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NNTP-Posting-Date: Fri, 26 Jan 2007 14:33:17 -0600
From: Nick Scipio <nick@nickscipio.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} "Nereids" by Nick Scipio - Ch1 (MF, oral)
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Date: Fri, 26 Jan 2007 20:10:04 -0500
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Author: Nick Scipio
Title: Nereids
Part: Chapter 01
Universe: Summer Camp
Summary: Jack MacLean is happy with married life, but it's the
Swinging Sixties and he wants more. His wife does too,
and they have their eye on her new friend, Beth Hughes.
But Jack and Beth's husband will soon be fighting a war
in the skies over Vietnam. When they return, everything
will change.
Keywords: MF, oral
Revision: 1.2
Word Count: 9,109
Web Site: http://www.nickscipio.com/summercamp/nereids/
FTP Site: ftp://ftp.nickscipio.com/summercamp/nereids/
Discussion Forum: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Scipio_Forum/

*****************************************************************
                        STANDARD DISCLAIMER

This story is intended as ADULT entertainment. It contains
material of an adult, explicit, SEXUAL nature. If you are
offended by sexually explicit content or language, please DO NOT
read any further.

This story is a work of fiction. All characters and events
portrayed in it are fictional, and any resemblance to real people
or incidents is purely coincidental. The author does not
necessarily condone or endorse any of the activities described.

This story may not be reproduced in any form for profit without
the written permission of the author. It may be freely
distributed with this disclaimer attached.

Copyright (c) 2007 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.

*****************************************************************

Nereids
A Summer Camp Story
by Nick Scipio

CHAPTER ONE

Jack climbed down the side of his jet and took off his helmet. He
ran his fingers through his close-cropped hair and squinted
against the glare of the California sun. With a practiced
gesture, he put on his sunglasses one-handed and glanced up as
his crew chief appeared beside him.

"Hello, Warren," he said.

"Good afternoon, sir." Warren's black face was grave as his eyes
unconsciously flicked over the attack jet, his baby. "Any more
problems with the bombsight?"

"I think it's FUBAR," Jack said. "It crapped out right after my
first run."

Warren grimaced. "I thought it was the wiring harness. I replaced
it with the one from 505"--the squadron's hangar queen--"but I
guess it's a problem in the main unit."

"See if you can scrounge a new one from Chief Estes."

"Aye, aye, sir," Warren said with a distracted air. He was
already deep in thought, planning the work in his head.

Jack left Warren to his work and walked around the high nose of
the jet, his eyes searching for the pilot of the adjacent plane.

"How do you think you did, Mr. Maddox?"

"Piece of cake, Lieutenant," the ensign said, his expression
cocky.

Jack chuckled good-naturedly and the two men fell into step, the
ensign automatically adjusting his pace. As they walked back to
the locker room, they talked about the flight they'd just
completed, and the ensign's progress in training.

Afterward, Jack showered and shaved, his thoughts returning to
Ensign Maddox. The young man was like so many others Jack had
trained: eager, self-assured, and indestructible. Jack had been
just like him when he was younger--still _was_, when he didn't
have to wear the face of the instructor--and he mentally chuckled
at the man's enthusiasm.

Another instructor stuck his head around the corner. He spotted
Jack and said, "The Old Man wants to see you."

Jack looked up and nodded. He spent a moment adjusting his
uniform and then headed out. At the commander's office, he
greeted the petty officer behind the desk.

"Go right in, Lieutenant," the man said, "he's expecting you."

Jack knocked on the door jamb and then half-stepped into the
office. "You wanted to see me, sir?"

Commander Fitch looked up from his desk and frowned. "You got
your wish, MacLean," he said gruffly. Then he pointed at a chair.
"Sit."

Fitch didn't like to be questioned by junior officers, so Jack
sat silently. Military school and years in the Navy had hammered
into him the ability to "hurry up and wait." Finally, the
commander set aside his paperwork and looked up.

"I talked to Personnel this morning," he said. "VA-55 needs two
pilots and you're one of 'em. I hate losing a good instructor,
but Don Scarlatti needs a new section leader--someone with
experience."

Jack felt the thrill of anticipation, but controlled it and
merely nodded. He was eager to fly in combat, and had been
quietly bucking for a transfer to a fleet squadron for months.
Now, _finally_, he was going to get his chance.

"I was tempted to let him have Lieutenant Claggett," Fitch
continued, "just because you've been such a burr under my saddle
about a transfer. But I got a wild hair and decided to be
accommodating for a change. I don't know what came over me, and
if you know what's good for you, Mr. MacLean, you won't
speculate."

"No, sir," Jack said as sincerely as he could.

Fitch gave him a hard stare. Then he laughed humorlessly. "At any
rate, you got your shot. Report to Commander Scarlatti on Friday.
Dismissed."

"Thank you, sir," Jack said as he stood. At the door, the
commander stopped him with a word, and he turned.

"Bomb some gooks for me," Fitch said.

Jack couldn't help himself, and his lips quirked into a grin as
he nodded.

Without another word, Fitch returned to his paperwork.

Jack had to suppress the urge to whistle.

