necessary cursing for a job that every soldier who’d ever had to do it simply hated.
The nose Lana stroked was perfect, as it ought to have been since the regiment had paid for a new one, or the old one in a new and improved shape, after she’d smashed it to pulp in combat in Africa. The rest of her wasn’t bad, either. She was tall, slender—with “cute, but not large, tits”—and olive-toned, shading to dark under the Guyanan sun. Lana’s face was high-cheekboned, with large, liquid-brown eyes, full lips, and a delicate chin. The thing everybody remembered about her, at least when they’d seen her in mufti, was her hair. It was said of many women that their hair “cascaded.” In Lana’s case, it was true; she had—when she let her hair down—an auburn waterfall that simply flooded her shoulders and upper back.
In the present case, of course, being in uniform, and in the field, that waterfall was dammed up into a tight bun at the back of her head, just below where the helmet band kept her helmet firmly fixed in place.
I love my job, she thought again, but God it’s hot. I’d love to take my helmet off and just let my hair down, but Seamus is death on taking your helmet off in the field, no matter how fucking hot and miserable it is. And, being his wife, while I could get away with it, it would hurt him if I presumed and that would hurt me.
And my “cute but not large tits” are getting larger and they’re miserable too, but I can hardly go braless out here. Note to self; maternity bras, padded against external irritation, to mail order, soonest. Unless I can find a couple in Georgetown. Further note to self: Long talk with Seamus about whether I continue to command or turn the company over to someone else when I hit about the five month’s point.
And, speaking …errr, thinking …of things that come in twos, I’d better go see if Danni Viljoen and Dumisani have C15 up and running yet. Since I’m not going to get First Sergeant Abdan out of my hair until he leaves, with the tank.
Honey Camp, Guyana
In their own closet Tatiana still maintained the uniforms and field gear she’d been issued back when she was still a member in good standing— or kneeling, or lying down, or on all fours —of the regiment. She’d be loath to admit it to anyone, but those uniforms and that gear were stored lovingly, and regularly taken out and cared for. Just because the regiment hadn’t been what she’d set her heart on in life, didn’t mean she wasn’t fond of it, or proud of her service as a medic in it.
And I was a damned good field medic, too , she thought.
Tatiana sighed, thinking, I miss it sometimes, too. It was the only decent family I ever knew. And the only system that ever treated me fairly. But I had my goals and I had my needs …still …if they ever really needed me …
And I see that I have guests.
“Jesus!” von Ahlenfeld breathed as Tatiana smiled in his general direction.
“Closer than you may think,” Stauer chuckled. “By all reports, a night with Tatiana is as near to Heaven as a man may come on this Earth. Not that I’d know. And, as with any drug dealer, the first taste is always free …for field grades and top three noncoms, anyway. And just like with the drug dealer’s free samples, I strongly advise against accepting.
“C’mon, I’ll introduce you.”
When von Ahlenfeld didn’t move, but just stood there, staring, Stauer plucked as his elbow. “C’mon, before you embarrass us.”
The woman met them at the head of the stairs. “My dear Colonel Stauer,” she said, offering her cheek to be kissed. “You never come around. I’d almost think you don’t like me.”
“It’s not that at all, Tati,” Stauer answered. “But I’m only mortal and Phillie would make me very dead if I came around too often.”
“Nonsense,” the hooker replied, her smile, if possible, even more brilliant. “I know Phillie very well and she’d never …oh …cut your balls
The nose Lana stroked was perfect, as it ought to have been since the regiment had paid for a new one, or the old one in a new and improved shape, after she’d smashed it to pulp in combat in Africa. The rest of her wasn’t bad, either. She was tall, slender—with “cute, but not large, tits”—and olive-toned, shading to dark under the Guyanan sun. Lana’s face was high-cheekboned, with large, liquid-brown eyes, full lips, and a delicate chin. The thing everybody remembered about her, at least when they’d seen her in mufti, was her hair. It was said of many women that their hair “cascaded.” In Lana’s case, it was true; she had—when she let her hair down—an auburn waterfall that simply flooded her shoulders and upper back.
In the present case, of course, being in uniform, and in the field, that waterfall was dammed up into a tight bun at the back of her head, just below where the helmet band kept her helmet firmly fixed in place.
I love my job, she thought again, but God it’s hot. I’d love to take my helmet off and just let my hair down, but Seamus is death on taking your helmet off in the field, no matter how fucking hot and miserable it is. And, being his wife, while I could get away with it, it would hurt him if I presumed and that would hurt me.
And my “cute but not large tits” are getting larger and they’re miserable too, but I can hardly go braless out here. Note to self; maternity bras, padded against external irritation, to mail order, soonest. Unless I can find a couple in Georgetown. Further note to self: Long talk with Seamus about whether I continue to command or turn the company over to someone else when I hit about the five month’s point.
And, speaking …errr, thinking …of things that come in twos, I’d better go see if Danni Viljoen and Dumisani have C15 up and running yet. Since I’m not going to get First Sergeant Abdan out of my hair until he leaves, with the tank.
Honey Camp, Guyana
In their own closet Tatiana still maintained the uniforms and field gear she’d been issued back when she was still a member in good standing— or kneeling, or lying down, or on all fours —of the regiment. She’d be loath to admit it to anyone, but those uniforms and that gear were stored lovingly, and regularly taken out and cared for. Just because the regiment hadn’t been what she’d set her heart on in life, didn’t mean she wasn’t fond of it, or proud of her service as a medic in it.
And I was a damned good field medic, too , she thought.
Tatiana sighed, thinking, I miss it sometimes, too. It was the only decent family I ever knew. And the only system that ever treated me fairly. But I had my goals and I had my needs …still …if they ever really needed me …
And I see that I have guests.
“Jesus!” von Ahlenfeld breathed as Tatiana smiled in his general direction.
“Closer than you may think,” Stauer chuckled. “By all reports, a night with Tatiana is as near to Heaven as a man may come on this Earth. Not that I’d know. And, as with any drug dealer, the first taste is always free …for field grades and top three noncoms, anyway. And just like with the drug dealer’s free samples, I strongly advise against accepting.
“C’mon, I’ll introduce you.”
When von Ahlenfeld didn’t move, but just stood there, staring, Stauer plucked as his elbow. “C’mon, before you embarrass us.”
The woman met them at the head of the stairs. “My dear Colonel Stauer,” she said, offering her cheek to be kissed. “You never come around. I’d almost think you don’t like me.”
“It’s not that at all, Tati,” Stauer answered. “But I’m only mortal and Phillie would make me very dead if I came around too often.”
“Nonsense,” the hooker replied, her smile, if possible, even more brilliant. “I know Phillie very well and she’d never …oh …cut your balls
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