Strip by Anne Tolar

Chapter 1

"She's a real looker, Hotshot. I wouldn't just introduce her to anybody out there. She's the best thing you're going to find here at Penn... but if you're so serious about homework, and all you've got time for is work... I'll keep her hidden. She's too special to waste on somebody who's not going to pay her any attention."

In their favorite, 'hidden' spot in the Penn Library, James Curran, NROTC cadet, looked up from the stack of books his fellow cadets thought he was flipping through. He wasn't flipping idly... he was reading... speed reading. He had spent his summers honing that skill. The skill was why he was able to stay ahead on all the homework for his Political Science degree, the ROTC training, and the extra readings he assigned himself on military tactics as part of the special warfare program, and the debate team, too. Even with it all, he still had time to complete the BUDs training schedule on a daily basis. He never missed an assignment, and he never missed a day of training. That was failure, and he never tolerated failure... not in himself.

He didn't talk about his reading skills, and he didn't give out his strategies for getting through this program and his college career alive. These people were friends, but they were the competition, too. Nothing else mattered to Curran except getting out of Penn and getting to the Navy... especially to the SEALs. There were only so many slots available, and he didn't want his slot to go to any of these guys... especially Lynn Warrell. He didn't dislike Warrell, liked him fine in fact, but he didn't think the guy was exactly SEAL material... he wasn't a serious man. Curran, on the other hand, was deadly serious.

"What's wrong with her?" Curran finally looked up from the books. "You're trying to sell her a little strong for there NOT to be something wrong. What's she got... a third eye... or just one, in the middle of her forehead?"

"Watch it, Hotshot! You're talking about my cousin."

"That's the second problem."

"What? That she's my cousin? What's that got to do with anything?"

"Warrell, I don't exactly like the idea that you'd know ever move I make. I mean... your cousin?"

"Look... she's my cousin. She's not my confessor, and I'm not hers. She's been here a full semester now, and she just doesn't like the guys she's met. She wants to meet someone who wants to go someplace in the world, not some dope head or some has-been peacenik. She asked me if there wasn't one serious man on this campus. Hell, Hotshot... if it's serious she wants, you've got to be it!"

"There's just one flaw in your plan." Curran shook his head. "I'm not out to "make it" in the world... I'm in Political Science... but I'm going to be a SEAL. I may be going someplace, but it ain't going to be up the corporate ladder. SEALs' isn't even a great paying part of the Navy. I'm not going for Flag!"

"Well, you're one piece of the plan short of making it, kid." Curran was younger than the rest, maybe by a year or eighteen months when it came to Lynn.

"How? I've got the plan... "

"Well, some part of this plan of yours ought to cover a social life. If they see that you don't have one, haven't even had a date in the last what... two years?... they might think you're not, well, stable... not a red-blooded, manly man if you know what I mean."

"Warrell..?"

"Oh, nobody's talking... yet."

"Is this a bribe?"

"Hell no, Hotshot. Just an opportunity. She's funny, smart... trust me. You're going to love her."

"I don't have time."

"Curran... how far ahead are you? Two, three weeks? You think we don't know about the speed reading, the special projects you've taken on, the kiss up work you do for the C.O. How many times has he had you dragging those damn admirals around? You're just a sucker for it, and they use you like a slave, old man. It's time you had a little fun. One night out is not going to kill you! It just might save your butt... and your career."

"Hell... Damn... Oh shit... Okay. When?"

"Okay, then. Saturday night... we'll meet up at the Ratskeller at seven. It'll just be me and Shelly, you and my cousin. We'll have a couple of drinks, then what you two do is entirely up to you. And I won't be trailing you... I've got my own social life."

"Okay... Saturday... seven... Ratskeller." Curran made a note in his ever-present calendar. Warrell noticed that he took the time to circle it in red ink. When Curran added red ink, the appointment was serious.

"Superior!"

"Warrell?"

"Don't waffle on me, Curran. I told her you'd be there."

"Shit! You what?"

"It's part of your education, son. Part of ROTC training. You'd have to say 'yes.'"

"Hell... I think I've been had."

"It'll do you good, Hotshot. Trust me."

"Warrell?"

"What?"

"I think you'd better tell me her name."

"Oh... well, yeah... I think that would be good. It's Patricia... Trisha Warrell. "

Chapter 2

"Where are you, Hotshot?!" Warrell's voice on the phone was loud. There was music in the background and a great deal of talk and laughter.

Curran instantly knew where the call was coming from. "Oh, shit. I'm on my way... I'm dressed and ready... but the Captain called. I've just got to drop off a couple of platters for his smoker tonight. I'll be there in thirty... forty-five at the latest. I hope she doesn't mind the smell of cigars."

"Don't worry. It's just six. I knew they'd be running you ragged, so I thought I'd make sure your butts moving. You tell Rowell that you've got a date, and to please call somebody else if he needs toilet paper. Now, MOVE!!"

"Cute, Warrell... real cute. I am moving. It's all I ever do."

"Well, move toward the good life, Hotshot. You're gonna love tonight."

"Right." He hung up the phone, grabbed his keys, and headed for the Shrimp Garden. He knew he should be looking forward to a night out, but all he really thought about was the hours he was going to miss working on the debate that was coming up on Tuesday. "Hell... you're going to screw up this time, Curran. You know you are. You knew there wasn't going to be any time for a damn social life here. You knew it, you knew it... SHIT! Hell, what's one night? Come on... suck it up... how bad could it get... it's just one damn date. Hell, you probably won't even like her!" He never stopped to consider, as he fetched his CO's party trays, that this girl, this woman, might not like him. Women had always liked him... and he had always liked them... there just hadn't been time. "Shit... I'm going to be late!"

