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After Action:From Bridget's Nights

By: patricia51



 (Bridget's been sitting in my family room again, tossing down Irish whiskey and talking about her adventures. She had hinted about this one before, what she did in England after her rescue mission to France in WWII. So here it is. For those of you who don't know her, I refer you to Chapter 1 of "Bridget's Nights" where she first appeared and explained a lot about herself. This story contains both Male/Female and Female/Female sex. Thank you Marian as always for the errors you caught and the reminder to everyone that I keep changing things till the last minute and any and all errors are solely my responsibility.) 

(April 1943)

The French call them "Pilchards". Americans usually refer to them as "Sardines", the young ones anyway. Regardless of what you call them, being covered by thousands of them fresh from the waters off the French Coast, is anything but an olfactory treat. They STINK. When you have the heightened senses of a vampire, they REALLY stink. And so do you after hiding in them for a few hours.

There was a perfectly good reason I had been buried in sardines and it made me mad enough to declare a personal war on the German Navy. Of course as an agent of the OSS I was already involved in the war my adoptive country was fighting with the Reich, but now I was specifically furious with the Nazi E-Boat fleet.

I had been a part of a combined French/OSS Jedburgh operation to free an important leader of the Resistance whom the Gestapo had captured. Jacques Lorimar was as brave a man as I had met in my four hundred odd years on the earth, but even the bravest person had a breaking point and the Gestapo was superb at finding those. He carried the names of a number of agents and Resistance operatives in his head. We needed him out.

In the days before night vision goggles and thermal imagery, if you wanted to do something sneaky, you did it at night. A darn good thing for me, as exposure to about 15 seconds of direct sunlight was guaranteed to turn me into "Bridget Flambeau". So the parachute drop from the belly of a British Lancaster bomber took place at night. So did the successful raid on the prison and the ex-filtration of Jacques and myself once the Underground doctor had patched him up enough to travel.

The status of the French fishing boats was one of those curious anomalies that exist even in an all out war. The Germans were quite aware that the Frenchmen manning those boats were making occasional contact with the British SOE (Special Operations Executive). But the catch those boats made was badly needed by the Nazis. At the same time, the British knew the fish were supplied to the Reich, but the contacts afforded by the fishermen with the Underground were too valuable for THEM to stop. So everyone turned a semi-blind eye. After all, this unofficial commerce had been going on since at least the Napoleanic Wars. I had taken advantage of it back then.

Still, it didn't mean that the boats were completely free to do as they wished. The Germans didn't have the manpower to post a watcher everywhere, but they conducted random searches at the docks, planted informers and, as I found out, sometimes stopped and inspected the boats. 

In this particular case it was an E-boat, the German equivalent of the American PT Boat. The crew was reinforced by an even dozen German soldiers with one of those ubiquitous leather-coated Gestapo Agents in charge. They had swept down upon the slow-moving trawler that Jacques and I were hiding on and boarded us.

There was a secret compartment in the hold. Unfortunately, all of Jacques' injuries and bandages made it a one person hiding place. An engine crewman and I scrambled to cover the lid. Jackboots were already clumping down the ladder, giving him barely enough time to dart back into the engine room and me to burrow myself as deeply as I could in a large, smelly, cold and wet pile of little fish. 

Eventually they gave up. Not long after we were met by a British Motor Gunboat, which whisked us away and to safely land before daylight. However there was no place to shower on that speedy little boat and even the imperturbable Brits were giving me a special salute, one that involved the thumb and forefinger clamped firmly over the nose. I haven't smelled like that since my first days in America in the early 1800's. Well, nobody told ME there was a reason everyone kept far away from those cute little black animals with the white stripe on their backs. 

Jacques was taken to a hospital. My plan was to find a way to the OSS safe house and set a new world's record for the longest hot shower followed by a short nap that I hoped would last all day. Of course that wasn't going to happen. Should I have been the least bit surprised that everyone and her brother seemed to have a different idea? 