**

Beth adjusted the temperature on the stove and automatically
rotated the handle of the pot away from the edge. Then she looked
around for her son, Paul. She spotted him after a moment, playing
with his cars under the kitchen table.

With a sigh, she leaned against the counter and ran her hands
over her belly, big and round. She wasn't nearly as cumbersome as
she'd be in a couple of months, but she still felt like a
Studebaker. As she thought about the baby, though, she smiled.
She just _knew_ it was a girl, even though she and David had
picked out a boy's name as well.

She looked down and smoothed the apron over her belly again,
smiling at her daughter-to-be. Then she glanced at the small
clock on the stove.

"Paul," she said, "Daddy will be home soon, so let's pick up your
cars."

The boy frowned.

"And then you can help set the table," she said with feigned
excitement. "Okay?"

She made a game of picking up the metal cars, and nodded
seriously as Paul put each of them into the shoebox. "Now, let's
get out the napkins and silverware," she said, and made a game of
setting the table as well. They had just finished when she heard
the front door open.

"Beth!"

Paul raced away at top speed. "Daddy!"

"I got my orders," David called, louder still, in what Beth
privately called his flight-line bellow.

A moment later, she heard him ask Paul, "Where's your mom, son?"

Beth rounded the corner at a more sedate pace, conscious of her
pregnancy-impaired sense of balance (not to mention her added
bulk). David stood in his khaki uniform, Paul in his arms. In two
strides, he crossed the small foyer and pulled her against his
side, heedless of her belly. He kissed her forehead and she
inhaled the spicy scent of his aftershave. For a moment, she
thought of her father, who wore the same brand.

"Good news," David said, interrupting her reverie, "I got my
orders today."

"Which squadron?" she asked. After two months in the Replacement
Air Group, David was finished with training, and was ready to be
transferred to a fleet squadron. She wanted to be near her mother
when the baby was born, so she hoped it would be one of the East
Coast squadrons.

"VA-55," David said. "The Warhorses."

She furrowed her brow.

"They're based in California," he said, "at Lemoore."

The US Navy didn't consult wives when it transferred personnel,
and she suppressed a momentary fit of pique.

"The only downside is," David continued, "they're scheduled to
deploy in December."

She felt her heart race. "When in December?"

"The 10th."

"But that's..."

"I know," he said, pulling her closer still, "that's before the
baby's due. But your mother can fly out, and your brother's
already out there."

"But Hank's at Miramar," she said. She thought of the first time
she'd been at Hank's house, when Paul was born, a month _early_.
"Besides, I don't want another baby born before I'm ready. And I
definitely don't want her born while you're at sea."

"Don't worry about it, honey," David soothed. "He'll be born when
he's born, and we can't do a thing about it."

"That's easy for you to say," she said. "You don't have to be
pregnant."

He kissed her soundly and then grinned. "And you don't know how
happy that makes me."

She rolled her eyes and pushed him away affectionately.

He grinned, completely unrepentant. A moment later he caught a
whiff coming from the kitchen. "Mmm, dinner smells good," he
said. Then he turned to Paul. "Did you help your mom today? Were
you a good boy?"

Paul nodded, eager for his father's attention.

She watched them for a moment. David seemed genuinely interested
as Paul described the game of setting the table. For all his
eagerness to transfer to a fleet squadron--which would take him
away from her for months at a time--David was a good father, and
a better husband.

Beth knew what a California squadron meant, and especially what
the deployment foretold: WestPac. Vietnam. A detached part of her
knew they'd be shooting at her husband, and anger mingled with
her fear. But she knew that her support was as important as his
eagerness. She knew they were both acting, too, playing the roles
society expected.

Fear gnawed at her again, but she suppressed it. David had wanted
to fly since before she met him, and she'd known what to expect
when he asked her to marry him.

Still, she couldn't convince herself that it was fair for _her_
husband to go fight a war when so many others stayed home. If
only he'd been transferred to an East Coast squadron, with
deployments in the Mediterranean...

_There's the right way, the wrong way, and the Navy way,_ her
father had always said. She smiled at the mental image of his
face. He'd been career Navy, and she'd grown up on a half-dozen
different bases, from Guam to Norfolk. She hadn't liked moving,
but the Navy was all she knew--it was home.

With a welter of emotions still threatening to overwhelm her, she
forced a smile and looked up at David, so handsome in his
uniform. She had married an officer, and she was determined to
_act_ like an officer's wife. If that meant sending him off to
fight, then she'd do it, no matter what it cost her in the
silence of her heart.

**

Jack returned the salute of the Marine sentry at the gate and
then stepped on the gas, the Corvette's engine winding out as he
shifted through the gears. A few minutes later he pulled into a
parking space at the squadron operations building and let the
engine rumble at idle. Then he killed it and practically leapt
out of the car.

He straightened his cap and strode toward the building's
entrance. An ensign paused to salute, and Jack's eyes flicked to
the gold wings of another pilot as he snapped a salute in reply.
The junior officer paused deferentially to let Jack pass, and
they entered the cool dimness of the building a moment later.

"Lieutenant MacLean, here to see Commander Scarlatti," Jack said
to the female petty officer at the squadron desk. He smiled at
her as he handed over his file packet.