He did manage to mention, politely, to Rowell that he would be 'unavailable' for the remainder of the evening. Rowell grinned at him and slapped him on the shoulder. "I get the message, Mr. Curran. Glad to see you take a night off. I was beginning to worry about you, son. I mean, being gung-ho is one thing... being a damn patsy is another. Who is she? What's she like?"

"I don't know, sir."

"A BLIND DATE?"

"Uh, yes sir. Well, it's a friend's cousin. She's a first semester freshman... doesn't know many people. I'm sort of bailing him out."

"Sounds like the mission from hell, son. You sure you're not just being another patsy this time, too?"

"I hope not, sir. He says she's smart, and fun."

"Must be fat, or over seven feet."

"Says she's a looker. I hope so... I mean if I'm going to do this... "

"If? You're not going to stand her up are you? I mean even if she's a dud, she deserves respect, Mr. Curran."

"No, sir. No... I wouldn't do that. I just keep thinking about all the work I need to do for the debate on Tuesday. It's not a great night to be goofing off."

"A social life is not goofing off, Mr. Curran. You'll find the time to get ready for the debate, even if you have to skip a few rounds of PT and not run the eight miles you do every morning."

"Ten."

"WHATEVER, Mister!! Do I have to order you to go out tonight?"

"No, sir. I'm going. I said I'd go, and I keep my word. I just hope... "

"Hope what?"

"I just hope she IS a dud."

"What?"

"Sir... I can't afford to get involved... not now... not when BUD/s is coming up so fast. I can't afford to get attached to anybody... not now."

"Son... as much as you're just dying to meet this girl... I don't think you've got a chance in hell she's going to ever want to see you again. Good luck."

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Goodnight, sir."

Rowell watched the cadet leaving, taking the steps down two at a time. A colleague joined him on the back steps, taking one of the trays from his hand. "Who's that cadet?"

"James Curran. You're looking at probably the best candidate we'll even had for the SEALs, Bret. He's an amazing young man... mentally, physically, ethically... everything."

"Where's he off to in such a hurry?"

"He's got a date."

"Ah... good for him."

"I don't know... it might be good, or it might be the thing that totally wrecks his life."

"What makes you say that?"

"He's hoping she's a dud. Hoping he won't like her."

"Why?"

"He says he doesn't have time... not now."

"And?"

"Bret, according to what we know about him, he's an extremely serious student and cadet. He's dedicated to nothing but being a SEAL, and he hasn't had a day off, much less a date, in a couple of years. In other words, a virile young man that looks like that has been high and dry forever."

"And?"

"If she's cross-eyed, tongue-tied, bowlegged, green, and smells like crap... if she can smile and bat an eye... he's going to like her. I just hope he doesn't like her too much."

Chapter 3

"Sorry I'm late... the Captain wanted to talk. Is she here yet?" Curran slid into the crowded foyer of the Ratskeller, flicking at imaginary lint on his dress blues, finding Lynn waiting there, dressed the same. Shelly, Lynn's date, a woman with long legs, big breasts and a body that made Curran look more than twice, stood next to Warrell, holding her man's arm possessively. Curran took another look... but then he thought about Warrell and realized this man was never going to be any kind of competition. The man might not realize it, but he was heading for corporate hell. The thought made Curran cringe.

"Curran... you're a blessed man. She's later than you."

"She is going to show, isn't she?"

"Yeah... she's coming. She just had to drop off a book at the library. She had to finish the last chapter, but it was fixing to go past due. She's serious about stuff like that."

"Oh, well, I can understand that. One day late, then it's a week late, and then the fines. Even with the scholarship I've got, it doesn't take many fines to break the bank.."

"Well, she doesn't exactly have to worry about that, but she thinks it shows she's not serious, not professional."

"Professional?"

"Yeah... she's planning on being some kind of working woman... a professional. I don't know what field, but she'll figure it out. I tell you, she's smart. Come on... let's get a beer."

"Not too many beers, Warrell."

"Would you loosen up. Hell, Curran, I said she was smart... she's not dead. She likes a good time. I assume you do know how to have a good time... Don't you?"

"I think I just might be able to remember..."

"Scared me there for a minute."

"As long as I don't scare her..."

"Well, you're getting ready to find out. She's coming in the door now."

Curran turned toward the door, beer in hand. He hadn't been able to imagine her. Hell, he hadn't taken the time to imagine her, but here she was. Curran stood there, his mouth not quite falling open, ignoring his beer. She was a beauty... a real, natural beauty. He felt his heart lurch. "Oh, hell."

"What?! What's wrong."

"Nothing, Warrell. Nothing's wrong... not one damn thing is wrong. Does she spit when she talks?"

"What are you talking about?"

Curran realized he had said it out loud. "Forget it. Thanks, Warrell... I'm in trouble now."

"Would you straighten up!!" Warrell was looking at Curran like they had never met before. But the woman was there, in front of them, and he had to make introductions.

"Trisha Warrell... I want you to meet James Curran."

"Hi..," she looked up at him with a soft smile on her lips.

"Hi." Curran smiled back, taking her measure quickly. She only had to look up slightly... she was tall... pleasantly tall... she easily came to his chin. She was a nice size... not bone thin, certainly not a pound oversized. She smelled of a popular, expensive perfume... but only mildly. It was the wonderful blush and texture of her face that mesmerized him... smooth, creamy, only a trace of makeup to accentuate her eyes and heighten the blush... only a slick of gloss on her... her... her mouth. Curran felt himself groan inside.

