C. Brown: Fraternizing

Only now, I have no clue who he is, where he is, or how to get in touch with him. That kiss seared me, in all of its luscious tequila and beer filled glory. Those soft, full lips crashing down on mine, his strong and aggressive tongue overpowering my own, claiming me out on that dance floor... it excited me in ways that I had never experienced before.

I felt his erection growing and noticed the twitch when I rubbed against him, he wanted me, and even if I were going against my rational thinking mind, I wanted him too. If his kiss and the aggressiveness of it were any indication of what he could do to me in bed, I was definitely willing to test him out.

Unfortunately, because his friend was a drunken dipshit, he had to run out of there before we could exchange names.

Damn!

My sole regret from that night.

I was certain that he was a Marine. We were stuck in a military town, and if the low haircut, his clean shaven face, and well put together ensemble were any indication, he had been in for a while. Of course, he was stationed at the base here, but honestly, how easy would it be to find him? Not easy at all. Not with thousands of Marines walking around.

"You ready for this?" Angelica asked in a rather curt tone. We had only met one another a few days ago—that Friday, in fact. She was my barracks roommate, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a tad bit intimidated by her when I first saw her. She was gorgeous; tall and curvy, with beautiful golden skin, and hair from the shampoo commercials. She looked model worthy, with Marine Corps confidence to go along with it.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I replied with a smile.

Angelica was pissed at me from Friday, her Latin temper flying off of her tongue as she chided me, crying about how she'd seen that guy first and how I'd snuck in and stolen him away. But I hadn’t. He seemed to have chosen me. Plain and simple.

Standing in front of the mirror, brushing my long, blonde hair back and laboriously working it into a sleek bun, I added a light spritz of hairspray to tame the loose strands, then grabbed my cover, or the Marine Corps equivalent of a cap. Angelica finished up whatever she was doing and made her way to her side of the room and threw on her blouse, then we walked out the door.

Standing in formation, the scalding heat from the desert morning was hitting my face, making me painfully aware that we were, in fact, stuck in this poor excuse for a town for the next six weeks. I stood next to Angelica, waiting to get our day started.

I was ready.

Going through thirteen weeks of hell for bootcamp, four weeks of combat training, and now finally Military Occupational School—MOS school— I was now one step closer to becoming a fleet Marine.

"Attention!" a female voice called out, prompting all of us to stand rigid and erect. Nerves began swirling around inside of me as the next chapter was slated to begin. This dream of mine was finally becoming a reality.

I’d dreamed of becoming a Marine ever since I screwed myself out of college. When my mom came down on me, telling me how much of a disappointment I was to her, and how I would never amount to anything, I took that as a challenge and set my sights on becoming one of the best. Even then, she told me that I’d never make it; that it would be too hard, and I would quit.

But I didn't quit.

I proved her wrong every step of the way, and now there was only six weeks until I was out of school. Then I’d be able to finally flip her my pretty little middle finger while smiling and telling her, "I told you so."

"At ease," the woman said, striding out front and center. "I am Sgt. Castillo," she belted out, her cold, dark eyes scanning the rows of students standing before her. "I work in the admin section here at Comm School. Any and all paperwork will go through my section. If you need something, let your instructors know and they will get it taken care of for you."

She was a short Hispanic woman—young, probably slightly older than me, but had obviously joined straight out of high school. The confidence she exuded while speaking to a group of new Marines who towered over her was on par with what I had grown accustomed to in bootcamp. It was remarkable.

"I'm turning you over to your instructors now. Welcome to Twentynine," Castillo said, making a sharp turn and walking away from the formation.

Standing there waiting, even if it was only 7AM, was torture in the morning heat. Fire bearing rays raced down from the sun and connected with my long, thick cotton cammies, inducing a sweat worthy of an intense workout session. And I hadn't even exerted an ounce of energy.

A tall, slender man walked out, followed by two other males. They took their spots in front of the formation, glaring ravenous eyes at us all as if they were ready to pounce and eat us for breakfast. I had been warned that even though we'd made it through bootcamp and were now Marines, to the veterans we were still a bunch of nobodies.

"Attention!" he barked out, his low, gruff voice startling me out of my sweating pity party. I swallowed and stood straight, looking forward but at no one in particular.

"I am Sergeant Newsome, one of your instructors here at Comm School, and this is Sergeant Jensen and Sergeant Cruz," he said, pointing to the two men behind him. The rest of whatever he said fell on deaf ears as I fixed my eyes on the two accompanying instructors, instantly recognizing them as the two guys from the bar on Friday night. My heart sank and a heavy, throbbing lump lodged in my throat, making me stifle a choke as I immediately remembered that Cruz--now that I knew his name--was my bump and grind, tongue twirling, lip smacking partner from that excitement filled night.

"Shit. Better you than me. I ain't mad anymore," Angelica whispered to me, smirking as she said it.

If I could have, I would have smacked the smirk from her face. I was slowly sinking in my own embarrassment and lust.

The feelings I’d felt on Friday came crashing back like tidal waves. Cruz was sexy as sin at the bar, dressed in jeans and a tight fitting t-shirt, but in uniform he looked good enough to taste and then go back for seconds. His cover was pulled low on his head, hiding his beautiful hazel eyes, and his face was held tight, probably trying to appear rough and unapproachable. His bulging arms stood out from his rolled up blouse sleeves, showing just a slight hint of a tattoo underneath the material. His posture was of a stocky bulldog, waiting to be unleashed on a bunch on unsuspecting students who all appeared firmly afraid.

I wasn't afraid of him, per se. I was afraid that he would remember me and that this would instantly turn awkward and somehow wreck my budding career. Of course, he was about three sheets to the wind that night and quite eager to get into my pants, so chances were good that he wouldn't remember me from any other girl he normally went for.

I could only hope.

"In the next six weeks, you will go through a series of coursework, tests, and field trainings. If you fail Comm School, you will be recycled to a new MOS not of your choosing," Jensen barked. He was tall and quite good looking. He was also very stiff, never once relenting on the deep scowl that seemed to be permanently embedded into his face. I remembered him as the one who broke our earth shattering kiss just before I was sure that I was about to be whisked off somewhere and fucked until my brains spilled out. We never got that far.

And now I was certain that we would never get that far again.

"I'm Sergeant Cruz, lead instructor for Alpha company," he said, his perfectly plump lips moving with each word spoken, further drawing me in. He walked forward, with perfect posture and a stoic face. His voice rumbled as he spoke, instantly taking me back to the bar where he gruffly said, " You're mine tonight ," in my ear, sending tingles aggressively shooting up and down my legs He didn't know it in that moment, but I would have gladly surrendered myself to him if we had gotten the opportunity.