Chapter 3

Word spread about my good fortune; Dan figured out who my hot date was. Soon the whole squadron knew that I had spent the weekend with a prostitute.

Two weeks passed, another payday. I stayed in the barracks, alone, saving my money just in case she called again. I searched the papers for which stage plays were playing in town. "West Side Story" was playing until the end of the month. Having seen the movie, I decided it would be a good place to take Laura, if she called before the end of the month. I spent two nights in the library, researching the musical. Three weeks, Harry wanted to go trolling for chicks. I agreed to go, saying I would not spend any money. It was another dull night. He wanted to know about Laura. I didn't want to talk about it, saying, "Postmen don't take walks on their day off."

Another weekend. Saturday the 26th was a slow day. Sunday, 10 a.m.

"Randy, can you get a couple of days off?"

"Laura, where are you?"

"On my way to pick you up if you say okay." There was caution in her voice.

"Okay," I said, full of joy. Sarge was not to be found. We all knew he had a new girl friend. He bragged about having met a nurse, saying they gave each other B-12 shots to keep up their stamina.

"Damn, you know the schedule better than anyone, you know how busy we are going to be," Dan said when I approached him about a couple of days off.

I pleaded with him. I begged him to understand my need. "Tell you what; call here tomorrow at 7 a.m. If Sarge says no you'll still have time to get to work. If it's okay with him, we'll sign you out for two days."

I packed everything into a small bag and was wearing the Red Sox cap when I saw the Corvette coming down the street. The barracks had emptied to see me off.

She was all over me when I slid into the driver's seat. The guys cheered when I kissed her, whistled and made wolf howls. I threw the stick into drive and stepped on the gas, Laura still holding on to me as we drove off.

She was wearing a knee length dress, black with a white collar, black silk stockings and high heels. There was a single stand of pearls around her neck. She told me she would have to leave early on Wednesday the 30th. I warned her that I had to call to make sure that I had the time off. She made a face.

When we got to the room, Laura said she wanted to change into something more comfortable, and then we would go out and have lunch somewhere nearby.

"I hope this room is okay, it's a king sized bed, can you behave yourself tonight? Or do I have to get the suite again?"

She was lifting the dress above her head, wearing black lace panties and bra. When I didn't answer she turned to me and saw the forlorn look on my face. "I know honey, I'm sorry but I worked last night, even a postman..."

"doesn't walk his cat on his day off," I finished the sentence, regretting my choice of words.

"I'm sorry," I began, watching her stand there in her underwear with a hurtful look on her face. "I'm sorry," I repeated myself.

Her mood changed. Shedding the gloom, she sat on the bed, saying, "Help me with these stockings, will you? Not too fast, you'll snag them."

I got on my knees and looked up at her face. My hands shook as I reached for the top of the stockings. "I know you are," she said, mussing my hair. "Careful, not so close to my kitty cat, I'm not ready to walk it yet." Our eyes met, she was smiling again.

While she was in the bathroom I reserved theater tickets for the early showing of West Side Story that evening.

I paid for lunch with my own money. When Laura complained, saying she intended to pay for everything, I told her I had been saving my money.

There were very few cars on the streets on this Sunday afternoon. We strolled around the city and found a park where people were playing games after picnicking.

We sat on a bench and watched a softball game for awhile. That is when I told Laura about the theater tickets. "I saw that movie," she exclaimed, excited that I had made plans for something she was sure to enjoy.

"Karen, that was the other girl's name," she began. I gave her a strange look, wondering what she was talking about. "In the trailer at the edge of town that I told you about," She continued.

"Laura, you don't need to tell me about it," I tried to stop her.

"That's how I got the name Tess, from Karen. I didn't know that she had a drug problem and when I found out I didn't realize how serious it was. 'Tess, Tess, Tess, ' she would say when I tried to talk to her.

I put my arm around Laura. She put her head on my shoulder. "Hearing her say Tess every time I said something about getting help for her made me associate Tess with something unpleasant. That's why I took it as my working name. When I'm Tess I'm a different person. I'm Laura when I'm with you."

She lifted her head and looked at me. "Can you understand?"

"Yes, I understand," I nodded. "What happened to Karen? Did she get help?"

"I don't know," Laura answered a far off look on her face. It was then that I understood that she had only told me enough to make me understand that Tess was a different person, off limits to me. I dropped the subject.

We had a late supper and talked about the musical we had seen. Laura had gotten the main jest of the conflict in the story, Polish boy, Puerto Rican girl, gangs on the West Side of New York, roughly based on Romeo and Juliet. She said she had never tackled Shakespeare and I had to admit that I only read what had been required in school. She wore the black dress with the white collar and single strand of pearls. When the bill arrived, Laura patted her chest, indicating that I should reach inside my coat and smiled when I pulled out the one hundred dollar bill.

The air had cooled some as we walked hand in hand to the hotel. She let me help remove her stockings again. I made sure my hands kept their distance from her pussy. She asked me to pour her a drink from the same bottle of scotch from the month before. When she came out of the bathroom she was wearing the same long night gown.

She was restless during the night, moving around in her sleep, kicking the covers off the bed, kicking me and talking in her sleep. At one point I woke to find her on top of me, holding on to me and murmuring something unintelligible in my ear.