I had four messages waiting for me at the pier, summoning me to four different places. The OSS Station Chief wanted to see me, as did the SOE, SHAPE G-2 and interestingly enough, SHAPE G-1. The first three made sense, but I wondered why the Personnel Officer needed to see me.

My preference would have been to report to the OSS first. However, the SHAPE G-2 had accompanied his message with a Lieutenant Colonel who loftily reminded me that I was a Captain in the US Army. As tempted as I was to toss him off the wharf to see if the cold water would shrink his ego, I restrained myself and accompanied him, happy in the knowledge that he could only hold his breath for so long in the enclosed staff car he had brought. The Corporal who was driving, made of sterner stuff, was actually enjoying the discomfort of the stuffed shirt beside me. Once we had arrived he even winked at me as he gravely held the door open for us. I winked back. He was cute.

It turned out that what the Colonel wanted was for me to give him a full report on my little excursion to the continent. Apparently his idea was to submit it immediately through channels ahead of everyone else. I figured that somehow he was going to try to claim some credit for an operation he wasn't even aware of before it took place. I made a mental note to tell the Station Chief there was a leak somewhere.

In the meantime, I stalled. I demanded proof of his security clearance, his need to know, everything but his birth certificate. I made a great deal of noise. The fact that he was trying to stay as far away from me as possible made it hard for him to stick his face in mine and threaten my career with any real degree of effectiveness. He did keep at me, enough that for the first time in my unlife I was considering eating someone that was on the same side as me.

I didn't, of course. I didn't even show my fangs. However I was saved from a really serious contemplation of that maneuver when a knock sounded on the door. Without waiting for any answer, the door opened and a WAC officer wearing the same silver leaves as my interrogator strode briskly into the room.

"Captain O'Brien?" Still without waiting for an answer, she continued. "You're a hard woman to find. I have orders to conduct you to Southby House immediately. General Donovan has been looking for you."

"Just a moment," the Intelligence Colonel sputtered. "I'm not finished with...". He broke off as I stood up and started for the door. At the same time, the WAC lifted an eyebrow.

"Surely you heard me Colonel? Major General Donovan commands Captain O'Brien's presence. Shall I call him to tell him you feel your business is more important? Or would you prefer to do that yourself?"

From the sounds coming from the office once we had closed the door behind us, the intelligence officer was still trying to find the right words to express his outrage. I smiled gratefully at my rescuer.

"Thanks. I don't know who exactly you are and where you come from, but I'm very happy that you showed up. I'd offer to shake hands but I'm not sure you want to get that close."

"Bridget, I'm Jill Shelby and I'm from the training station. Colonel Stevens sent me in search of you when you didn't show up. I found from the Brits that you had been carried off in a staff car and tracked it down. The driver was happy to tell me where and with whom you had been taken." Seeing my expression she hastened to reassure me. "Don't worry. As soon as we get back I'm planning on making arrangements to transfer him to us. I believe he can keep his mouth shut, but at the same time he has the judgment when to open it."

We walked to another staff car. Jill surprised me by opening the driver's side door and indicating I should get in on the other side of the front seat. I grinned as I saw an Army raincoat had been stretched across the seat. Apparently the young corporal had fully briefed Jill. I climbed in and closed the door as Jill slid in behind the wheel.

"No driver?" I inquired.

"Nope," Jill grinned at me. "I like driving myself. I enjoy driving and it eliminates anyone who knows just what I do and where I go and who I might be with."

"A good security precaution," I commented.

"Yes," she replied. "And for more than one reason." Jill bit off the end of the afterthought as though she suddenly realized she had said more than she should have.

I considered what else she could have meant. I kept sneaking looks at her. She was taller than me by a good four inches and had a much fuller body. I noticed her uniform was of excellent quality and cut to flatter her figure. The stockings encasing her legs, which I rested my weary eyes on a good bit, looked to be pre-war material.

