Chapter 8: Happiness Is A Warm Gun!

After the invasion, as we called it, almost everyone expressed an interest in self-defense training, especially in learning to shoot. Our dorm’s basement had a long hall terminating in a large unfinished room at each end. With Ruby Schaaft’s assistance, I had one room set up as a shooting range for air rifles and small caliber pistols and the other as a dōjō.

Some future expansion must have been planned for the basement, because air circulation was very good. The dōjō was an easy setup with the addition of mats and padding on the walls. We needed outside help to set up firing lanes, noise amelioration, and other safety features for the range. The sergeant major had a lot of experience in that arena and made it happen in short order.

Oddly, there was a lot more interest in learning to shoot than in the hand-to-hand combat techniques. I was the only person able to teach Krav Maga self-defense techniques, and there was a certain interest in ‘contact’ with me. However, the intense exercise discouraged at least half of the early students when they discovered that the type of contact didn’t present the opportunities they had hoped.

Except for a few, Chastity and Rachel among them, participation dropped. I was disappointed, mostly because I felt we all needed the exercise. Some did gravitate to the more traditional Stairmasters, treadmills, and the like. Still, with my two wives, Eva, Karen, Pete, and the recovering Jennifer, Patrice and the teens, Cynthia and Misty, we had enough of a consistent group for good practices and for skills to develop. The mischievous Chastity encouraged me to reward this cadre with extracurricular sex.

At the other end of the hall, there was almost always a wait for range positions. Until I could get some of my ladies up to speed to act as range officers, the sergeant major needed to assign me personnel both for instruction and range safety. After a bit of discussion, some of it warm, we decided to standardize on Rock Island 22 TCM / 9mm 1911 pistols. Just about anyone could rack the slide, and it didn’t kick as much as some others. Even better, it packed quite a punch for its caliber, and it sounded like a bigger caliber than it was. Plus it also came with a 9mm barrel and spring.

Most of the ladies became accurate with the air rifle and smoothly transitioned into proficiency with the 1911.22 barrel. Obviously, there was a difference in skill levels, but all could hit the target with a reasonable shot group. Most of them did not want to carry, but that didn’t worry me. I simply did not want them afraid of guns and incapable of using one if push came to shove.

Rachel and Chastity were relentless with their practicing, as was Logan, and the three of them carried in shoulder holsters. Then Chastity decided she wanted a revolver. I didn’t quite understand her reasoning, but she wanted a hammer on an empty chamber, a weapon with a minimum of sound before her first shot, and something she would be comfortable having under her pillow. Yeah, right!

She batted those green eyes and said, “I don’t want racking the slide to alert an intruder.” Before I knew it, Sergeant Major Schaaft was showing her how to strip and reassemble her new Smith & Wesson 351PD 7-shot revolver. It was light. She could keep the hammer on an empty chamber and still have six shots. She loved that pistol, named it ‘Booker’, and wore it in a light holster on the inside of her right thigh. Even switched from tight short-shorts to loose Bermudas to ‘keep Booker warm.’ Booker slept under her pillow at night, right next to her 1911.

Logan picked up on the idea of a ‘hold out’ gun and wanted one as well. He and Chastity became a pair on the range, challenging each other on how fast and accurately they could get either of their weapons into play. They had a code word they used to trigger their draw. They scared me, because one of their drills was to get the revolvers out of the holster under the shorts’ leg and shoot. Left-handed, right-handed, they were implacable, but they only practiced this when there were no other shooters, still...

Cavanaugh had been bad enough, but Ridgemount’s invasion had made Chastity determined that never again was she going to be at the mercy of some deranged monster. In the dōjō and on the range, she was both methodical and intuitive, a developing force to be reckoned with.

What a dichotomy. If she ever got the chance, Chastity was going to be a warrior – for justice, to protect the weak – and she was loving and a lover to me and Rachel, gentle with the kids, open and sharing with the other women.