"He'll be with you in a moment, sir," the young woman said. "If
you'd like to have a seat while you wait," she added, gesturing
to a row of gray metal chairs.

Jack nodded and moved to the seats, his eyes on the ensign who'd
entered behind him. The man was at least six feet tall, and broad
through the shoulders, his dark hair trimmed short in a flattop.
He was also nervous.

"Ensign Hughes," he said, presenting his packet, "reporting as
ordered."

The petty officer nodded. "Yes, sir," she said. "Commander
Scarlatti will be with you in a moment. If you'd like to have a
seat..."

Jack watched the younger man and smiled to himself. _Fresh from
the RAG,_ he thought. _Ramrod straight and nervous about
reporting to his first squadron. He could've been one of my
students._

Ensign Hughes smiled at him respectfully and took a seat one
chair away, far enough not to crowd a superior officer, but not
so far away as to give offense. The younger man dusted away an
imaginary piece of lint, but before Jack could say anything, a
booming voice called from the inner office.

"Joanie? Are my pilots here yet?"

The petty officer rose and stepped to the door, file packets in
hand. "They just arrived, sir," she said. "Would you like me
to...?"

"Get 'em in here," the man in the office said.

Joanie turned and smiled. "He'll see you now, sirs."

Jack rose and preceded the ensign into the office. The younger
man came abreast and braced to attention a moment before Jack
did.

"At ease, gentlemen," Commander Scarlatti said. "Have a seat."

The ensign waited for Jack to pull up a chair and then seated
himself as well, his back straight.

"Can Joanie get you anything?" the commander asked as he took the
thick brown files from his yeoman. "Coffee? Soda?"

"No, thank you, sir," Jack said.

The ensign declined and Commander Scarlatti dismissed the petty
officer with a nod and a word of thanks.

"Lieutenant MacLean," Scarlatti mused, glancing at the top file.
"Tex tells me you're a first-rate instructor."

"Thank you, sir," Jack said, smiling to himself as Commander
Scarlatti referred to Commander Fitch by his callsign, something
_no_ junior officer would've done.

"Good," Scarlatti said. "I need a new section leader and I need
one now. I just lost a man to a broken leg, and another to
appendicitis, of all things. We're working up for a deployment,"
he continued, "and I don't have time for this shit."

"No, sir," Jack agreed politely.

Commander Scarlatti reached for the second file and scanned it
quickly. Then his eyes speared the young ensign. "So you're my
nugget..."

Jack stifled a smirk at the ensign's expressionless non-reaction.
He'd been a nugget himself once, the new guy fresh from training.
He remembered how he'd felt, as if he'd been in deep water and
sinking fast. Seeing the young man's stoic reaction, he smiled to
himself. He knew the look well.

"Hughes, right?" Scarlatti continued.

"Yes, sir," the ensign said.

"Straight from the East Coast," Scarlatti said, perusing the
file. "Good flight skills... good situational awareness... but only
so-so on the bombing range, I see."

Hughes didn't say anything.

"We'll cure you of that," Scarlatti said, a bit gentler.

Once again, Hughes remained silent.

_Good man,_ Jack thought. _He knows when to shut up and smile._

Scarlatti swiveled his head. "You were a gunnery and bombing
instructor with VA-125, weren't you, Mr. MacLean?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. Then I'll let you work with Mr. Hughes. The squadron is
scheduled for some time at Yuma before we deploy, and I want him
to hit the bull's-eye every time he rolls in."

"Aye, aye, sir," Jack said.

Scarlatti glanced pointedly at the young ensign.

"Absolutely, sir," Hughes agreed. "Bull's-eye, every time."

Jack mentally nodded at the younger pilot's confidence. The two
hadn't exchanged more than perfunctory greetings, yet Jack
already felt a sense of kinship to the man. Early in his career
he'd had his own share of problems on the bombing range, and had
overcome them through sheer, bullheaded determination.

Scarlatti leaned back in his chair and nodded. Then he gave Jack
a friendly look. "Tex tells me you're married with children."

"Yes, sir," Jack said. "My wife and I have two boys: one just
turned seven, and one's five and a half."

"You're married too, aren't you, Mr. Hughes?" Scarlatti said.
"Has your wife moved out here yet?"

"Yes, sir," Hughes said. "We're renting a house off-base."

"Any children?"

"A boy, two and a half," Hughes answered, "and another on the
way."

"Good for you," the commander said. "Have your wife call my wife,
Mary, if she needs anything."

"Thank you, sir," Hughes said.

"The same goes for your wife, Mr. MacLean," Scarlatti said. "I
know you've been out here a couple of years already, but Mary
likes to help out where she can."

"Thank you, sir," Jack said.

Scarlatti stood, and the junior officers followed suit. Then he
walked around the desk. "Welcome to the squadron, Mr. MacLean."

Jack stepped forward to shake his hand.

"And you too, Mr. Hughes." Another handshake. "I'm happy to have
you both with us."

"Thank you, sir," the two men said at once.