They were very good legs I noticed. Shapely, with rounded calves and nice thighs, more and more of which I got to see as she drove and her skirt seemed to work its way up bit by bit. I began to feel a little dance was underway between the two of us, I was watching her legs, she was watching me look at her and both of us were pretending nothing was going on.

We finally reached the sprawling English house that had been leased to the US government and assigned to the OSS as its headquarters in Britain. Jill parked the car and we got out. I noticed she exited the car one leg at a time, rather like a guy, instead of swinging both legs out together. Not that I minded, her skirt rode up far enough for me to see a full expanse of creamy white thigh above her stockings.

Jill ushered me in to see Colonel Stevens, whom I had met before the mission. Several others were waiting with him along with him, one of whom piped up even before Jill and I had saluted the Colonel.

"Welcome back, Nightingal." He wrinkled his nose, a gesture everyone in the room was copying with greater or lesser degrees of tact. "And what in the hell have you been rolling in?"

He might have said more, but Colonel Stevens cut him off. Not that I didn't LIKE Dick, he was clever and handsome and I would have bedded him in an instant had he not been attached to his war-correspondent girlfriend. But the names he hung on people. Still, what do you expect of someone who was half of a team that even Director Donovan referred to as "The Hardy Boys"?

"Another time Dick." He returned his attention to me. "You are alright Bridget? And Jacques? Safely at the hospital? And Colonel Shelby rescued you from a certain G-2 Officer who's ass I am going to have on a plate tomorrow?" I simply nodded to each question.

"Good. General Donovan wants a full report, but I can convince him to wait until you have bathed and slept. Colonel Shelby, would you please take care of Captain O'Brien?"

"Certainly, sir."

Jill took me by the elbow and guided me along the corridors of the winding old house. I had a strange feeling of familiarity and wondered if I had ever been here before. It was possible.

"Bridget, tomorrow we'll get you into quarters. Tonight, you can bathe and sleep here." She led me into a nice room and pointed at a door I assumed opened into the bath. I walked wearily there, closed the door behind me and stripped as I waited for the water to warm up.

I think I actually gave a moan of delight when the warm water hit me. I could tell an American had worked over the system as the water was a hard stream instead of a drizzle. I scrubbed furiously, twisting and turning to allow the stream of water to probe everywhere on my body. The soap was hard, yellow English wartime stuff but it cleaned me. I was trying to get it to lather enough to wash my hair when I heard a knock on the bathroom door.

"Bridget? Its Jill. I have a present for you."

Jill's legs flashed back into my mind, along with those very interesting thoughts I had about them and any present that might involve them. Dismissing them, I called back, "All presents gratefully received Jill. The door's unlocked."

I felt a bit of a breeze through the shower curtain, indicating the door had opened and then heard the latch click as it was closed. A shapely bare arm and hand came through the curtain, holding a bar of pink soap.

"Try this. I think you'll feel a lot better." There was a soft laugh. "Probably smell a bit better too."

Oh golly. Pre-war American bath soap. A rich sweet scented foam appeared almost immediately as I rubbed it over my body.

"Thank you, Jill!" I thought about it and a slight frown crossed my face. "But you can't have much of it. I know its not available here at all."

"No, well, I'm down to the last couple of bars I brought when I was assigned here. But you really deserve a bit of a pampering."

"Why thank you again." I debated for a moment, thinking of whether I was right in the look I had seen in Jill's eyes when I had watched her slide out of the car. I shrugged. Nothing ventured and all the rest. 

"Jill?"

"Yes Bridget?"

"Don't you think we better share it then?"

The curtain cracked again, a bit wider this time. Then Jill slipped through the opening and pulled it closed behind her. "I thought you would never ask."

I looked at her. Her body was generous but without fat, her heavy breasts tipped with big brown nipples. Dark curls blossomed between her legs. Her legs were full and shapely and my fingers itched to explore her smooth skin.

