a pair of cat’s eye sunglasses. Her dress showed a modest bit of decolletage and some smooth tan thighs

“Did your mom send you to get me?” I asked.

She laughed as I fumbled with my seatbelt.

“I knew I liked you for a reason, Johnny,” she said in that sweet as honey voice.

I put my hand on hers before she could move the shift lever. I felt a nice connection with her, so I sent her some trust and sincerity.

“Vivian, something has come up and I won’t be needing a car right now. I know I should have called and told you. I didn’t because I like spending time with you. I’ll understand if you throw me out, but I promise I’ll be a perfect gentleman and we’ll have a nice day if you don’t,” I said.

Vivian pulled off her sunglasses and regarded me with her big brown eyes.

“Sugar, you have no idea what you are getting yourself into,” she said.

I was so lost in her eyes, I nearly jumped out of my skin when someone knocked on my window.

I turned as Vivian rolled down the window and the bane of my existence was staring me in the face. What’s more all my blood had fled my brain to inflate my dick.

“I see you didn’t have any trouble finding a ride today, SGT Pulaski,” Blakemore said, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

“No, First Sergeant, I didn’t. Miss Vivian works at the body shop that ended up with my truck. She was going to take me car shopping but instead she volunteered to take me to Penney’s to buy that suit,” I lied.

Blakemore squinted at me suspiciously until Vivian leaned over toward me.

“That’s not actually true, Sir,” she said, and I almost passed out until she continued. “I am thinking Dillard’s has a better selection. What do you think, Sir?”

She said all that in a soft Southern drawl with a smile so sweet, sugar wouldn’t melt in her mouth. I was amazed when Blakemore nodded and actually cracked a toothy smile of his own.

“I agree, Ma’am, and thank you for helping SGT Pulaski. Y’all have a nice day now,” he said.

Then he patted the roof of her car and strolled away.

I turned and looked at her slack jawed as she nonchalantly raised the window.

She laughed and said, “Well, that was interesting.”

As we motored out the gate, I told her all about Blakemore and his daughters and the promise I made about taking his daughter to the banquet. She was in stitches as I described, with only a small amount of embellishment, the fear Blakemore struck in us troopers.

True to her words, Vivian drove us to the big Dillard’s Department Store in the mall. We strode into the men’s section at 0930 and strolled out at 0950 with a 46 Long suit coat in a store garment bag. The coat fit like a glove, but the trousers needed to be hemmed. I was promised them back on Wednesday. Vivian picked the suit. It was charcoal gray with lighter gray pinstripes and cooler than hell. She also picked out a maroon paisley tie for me and a light gray shirt. I loved everything she selected; it was as if she were reading my mind.

Before we left Dillard’s, Vivian asked me if we could stop by the lady’s section for a minute. We did and I gotta say it was actually fun walking with her as she picked out a couple of outfits. She’d hold something that interested her against her body and ask my opinion. I was honest with her and nixed a couple. She found three outfits we agreed on and she took them to the dressing room to try on. I sat on one of the easy chairs outside the fitting rooms next to an older gentleman dressed in a suit that probably cost more than I made in a month.

When Vivian closed the door to the room, the old man sighed and turned towards me.

“Very nice, you are a lucky young man,” he said.

“It’s not like that, she just helped me pick out a suit,” I said holding up my garment bag.

He laughed and said, “Son if she let you pick out the clothes you like her in, y’all are past being casual friends.”

Before I could reply, the door opened, and Viv stepped out. She was wearing a flouncy skirt that fell just above her knees and a maroon satin blouse only partially buttoned.

“Oops,” said, and she fastened one more button before asking, “what do you think Johnny?”

I was not a novice at having women ask about their outfits. I twirled my forefinger. She laughed and did a pirouette, the skirt flaring out to show more of those fabulous legs.

“You look spectacular,” I said reverently.

She blushed red and said, “Thank you,” before disappearing back in the dressing room.

Then the other dressing room opened, and a twenty something blond built like a porn actress walked out. She was dressed like a Catholic school girl right down to black and white saddle shoes and pigtails. I would not have been surprised if she broke out singing, ‘Hit Me Baby One More Time.’ She swayed over in front of the older man.

“Do you like it, Daddy?” she asked in this sassy voice.

He looked at me, winked, and twirled his finger.

She smiled and spun around a couple of times, and I imagined her on a stripper’s pole. The short skirt she was wearing flared out exposing tiny pink panties.

“You look spectacular,” he quoted me, just as reverently.

She giggled and blew him a kiss.

“Goody, we can play Principal and Naughty School Girl tonight,” she said.

I looked at the gentleman agog as she darted back in the dressing room

“My wife, Tiffany,” he said with a grin.

Then he stuck out his hand and introduced himself.

“It appears we are both punching above our weight son, I’m James Fitzroy,” he said.

