Patriotica ~ ARMY: Reserves

Content Advisory: the beginnings of a hot scene, but no actual sex.

The elevator bings and the doors whoosh open on my floor. Struggling with my grocery bags, briefcase, and purse, I step into the hall and sneeze. The metal whisks shut behind me as I drop two bags, the contents skittering across the carpet.

“Damn.”

“Hey, Danielle,” comes from behind me. “Need a hand?”

My neighbor down the hall, the one with the shy smile and quiet confidence, squats and picks up a bag of apples. A sigh escapes me as I push my hair out of my face, “Thanks, Steve. It’s been a long week and this is the icing on the cake.”

He and I clean up the mess, wrangling the goods back into their bags. His thigh touches mine as we both reach for a head of lettuce and heat warms my face at the brief contact. I’ve been dying to ask him over for dinner since last month when he moved in, but he’s so nice I can’t tell if he’d say yes or smile at me while he politely declines.

“How about I take these two and you handle the last one?” His light hazel eyes crinkle at the corners on his smile.

“Sure, thanks.” My heart picks up and I worry I’ve got a stupid sappy look on my face. That’s it, idiot, pant after him. No way a clean-cut, handsome guy like him doesn’t have a girlfriend already. Although… I haven’t seen anyone coming and going from his place on the weekends. Not that I’ve been looking or anything.

We stand, me awkwardly trying to look nonchalant, like hot guys always stop to help me when I drop stuff, and he motions me ahead down the hall before him, indicating I should lead the way. Conscious of his eyes on my backside, I try to walk with some elegance and class, glad I’m wearing trousers that make my ass look good.

“How was your week, Dani?”

I love that he’s calling me by my nickname, makes me hope maybe he’s thought of me as more than just his slightly clumsy neighbor. “Not bad. Same old, same old at the insurance company. How about you?” I say, while looking back over my shoulder.

“Climbing trees… taking names,” his tone sounds light and teasing.

“Oh, that’s right. You work with plants, what is it again?” I know exactly what he does; I paid close attention when I first met him, careful to conceal my drool. He specializes in removing and saving trees in dangerous situations. But I want to draw out the conversation, so I pretend I don’t recall.

“Arborist.” At my look of comprehension he goes on to joke in a deeper voice, making it sound like a military slogan in a commercial, “Challenging, hard work, and fun.”

We’re standing in front of my apartment now and I rummage through my purse for the keys. “Are you working this weekend?” I ask, hoping to find the courage to ask him to stay for a drink.

A thump from my apartment draws my attention as I slide the key into the lock.

“Do you live alone, Dani?” Steve asks in a low tone. I nod. “Pets?” I shake my head.

He places the bags on the floor and eases me away from the entrance. Reaching behind his back he pulls out a knife. Long and black, it has a jagged edge on one side near the handle and the blade glints in the bright light of the hall.

I gasp and Steve darts a look in my direction. “Stay out here and to the side, behind the wall.” I nod, my pulse pounding in my throat and adrenaline zipping through my veins. Wetness gathers in my panties and I’m not sure if I wet myself or I’m turned on by Steve’s calm, quick actions. I’m going to go with aroused rather than think I pissed myself in fright.

Steve crouches low and eases the door open, stepping immediately to the side. Footsteps sound from within and then they pick up, like someone is running. Steve bolts away and I can’t see him any longer or know what the heck is going on. A few tense moments later he comes back. “They’re gone.”

“They?”

“I saw two guys heading down your fire escape. A car was right below and I figured chasing them would be a waste of time.”

The blood freezes in my veins. Two guys? In my place? But why? What the hell could I have that they’d want? Maybe they robbed me?

“I’m not sure,” Steve says, making me realize I spoke my rambling fears aloud. “But they trashed your place.”

“What?” I say in shock, pushing past him to enter. Pulled out drawers, ripped up cushions, pictures on the floor, my new flat screen cracked and broken. Tears well in my eyes, it looks like a tornado came through. “But… but… why?”

Steve turns me to face him and pulls me into a hug. “I don’t know. But we need to call the cops.”

I nod my head against his chest, breathing in the outdoorsy scent clinging to his soft, faded t-shirt.