"Turn around and I'll wash your back," I breathed as I fumbled behind me, adjusting the nozzle's flow higher to splash over her.

She smiled and turned around. As she did she lifted her arms over her head and rose up on her toes. The muscles in her legs flexed and it was all I could do to keep from falling to my knees behind her and worshiping them and her taut ass. Instead, I swallowed extremely hard and began to wash her back.

I swear Jill purred as I worked the lather across her shoulders and down her back. Not only did I scrub her, I used several centuries of experience to knead her muscles, relaxing her. She settled into a comfortable slump, her arms hanging loosely by her sides. I was close behind her now, my lips only inches from her shoulder.

My hands slid over her ass. Immediately I heard a deep moan from Jill and her butt muscles tightened. I was so aroused that for a moment I worried my fangs might drop. I took one of those deep breaths that I don't need and concentrated on massaging her clenched ass.

The two of us were locked in a struggle to see who would give in first. I stooped slightly, my hands sliding, reluctantly, from Jill's ass to the back of her thighs. Bit by bit they parted and I could scent her excitement, the steam from the hot water causing it to spread through the shower and mingle with my own. My body was so close to her I could feel the heat smoldering between us.

My soapy hands glided to the front of her legs. Carefully avoiding touching her between her legs, I encircled her with my arms, my soapy hands pressing against the top of her mound and creeping up her firm belly. I had moved so close my hardened nipples were almost but not quite brushing against her back. 

There wasn't a winner in our silent contest to maintain control. Of course, that also meant there wasn't a loser. I think it was the slight brush of Jill's breasts against the top of my fingers that set us both off. She grasped my hands and pulled them up to cover her full orbs. At the same time I pressed myself tightly against her back. My much smaller breasts flattened against her, my nipples so hard I thought they were poking holes into her skin.

My thumbs and forefingers closed over her thick brown nipples, holding them tightly while the palms of my hands lifted the full orbs. She reached back and seized my hips, pulling me even closer to her. I wiggled my hips, rubbing my pussy up and down against the cleft of her ass.

Jill leaned forward and spread her legs. Because of my shorter height, I slid down her body and between her legs. The water still splashing over us was no wetter than either of us were between our legs. I leaned back slightly, maintaining my firm grip on her breasts and lifted myself onto my toes. With my body positioned as it was, I was able to push up to her. Using my greater than human strength, I ground myself hard against her.

The position was ridiculous, even after Jill released me and bent all the way over to brace her hands on the shower wall. I took advantage of her shift to let go of her breasts, drop to my knees and bury my face into her ass. Freshly washed, I tasted soap as I drug my tongue along her cleft and began to tease the dark rosette hidden there.

I was too eager to get to the main course though. Squirming to face the other way, I slid between her legs and lifted my face to her pussy. The streaming water carried her nectar down her thighs and I ran my tongue up the inside of each one before parting her trimmed bush and plunging inside of her. My fingers danced back up her tummy and recaptured her nipples as her breasts dangled.

Jill cried out as I covered her with my mouth. Her clit was amazing. Unhooded, it was one of biggest I had ever seen. Taking it in my lips I ran my tongue over its tip, feeling it grow as hard as the pearl it was often called. I began to pull and pinch the comely WAC's nipples. She pulled up and I started to release them, worried that was hurting her.

"No Bridget," she gasped. "Pinch them hard."

I complied, squeezing them almost flat in my fingers and pulling down on them. I drove my tongue deep into her vagina and sucked and chewed on her pussy. as I felt her first spasm I withdrew my tongue from inside her and began to batter her hard nubbin with it. I heard her cry out and, without using my fangs, I bit down on her throbbing clit.

It was a darn good thing I didn't need to breathe. Not only was the shower water running down Jill's body but she began to flood me with her juices. Then she tried to pin my head between her pussy and the shower wall as she wildly ground her clit against my lips. It wasn't until after repeated orgasms that she almost fell on top of me.