As she raised her face to look into his eyes, her shiny auburn-brown hair moved to frame her face. Her sparkling hazel eyes met his and held there, waiting for him to speak, or move, or do something. He mentally slapped himself, realizing he had stood there for several minutes just drinking her in. He blushed slightly and stammered, "I'm glad Lynn wanted me to meet you. Would you like something to drink? I think we've got a table, don't we Warrell?"

"Yeah... we've got one reserved back there in the corner." Warrell led the way and then, playing with Shelly's fingers under the table, he just watched the two as they began the dance of first meeting. Curran was his usual quiet self, not talking a great deal, but smiling, asking questions, drawing out the woman he was getting to know. Trisha was bright and bubbly. She studied this green eyed man's every move, followed his words, and before long, Warrell knew she had found what she had come to Penn to find. She had found the last piece of her plan.

Lynn smiled to himself. "So... he thinks he's going to be a SEAL? Not when she's through with him. Oh, well. Loving Trisha should make it okay. She'll be good for him."

Long after Lynn and Shelly had left, Curran and Trisha sat and talked, and smiled, and laughed, and sipped at beer. Curran knew she was making him come alive... feel like he hadn't felt in such a long time. He remembered how he had been in high school... a boy who was serious, yes, but fun-loving too... occasionally in small trouble for this prank or that. He realized he hadn't known the meaning of fun since he had arrived at Penn... and that he was lonely. No... not lonely exactly... but he knew he felt alone.

It got late. The crowd was starting to thin out. He didn't know what to do next... how to keep the evening going. "Ah, do you want to go for a walk? I mean... we've missed the movies. Shoot... we haven't even eaten yet. Where would you like to go?"

"Well... there's a club a couple of blocks over. It's not quite as tame as this place... I mean if that suits you? They've got enough of a menu that we won't starve, but the music's good and loud, and the drinks are cheap. Want to try that?"

"Sure... but I've got to warn you... I can't dance." He cocked his head at her, hoping that the admission wouldn't matter.

"Not even the Funky Chicken? You've got to know how to do the Funky Chicken."

"No... I know the Penn Library shuffle, and that's about it." His smile took her breath away.

"Oh... you! Well, I'll show you. It's simple. And if you don't want to dance... well, we'll figure out something else later." She smiled up at him. He thought the smile held a promise and his heart lurched again.

"Sure... that sounds interesting. Let's go." He paid the tab and led her out into a crisp fall night. The stars were bright, and her perfume floated around him as they walked. She was bright, almost sunny, as she took his hand into hers, intertwining their fingers as they covered the distance to the club. The sign read The Cavern Club, a little dated but the place sounded good. She grabbed his hand as they approached and literally yanked him inside the dark, truly cavernous place.

"Wait... isn't there a cover?"

"No... not tonight... I told Poncho you'd be my guest tonight."

"Oh... okay." He realized she had planned this, and for an instant he felt he had been had. But shoot, she'd known about the date for about a week... plenty of time for a smart woman to think about "what if's." Then he was amid the crowd, and the music pulled them both inside.

"Do you want a drink? What do you want to eat?" He spoke loud to be heard.

She screamed back her answer. "I'm not hungry, are you? I'll just have Sex on the Beach."

"WHAT?!!!" Curran laughed out loud and his face turned scarlet red. Things were picking up just a little fast for Curran... he hadn't planned on going into overdrive quite this early... if ever.

"You've never had Sex on the Beach?"

"Well... no... I mean... NO!!... uh... where's a beach?!!"

"It's a drink... "

"Thank God." He felt he was maybe back in control of this situation... he wasn't sure.

"It's vodka, peach schnapps, orange juice, cranberry juice. All over ice. Make mine a double. Try one, you'll like it!"

"I think I'll stick to beer."

"Chicken. I thought you Navy men could handle anything."

"SEAL men. SEAL men can handle anything... within reason."

"Well, then... you can handle Sex on the Beach. Come on, try one... for me. Please?" She rolled large hazel eyes at him, then pulled him closer to her and smiled.

"Hell, okay... two Sex on the Beach, doubles. You better stick close... this barkeeper may not know what I'm talking about."

"Oh, that's Eddie... you tell him it's for Trisha... he'll know."

"Well, okay." He left to get the drinks, thinking... "and the fact that Eddie knows that Trisha likes Sex on the Beach makes me feel better because... ?"

The drink was a good deal fruitier and sweeter than he liked. Mostly he was a 'scotch neat', and not much of that, when he wasn't drinking beer. Straight up and simple was better to Curran.

"See... isn't that good!" Trisha was having a great time. She seemed to know everyone... men and women. On her third double now, she laughed a great deal, pulled him onto the dance floor and showed him the Funky Chicken, just like she promised. He felt silly, and alive, and a little fuzzy around the edges.

"Look... Trish... no more... no more... ah... hic... 'scuse me!... Sex stuff... okay?"

"But it's so good! Just one more... just one?"

"O... K... but no more ... hic... Sorry!... Funky Chick... can't be both!" he wove his way slightly off course to the bar, returning with two new highball glasses brimming with liquid.

She hugged him to her. "See, I told you it was good. Only thing better is the real thing, don't you think?"

"'Scuse me?"

She whispered in his ear, "Haven't you ever done it on the beach?" Then she put their glasses on the table, led him to the dance floor, and pulled him into a slow dance, talking to him all the time.