The next few hours proceed like a television crime drama. Patrolmen and a tired looking detective question me—over and over they ask what the men could have been searching for. Honestly, I have no idea. I’m a simple claims adjuster and I tell them everything I know in an effort to help.

Steve stays stoically by my side throughout the entire ordeal and I’m grateful for his presence. He holds my hand, squeezing it now and then to lend strength and occasionally runs a hand up and down my back in a soothing gesture. I’m hyper aware of his nearness and feel safest when he’s sitting by me in the wreckage that has become my home.

“Danielle?” A firm grip on my shoulder brings me crashing back to the here and now. “The police are done and said we can start cleaning up.” I look around at the mess and don’t know where to begin. “They suggested you take pictures for your insurance claim.”

Hysterical laughter bubbles up at the irony. I work for an insurance company and now will be at the mercy of another one to have my life restored.

“I can’t do this right now,” I say, bolting up out of a kitchen chair. “It’s almost midnight and I’m drained.” The thought occurs to me I could pull the bedroom together, sleep, and then tackle the worst of it tomorrow.

The front door snicks shut as the last cop leaves and a new reality races across my mind. Fear creeps up my spine and a shiver courses over me. “What if they come back?”

Steve hugs me again, running his hands over me, “Shhh…. It’s okay. I’m here.”

“I can’t stay here tonight.” My muscles wind tight and my heart thumps loud in my ears. “I’ll check into a hotel.”

“Nonsense. I’ve got two bedrooms, you can stay with me.”

I look into his hazel eyes, wondering if he’s offering out of kindness or he has other plans. I’m not normally the clingy type, but snug against his hard chest I feel like nothing could hurt me. Torn between wanting to run screaming from the building and pinning this sexy man to the wall and kissing him, I nod. God, I hope there is no way in hell he can figure out how hot I am for him.

Invite her back to your place? Are you fucking crazy? How are you going to keep your hands off her? The litany runs through my head, along with others. I haven’t been close to anyone for years, but inviting the traumatized woman to my apartment spilled out before I could lock the words in.

Dani gathers some clothes and toiletries while I grab the grocery bags. We step carefully through the mess of her livingroom and head out the door.

“I’m not working this weekend,” I say.  I’d be happy to help you clean up tomorrow.”

A heavy sigh greets my offer, “Thanks, Steve. I was just thinking of what a nightmare this evening has become.”

We head three doors down the hall and enter my place. Hefting the bags up on the counter, I check for refrigerated goods. “Glad to see we didn’t leave milk or creamer out on your counter most of the night.” I turn back to Dani, who’s staring around my apartment.

“Wow, Steve. You actually have taste and keep your place neat. I’m impressed.”

I laugh at the unexpected compliment. “Being in the military for twelve years will do that to you. Make you neat that is.”

Dani’s eyebrows rise and she shots a shy smile my way. “Well, that explains the knife. Which branch of service?”

“Army.”

“Cool. What did you do?” She asks while heading into the living room with her small overnight bag.

“Ranger, Airborne.”

“You were a Ranger? Really?” She eyes me up and down, weighing me carefully.

“Didn’t expect such an average looking guy?”

“You’re far from average, Steve. But I guess I thought of them like the guys in movies – you know, big muscles and tiny heads?” A playful glint comes into her eyes and I’m glad to see she can tease after the shake-up she’s just had.

“Most Rangers aren’t linebacker-sized. You need stamina and strength and the really big guys can’t last as long carrying all the extra weight.”

A smoldering look crosses her face and she clears her throat. “Can I have a drink?”

“Sure – water, wine, or beer? That’s about all I’ve got.”

She heads back toward me, standing at the opening to my galley kitchen. “Beer is good and I need to eat, how about you?”

I nod as she comes closer, admiring her sleek blond hair and almond-shaped blue eyes. We settle in, working companionably side by side, preparing some salad with her fresh ingredients and pan-grilling two steaks I had in the fridge. Dinner at the island counter, seated next to one another on bar stools, feels like magic. God, I didn’t know I’d missed it so much.

My years alone have left me without a lot of people skills and I can’t tell if the evening is going well or if I’m hopeful. It’s close to one in the morning when we clean up and I’m not sleepy at all. The blood hightailing it to my crotch every time she brushes against me ensures I’ve been stiff and ready for the past thirty minutes or so.