"And now, gentlemen," Scarlatti said, "I need to get back to the
paperwork some damned bureaucrat thinks I need to be saddled
with. Talk to Joanie on the way out; she'll give you the nickel
tour." With a nod and a dismissive wave, he returned to his desk.

"Jack MacLean," Jack said to the younger man when they reached
the outer office. "Box," he added, using his callsign, "or
Boxman. But most people just call me Jack." He extended his hand
and the ensign shook it.

"David Hughes. Gator."

"Welcome to the Warhorses, sirs," the female petty officer
prompted. "If you'll follow me..."

After the tour, Jack and David stood outside the building,
talking. The Navy attack community wasn't exactly small, but Jack
had been in it long enough that he knew several instructors David
had trained with. Besides, he'd spent two years stationed at
Cecil Field, where the younger man had transferred from.

"I was in VA-36 before I transferred out here," Jack said, by way
of explanation.

"One of my friends from flight school just transferred to the
Roadrunners," David said.

"It's a good squadron," Jack said. "Who's the CO now?"

"Commander Zielinski."

"_Bud_ Zielinski?" Jack asked. "He was the XO of VA-44 when _I_
was in the RAG." Jack and David talked for several minutes about
shared acquaintances, but when the younger man shifted nervously,
Jack paused. "Is there someplace you need to be?"

"No, sir," David answered quickly.

"Then what is it?" Jack pressed, gentle but firm.

David darted a quick glance at his watch. "My wife was supposed
to be here fifteen minutes ago. She had a doctor's appointment--
she's seven months pregnant--and..."

Jack smiled. "C'mon," he said, "I'll give you a lift to the base
hospital. I'm sure your wife just got tied up with some red
tape."

He gestured at his Corvette, and watched with a self-satisfied
look as the younger man ogled it. The car had been Jack's
Christmas present to himself. Nothing compared to the speed and
agility of a Navy attack jet, but the Corvette was as close as he
could get on the ground.

"So, how are you and your wife settling in?" Jack asked as they
rumbled out of the parking lot.

"Just fine, sir, thank you very much."

"You can dispense with the 'sirs,' David. Call me Jack."

The other man nodded diffidently.

"So, where did you and your wife find a house?" Jack asked,
trying to draw him out.

"On Sycamore Street. About three miles from--"

"Sycamore? Off Avalon?"

David looked at him in surprise, but then nodded.

"My wife and I live one street over, on Maple. It's a nice
neighborhood."

"We like it so far."

_He's still worried about his wife,_ Jack thought. Then he stole
a glance at his watch. _Another three minutes till we get to the
hospital..._ "So, how'd you end up in the Navy?" he asked.

"My father was a Master Chief," David said, "an airplane
mechanic. And the Navy seemed like the thing to do. Besides, ROTC
was the only way I could afford to go to college, so..."

Jack nodded. His own father had been a civilian--a _wealthy_
civilian at that, he reflected--who'd made his money the old-
fashioned way: he inherited it. In spite of his upbringing, Jack
had worked hard for all he'd achieved, first at the Citadel, and
later in the Navy. Public service was a tradition in his family,
if not exactly _military_ service, and he knew his duty to his
country.

David seemed to be cut from the same cloth, and Jack found
himself warming to the younger man. But he was obviously nervous
about his pregnant wife, so Jack gunned the engine around the
final turn as the hospital came into view.

"Thank you very much, sir," David said, unconsciously reverting
to military formality.

"I'll go with you," Jack said as they pulled into a parking
space. "I know the hospital layout. It'll save you some time."

They got out of the car and David looked around. Then his eyes
locked on a woman just coming from the building. "There she is
now, sir," he said.

Jack turned to follow the younger man's eyes. He quickly spotted
the blonde woman, round with pregnancy, with a young boy in tow.
Then he recoiled in surprise, a rush of familiarity washing over
him.

_She could be Susan's sister,_ he thought, picturing his own
wife. But then he brushed off the similarities. _Still...,_ he
thought. He glanced at David's wife a second time, and had to
fight not to stare.

"Beth!" David called, starting toward her.

**

Beth looked up at the sound of her name. She was already running
late, and it took her a moment to realize that one of the two men
walking toward her had called out. With the sun behind them, it
took her another moment to recognize David. She didn't know the
other man.

_I don't know_ anyone _on base,_ she thought with a familiar stab
of frustration.

During the course of David's training, they had moved several
times, and she'd had to meet new people and make new friends at
each base. Each was a test of her social graces, and she'd always
been amazed when she survived with more aplomb than she thought
she had in her. Once again, she pasted on her "meeting new
people" smile and scooped Paul into her arms.

"The Lieutenant was nice enough to give me a lift," David said to
her as he drew near. Then, thankfully, he took Paul from her. "Is
everything okay?" he asked. "When you were late, I--"

"Everything's fine," she assured him. "We just had to wait,
that's all." Her spirits lifted in silent amusement as David
remembered his manners and gestured to the man next to him.

"Honey, this is Lieutenant MacLean."

"Jack," the man said, extending his hand.

Beth shook it. He was a handsome man, a little shorter than
David, but with the same preternatural confidence. His hair was
dark, although lighter than David's almost-black, and he had a
friendly, open smile. Something in his blue eyes made her own
smile turn genuine.

