Chapter 6: Larry

“I’ll tell you,” Larry said. “Otherwise, you’ll think it is worse than it was. I love you. I’ve never loved another woman. I’ve had sex with other women, but not loved them.”

And this is the story he told:

Larry was alone in the showers bringing himself off when Hank came in. Hank immediately turned away and watched the wall while he took his own shower. They left the base with the other trainees on liberty. Hank caught Larry’s arm as the others streamed into the Red Cross meeting hall.

“Wrong time to beat off. You should save it for afterwards if you don’t get lucky.”

“As if I ever will. I’m far from home and far from rich. Nobody here knows me, and it looks like nobody wants to.”

“You’re gloomy tonight. There’s a girl for you ... Tell me. Do you think you could fake being a virgin?”

“I’m sure.” He wasn’t about to tell Hank that it would be no fake.

“I’ll try to introduce you to Mrs. Powell.” He succeeded. The name, which sounded like a matron chaperoning the dance, turned out to belong to a woman who danced every dance. She must be in her thirties or even older, but she was good looking for her age. She dressed younger and smoked with the men.

“So, soldier,” she asked while they were dancing, “where are you from?”

“Grand Junction.”

“And where’s that?”

“Colorado, western Colorado.”

“So, you a cowboy?”

“No ma’am.” He was thinking how to explain to her about mountains and men who worked on the railroad, when she spoke again.

“Bridget. Call me Bridget. You make me feel old.”

She was, of course, old -- nearly twice his age. But he had been raised too polite to say so. And dancing with a woman named

‘Bridget’ was one hell of a lot better than dancing with one named ‘Mrs. Powell.’ He figured he was lucky to get one dance; there were more than twice as many men there as women. When the music ended, however, she spoke.

“Want the next dance, too?” This cowboy interested Bridget. He was socially awkward, but she was looking for that. He could dance, which suggested that he was well-enough coordinated to perform other tasks well. She might correct his ‘ma’am,’ but she wanted someone polite and deferential.

“Miss Bridget, may I have the pleasure of the next dance?”

“You may.”

The acceptance jarred Larry. A girl back home would have thanked him. But, he remembered, he wasn’t back home. For that matter, this wasn’t a girl. He had a woman in his arms. And, when he tightened his arms, she flowed up against him in the dance. Bridget didn’t press as tightly against him as Martha did in their private kisses, but she danced closer than Martha did in public. His cock began to stir at the feeling of those soft breasts pressed into his ribs.

Bridget hid her face in the cowboy’s shoulder. She’d felt the beginnings of his erection and knew that he would be mortified if he knew that she had noticed. She appreciated the tribute, but didn’t want to embarrass him by letting him know. She was fairly certain that this was the one for tonight, but parted after this dance. She danced with two other trainees to keep herself conscious of the possibilities.

Larry couldn’t get a dance with another girl. This late in the evening, couples were beginning to pair up. When Bridget asked him to get her a glass of punch after dancing with another man, he brought it back. They sat and talked. She finished her punch just as a dance was ending. He gathered up his courage to ask her again.

Bridget had decided that the cowboy was definitely tonight’s choice. Having managed to get him to ask her for another dance, she danced close to him and enjoyed his reaction. She waited until a drop of sweat fell from his chin.

“Isn’t it hot in here?”

“Yes, ma ... Yes, Bridget.” They finished the dance in silence.

“Shall we see if it’s any cooler outside?” she asked.

Larry agreed. He was sure now that he was going to be able to kiss her, maybe to put his hands on those breasts that had been pressed against his ribs. Instead of stopping as soon as they were out of the light from the doorway, though, she kept walking.

“Let’s go this way.”

Larry was confused. It was not only cooler outside, it was nearly chilly. And she was wearing much less than his uniform. Still, she walked away from the Red Cross center. Suddenly, she turned towards a house.

“I have some rooms upstairs here.” Even this cowboy couldn’t be naive enough to miss that invitation.

Larry followed her up the stairs. By hanging back a little, his eyes were on a level with her swaying hips. It strained his control to keep his hands off them, and -- he promised himself -- that control would disappear when they were in her private rooms. When she led him through the door, he closed it behind him and took her in his arms. She came willingly enough. As he kissed her, he slid his hands down her back to cup those provocative hips.

The cowboy had certainly taken the invitation. Bridget reveled in the kiss, enjoyed his hands on her bottom. When he pulled her against him, she could feel that his erection was more than a beginning. She took his face in her hands and pulled him into a firmer kiss. Things were going well. When the cowboy kept his tongue in his own mouth too long, she pressed hers forward to find it. Soon, they were in a real kiss. Finally, she broke it.

“Not out here,” she said. She led him into her bedroom.

Larry had never been in a lady’s bedroom -- his parents’ but that was his dad’s room more than his mom’s, his sisters’ but that was a kids’ room as much as the one he shared with his brother. This was full of dainty furniture, several pieces held mirrors. The bed wasn’t dainty, though its cover was. The bed was a large, solid, piece of furniture; it drew his eyes.

Bridget noticed when the cowboy’s attention went from her to the surroundings. She saw that he was trying to avoid her seeing him staring at the bed. Now, he got the idea. She kissed him again holding his hands in her smaller ones. Then she drew them to her breasts.

Larry had occasionally managed to touch one of Martha’s breasts as the climax of an evening of kissing. He’d never held one in each hand. These were larger, softer. And Bridget had brought his hands there. He stroked them, finally squeezing them.

“Do you want to see them?” she asked. “Do you want to take my clothes off?” The cowboy didn’t answer with words, but his shaking hands went to her buttons. When he got to her waist, he didn’t seem to know how to go further. She pulled the blouse out of her skirt, unbuttoned the last two, and turned around as she took the blouse off.

Larry had never seen a brassiere on a woman before. He’d seen his mother’s in the wash plenty of times. It took him a minute to figure out how to undo this one. She didn’t give him any hints, but she let him have enough time. As it came loose, she backed towards him. He found himself holding her in his arms and her breasts in his hands. They were warm, soft, heavy. They were wonderful.