Curran blushed red, but didn't duck her hazel eyes looking straight into his own. If she wanted to know the full, gory details... he'd oblige her. There wasn't that much to tell. "Well... just once... hic... night of the senior prom."

"INITIATION!!!! You waited until you're senior prom to do it the FIRST TIME?"

"First time? No... first time on the beach. Hic."

"And when exactly was your first time, James?" She kissed him on the mouth... a short, small kiss, with just a tip of tongue.

"Let's see... my sixteenth birthday."

"Ah, what little high school girlie did you screw?"

"Wasn't... wasn't high school. Hic." His grin... leer... was cocky.

"Oh... ho... who then?"

"Housekeeper."

"Older woman!! Good for you!!!"

"Not so good."

"Why? You couldn't ... do it?"

"Oh, I did it all right... at least twice."

"What was wrong then?"

"Middle of the last go-round, my dad walked in. Fired her. Beat me."

"Uh-oh. He didn't like you messing with an older woman?"

"Wasn't it."

"Then why?"

"My mom'd been dead for years. My dad was screwing the housekeeper, too. Hic. Didn't like me being on his turf. Hell, I didn't know, but he beat the living daylights out of me anyway. Wasn't the first time; wasn't the last. What about you? Do I dare ask where you've been?"

"JAMES... I'M A VIRGIN." It seemed the words echoed across the Cavern Club and bounced straight back at him.

"You are? Hic. Then why the twenty questions for me?"

"A GIRL HAS TO BE CAREFUL!!!"

"Miss... is this man bothering you?" A hulk of a man was suddenly between the two of them, eyes blood shot, body weaving, pushing Curran backward into the small crowd that was gathering.

"No... no... we were just talking." Trisha sensed the trouble and moved in front of James.

"Trish... move... get out of there!" He didn't want to chance her being caught in the middle. He'd fought before. This was something a SEAL could definitely handle.

"Are you sure he's not bothering you. This Navy scum's we've got around here ain't nothing but trash."

"Hey, wait a minute." Curran was a little too fuzzy to be too careful. Even if the man was bigger and fatter and louder... he was talking to a future SEAL! "You can't talk about Navy like that!"

"I'll talk about anything I want," his finger thumped into Curran's chest, "Anytime I want. What are you going to do about it." The finger thumped into Curran again.

"This!" Curran was well trained in martial arts, boxing, wrestling. He plowed into the man with his fists, then found himself flying backward, over the bar, into the whiskey bottles and down onto the floor. "Oh, shit!"

The guy was coming after him. Curran pulled up, more awake now that the pain had settled in. He thought he heard a whistle somewhere, but more importantly, he felt himself lifted by one of the man's huge arms, and felt the man's fist find his stomach. He let out a big "OOOOFFF!" and decided it was time to get serious about the situation. He realized he was just too small... at least for this brute to pay attention. He needed something to even the odds.

About that time, the bar passed in front of his eyes again. He was being spun by the guy, in preparation for being thrown God only knew where. The realization hit him that he just might die. He spotted a bottle of vodka... a big jug of vodka. By the next pass, he had figured that was the best use he'd have all night for the stuff, so he grabbed it. Half way around, he parted the maniac's skull with the famous silvery blue label and felt the guy start to fall... straight on top of him.

"SHIT! Get this bull off me!!"

"James... are you okay. Where did he come from? Why did he come after you?"

"Your hero. Thought I insulted you. Shit... was just asking a question. You could have just said 'mind your own business.'"

The whistle was sounding again. It was getting closer.

"Ah, hell." Curran started to rise from his small piece of ground.

"What?"

"They catch me here, in uniform, in the middle of a fight... I won't be Navy for long... and I won't be SEAL... ever!"

"Come on. We're going. Eddie! Heads up. We've never BEEN HERE!!! Okay?"

"Sure, Trish!!! What if they want a name?" The barkeeper shouted back.

"Hell, Eddie! You don't know it!! Better yet... make it up!!! Come on, James... we're moving! Hell, SEALs do know how to get the hell out of trouble, don't they."

Curran just shook his head, trying to clear the cobwebs, "Hell... yeah... let's move."

Chapter 4

"Get in there!" She had opened the apartment door and was standing there, just looking at him.

"Look... this is your place. You don't have to... "

"Don't you want to come in?"

"Huh?!"

"James... they're not coming after you. They don't know who you are... the big brute started it... Eddie will cover for us... and he doesn't know your name. I'm not going to rat you out."

"Oh."

"It's a bonafide offer. Don't you want to come in?" She smiled at him, took hold of his belt, and pulled him in after her.

"Well... oh, hell... yeah! I guess I do want to come in." He suddenly grinned.

"Not used to being in trouble are you?" She left him, heading for what he supposed was the bathroom.

"No... not really... only with the C.O... never with the cops!"

"Come on in... Take off your jacket... Let me see to that lip." She came back in with two clear bottles of clear fluid in her hand, a wad of fluffy stuff, and a towel. She put them on a table near the couch.

"Lip?"

"You're bleeding. He tagged you pretty well. Would you please relax and sit down?"

She walked over to a small bar and poured a large glass of something. She walked into the kitchen, put ice in it, and came back to put it in his hand. "Drink this!"

"Thanks. Lip's fine... I don't even feel it." He slumped back on the couch, accepting the drink, slowly letting his head rest on the softly cushioned fabric, the glass rest on his forehead.

"That's because it's numb, stupid!"

"Hey, I'm not stupid!"