"I won't keep you," he said. "I'm sure you're ready to get off
your feet..."

As if on cue, Beth felt the baby kick, and she put her hand to
her back to steady herself.

"...so I'll be quick. My wife and I would like to invite you to
dinner. You know, sort of welcome to the neighborhood."

"Jack and his wife live one street over," David explained.

"I'll ask Susan to give you a call this evening," Jack said,
"after you've had a chance to get home and relax... as much as you
_can_ relax with a two-year-old running around the house," he
added.

Beth smiled, her opinion of him growing.

"Why don't you come over tomorrow, around eighteen hundred," he
said to David. "We have a color television, and I can throw some
steaks on the grill. How's that sound?"

When David looked a question at her, Beth smiled gratefully. Her
pots and pans were still packed, in boxes deceptively labeled
"Kitchen," stacked by the movers in a haphazard pile. Her
silverware had made it into a box labeled "Living Room," and
she'd only discovered _it_ by accident.

_And since TV dinners are_ not _the way my mother raised me to
feed my family...,_ she thought archly. "That's very nice, thank
you," she said aloud, in answer to David's unvoiced question.

David turned to Jack and nodded. "Thank you, sir. We'll be
there."

**

Beth let David get Paul from the back seat as she awkwardly
climbed out of the car, a casserole dish in hand. After two hours
of digging through boxes containing everything from spices to
family photos, she'd managed to locate enough of her cookware to
make green bean casserole.

Once she steadied herself on the walk, she looked at the
MacLeans' house. It had a well-manicured lawn, with a sea of gold
and orange mums planted in pots by the front door. When David
rang the doorbell, Beth felt herself tense up. She relaxed when a
dark-haired woman opened the door and smiled, warm and inviting.

"You must be David and Beth," the woman said. Then she bent down
and fixed Paul with a sparkling blue eye. "And you must be Paul."

Beth put her hand on the back of Paul's head and stroked his
hair. "What do you say, Paul? Yes, ma'am?"

"Yes, ma'am," he repeated dutifully.

"I'm Susan," the woman said, still at his level. "Pleased to meet
you." She gifted him with another smile and then straightened.
With a gracious gesture, she invited them into her house. "Jack's
in the back with the grill," she said to David.

"Um... thank you," he said.

Beth extended the casserole dish. "I know Jack said we didn't
need to bring anything, but..." She felt a wave of relief when
Susan smiled in understanding.

"Men simply don't understand how much work is involved in fixing
dinner," she said, a smile in her eye as she glanced at David.
"So it's a good thing they have _us_ to look after them, isn't
it?"

Beth's answering smile was genuine--as genuine as David's abashed
expression. They'd argued over whether or not to bring the
casserole. He'd insisted that it would be an insult to Jack, a
superior officer. But she had steadfastly refused to go to
another woman's house empty-handed.

"Can I get you a beer, David?" Susan asked as she ushered them
toward the kitchen.

Before he could answer, two boys raced into the house from the
backyard.

"Mom," the oldest shouted, "Dad says he's ready for the steaks."

"Kirk, use your inside voice," Susan said.

Beth smiled as the second boy merely blinked and pulled back a
bit, startled by the presence of strangers.

"Kirk, Doug," Susan said, "I'd like you to meet Mr. and Mrs.
Hughes, and their son Paul."

"Pleased to meet you, sir," Kirk said formally, stepping forward.

Beth hid a grin as David shook the boy's hand with equal gravity.
The younger boy followed suit, but seemed shier than his brother.

"Boys," Susan said, "why don't you show Paul your toys?"

The younger of the two simply raced back outside.

Susan blinked in surprise and covered her embarrassment with a
diffident smile.

"I'll do it," Kirk said. Then he extended his hand to Paul, and
Beth watched the two of them disappear down the hall.

"Honey?!" Jack called from outside. "Kirk?!"

"Just a minute, Jack," Susan called back. When she reached for a
platter of thick steaks, David stepped forward.

"I'll get those," he said, and headed out the back door.

Susan's eyebrows lifted, as if to say "Oh, my."

For a moment, silence descended upon the two women, and Beth
fought not to fidget. Her brief phone conversation with Susan had
been cordial, but had hardly left her with a sense of the woman
herself.

Meeting other wives was always a mixed experience, and Beth never
knew how to react. Some women were stiff and formal, conscious of
their position as officers' wives. Others were friendly and
supportive, all-too-familiar with the hardships of life at the
whim of the US Navy.

"Can I get you a Coke?" Susan asked at last.

"Yes, thank you."

Susan paused for a moment and then laughed.

Beth felt her breath catch, and she wondered if she'd misjudged
the other woman.

"You know," Susan mused aloud, "they call it soda out here. I
never have gotten used to that. Back home, it's Coke. Whether you
want Coca-Cola, Royal Crown, or anything else, you just call it
'Coke.' Have you ever noticed that?"

Beth nodded, her nervousness turning to amusement.

"You don't sound like you're from around here," Susan explained,
opening the bottles with a church key, "so I guess I just slipped
into an old habit." She turned with a smile and extended the
bottle. "So, where are you all from?"

