A Soldier’s Tale

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Part 1

[180 Days]

“Hi, honey,” I said, lying in bed with my iPad.

“Hey, honey. How was work today?” my wife asked.

“It was okay; the usual – emails, meetings, emails, more meetings, blah, blah , blah…I’ll be heading off base soon so that’ll at least be a change of pace.”

I saw the look of concern on Ashley’s face. “Don’t worry too much about it, okay? It’s not like I’m still in the Infantry kicking down doors; I haven’t done that in years.”

“I know,” she replied, “it’s just whenever you leave the base, I worry. Arifjan is a big base; but when you travel…” Her voice trailed off and she looked away from the camera.

“I’ll write or call when I have Internet, but you know how it is sometimes…I promise that if I see a bad guy, I’ll shoot him first,” I said, trying to make a joke.

“You better!” she replied.

“I love you,” I said, “180 days down; 180 to go.”

“Six months seems like such a long time,” she sighed.

“I know; but it wasn’t too long ago we were saying 12 months seemed like a long time. I need to get some sleep. Have a good rest of your day.”

“Goodnight. Love you,” Ashley said.

[174 Days]

Being a deployed lieutenant colonel logistics officer (or for brevity’s sake, LTC) serving on a large staff overseeing logistics for the whole theater of operations meant that I had little time to do much of anything except work, exercise, eat, catch a few minutes talking to my wife, and sleep. Repeat…repeat. The monotony of my schedule sometimes drove me crazy and made the days go by at a snail’s pace. Oh, there were activities on base, but I often didn’t have time to partake in them; it came with the responsibilities and pay and I was fine with that.

We weren’t allowed to drink alcohol, which was probably a good thing; though we could drink all the O’Doul’s we wanted. Yay. I know it might make me sound like a Neanderthal, but ALMOST more than anything I missed sex. Don’t misunderstand – I missed hanging out with my wife and going out to dinner and all the things we liked to do together…but I got to talk to her most days and even got to see her on my iPad. But what couldn’t be replicated was the feel of her skin, the taste of her lips, the sensation of penetrating her warm, wet…and that was about the time I had to go “take care of business.”

The other night, after getting off the computer with Ashley, I couldn’t stop fantasizing about being with her again; I finally had to get up in the middle of the night to take care of things or else I never would have fallen asleep. That’s part of why I enjoyed traveling around theater; it broke up the monotonous cycle and kept me focused on the task at hand, even when it would be easy to stray.

[170 Days]


A female LTC walked towards me, her hand outstretched. We were inside the airbase terminal so her headgear was off; she had bright, red hair that she wore in a bob style. She was petite, but it was difficult to accurately appraise her figure in the camouflage uniform. I then realized I was appraising the figure of a fellow officer instead of shaking her hand.

“Hi,” I said, taking her hand in a firm grip, “You must be Charlotte.”

“That’s me,” she replied. “So nice to finally put a face to the name,” she said with a wide, disarming smile. “I’m at your service for the next three days. Anything you need, anything you want,” she said, “just let me know.”

“I’m low maintenance,” I replied. “A place to sleep and a corner of a desk to work from while I’m here and I should be good.”

“Too easy,” she replied, “let’s get you situated.” She looked at her watch. “Then maybe if you’re hungry we can hit the DFAC before they stop serving dinner.”

“Lead the way,” I said.

Charlotte (LTC Thompson) turned on the heel of her combat boot and I followed. Despite myself, I did check her form; the good LTC seemed to have a really nice ass. I looked up, chastised myself, and followed her to the visitors quarters.

The visitors quarters for someone of my rank was a “B-Hut” – a building made out of plywood that was sectioned off into rooms. Each room consisted of a few bunk beds and lockers. Because I was a LTC, there were fewer bunks in my room – only one other bunk bed – I had more privacy back at Arifjan but I didn’t mind. It was different; therefore, it was fine with me.

After dropping off my stuff, Charlotte and I went to the chow hall. Once we were at a table, she said, “So, how long do you have left?”

“170 days,” I said, “You?”

“Let’s see…93,” she replied.”

“Getting there,” I said.

“Yup. So, you married?”

“Yeah. It’ll be 12 years in May. How about you?”

“It would be 21 years in November.”

She looked really good to be married that long but I didn’t say that. Just, “Wow.”

“Yeah,” she sighed.