"No, you're probably not. But you threw the first punch against that walking wall, didn't you? That should prove you're something! Here... it's Witch Hazel." She handed him a wad of stuff that she had damped with fluid from one of the bottles. "It shouldn't sting much, and it should take down some of the swelling. How do you explain this to your C.O.?"

"If the cops don't call about it... he won't care. Awh! Thought you said this wouldn't sting."

She looked at the bottle, then took the wad from his hand, "Uh-oh. That's alcohol. Sorry. Here... " She changed wads of stuff.

"Thanks... I think." He started dabbing again with the Witch Hazel. "That feels better."

"Anything else hurt?"

"Nothing that's going to matter. They're used to me grunting and bitching on the obstacle course anyway. Won't matter if there's a 'shit' thrown in now and then."

"Stand up!"

"What?"

"Stand up. I want to look you over!"

"You want to what?" He rose slowly from the couch, not sure what she wanted. But then he saw the look in her eyes, and he knew what she wanted.

"Give me that!"

"What?"

"That stupid little cap!" She reached up and flipped it from his brow, throwing it into a far corner of the room.

"Hey... it's got to keep the crease. I've got to show up in that, and the rest of this stuff, on Monday morning."

"Don't worry... I'll put a crease in it all for you." She reached up and ruffled his soft, thick, golden hair. She played with it, smiling up into his green, green eyes with her eyes that seemed full of smoke. She played with the hair, running her hands around to the back of his neck and pulling his head down to hers for a heady kiss.

Curran heard himself groan under the power of it. Then he gave it back, fully, driving his tongue into her mouth for a first exploration.

"Not slow in anything, are you?"

"No... not in what I want... and I want you. Now!"

"Then strip!" He heard her laugh.

"What?"

"You want me... you strip for me."

"You're a nut case, lady!"

"No... I want to know what I'm going to do. I want to see it all."

"And if I refuse to put on this little show for you?"

"Then you're not the one I want."

"What one? What are you talking about? I thought you said you'd never..."

"I haven't... but that doesn't mean I haven't planned for it."

"What?"

"I want a man who's not afraid to be free... to move... to give me everything there is to give."

"And that means I have to strip?"

"Well, tonight... dancing with you... watching you... I just knew that's what I wanted from you. I wanted to see you move, to see you as you really are... no uniform, just you."

"Okay, then. But if I strip... what do I get in return?"

"What do you want?"

"Everything. Everything you've got to give."

"You'll have to teach me."

"Oh, I'll teach you."

"Then strip."

"You tell me what comes off... I'll take it off. Call it."

"Start with those damn things on your shoulders... what do you call those?"

"My epilates? They're my badge of rank... you know that?"

"Yes. You don't need rank with me. Take those off, then take off your shirt."

Curran removed the epilates and moved to put them neatly on the table next to the couch. His long fingers began to unfasten the buttons on his shirt, inching down from one to another until the starched fabric opened to show a snow white undershirt. He walked to a nearby chair and eased the shirt over the back, smoothing it to retain it's crisp collar and sleeves.

"Undershirt next... I want to see your chest." He smiled a little. The undershirt came off in one smooth pull. He didn't worry about it... he tossed it into the corner near his cap and stood there facing her.

He heard her breath catch. He knew his body was in top physical condition. His arms were muscled, well-defined but not over-pumped. His chest bore a soft covering of hair only between his pectoral muscles and from there down past his pants into a region she could not see. Her gaze traveled to where it disappeared and Curran felt the first tightening of his manhood as it lay hidden where her gaze tried to penetrate.

"Ah... shoes, next. Yes... your shoes and socks."

"Chicken."

"I'm not a chicken!"

"We'll see." He mocked her, individually tugging off his shoes, easing his socks down to the end of his toes, then drawing them slowly from his feet and tossing them after his undershirt.

She was quiet where she sat. Her eyes now wider, waiting, anticipating what she wanted.

"Now what?"

"Belt?"

He slid it off in one smooth, unbroken stroke. "And now what?"

"P-p-pants."

"You're sure. There's no turning back, little girl. You can stop now, but you make me go any further, I'm not coming back, and you aren't either."

She sat there, obviously deciding if this was what she had planned. She lowered her gaze, and he thought she had decided to stop the game. He walked over and reached for his undershirt.

"Let me do it!" She rose from where she sat and came to him. Her head was thrown slightly back, her breathing soft and even. Her hand reached for him, laying her hand against the fabric that covered his full trousers. She shyly touched the top of his zipper, and stopped. She looked into his eyes for confirmation.

"Do it. I won't hurt you."

"Momma always said it would hurt if I did it."

"And you always believe what momma says?"

"Yes."

"She's right."

"But! You said... "

"Trish... it's going to hurt some the first time. I'll be as easy as I can, but I'm a man, and I might not be able to stop once we get to the end of this. But it won't last long, and it's going to happen sometime. You might as well let me be the one... if I'm the one you want. If I am the one, then do it."

She took a deep, shaky breath... and she did it. Curran gasped as he felt his manhood released from it's confinement. The cloth of his boxers rose with the beginning of an erection.

"Oh!"

"Your turn. Trust me."

"But... "

"Trust me. You made the decision. It's your turn."

"I don't know... "

He laughed, and she trembled. He had pity and took her into his arms, holding her head against his shoulder. He raised her head to his and he kissed her, first slow and tender, then demanding, his tongue plunging into her mouth. She answered the pressure with pressure of her own, then suddenly wrapped her long legs around his waist.

Trish?"

"Um-huh."

"Are you ready for this? Are you sure you want this?"