We slept late the next morning, both tired from Laura's restless night. It was after seven when I made the call to find out if I could take a couple of days leave. Sarge, in he good natured way said, "kid, don't ever say I didn't warn you about taking up with a whore."

We had a light breakfast and went out for a walk, me wearing the Red Sox cap. Laura was dressed in a white blouse and a short skirt, making me think she had something planned. We walked the city, watching people rush into office buildings and retail stores. In a bookstore, I found "The Works of William Shakespeare" that included "Romeo and Juliet." Laura clutched the book to her breast, declaring that she would always cherish it, stopping short of saying she would read it. She wanted to go clothes shopping for me but I declined the offer. She threatened to take me shopping for women's underwear again. I acquiesced. When she presented her credit card to pay the 367 dollars for slacks, a sport coat, shirts and shoes she insisted that I needed, I noticed the name on the card, Laura T Stone.

After lunch we took a cab back to the hotel because of the distance and because of the number of packages we had accumulated.

"Don't," she said, slapping my hand. We had been on the bed for several minutes, kissing passionately. When Laura begin to moan I took it as an invitation to feel her breasts. But as I tried to unbutton her blouse I discovered that she was being Mary Ann.

Undaunted, I continued to kiss her as I nudged her legs apart and let my cock press against her pelvis. Soon she was moaning as I dry humped her. Slowly, the skirt moved up her thighs. She opened her legs more and a smell of sex entered my nostrils. I pushed my tongue inside her mouth, she moaned again. The skirt was up to her waist. I kept humping and moved my hand to lower my zipper. We both heard it. Laura's mouth went slack for a second. I fished my cock out and moved forward, inserting my thumb under her panty leg band. The crouch was loose and moved easily to the side. My cock was at her pussy door when she broke the kiss. Shocked, I opened my eyes and looked into hers.

We held eye contact, coming to an understanding. She smiled. It was Mary Ann giving me the okay to go ahead. I pushed and watched her eyes. She grunted. I pushed again. She lifted her legs to give be greater access. My cock felt the warm wet walls of her pussy surrounding it. She smiled again and pushed up to meet me. Fully engaged, we moved together, enjoying the event as if it was our first time together. Being Mary Ann, she didn't talk until she announced that she was coming and then it was more of a whisper, not the screaming praise I had heard when we had fucked a few weeks before. When I splashed several shots of cum deep within her, brief shudders escaped her lips.

"Could you tell I wanted to do it? Did you like it?" she whispered into my ear. I propped myself up and looked down to see the serious look on her face, her eyes seeking my answer.

"Yes, I knew you were going to let me. I liked it a lot. Did it hurt?" I answered, knowing that she wanted to be Mary Ann.

"It hurt at first but I wanted you to do it. It scared me when I heard the zipper."

She washed the soaked panties and hung them up to dry in the bathroom, 'for tomorrow, ' she said. When she came back to the bed she was still wearing the skirt.

She let me remove my pants and shorts but made me keep my shirt on as she mounted me, the short skirt hiding the view of her pussy encasing my cock. She rested on her knees, moving up and down with long strokes. She fucked me like that for a long time. Gone was the jumping jack routine she had used that night at the brothel. And there were no tricks to bring me off quickly. She enjoyed herself and treated me to the best fuck I have ever had.

At least twice she stopped, grinning down at me, nodding to let me know she had climaxed. As it ended with me giving way to the storm in my balls, she toppled on to me.

"Mary Ann is learning to fuck, wouldn't you say?"

"I think Mary Ann likes it," I agreed with her.

She wore that skirt for two days, along with the panties when they were dry, without them when they hung in the bathroom. We only left the room twice, once to see a movie when the panties were drying in the bath room. "You're getting better with the zipper, I hardly heard it today," she whispered in my ear as we waited for the main feature to begin.

We did 'Mary Ann' every way imaginable. 'First time' when the panties were dry and 'second, third and forth time, ' when they weren't. I never saw her tits. Mary Ann would not allow it.

When Wednesday morning came and it was time for her to take me back to the base the panties were in the bathroom, drying from the night before. Laura was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. "Can't mix business with pleasure," she said, signaling that our lovemaking had come to an end for this time.

"Give me your address, I'll write," I said as we were driving to the base.

"That's not a good idea," she responded, without elaborating.

"Then give me a phone number where I can call you." She gave me the same answer, becoming quiet.

We kissed goodbye at my barracks. I turned to leave, wanting her out of my sight, not wanting to think about her having to go back to the brothel. But she held my hand until I turned for one last look. "You're my R & R," she said, beaming.

Days dragged by. Try as I might, I could not rid my mind of a recurring picture, Laura inspecting strange men's cocks and getting naked for them. Sometimes I heard 'the knock on the door, ' in the middle of the night, followed by, 'we're done.'

"Tucker the Fucker."

Recognizing the voice, I turned toward the tool crib to see Davis leering at me, standing behind the half-door entrance where he begrudgingly loaned special tools to mechanics. Davis was not very popular among the clientele he served. Often absent, Davis would make mechanics wait outside the locked tool crib, then give them a lame-ass excuse when he could not find the tool they needed.

I smiled at him, feigning amusement at the brilliant knack he had of forming the rhyme. I turned to be on my way.