"Florida," Beth said. Then her eyes widened as she recognized the
familiar twang in the other woman's voice. _Definitely not a flat
California accent,_ she thought. "Where are you and Jack from?"

"South Carolina," Susan said, affecting a stronger drawl. "Ain't
that a-_mazin'_?"

Beth smiled at the other woman's disarming laugh. _Not stiff and
formal at all,_ she thought with an almost palpable wave of
relief.

"Now, how did two shining examples of Southern gentility end up
in a place like this?" Susan asked, her lips quirked up in a
smile.

Beth had met enough pilots' wives that she'd become a quick judge
of character, and she decided that she liked Susan MacLean. She
liked her a lot. Not only was she a gracious hostess, but she had
a dry sense of humor. And with a secret inner smile, Beth relaxed
as she watched David and Jack together, talking like long-lost
friends.

At dinner, the steaks were juicy and delicious, and Jack had two
helpings of her casserole. Susan asked for the recipe, although
Beth was certain that the other woman could make green bean
casserole in her sleep. The men talked about flying, while she
and Susan carried on a conversation about their adventures with
military moves.

At eight o'clock, Susan put her sons to bed, and David moved the
sleeping Paul to Jack and Susan's bed. Then the couples adjourned
to the living room.

"You must be exhausted," Susan said to Beth.

Beth smiled politely, determined not to show how tired she really
was. She was enjoying herself, and the anxiety of a new place had
vanished entirely.

"Here," Susan added, "let me get a pillow to put behind your
back. When I was pregnant with Doug, I couldn't find a
comfortable position to save my life."

Jack and David shared a knowing look, and Beth made a show of
grimacing at them.

"You think we're kidding?" Susan asked rhetorically. "You try
getting pregnant sometime."

"Not me, babe," Jack said.

Beth settled into a comfortable position and silently thanked the
other woman for her attention. After her harrowing day with the
movers' uninformative box labels, and then the argument over the
casserole, she was ready for a break.

Around her, the conversation ranged far and wide, although she
was content to merely listen. But when Susan began talking about
her father--an industrialist turned resort owner--Beth sat
forward.

"Like a vacation resort?" she asked, speaking for the first time
in many minutes. The other couple shared a discreet look, which
she thought odd.

"Yes," Susan said without pausing. "I grew up on a large... well... I
guess you'd call it a plantation. We didn't exactly have a manor
house, but we had fields and forests, lakes and streams."

"Wow," David said. "That must've been nice."

Susan smiled. "It was. It was kind of isolated, but I love the
area. Have you ever been to South Carolina?"

David shook his head.

"My family drove through it on the way to Virginia once," Beth
said. "But other than that..." She shrugged. "Did you live there
all your life? Until Jack joined the Navy, I mean."

"Mmm hmm," Susan said. "Jack grew up in Charleston, and I'm from
a little town called York."

"So, how did you two meet?" Beth asked.

Susan grinned at her husband.

"In Charleston," Jack said, a flash of mischief in his eye.

"Oh?" Beth said.

Susan smiled and set her hand atop Jack's.

Beth felt a rush of affection for David and did the same. When he
looked at her, she smiled and gently squeezed his hand.

"I was a student at the College of Charleston," Susan explained,
"and Jack was a cadet at the Citadel. He kept asking me out, but
I wouldn't have anything to do with him."

"So you were playing hard to get?" Beth said, warming to the
tale.

"At first, no. I had a boyfriend at home, and I wasn't looking
for anyone else. But Jack eventually wore me down, and I said
yes."

Jack smirked.

"We went to a Christmas dance," Susan continued. "A _military_
dance. My father made uniforms during the war, but that was the
closest I ever got to the military."

"Little did she know what she was in for," Jack said roguishly.

Beth glanced sidelong at David, who grinned.

"Can you blame a girl for enjoying all that attention?" Susan
asked, disingenuous and wry.

"Absolutely not, dear," Jack said. Then he turned to his guests.
"She discovered that she _liked_ all that pomp and circumstance."

"And one thing led to another?" Beth asked.

"One thing led to the back seat of my _car_," Jack said, his grin
a leer.

"Jack!" Susan mock-scolded.

Beth and David shared a grin.

"Yes," Susan said, "one thing led to another." Then she rolled
her eyes at her husband's antics. After a moment she politely
turned to Beth. "How did you two meet?"

Beth felt her face heat at the memory.

David spoke up when she hesitated. "Beth's brother, Hank, was my
ROTC mentor in college. And when he brought me home for dinner,
Beth was wearing this blue dress..." He trailed off, his expression
dramatic and rapturous.

"Oh, stop it," Beth said. "It wasn't _that_ tight."

"It wasn't how tight it was," David said. "It was that the strap
kept falling down, and I was hoping I'd see more than your
_shoulder_."

At that, the couples laughed.

"_Men_," Susan said, looking at Beth.

Beth rolled her eyes and nodded, her face still flushed at the
memory of that first night with her then-future husband. As she
thought about all the nights since, she felt her face heat even
more. When she finally mastered her emotions, she glanced up.
Susan merely arched an eyebrow and smiled.