"Yes... I think so."

"Do you have any contraceptives?"

"No... do you."

"I'll have to check. Where's your bedroom."

She kissed him, pointing past his head in the opposite direction.

He eased her feet to the floor. "You go get ready. I'll be there in few minutes... I may have to run an errand. I saw a pharmacy on the corner. But, Trish, if you change your mind... just lock the bedroom door, and I'll leave."

"You said I had to..."

"I've never forced anyone... and I'm not about to start now. I'm not that desperate... are you?"

"No... thank you. I'll be waiting."

"Just don't lock me out without my uniform, okay?"

She giggled. "Okay."

There was nothing in his wallet. He hadn't planned on needing anything tonight. He dressed in the minimum and ran his errand... and felt guilty all the way back.

"You're going to screw this up, Curran. You're going to screw it up. She's a kid. She's your friend's cousin. She doesn't know what she's doing, and if this dusty old box of rubbers don't hold, you could be a damn father in nine months. Father?! Shit. Won't leave any room for being a SEAL. But hell... she wants it. Hell, she planned it! She came preprogrammed to make me do it. You didn't start this. And she's a beauty... how often do you get to be first with a beauty like that!"

He slipped into the apartment, making little noise, wanting to attract no attention.

"Trish?" He knocked on the bedroom door, and found it locked. "Okay. I'm going to go... I'll just get my coat and cap. I'll call you tomorrow... okay?"

The lock clicked, and she stood there... more than ready. She looked up into his eyes with tears shining, then reached up and kissed him, running her hands over his shoulders and down along his hips. She smiled up at him and said, "Well... you're just going to have to strip all over again."

He scooped her into nervous arms and carried her to the bed. His socks and shoes hit the floor, his shirt disappeared in haste, and she helped to free him of his pants and boxers. He made love to her with every bit of sensitivity he could manage. She reached for him, covering his shaft with the sheath, pinching the end in preparation for his arousal and ejaculation. Warming her, playing with her swollen nipples, parting her thighs to taste her center of desire, he prepared her slowly, lovingly, waiting for her moisture to be right, then entering her with his rutting cock as easily as his straining body would allow. He worked his shaft inside her slowly, feeling her body quickly envelop him fully.

She gave a little cry when he could no longer hold back and plunged into her, then again, and again, holding himself in check, giving her time to adjust. Her back arched as she gasped and cried his name, biting his shoulder in the throws of her passion. His climax began to strengthen at that same moment. She wrapped her legs around him, accepting the pounding strokes of his penis within her folds. She heard him cry out in completion. They collapsed together in fulfillment, and then she cried.

"Trish?!! Are you okay?"

"I think so." She sniffled against his chest, reaching down to pull the sheath from his now-limp sex, wrapping it in tissue. She rolled next to him and began to kiss and suck his still-tender nipples, to stroke and tease his shaft with her hand.

"Was it that bad. I tried to hold... "

"I'm okay... Don't worry... It was pretty stunning... that's all."

"You're sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Come here, Trish. Let me hold you."

"Do you want to do it again?"

"Now... you're ready now?"

"I think so... I mean it's okay, isn't it. It won't hurt this time, will it?"

"No... it shouldn't. You're not sore? You're sure about this?"

"I'm sure, James. As soon as you can do it, take me again."

"Sure. I mean if you're sure... if you're ready."

She quickly folded her lips around his shaft... blowing, sucking, licking. His breath caught as he felt the building pressure inside him. She covered him, then shifted her body, wrapping her hand around him, guiding him to her warm, moist folds as she straddled him and plunged her folds around him. She rode him, wrapping her long legs around his hips, clasping him to her, bucking against him until he felt his penis jabbing into her center again, his lungs gasping for air. His semen exploded into the sheath as his manhood demanded release inside her. He lay shaken and sated, still buried within her. She murmured inanities, praising his power and zeal, as she wrapped herself around him. Then she shifted and reached for him again.

Chapter 5

"Virgin, my ass!" Curran muttered to himself as he sipped the second cup of coffee from the pot he had made in the apartment kitchen. Clothed only in a towel, fresh from a shower... this time alone... he surveyed his body, finding it bruised, clawed, bitten. He had lost count of the couplings, but he knew the box of sheaths was empty. Only a few of the lively-colored bruises had come from the hulk at the bar... the rest were from the virgin. He hated being had... but it had been a night. His balls were blue, his groin on fire, his shaft an ugly-looking, fiery red... but he had done the 'marathon of love' with style.

"Good morning, James." She walked up behind him, kissed the bite mark on his shoulder, and fairly purred. "Now that was a night... I can't believe you! How many times was that?"

"You ought to know. Just exactly when did you decide we were going for it all night? Before we met, after the Ratskeller, after you saw the blood... my blood... on my lip?"

"Sometime between Hi and the Funky Chicken. You should see your little tushy when you move... I just couldn't get enough of looking at your ass..ets." She had the gall to giggle.

"Why the charade? Why lead me to think you were a virgin? Wouldn't have mattered... I wasn't one either."

"I just wanted to see what you'd do. I wanted to feel the way you would make a virgin feel. I just knew a virginal night with you would be very, very special. You were so tender... I knew you would be. It almost made me believe I was one again."

"Shit! All you had to do was say take it slow... let me know what you wanted. I like women... haven't had that many, but the ones I've had haven't seemed disappointed."

"Are you mad?"

"Yes! I hate being lied to. I hate being taken for a sucker, or a fool, or a jerk!"