We talked about my plans for the next couple days as I was charged with analyzing how many assets we needed on this base, especially as the drawdown was about to begin.

“So, where’s the gym?” I göztepe escort asked, “I was hoping to go in the morning.”

“There’s one not too far from your hooch,” she said. “I go to the same one…maybe I’ll see you there. I usually go at 0500.”

“Sounds good to me.”

After dinner, she walked me back to my hut. “Well, maybe I’ll see you at the gym; if not, how about we meet outside the DFAC at 0700?”

“Works for me,” I said, “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” she replied.

I noticed her eyes lingered for just a split second before she turned to leave.

“Still got it,” I said to myself.

At 41 years-old, I was close to being in the best shape of my life. Of course, I’d never quite duplicate the raw speed and stamina I had when I was a young lieutenant fresh out of West Point, but I didn’t need to anymore. I started my career in the Infantry, and when the war in Afghanistan kicked off, I was in the middle of it along with every other Infantry officer.

I did three deployments – one as a platoon leader, one as a company commander, and a third on a battalion staff – then decided that kicking down doors and getting into fire fights wasn’t something I wanted to do long-term; so, I transferred to the Quartermaster branch; then Logistics when my branch got swallowed up. I still deployed; I just wasn’t at the “tip of the spear” anymore.

Now on my sixth deployment, I had made a pact with myself that I would always return from deployment in better shape than when I left. So far, I’d been able to honor that pact, my wife being one of the main beneficiaries. As a matter of fact, Ashley and I made the pact together. Now, we tried to see who could look better for the other person when I got back. It’s the little things that keep us sane…and the sex…not having sex for 9-12 months and then when you finally do, it’s with an “improved” version of your lover? Smokin’ hot sex. Just saying, if you’re sex life is in the doldrums, try getting deployed.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t free Internet in our rooms, but there was a USO building not too far away that had free wifi. I went there and sent my wife an email to let her know I was safe and sound and going to bed.

[169 Days]

The next morning I woke up at 4:45, and after getting into my workout clothes and shaving, I stumbled to the gym. There was a room full of stationary bikes and ellipticals, a nautilus room, and a room that had both nautilus and free weights. I went to the room with the free weights and did my workout.

When I finished, I passed a room with a long wall of mirrors and floor mats. Among the people in there was Charlotte doing her ab routine. She was in her Army physical training uniform – shorts and short-sleeve shirt – doing v-ups. Now, the Army PT uniform, like pretty much all Army uniforms, is not very flattering; but I have to say, Charlotte looked pretty damn good in them.

As she did each repetition of the exercise, her toned legs flexed. When she switched to crunches, I could make out the slight curves of her bust…and I was breaking a cardinal rule of Army physical training: don’t leer at people, especially females. She looked up and saw me in the mirror. She smiled and gave a small wave, not stopping her routine. Well, didn’t I feel like a perv. Oh well. I smiled weakly, waved, then left.

At 7:00, I was outside the DFAC (short for dining facility), waiting for my escort officer. (No, not escort! Escort officer. Usually, there’s a difference.) Okay, she wasn’t even my escort officer. It was just a joke that came into my head while I was waiting for LTC Thompson. See, I even called her by her rank…

“Hey; good morning.”

I turned to see Charlotte come up from behind the building.

“Morning,” I replied.

“Did you have a good workout?” she asked, “sorry I didn’t stop to chat.”

“Yeah,” I said as we turned to go inside, “pretty good. You?”

“You tell me,” she replied, giving me a little nudge. “They don’t have females on Arifjan?” she said in a obviously playful and sarcastic voice that signaled she wasn’t offended.

That didn’t mean I wasn’t completely embarrassed.

“No – I mean yes, of course they do…it wasn’t…I was just…”

Fuck it, I thought. We were two Soldiers deployed away from friends and family; there were enough things to get worked up about. “Busted,” I said, raising my arms in surrender. I quickly added, “I really didn’t mean to stare – I recognized you, admired your…form for a split second – just a split second – then left.”

We were sitting now, eating breakfast.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I saw the way you were looking at me; it was innocent. Trust me, I’ve gotten pretty good at noticing the difference between admirer and creep…besides, you didn’t see me come in the gym…but, since we’re confessing our sins…I was kinda checking your form too…impressive.”

I felt a little better knowing she had done the same thing. I think. “So, now that awkward time is over, how about we istanbul escort go over the schedule for today.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she replied with a smile.