As we calmed, we noticed the water was cooling off. Hastily we scrambled from the bath, dried each other off, and then hopped into the bed under a warm English coverlet where we snuggled and fell asleep together.

I awoke what must have been hours later. Shifting my body, I tried to squirm up against Jill's warm body. I found I couldn't. She didn't seem to be in bed with me. I rolled over and found that I could only move so far, as my right hand seemed to be stuck over my head. I opened my eyes.

Well, that explained my hand. It was handcuffed to the bed frame. I looked and found Jill sitting in an overstuffed chair on the other side of the room, wearing a cotton robe and apparently nothing else.

"I might get a little kinky, but not on a first date please," I commented just before I noticed the Colt 1911A1 automatic in her hand, the muzzle pointed at me. "And that would be for..." I let my words trail away.

"When I woke up this morning, I snuggled with you." The black hole at the end of the pistol never wavered. Neither did her gaze. "I noticed something immediately. Your body was cool. Cold in fact. No warmth at all. I started shivering. Then I realized that my shivering might not just be because your temperature was so low. It might be the instinctive reaction of knowing I was laying next to something unnatural."


After Action:From Bridget's Nights



I wanted to say something, but for one of the few times in my centuries I was at a loss for words that might improve the situation. I said nothing. 

"I was pretty sure you were asleep, in some form or another, so I got close, put my arm around you and listened. There was no slow, steady breathing of a sleeping person. In fact, you weren't breathing at all. Nor could I find any trace of a heartbeat." She thumbed back the hammer of the Colt. "Can you think of any reason why I shouldn't shoot you right now?"

"Well, one good one I suppose." I replied, as calmly as I could. In response to her look of inquiry I went on. "That reason is that, although the bullets will hurt a good bit, any damage they do will be only temporary. On the other hand," I nodded towards the heavy blackout drapes pulled across the single window, "If it is daylight and I bet that it is, if you pull those curtains aside you'll see an immediate reaction."

I swallowed hard as she stood and stepped over to the dark cloth, the pistol still trained on me. "So what will this reaction be?"

"If the sunlight on me is indirect, I'll begin to alternate sweats and chills. My skin will get very dry and it will feel like its burning. That feeling will spread throughout my body. I will get light-headed and then mentally confused. Eventually dementia may take over and I will become extremely violent. On the other hand, if the sunlight hits me directly, well, I will have just enough time to say a final prayer and you will have to extinguish the bed, because when my body catches fire so will it."

"So you are, what, a vampire?" 

"Yes," I answered briefly.

"And you were going to bite me."

"No."

"You're a vampire. You drink blood."

"Yes I am and I do. But popular lore about vampires is wrong on many accounts. One of those misconceptions is that we need to feed all the time. I drank from several of the SS guards at the Gestapo interrogation center. I won't even begin to be hungry for several days. And even then, I have no need, or desire, to kill in order to satisfy my need."

"You just admitted you killed."

"I did, and I'm a soldier of the United States and those men were the enemies of my country. More than that, they were the enemies of mankind, which by the way, I am not. I didn't kill them by draining them of blood but by using unarmed combat techniques I learned in China nearly three centuries ago. Besides, if I was going to bite you, I would have done it already." Even under the circumstances I had to grin. "If I had bitten you in the shower last night and fed from the femoral artery you wouldn't have known it until much later. If at all."

"How did you get into the OSS? The background check..." Jill's words trailed off as what she was asking registered with her.

I nodded. "Yes, General Donovan is quite aware of who and what I am. After all, I've been pretty much on the government payroll for about eighty years. The dossier on me that is buried somewhere in the files must be getting to be pretty darn thick."

Jill sat back down in her chair, rather abruptly as though her knees had given way. Absently, she put the Colt onto a small lamp table and ran her fingers through her hair.

"I can't believe this," she said, more to herself than me. Apparently unable to sit still, she stood up again and began to stride back and forth. "You admit what you are, something that has haunted humanity's nightmares since the beginning. You casually mention things from centuries ago." That thought led her to another question. "How old are you Bridget?"