Girls only touch a guy a lot when they’re interested, right? The pulse beating in my cock screams yes, but I’m still not sure it’s a wise idea to make a pass at her after the scare she’s had.

Dani leans one hip against the counter and runs the tip of her tongue along her top lip. The energy zipping through me reminds me of a harrowing repel down a hillside in Europe years ago – one that went by fast and dangerous. She’s hotter than hell and I hope my erection isn’t noticeable. I lift my beer to finish it off and try to not focus on her soft mouth.

“You said Ranger’s have stamina, right?”

 Sputtering a bit of my drink, I try to think of a comeback that won’t sound overtly sexual. “Umm… yeah… we had to be conditioned to run long distances and still complete the mission.”

My sexy neighbor leans in, bringing her lips close to mine. “I bet that translates into interesting things in other areas of your life…”

“Er…uh… I can work long hours and never lose focus.”

“Or… ” She says before touching her lips briefly to mine, “You can last long during other… activities.”

I wrap my arms around her back and pull her to me in a stifling kiss. Sheer desire grips me and I grind my hips into hers, hoping I’ve read the signs right and she doesn’t pull back and slap me.

“Oh God,” she says when she comes up for air. “I can feel how turned on you are, Steve.” She rubs her small breasts over my trembling chest. “Can you feel how hard you made my nipples?”

A shudder rips through me as I reach up to grasp one firm, taut globe, thumbing the extended peak with my thumb. “Are you sure you’re up for this, Dani? There’s no rush.”

A blazing look of want fills her eyes and she grabs my free hand and places it at the hot juncture between her legs. “This won’t wait, Steve.” A flash of uncertainty crosses her features, “Unless, you’re not interested in—”

Before she can finish the false thought, I lean down and capture her mouth once again with my own. Her tongue invades, as mine seeks to do the same to her. She tastes of the dinner we made and the beer we’re both drinking. The scent of her lingering spicy perfume tickles my senses, seducing me with the moment.

Her soft curves and toned body fill my hands—one roves behind to lift her ass and rub her against my aching prick, while the other still plays at her breast. I can’t believe this passionate woman wants to tumble into bed with me, but I’m not going to question good fortune when it arrives in such a delicious package.

Planting kisses along her neck, I nibble up to her ear. A shiver travels down her spine and she chokes out a question, “How old are you, Steve?”

“Thirty-two,” I answer, amused by her nervous chatter.

“I’m twenty-eight. So… are you married?”

I mumble my negative while biting the tight skin at her neck, hoping to draw her firmly back into the here and now.

“Ever had an STD?” She says while panting and grabbing my shoulders.

I pull back and look her dead in the face, “No, I haven’t. Anything else?”

“I-i-i just wanted to make sure…”

I give her ass a light rub and work down the seam dividing her ass cheeks, pressing in at her moist heat.

“Arrested?” she squeaks.

“Nope,” I assure her. “I’m a stand up guy. But right now, I’d much prefer getting horizontal. You game or is this your way of pulling back after you stirred me up?”

Her look gets hot, a mixture of desire and anger. “I don’t tease. But I do have my standards.” Her glare forces me to choke back my amusement. It hasn’t occurred to her I could easily lie to get into her pants, or maybe it has and she can read lies well. My mom always seemed to know when I lied.

“Well then,” I say while scooping her into my arms and carrying her to my bedroom, “is it safe to conclude I’ve passed so far?” I set her gently on the bed and start to remove her shoes. I toss them in the direction of my closet and her eyes follow them.

“Hey, is that a camo uniform in there?”

“Yeah, BDU’s. I’m still in the Reserves. Go in one weekend a month.”

Her face changes slightly, a mischievous glint coming into her eye. Her voice comes out in a soft whisper of sound, “Would you mind putting it on?”

My cock surges at her playfulness. Maybe a uniform turns her on? I’ve often met women while wearing my dress clothes. “No problem,” I say, a spark of fun lighting in me as well. I grab it and head to the adjoining bathroom. “I’ll be out in a minute.”

~~*~~

Tune in August 24th for the conclusion to this short story.

~~ C.J. Ellisson ~~

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Copyright © 2011 C.J. Ellisson

All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination, or have been used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, locales, or events is entirely coincidental. No portion of this work may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the author.

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