So, we worked. There were no more awkward moments, that I could tell at least, and I was able to get a lot of work done with Charlotte’s invaluable assistance. She was able to strike the perfect balance between having a commanding presence and retaining her femininity. Many female leaders struggled with that; she didn’t. Near the end of the day, around 8:15, I called Charlotte over to take a look at a spreadsheet on the computer. She leaned over and I got a whiff of her scent – whether it was her moisturizer or shampoo or it was natural – she smelled really good, which was an accomplishment after working for 13 hours.

“What do you think?” I asked as I turned to look at her.

Her face was about six inches from mine as she stared at the computer screen. She was fair-skinned, showing evidence of being out in the sun as she had freckles on her nose and upper cheeks. Her eyes, which were hazel and quite beautiful, were the only thing that betrayed her age. Charlotte was an attractive woman – not just Army-hot, but hot-hot…and that’s when I caught myself staring…and so did she.

“Busted,” she said, still looking at the computer. She smiled slightly and said, “It’s okay; I like the way you look at me.” Her face reddened as if she suddenly realized what she had said. She stood up straight. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I don’t know why I said that. Please forget I said that.” She touched my shoulder and squeezed, “Please.”

I was speechless for a moment, which is a rarity for me. I finally said, “Don’t worry about it. I’m flattered. Let’s just get back to work, okay?”

“Okay,” she replied, looking around to see if anyone noticed she was beat red, “back to work.”

When we were done, we went our separate ways. The Internet was too slow to FaceTime my wife, so I called her using a USO phone card on one of the community phones. We talked for about 30 minutes. I caught her up on my travels, told her everything was fine, and that I had one more day left before I would return to Arifjan. I did not, however, mention the good-looking LTC that was serving as my battle buddy.

[168 Days]

The next morning, I didn’t see Charlotte at the gym and I didn’t go looking for her either. We did, however, meet for breakfast.

“Did you get to talk to your wife last night?”

We had finished eating and were now just drinking our coffee.

“Yeah; I had to use a phone card and go old school, but we were able to talk. How about you?”

“Yup; got to talk to my wife too…kidding; you threw me a fastball down the middle.”

“So,” I said, “any big plans for when you get back?”

“I’m not sure; either a trip with my son – he’s in college now – or at least go see him; we’ll see. You?”?

“Taking a trip to Sonoma – California wine country – we’re going to drink ourselves silly.”

“I like your plan,” she said; “Maybe I can combine yours and mine – take my son to wine country…of course he’s only 19…”

“Well,” I said pushing away from the table, “might as well get this party started.”

We spent the day visiting units, talking to Soldiers and their leaders, and taking copious notes. Any awkwardness between us seemed to be gone. We were friendly but professional. That night around 8:30, after we had said our goodbyes, I was back at my “place” packing when I realized I still had the phone charger I had borrowed from Charlotte. She had an extra Blackberry charger and I had left mine back “home.” I called her.

“Come by whenever,” she said.

She told me where her pod was and I got dressed again. Charlotte lived in one of a series of pods, which were basically small metal boxes with a bed and a couple of lockers. But, as a LTC, just like my little pod at Arifjan, she did not have a roommate. I knocked.

“Hey,” she said, opening the door.

She answered in bare feet wearing her PT shorts and short-sleeve PT shirt, which was untucked. Her hair was wet and it clung to her face. It was the sexiest sight I’d seen in 197 days (the last time I saw my wife in the flesh).

“Come in,” she said.

I stepped into the pod and she closed the door behind me. It was a little disorienting seeing her, for all intents and purposes, in a state of undress. She wasn’t of course, but seeing her in uniform but out of it felt wrong somehow.

“Sorry,” she said, “I just got out of the shower.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I replied. “It’s just I’m leaving so early I didn’t think I’d have time in the morning to drop it off.”

“It’s fine,” she said. She went to the little refrigerator in the corner. “Why don’t you have something to drink before you walk back. I have water, O’Doul’s, and…water.”

I liked her (and even though she was attractive, I also like her in a friendly colleague kind of way); she had been very helpful during my visit and she was fun to talk with. After tonight, kadıköy escort we’d probably never see each other again. “You know,” I said, “a fake beer before I leave would be perfect.”

“Have a seat,” she said, motioning to her bunk. In the tiny room, there was no place else to sit. She passed me a can of O’Doul’s and sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed facing me.