The evening eventually wound down, and the couples said their
goodbyes. David carried a sleeping Paul to the car and gently set
him on the back seat. Beth was beyond exhausted, but she had
enjoyed herself.

"It was lovely meeting you," she said to Susan.

"It was a pleasure meeting you too," Susan replied. "Call me
tomorrow and I'll come over to help you unpack."

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Beth demurred.

"Nonsense," Susan said. "I'd be glad to help. Besides, it'll keep
me off the streets." She and Jack shared a smile.

Beth acquiesced.

"We had a lovely evening," Susan continued as David rejoined
them, the car idling in the driveway. "Thank you very much for
coming. And thank you for the casserole. It was delicious."

After their final goodbyes, David helped her to the car, where
she looked into the back to make sure Paul was still asleep. He
was, and she slid into front seat as David walked around to the
driver's side.

"I like Jack," he said as they drove home.

"Mmm hmm. I like Susan, too," Beth said. "They're a nice couple."

"You were right about the casserole," David said at last.
"Sorry." He paused. "I know I don't say this often enough," he
began hesitantly, "but I love you."

She felt a rush of warmth. "I love you too."

"And I know it's been hard on you, moving to California and all.
But this is what I do."

"I knew what it would be like when you asked me to marry you,"
she said softly. "And I wouldn't trade it for the world."

He smiled at her, once again the bashful young man she'd fallen
in love with years before.

**

Jack turned off the porch light.

"I like Beth," Susan said.

He smiled and pulled her close. He reached around her middle and
felt her soft stomach beneath her dress.

"I like David too," she said.

"I'll bet you do," he said, his hips pressed against her from
behind. He felt his dick stir, and raised his hands to cup her
breasts.

"Is that _all_ you ever think about?" she said.

He facetiously paused. "Yep, pretty much."

"You're terrible!"

In spite of her protests, he felt her press back against him. She
sighed when he released her breasts, but then practically purred
as he reached for the zipper at the back of her dress. He lowered
it with a hiss, revealing the smooth expanse of her back, broken
only by her bra. With a practiced twist, he popped the catch.

"And what exactly do you have in mind?" she asked, a smile in her
voice. "As if I didn't already know."

Without answering, he put his hands on her shoulder blades, his
fingers worming under her bra straps as he pushed them and the
dress over her shoulders. She pulled her arms free, and the bra
fell to the floor as the dress gathered around her waist. He
cupped her breasts, testing their weight. As he did, he pressed
his lips to her ear and kissed it.

"So you like David?" he asked softly, suggestively. "Do you think
they could be the right couple?"

She half-turned in his arms and glanced back at him.

Susan's parents didn't own a normal vacation resort--it was a
_nudist_ resort, which Jack had learned shortly before he took
her home for the first time. He wasn't a prude--far from it--but
he'd still been shocked. He was also surprised when he met her
parents in person. His own parents had been hopelessly
straitlaced, but Susan's were nothing of the sort.

Douglas and Marilyn York were a liberal, tolerant couple, and
they hadn't even batted an eye when their daughter arrived with a
much older boyfriend. Instead, they welcomed him into their home
and made him part of the family.

They were very affectionate with each other, too, and shared a
youthful vigor that he'd rarely seen in a couple their age.
Several years later, after Marilyn's death, Susan told him about
her parents' _real_ relationship: they were swingers.

Jack knew that he was fairly liberated, even for the times, but
the Fifties had been _far_ more prudish than the Sixties. Yet
Susan's parents had created an enclave of freedom in the South
Carolina Piedmont--freedom from clothes, certainly, but also from
other people's expectations and narrow-minded sexual mores. Not
surprisingly, they didn't share society's oppressive need for
conformity, either.

When Jack learned that the Yorks were swingers, he was stunned.
He thought he'd hidden it well, but Susan had sensed his knee-
jerk disapproval. To his credit--and probably for the first time
in his life--he'd questioned his own upbringing, his infallible
sense of right and wrong.

_Why_ was it "wrong" to have sex with other couples? Susan's
parents obviously loved each other; they certainly had a more
open and loving relationship than his own parents had.

Jack's parents had been dead for three years, but he still
remembered their stiff formality around each other, as if showing
any affection would upset their well-ordered existence.

Susan's parents were different, but he was still surprised when
he learned that they didn't maintain any pretense of sexual
monogamy. Fidelity--_loyalty_--was a cornerstone of Jack's
existence, and he wondered how a marriage could survive without
it. But the Yorks' had. Not only had it survived, it had
_flourished_.

Deep inside, Jack wanted the same kind of relationship with
Susan. She'd gotten pregnant while they were still dating, and
he'd done the honorable thing. He knew the difference between
love and lust, and he definitely loved her. He asked her to marry
him, but he hadn't been ready to settle down, and a part of him
still wanted to sow his wild oats. He'd never given in to
temptation, but he fought a constant inner battle with it.

Unfortunately, he couldn't stop thinking about the Yorks'
swinging lifestyle, and he constantly fantasized about having sex
with other women. Worse still, some of his most powerful
fantasies involved watching Susan have sex with someone else.