"Next month I'll be 391," I replied.

I had to give her credit. She had taken in a lot more than most people could have without running screaming through the room. Somehow, this last bit of information was too much for her to process. Her eyes rolled up, she swayed and sat down heavily in the chair.

Worried, I sprang from the bed. I rushed to her side, grabbing a glass of water from the nightstand. I caught the pistol as it slipped from her fingers and laid it on the table with my other hand as I lifted the glass to her lips.

"Here Jill, drink this." She gulped mechanically and I wrapped her in my arms as I knelt by her chair. "I'm not going to hurt you, I swear by Michael and the holy Archangels."

Her eyes fluttered open and she reached out to touch the small silver cross I always wore around my neck. "I think I can believe that."

"You can."

She looked at me sheepishly. "I guess the whole thing got to be too much there for a second. Overload. Vampires exist. I spent the night with one. The government knows they exist. A lot going on here. By the way, did you HAVE to ruin my best handcuffs?"

Now it was my turn to look sheepish as I glanced back at the bed. The cuff around the bedpost was intact but the metal ring that had been around my wrist was snapped in half. 

"Sorry. I was in a hurry."

"But you could have done that anytime." 

"Yes."

We looked at each other in silence for a while. I suppose at that juncture we had said everything we needed to say. So, we went back to bed. Jill got on top.

I stayed at the sprawling London house for nearly two weeks. During that time I rested but I also was useful. I completed my reports on the raid, both the overt one and the second "Director's Eyes Only" one that detailed my meeting with Thorfinn Olafson and all that I could recall about that Viking vampire. I sat in on meetings designed to improve various operational matters, ranging from the parachute drops into France to the coordination of meetings with the fishing boats.

I didn't mind. Jill and I had to be very cautious of course. I never spent the night with her, always slipping back to the Field grade quarters that I had been assigned, by mistake since I was only a Captain. Being booted from the Army would have hardly bothered me but Jill hoped to remain in the service even after the war and nothing would get her kicked out faster than being identified as a lesbian. Whether she was or was bisexual like me, I never asked. After all, it wasn't any of my business. We did enjoy our time together but neither of us even pretended it was anything more than a casual relationship, although one we both wouldn't mind renewing again sometime in the future. If she was aware that twice I furtively left the guarded compound, she made no mention of it.

One day I was sitting comfortably in the mess hall, which fortunately was in the basement, along with the club. Of course eating is pointless for me, as food doesn't nourish me, but coffee and good Irish whiskey are almost as necessary to me as blood is. The station adjutant stopped by and notified that my presence was requested, in uniform, at Colonel Steven's office in an hour.

I managed to dig around in the bag that I had brought over from the States and find my one uniform. Jill came by with an iron and we managed to get most of the creases out of it. Jill professed that she had no idea why I was being hauled up before the Colonel. I didn't believe her.

I did the whole military thing. I knocked on the door, marched two paces in front of the Colonel once I was told to enter, saluted and reported. He returned my salute and then picked up a piece of paper and began to read from it. I saw there was a crowd. Jill was already there as were several of the other higher-ups.

"Champagne is often appropriate for a promotion celebration," said Colonel Stevens, "But I have it on the authority of the Director himself that Major O'Brien prefers Irish whiskey." He waved his hand and a grinning agent from the training group, who's name escapes me to this day, began to pass around glasses filled with dark, smoky whiskey. I got the first one of course. I got the second one also, because the lovely scent made me down the first drink in one quick swallow.

I was savoring the taste of my second drink and accepting congratulations from the crowd when Colonel Stevens led an unfamiliar man over to me. There was something about him that that tugged faintly at my memory as the man gripped my hand in both of his and pumped it enthusiastically.

"Bridget, you remember Jacques Lorimar, of course."