"I'm sorry, James." She nuzzled his neck. "I didn't think you'd find out. I didn't think you'd catch on... what gave me away?"

"You knew too damn much! That last time, when you stuck that finger of yours up my ass and flicked me in there? Geez, woman!!! I thought I was gonna die! The housekeeper didn't know that move!!! And another thing... there wasn't any blood."

"That's an old wives' tale... that doesn't always happen."

"After a night like that... with a virgin... it would be bound to happen!"

"Suite yourself... I'm sorry James... but I had a wonderful time... didn't you?"

Curran couldn't help laughing as she sat on his wounded lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. She kissed him long and deep. "Awh! Don't wiggle around like that! Yeah... the evidence certainly points to the fact that I had a damn good time. Just don't go starting it up again... I don't think I can take it."

"Poor baby! Look, come on back to bed. I promise we'll just cuddle this time."

"How come I don't trust you?"

"Oh, you can trust me James... except in matters of l-uuu--ve." "Oh, hell!" But he followed her anyway.

Chapter 6

"I think I'm in love with you, James." She said it and hid her face in his chest. He started at the confession, then pulled her chin up to look into her eyes.

She was laying in his arms, with him propped against the headboard of the bed. "Trish. I think you're in love with the idea... but I don't think you're in love with me."

"I'm in love with you! You're so warm and gentle... "

"Look... I mean we've just shared an incredible night of making love, but I mean... we don't really know each other. I mean we talked about six or seven hours, and then I got beat up, and then we fucked our brains out. I don't think that's a good, solid basis for a long-lasting romance. I mean... let's just put this in perspective and take it a little slower. I mean, hell Trish, you don't know the meaning of the word "slow.'"

"You're right... I don't... never have, never will. But I'll tell you this... I know what I want when I see it... and what I want is you!"

"Why? Why do you want me? Do you even know who I am, or what I want?"

"Lynn says you're a poly sci major... figures you'll wind up a lawyer, or a politician. I think you'd make a great politician."

"Shows what you know."

"Now, there's no need to insult me."

"Not an insult... just shows how much you don't know about me."

"What don't I know."

"I'm not going to be a damn lawyer... hell, my damn roommate's going to be a lawyer. I wouldn't be a geek-neck lawyer like Ralph Shivers if you threatened to cut off my... "

"Bet you would!"

"Yeah," he laughed, "Under those circumstances, bet I would, too. But you get my point... I don't want to have anything to do with lawyers, politicians, or any part of corporate America."

"Then what do you want to do? I'm sure you'll be a success, no matter what you do."

"Thanks. I'd better be a success... there's not going to be much margin for error in my field."

"Why? You going drilling for oil?"

"No... I'm not going to be an engineer either... or a rough neck."

"What are you going to be?"

"I'm going into the Navy, Trish. Straight after graduation, I'm going Navy."

"Oh... an officer. I like your uniform."

"Yeah, an officer, but not a sailor, Trish."

"I don't understand. I thought all Navy men had to be sailors."

"I'll spend about six months at sea... but then I'm going to BUD/s."

"Who is Bud? Why are going to see Bud?"

"BUD/s, Trish. It's a special Navy program... the teams are SEALs... they're trained for black ops."

"Black ops?"

"They're a special group of Navy personnel. They go into combat to solve problems other units can't solve. They're highly trained, very specialized. The work they do is highly classified. Nobody knows where they go, what they do, except the Navy and the teams.."

"Oh... that must be fun!"

"It's not fun, Trish. It's not supposed to be fun. It's called black ops because it's work that is kept very secret. It requires all types of highly technical training ... use of weapons, tactical maneuvers, explosives, hand-to-hand."

"Why would you want to do something like that?

"Because I respect the work, know the need for it, and I'm going to be good at it... damn good at it."

"Well... that won't take more than a year or two. That's all that's required for you to pay back your ROTC time... right?"

"Trisha... listen to me... it's a lifetime commitment... at least as far as I'm concerned. I'm third generation Navy, but I'm going to be a first generation Navy SEAL. It's what I've worked for all my life. That's what I want... and that's what I'm going to do. Nothing and nobody is going to stop me."

"But what about a family... a wife, children?"

"I don't know about that yet. Lots of SEALs marry, but it's a strange life. I mean, you get called in the middle of the night, you go. You get called day, night, any time they need you. You don't say a word to anybody... you just pick up your gear and you go. You go to do the deed... whatever the mission requires... and a lot of times, you just don't come back."

"They send you to another country, away from your family."

"Sometimes. But that's not what I'm talking about. Lots of times, SEALS never come back. Trisha, SEALs die. You go in knowing that you just might die... any day, any time... you walk out of a good life, and you never see that life again."

"That's crazy!"

"Not so crazy. Just different. A life that makes a difference. You go to save people who are in serious trouble. You go to put an end to some bully, or drug runner, or other piece of trash who's doing nothing except hurting people and their country. You're doing things this country needs done, and you're doing it with what you've got on your back and in your head. It's a hell of a life, and I want it!"

"I see."

"Not exactly what you bargained for, is it? I mean, it doesn't pay a lot... it doesn't leave much time for a home life... it leaves behind a lot of widows and orphans."

"You're determined that this is what you're going to do? It's what you want?" "Yes. It's exactly what I want."

"And to hell with a home life?"

"No... I want a home life, Trish. I want it all. I want a wife, and kids, and to be strong enough and good enough to even the odds. To let me come back whole and well to my family."

"And how are you going to do that?"