“Johnny Pulaski, Sir,” I said as we shook.

James took a card out of his pocket and scribbled something on it with a Monte Blanc fountain pen.

I read the card as he explained, “Come by any of my restaurants, and your evening is on me,” he said.

The card read: JAMES P. FITZROY

CEO

Hooters of East Georgia, LLC

Tybee Island, Ga

The reverse of the card listed the addresses of five Hooter locations, two of them in Savannah.

I thanked him as Tiffany exited the dressing room with her hair brushed out and dressed in a tasteful summer frock much like Vivian was wearing. She looked like a different woman.

She sounded it too, when she asked in this cultured voice, “Shall we, James?”

James stood and winked again as she took his arm.

I was gape-jawed watching them leave when Vivian called me from the dressing room.

“Johnny, I need some help in here,” she said.

I knocked on the door instead of just walking in on her. She opened the door standing behind it and I walked through. The door swung shut behind me and Vivian, wearing nothing but a pink slip, pushed me against the wall.

“I’m a fifty-four-year-old grandmother, Johnny. My boobs are starting to sag, I have stretchmarks. and my butt is a missed week of Zumba class away from being flat. Yet you made me feel twenty years younger the way you looked at me last Wednesday. After I dropped you off, I colored my hair for the first time in five years and bought the dress I’m wearing today.

“I thought I was being foolish until today when you jumped into my car. I can feel how much you appreciate me and what you just did outside in front of that other man excited me. So here,” she said, and she plastered her lips to mine.

She tasted as sweet as I imagined. She broke the kiss and backed up a step.

“Get out of here before we get arrested. I’ll be out in a minute,” she whispered.

I was sporting Louisville Slugger caliber wood when I stumbled out the dressing room door. A prim looking woman about to enter the room vacated by Tiffany gave me a withering glare.

“These are the ladies’ changing rooms,” she said haughtily.

I mumbled some half-assed apology, grabbed my suit coat, and escaped into the store. A laughing Vivian joined me a couple of minutes later. As we were walking out of the women’s section, I spotted a lacy burgundy bustier and panty set. I threw on the brakes and pointed to the rack.

“I want to buy you that if they have your size,” I said.

She gave me a speculative look.

“You serious?” she asked.

I looked around and seeing no one, I took her hand and put it on the lump in my Levis.

“Yep,” I drawled.

She gently squeezed my package.

“Let me check,” she said, and she started sorting through the hangers.

Sunday morning found me sitting at the kitchen table in Vivian’s small two-bedroom bungalow. I had a cup of perfectly made coffee in front of me and a warm gooey cinnamon roll in my hand. I was reading the Sunday edition of the Savannah Morning News sports section, while a radiant Vivian Keeler was perched on my knee reading the Sunday Parade Magazine. Vivian was wearing a loosely belted black kimono paired with a satisfied smile. Her hair was still damp from our shower, and she was mock complaining about her stomach muscles aching.

“I’m sore, Johnny, but in the best possible way. I’ve never orgasmed as much or as hard as I did yesterday and last night,” she said.

A minute later Vivian was licking a glob of cinnamon bun icing off the corner of my mouth when an attractive thirty something woman came through the kitchen door.

“Mama we’re...” was all the woman managed to say before skidding to a stop.

A curious young boy and girl dodged around her. Her conversation tone changed when she got over her initial shock.

“What the hell, Mama?!” she exclaimed.

Vivian smoothly stood up and tightened the sash on her kimono.

“Manners, Rebecca Lynn,” Vivian said, but there was some steel behind that sugary drawl.

“Sorry, Mama,” Rebecca mumbled, and she held her hand out to me, “I’m Becky, her youngest daughter,” she said.

I stood up and lightly shook her hand.

“Johnny Pulaski, at your service.”

Her eyes widened when I stood and towered over her. Both Vivian and her daughter were of average height, so I was almost a foot taller than them. I was at a loss for what to do or say next, but Miss Vivian had me covered.

“Johnny these are my grandchildren, Cory, and Cody. Keep them company, please. We girls are going to chat while I change.”

The boy and girl were twins I guessed, probably nine or ten years old. They sat at the table, and I slid the pan of cinnamon buns over to them. I figured there wouldn’t be any talking if they were busy eating. It worked ... until they both finished a second bun.

“Are you Grammy’s boyfriend?” Cody asked.

“No, we are just dating,” I answered truthfully.

“Are you two doing it?” Cory innocently asked, and she demonstrated what she meant by shoving her index finger into the circled fingers of her other hand.

Her question struck me speechless but luckily the twin’s mother walked in and took me off the hook.

“Cory Ann Wright!” Becky screeched.

As you can imagine, our peaceful morning went out the window. Vivian and I laughed about it when she took me back to the barracks that afternoon. I apologized for any heartburn I might have caused between her and her daughter.