I'M FEMALE, I'M MAFIA

BRENDA'S POV - III

I grinned. “Hanks, Brenda Hanks. Nice to put a name to the face." Skulking around in the dark with alcohol in a dry deployment, and sharing with an enlisted person? This woman was insane. I stepped close enough that I could smell the freshness of soap and the strong floral scent of her shampoo. With a flourish and a tiny bow, I opened my tent flap. “Welcome to my humble home." Hell, even if all we did was talk, it would be better than staying alone with my thoughts. And the nightmares to come.

She ducked in and looked around. “You have roommates?” Two other beds were in the small tent.

“They’re all mids. Won’t be back until six in the morning." Five hours. A lot could happen in five hours.

She stood in the middle of my tent, turned and dropped a well-worn backpack at her feet. Tension mounted between us. I gripped the towel with tight fists.

“I don’t want to be alone tonight." She said the words quietly.

“Neither do I." I had to be dreaming. This couldn’t be happening.

She walked up to me, slim, beautiful and taller than me by a few inches. “I could get decommissioned for having alcohol here."

I smiled. “You could. And I could lose a stripe for taking it from you." 

She grinned and handed me a bottle. I wasn’t a fan of the whiskey, but after this day, I needed the shield of alcohol. The Jack hurt going down, but not as much as the memory of the day did. She downed a bottle, gently took mine from my fingers and slipped them back into her backpack. I knew she had more, but I wanted a clear head for the next day.

“Why are you here?” I wanted it out in the open. No surprises. No misunderstandings. No drama.

“The crew was grounded for the night. The pilot had too many hours in the air."

I smiled, brushing her cheek with the back of my knuckles, pushing back a stray hair that had slipped down. “That’s not what I meant." My hand fell away, back to the towel.

Dawn cupped my face with trembling hands and brushed her lips over mine. A flare of heat shot down to my core. This was going to be interesting. It had been almost five months since I’d had anything but my own fingers seeing to my satisfaction. I closed my eyes for a brief instant, and she pulled away just enough to look me in the eyes as they opened. “I want you." Her voice shook. “The moment I saw you, I wanted you. I looked for you every time we landed, and couldn’t get you off my mind." She seemed confused by that. I could definitely sympathize.

“Your smile got me through the day." I smiled at her, a gentle sad tilt to my lips. My thoughts were returning to the day, to the mess of bodies, the cries of pain. It was tearing me apart.

Soft lips were on mine, tasting, sampling. I melted into it, latching on to something solid. My hands cupped her cheeks, and I brushed my tongue against her lips in gentle swipes. Her mouth opened and my tongue delved into the warm depths. She tasted like Jack and strawberry candy. A strange combination. My fingers traced the line of her jaw, the slope of her shoulder. Irritated by the barrier of her flight suit, I dragged down the zipper. Her gasp of surprise was followed by a sharp tug of my hair and sexy nips at my throat. A spike of pleasure shot down my spine; I love having my hair tugged.

When it was over, some unknown emotion, close to regret, tightened in my chest.

I brushed my thumb against her face and gently turned her cheek. She opened her eyes and I was once again taken by the incredible color and emotion staring back at me.

I pulled her in for a soft kiss. My scent and taste blended with the unique flavor of Holly, a flavor I’d never forget. Our lips touched with tender, sweet caresses. I savored the touch of her tongue against mine, until we parted with regret.

“I’ll see you around,” she said.

“Yeah." I knew I wouldn’t. So did she.

“I need to go before the morning." Her voice was quiet, low and sad.

I wanted to tell her to wait until the sandstorm that had started during our lovemaking was over. To tell her the hell with regulations and stay with me. But I wouldn’t. “I know you do." I grabbed her hands and squeezed them. “It’s okay." It really was. I knew when this started what it would be.

We quietly got dressed, she in her flight suit, I in a fresh T-shirt and panties. I gently wiped her face and hands with moist towelettes, cleaning away all proof of what we’d done. She pulled a Jolly Rancher out of one of her numerous pockets, unwrapped it and popped it in her mouth. Strawberry.

My arms trembled as I hugged her one last time. I told myself it was from all the heavy lifting earlier. Her smile was still as beautiful as before. She left as quietly as she had come, slipping from my tent in the middle of a sandstorm.

And I got tired, tired of being alone, tired of having to go through each day carrying a whole load of horrible memories without having the simple allowances of the pleasures of life. I love the military, but it's time to look for fun and the rush of adrenaline elsewhere. I cleaned myself up with quiet efficiency and then, with a sigh, lay down on my bed and stared at the hanging ceiling. The sound of mortar fire powered through the storm. They were at it again. I held my dog tags, tugging on the chain so that it rested between my breasts, and drifted to sleep dreaming of jade-green eyes and an amazing smile. The brightest spot in the next three months of the hell that preceded my resignation. I’ll never forget her.

* * *

Well, my next stop was the Central Intelligence Agency, doing the only thing I'm good at - chasing down criminals. Not too long ago I had my first experience of how it felt to chase down criminals - the CIA style - and in the big city. Things are different here, not like in the army, but I like it here. It was a long-boring Thursday night, my shift finally ended. I turned the corner onto our street, exhausted, sweaty and numb from hours of stress. It was the kind of night that tests the mettle of everyone who has ever donned a uniform and balanced duty and devotion for the public good. That’s not to say agents are saints, and I know we’re far from perfect, but I’d like to think that it’s true what they say about law enforcement. It’s a calling.