"I'm going to find the right woman, Trish. She's got to be strong enough to be alone. She's got to be able to manage a house and home, whether I'm there or not, and if I come back, or if I don't. She's got to face the fact that I am who I am, and that I'll always be what I am. I'll do everything I can for her. I'll love her, be true, and do what I can to provide for her... I'll give her as many children as she wants. There's just one hitch. She can't ever ask me to be any less than I am... and what I am will always be a SEAL."

"You ask a great deal of people."

"I will ask a great deal of the woman I love... but I will love her with all of my heart. She will never doubt that I love her."

"Oh, James. You're so strong, so sure of what you want. Well, I'm sure too. I know what I want when I see it... and what I want is you!"

"And everything that goes with me?"

"If I have to... I'd take that too. I'm strong. I can stand by you... help you be what you want to be. Who knows... you might not even get into this BUD/s thing... you might be regular Navy."

"No."

"What?"

"Trisha. I will be a SEAL. I'm already there... in my head, in my heart, in my body... I'm a SEAL. I've trained for it for years."

"Then, you'll be a SEAL, and I will be a SEAL's wife."

"You think so?"

"Well... if you'll have me."

"We'll see." He got quiet, drew pensive. Then he felt her fingers inching down his thighs, coming to rest on his manhood again. "Trish... you said we would cuddle. My body's been beat enough for one day... I don't think anything could make me hurt more than I hurt right now. Cut it out."

"Oh, okay. By the way, you know it's three o'clock."

"Three! I was supposed to be at the library at one, getting ready for the debate. Why didn't you remind me?"

"Because I didn't know... I just remembered you saying something about a debate, and needing to do some work. The library's open until midnight."

"AND I'VE GOT TWO DAYS WORK TO FINISH! Shit, and I missed PT and I haven't gone running... shit!"

"Calm down. Be patient. I'll help you get this done."

"What?"

"You go do your PT, run your miles. I'll start at the library. You do have a pull list don't you? I'll just pull the list and make copies for you."

"Should... I can't afford to copy all that stuff. I don't have enough money left. I'll just meet you there."

"No... if you meet me there, we can't spend time together here. Don't worry, I'll copy it for you."

"No... you don't need to pay for my copying..."

"You can pay me back later... in cash... or in Sex on the Beach."

"Hell... that's how I got behind in the first place."

"That's just how you got a little behind... my behind. Now move yours, and get to work."

"I'm too sore to work."

"No you're not! Any man who says he's going to be a SEAL one minute and wimps out on a little running and a little PT, isn't going to be a SEAL for long. MOVE!!!"

"Yes, ma'am. I'm moving. But you've got your own work to do!"

"I can manage, but if I'm supposed to stand by you, help you be a SEAL, and have time for us to have some time together... then I'll just have to help you find a little more time... right?"

"Well... it would help... I mean finding the stuff is half the battle."

"Then I'll help you find it, and get it here to you. Okay?"

"Sure, Trisha. Thanks. But remember, let's take this slow... give you time to know what you're getting into. I mean, being a SEAL wife isn't any picnic."

"I will manage this, James. I'll be the best SEAL wife you've ever dreamed of, and you're going to be a tough, tough SEAL." She kissed him, then shoved him off the bed.

Epilogue

The Navy wedding followed the NROTC Commissioning Ceremony of Lieutenant J.G. James Curran, which came on the heels of the Penn State graduation, where he received honors in academics and debate. He was proud, and his new wife Trisha Curran was a model bride. After four months of wedded bliss, he shipped out for BUD/s training, followed by special ops training, followed by paratrooper trainings, demolitions, underwater. He finally returned to her, for more than a week at a time, after six months. He was leaner than ever... wiry, edgy, honed to perfection. And he was happy... he made love to her passionately, lovingly, wickedly... day and night... until she found she was pregnant. She was now happy too, loved and held and cuddled. She knew with her pregnancy, he would surely see reason... change to the regular Navy... put in his two years, and then join the real world. He was destined to be a great politician... he would see.

Then someone in Lebanon blew the Marine barracks to hell and back again, and her husband, the SEAL, went away. In the dead of night, he simply vanished. A small kiss, a passionate hug, an admonition to take care of herself and the baby, and then he was gone to do his deed.

She was fine for a time... until the baby's kicks faltered, growing weak and ineffectual. She rested as they told her to, worried about the life she carried, and prayed for word from James. Nothing came, except for the pain of childbirth, the weakness of the life she bore, and the too-soon quietness that proved how fragile life could be. The child was too soon gone, and still she heard no word. Still, he did not come.

She buried the child, and her love for him, and within three months of his return from Beirut, she had wearied of the changes in him, too. The damage to his powerful, killers' body, kept him still, distant, waiting for a relief from pain. There was the tortured anguish of a father obsessed by the daughter he had never kissed, or ever held, had not even known about until it was much too late. And then there was his determination, to get well, to get strong, to do it all again... for the teams, for his country, with seemingly never a thought for her. She grew to hate the word SEAL... she grew to hate him more.

The house was quiet except for the sobs of the man who considered himself an absolute failure and the quietness of his nearly broken spirit. Within three months of the death of his daughter, only eighteen months after her pledge to stay by his side 'til death did them part, Trisha Warrell denied his name, denied her vows, and simply walked away.

Curran simply sat there, thinking and remembering. He remembered how he had been in high school... a boy who was serious, yes, but fun-loving too... occasionally in small trouble for this prank or that. He realized he hadn't known the meaning of fun since he had been called to Beirut... and that he was lonely. No... not lonely exactly, he did have friends... but he knew how it felt to be alone and unloved.

THE END