Realization hit me just as the tall, thin man stopped shaking my hand and flung his arms around me, kissing me on both cheeks in the Gallic fashion, although generally not quite so fervent. This was Jacques, the underground leader. In my defense I should point out that I had seen him only briefly during the rescue operation. I had studied his picture intently during planning, but no one looks quite the same after a week in Gestapo custody.

The effects had showed. His face, so handsome in his picture, was still somewhat bruised and swollen. He moved slowly, favoring his right leg. A cane was clenched in one hand. His trousers were lumpy and his shirt bulged where I could tell he was still swaddled in bandages.

"Thank you, Bridget," he took my hand and bowed over it. "Not just for myself, although Le Bon Dieu knows I owe you my life, but also for my comrades. Sooner or later I would have given way."

Being treated like a lady has always been a quick way to get through my defenses. Not that I seem to have a great array of those. In fact I've been told I have a tendency to give in quite easily. But being romanced, even by such a simple gesture always is nice.

"Thank you, Jacques," I replied in French. "I'm pleased I was able to help, although you underestimate you own stamina, as well as over-rate my role in your rescue. In either case, I am glad to see you up and around."

I think it was Jill who noticed that Jacques and I had yet to let go of each others' hand. She brushed by me, winked at me and whispered "Looks like I won't be waiting up for you tonight." There was no jealousy in her voice and only a devilish little grin on her face.

Jacques and I eventually found a quiet alcove and we settled down to a wonderful chat, in French, which I spoke much better than he did English.. He was surprised how much I knew about Paris and how much I loved the city. Of course, I had been in and out of Paris since the late 16th Century. I had last been there in the mid-30's (the days of great ocean liners were a splendid time for a vampire to travel in reasonable safety) and of course, the more the world changes, the more it seems Paris remains the same.

We talked the day away and on into the evening. The room quietly emptied around us. Finally I saw that weariness was beginning to overcome him. I stood up and apologized for wearing him out.

"Not at all Bridget, this has been most enjoyable. In fact, I'm sorry to see it end."

I expressed similar feelings. I looked Jacques in the eyes and added, "In fact, I don't see any need for it to end. Do you?"

A delightfully mischievous smile crossed Jacques' face. "That would be even more enjoyable Bridget my dear."

I led Jacques to my room and we slipped inside, closing the door behind us. I was torn between treating him like a fragile item and the knowledge that acting like that would be the worst thing I could do.

He solved my dilemma by taking me in his arms and kissing me. The kiss was as soft and as gentle as his hands were as they slowly stripped my uniform from me. Somehow, cane and bandages and all he undressed himself too and then drew me towards the bed.

He sat heavily on the mattress, his arms around my waist. He leaned forward and began to run his tongue over my belly. His head lowered, then rose, his darting tongue sliding under my breasts. His hands were on my back, bending me forward and he pressed his face into my modest cleavage. He used his tongue and lips like delicate instruments, covering every inch of my breasts in tiny kisses and licks before settling down on my nipples. He treated them as if they were two pink jewels he had discovered, and my body responded to his ministrations.

It wasn't only his mouth that was driving me crazy. His fingers, his palms, good lord, even his arms were roaming up and down my body. They touched and caressed my back, my bottom, my legs. Now his fingers were teasing the soft spot behind my knees and now they were sliding up the inside of my thighs, almost, but not quite touching my pussy.

All I could do was clutch the sides of Jacques' head and hold on for dear life as he brought me closer and closer to the edge, and then pushed me right off it. I shuddered happily and cried out as my body let go.

Jacques was well aware of my response. Lifting his face from my breasts he smiled up at me.

"I think you enjoyed that," he commented.

"I think you are right," I replied.

"I wish I could offer you more," he said, "But alas, I fear my body is not up to the task..." He suddenly fell silent as I reached down between his legs and gripped a very respectable hard-on.