Several weeks dragged past, and late one night, Chastity and Rachel were cuddled in with me. We’d gently sent our last lover elsewhere so we could have some private time. Our own loving had been very slow and satisfying, and the world felt right. Curious, I asked my ladies why and how they were able to share me – between themselves and the others in our group. Especially since Chastity was so fierce in her determination to learn to defend herself and her boundaries.

Chastity looked to Rachel who nodded, so Chastity started, “Neither of us see it that way. For so long, it was only Mom and Rachel and me. We protected each other, entertained each other, and loved each other. Mom fought to protect me, and Rachel sacrificed herself to protect us; she could never be anything but part of me. I could never submit the way she felt she had to. I’m not criticizing, you know, just describing me. Then you came, and without knowing us at all, gave yourself to us without reservation. I’ll claw myself out of Hell to stand and fight by your side, to protect Rachel and Becky.”

I hugged her to me and reached out for Rachel. Chastity wasn’t done, “The others? Some are warriors who have and will fight to protect us. Others, like Patrice, are warm and loving – they’ll stand with us. But the main thing is that they are under siege, and you are our principal weapon. How could we not use you to fight for them?”

“You’ve made it quite clear that Rachel and I are the ones, but you are the only man, really, in their lives, maybe forever. They are going to orbit you – they can’t help it – and we’d be crazy to try and dam the tide. But you know, we have your heart, so we don’t need to.” She kissed my cheek and snuggled in to sleep.

I woke. A nude Rachel, covers thrown off, was cuddled tightly to me on my left, her leg thrown over my thigh. Chastity was in her normal position on my right. Two hooded figures stood in our door, rifles pointed not at me, but at my loves. “Colonel, if you come with us quietly, we’ll leave your ladies unharmed. Otherwise...” Rachel gasped and pulled the blanket to cover her nudity, drawing the attention of the front man who snickered.”

Two shots blasted, and I rolled over Rachel to shield her. Chivalrous, I suppose, but not necessary. Two bullets punched through the face shield of the figure in front and his rifle discharged into the ceiling as he fell backward. A slide racked, and as soon as Chastity got a good sight picture on the second man, her 1911 roared twice, and it was over – except the clean up and the figuring out what had just happened. Maybe.

I grabbed my .45 and tactical headset from under my pillow and headed for the door. I motioned Chastity to stay behind, but she was not to be denied. As she reached the two bodies, the rearmost twitched towards his rifle, and she fired an insurance shot into each body, ejected the magazine, and slid in another.

She retrieved her S&W, and after reloading, Booker went into hiding. A two-gun cowgirl was my Chastity.

I stood just inside our room and called “Sergeant of the guard! Intruder alert. Two deaders. Do not, I repeat, do not enter. Intruders are wearing tactical gear. Secure the perimeter and get a chopper airborne to check the roof and surroundings. Deadly force is authorized but tell the guards not to shoot each other. Looks like they want to kidnap me.”

I peeked into the hall and saw a panty-clad Eva leading a charge, pistol in hand and tits bouncing. Behind her were the totally nude Cynthia and Misty – nude except for the shoulder holsters dangling. In the other direction, Logan stood half out of his suite, pistol in each hand pointed up and ready to defend ‘his’ ladies.

When the three reached me, I told them, “Misty and Cynthia, grab the intruders’ rifles. Stay on this floor with Logan and make sure it’s secure. Everyone else is to stay in their suite.” I grinned, “I can’t run with my dangly bits hanging. I’ll take care of that and Eva and Chastity and I will hit the armory for rifles and head for the roof.”

“Copy that,” I heard through my headset. “Nothing close-in reported on the ground. Roof sounds like the likely entry point. Chopper’s ETA is five minutes. Careful, sir, or the sergeant major will flay my cute little ass.”

My dangly bits taken care of, we rushed to the armory, grabbed our M4s and ammo slings and shrugged into Kevlar vests. As Eva pushed ahead, she told me, “I’m under direct orders from the general, the sergeant major, and most important, your ladies. I will take the point, or they’ll have my ass and not in the pleasant way.”