I looked around her pod and noticed she had pictures of her son hanging on the wall, but no pictures of her husband.

“Is that your son?” I asked, pointing to a picture taped to the wall.

“Yeah,” she replied. “That’s Steven,” she pointed, “right before he went off to college.”

I decided to step out in a limb. “How about your husband?”

Charlotte took a long pull from her “beer” as if trying to coax the alcohol from it. She sighed silently and stared at the can for a moment before answering.

“We’re separated,” she said. “We decided to get a divorce three months before I left.”

I had a feeling there was some trouble in her marriage based on the lack of pictures and the fact that she never mentioned her husband in her plans. I was not expecting this. “But you have a picture of him and your son on your desk and you still wear your wedding band.”

“Honestly? It’s a deterrent from creeps,” she replied. “It’s easier to tell a guy you’re not interested when they think you’re happily married.”

I certainly couldn’t fault her logic.

Charlotte uncrossed her legs; if I were to let my arm fall from my lap, I would have been able to touch her bare feet, which were inches from where I sat. Her legs were slender but toned, the result of years of working out. Her feet were small and showed the tell-tale signs of someone who wore boots 12-16 hours a day.

“You can touch them…if you want to.”

Charlotte was speaking to me, but the sound of her voice seemed distant somehow. I realized I was staring at her legs.

“Sorry?” I said.

“You were looking at…my legs,” she said softly, wiggling her toes as she spoke. “I said, you can touch me, if you want to.” She looked into my eyes then down at her lap when she saw the surprise on my face.

I didn’t say anything for a moment, though it felt like 10 minutes. I needed to leave but I felt frozen. I had never cheated on my wife; it never even crossed my mind in any serious way. Of course, when a man sees a beautiful woman, he has thoughts – sometimes a fleeting fantasy – but that was the extent of it. Charlotte was so sensual and attractive and obviously willing, I felt momentarily paralyzed.


I looked up, the sound of my name breaking the trance.

“It’s okay; I shouldn’t have said that.” She pulled her wet hair back behind her small ears. “It’s just…how long has it been since you’ve been with your wife?”

“197 days; almost 198,” I replied. I could almost feel the heat of her skin, her legs still dangerously close to me.

“337 for me since I’ve been with someone,” she said. “I know you like me,” she said, “and I know you find me attractive.”

I jumped in, “Charlotte, whether I think you’re attractive or not is irrelevant. Your attractiveness isn’t a matter for debate; that doesn’t mean we should, you know.”

“I know,” she whispered. “I’m sorry. You’re trying to remain faithful and here I am trying to get you to fuck.”

The word cut through the air with such percussiveness, it sent an erotic chill down my back and my blood rushing southward. I finished the last of my O’Doul’s and set it on the nearby nightstand as I stood. Charlotte crawled from where she was sitting to the spot I had just vacated, leaving me standing over her, her face inches from my crotch.

“I know you should go,” she said in a low voice.

“Yes, I should,” I replied, my heart pounding in my chest as warning bells screamed in my head.

She looked at the bulge in my pants, then up at me. “Is that because of me?”

I couldn’t answer, but she didn’t need me to answer to know the truth.

“When you leave, do you know what I’m going to do?” Charlotte’s left hand instinctively, seemingly without her conscious knowledge, moved between her legs.

“Charlotte, please,” I whispered.

“I bet I know what you’re going to do.” She said, looking down at the pulsating bulge in my pants. She then stood and looked up at me, our faces inches apart. I could smell her shampoo.

She placed a hand on my chest. “Your heart is racing.”

Her hand felt hot on my chest. I wanted to grab her wrist and take her hand away, but I hesitated. “Charlotte,” I croaked, “I can’t.”

Why I didn’t run out of the room, I don’t know. It may have been because in the end, I knew I wouldn’t have sex with her. I won’t lie and say it wasn’t tempting. I was attracted to Charlotte; I was horny; but I was not going to cheat on my wife.

I took her wrist in my hand and she gasped, her eyes searching. I gave her the only thing I could.

“When I leave here in five seconds,” I said, “I’m going straight to the bathroom.” Still holding her wrist, I could feel her pulse, “and I’ll think of you.” I let her wrist go, stepped back, and left.

I jogged back and headed straight into the latrine, my cock hard the entire way. As I raced to orgasm, I thought of Charlotte, my wife, and me. I never came so hard in my life.

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