"I'd say you are quite up to the task Jacques. I let go of his cock long enough to gently push him back on to the bed." It was my turn to be leading as I helped him stretch out on his back, taking care not to jostle his ribs or the leg that had been so badly hurt. 

I was at a loss for a moment as what to do, even as I let my lips explore all of his torso that they could reach. Of course I could simply continue to wander down his body and take him in my mouth. I do love doing that to a guy, but tonight I wanted Jacques inside of me.

Together we figured it out. He moved his injured leg as far to the side as he could, resting it on a pillow with another pillow protecting it. I straddled his other leg and slipped sideways, trying to work his cock into me. 

A friend once accused me of being acrobatic in sex for its own sake. I suppose I've been guilty of that but tonight I wasn't getting anywhere, no matter how much I contorted. Once I nearly fell on Jacques' injured leg and was about to give up when I had a thought. I turned around, facing away from him and knelt down. I leaned forward, braced my hands on the bed. My butt slid back over him and I lowered myself.

Success! I was happy that poor Jacques hadn't fallen asleep waiting for me to get it right. His hips lifted at the same time I settled down on him and his cock slid right up in my until my ass rested on his groin. His hands stroked my firm little butt and then gripped my hips.

I flexed my legs and found that I could get a quite satisfactory bounce onto his stiff shaft. In fact, more than satisfactory. I got so excited that once I bounced clean off his cock after I had driven down far enough for his head to be slamming against my spot. We nearly ended up having anal sex on my next down stroke but he slid right back inside of my pussy. 

This was very good, because from the sounds Jacques was making back there he wasn't going to last very long. But then neither was I. A small portion of my mind wondered if having sex with another girl just made the sex with a guy even hotter when it came around. And vice-versa of course. Then that part of my mind went crazy with the rest of it as the guy under me pumped me pretty darn full of his cum, mingling it with my own juices as I let out a slightly muffled yell and came myself. Just in time really. Even my leg muscles were cramping something awful. We spent the rest of the night cuddling.1

Two nights later, shortly after dusk, another staff car showed up to drive me to the airfield. I exchanged handshakes with everyone. Jill and I smothered grins as our hands touched, bringing back to mind vivid images of the night before and how we had said our goodbyes. I also made a mental note to be sure to get that soap to her on the next transport plane to England if I had to eat someone to do it.

Standing at the back door of the staff car, holding it open for me, was the young corporal who had picked me up at the pier on my return from France. Shaking my head, I pointed to the front seat. He nodded and opened that door for me. I climbed in and waited patiently as he closed both open doors and ran around to get behind the wheel. 

On the way to the my destination I learned all about Corporal Russell White, a young man far away from his Indiana home, including his excitement at being transferred to the OSS. I learned even more from the way his eyes continued to drop to my legs and I chuckled to myself, recalling my doing the very same thing to Jill. I leaned back into the seat and without seeming obvious about it shifted until my skirt had ridden up over the tops of my stockings. Just like Jill had.

It certainly had an effect on my young driver and I scolded myself severely for teasing him. The bulge in his uniform pants had become quite pronounced by the time we passed through the gates of the airfield and found a parking space in the row of similar cars. I hoped out and told him to stay with the car, I just needed to check something and would be right back.

After receiving the information I had hoped I might, I returned to the car and got back in. From the way Russell jumped, I was pretty sure he had been at least contemplating unzipping his slacks if indeed he hadn't already done so. I pretended not to notice as I shut the car door.

"Okay, my flight doesn't load for another thirty minutes. Do you need to get back right away?"

"No ma'am," he answered. "Colonel Stevens and Colonel Shelby both told me to take care of you and see you off."

I giggled. I slid across the seat. His eyes widened as my fingers traced the outline of his stiff cock, then unfastened his slacks.

"What a good choice of words. Because I'm going to take care of you." I lowered my head and licked the head of his cock. "And you're going to get off too, right down my throat." With that I slid my lips down his shaft and began to blow the happiest corporal in the OSS.

(The End)