Was he a bad husband? Was he a pervert? Could he actually watch
his wife have sex with another man? Would she let him have sex
with another woman? If they did it, would their marriage survive?

He'd thought about those questions a dozen times--_more!_--and
every time, his thoughts returned to the Yorks. He'd seen with
his own eyes how strong their relationship had been, without
jealousy or resentment. He wanted that kind of relationship with
Susan. He thought he had it already, but a niggling part of his
brain (and his loins, he reluctantly admitted) wanted to expand
their relationship.

He was happy with his sex life--_more_ than happy--but he still
wanted to have sex with other women. And the thought of another
man having sex with his wife was a powerful image--nearly as
powerful as the rush he felt when the catapult kicked him in the
seat of the pants, launching his plane down the carrier's deck.

_More powerful,_ he admitted silently. _But will I be jealous?
And more importantly, will she trust me with another woman?_

It had taken him a while, but when he finally sorted through his
conflicting emotions, he talked to Susan. They'd never kept
things from each other, so he told her about his desires. Far
from being outraged, she'd been understanding. Even enthusiastic.
It was carefully _subdued_ enthusiasm, but he still knew her
reactions.

At first, they simply talked about it. Susan explained that they
needed to find a couple who had a strong, healthy relationship,
and who wouldn't let jealousy or suspicion ruin marriages,
friendships, or both. They talked about what kind of women Jack
was attracted to, and the men Susan found attractive. They talked
and talked, about trust and communication, resentment and doubt,
and more.

In retrospect, Jack realized that most of their conversations had
been a test. He knew himself well enough to realize that he could
have been rationalizing his answers in order to get what he
wanted. Did he simply want a little nookie on the side? And
perhaps to watch his wife have sex with another man, purely to
fuel his own fantasies? Or was he genuinely interested in
expanding their relationship?

A side benefit of their conversations was the fantastic sex they
had afterward. With the boys safely in bed, he and Susan had had
sex in every room of the house--and even outside on the patio,
with the cool night air bathing their sweaty bodies as they
screwed each other silly.

Finally, they had come to a mutual decision: their marriage could
survive--_would_ survive--as long as they were honest with each
other. They agreed to stop everything if either of them felt the
least jealousy or suspicion. Their relationship with each other
was more important than sex with other people. So, with barely
concealed enthusiasm, they began looking for the right couple.

Fortunately, their closest friends usually had relationships like
their own. _Un_fortunately, none of them fit the bill in every
way. Something always dashed their hopes: Jack wasn't attracted
to the wife, or Susan wasn't attracted to the husband, or the
couple wasn't open-minded enough, or they weren't discreet
enough, or any of a dozen other objections.

Even with the liberation of the Sixties, the military was as
straitlaced as ever. Pilots were perhaps the wildest of the
bunch, but they were tame compared to what Jack and Susan were
looking for. Worse, what they wanted to do was technically
illegal. Adultery was a punishable offense under the Uniform Code
of Military Justice; Jack could be court-martialed for having sex
with another man's wife. And since most of their friends were
military, the risk would extend to the other man as well.

Jack had always had a healthy respect for the law--_except the
speed limit,_ he thought wryly--but he was a firm believer that
what a man and woman did in their own bedroom was none of the
military's business. Still, they'd have to be doubly careful if
they didn't want to jeopardize his military career. And while he
might _think_ David and Beth were the right couple, he wasn't
going to rush into anything.

He was definitely attracted to Beth, full belly or not. She had
the same deep blue eyes as Susan, as well as the same gestures
when she talked. They also shared the same curves, not to mention
their round, full breasts. Beth was big with pregnancy, but she
hadn't grown _heavy_, the way some women did. He could still make
out the sexy lines of her body, despite the maternity clothes.

And David was Susan's type--broad-shouldered and muscular,
without being bulky. He also had the same self-confidence that
Jack had, which had drawn Susan to him in the first place.

Even better, David and Beth seemed genuinely open-minded, and
hadn't recoiled when the after-dinner conversation turned a
little risque. As Jack ran through the possibilities in his mind,
he none-too-patiently awaited his wife's opinion.

"They could be," Susan said cautiously.

"David's _definitely_ your type," he said.

"And Beth's _yours_," she shot back. "Or, she would be, if she
wasn't seven months pregnant."

"Pregnant women are sexy too," he said.

Before she could reply, he planted a line of kisses down her neck
and slowly ground his hips against her ass, his erection
straining at his zipper. Then he moved his hands down her stomach
and slid them under her panties. She rocked her hips to help him
get the elastic over them. Then she pushed them down her thighs
to join the dress already pooled at her feet.

"I bet you'd like to suck David, wouldn't you?" he said softly,
one hand delving between her legs to test the heat and moisture
of her arousal.

She gasped softly as his fingers parted her pubic hair and
brushed her hooded clit.

He rubbed gently, spreading her nascent moisture over her lips.
They slid apart at his touch and he dipped his finger into her,
coating it with her juices.

"I'd like to suck _you_," she said, breathless with arousal.

"But what about the Hugheses?" he pressed, half-teasing, half-
serious.

"We barely know them," she said. She reached back and ran her
fingers over his crotch. "And I know your dick _very_ well. But
it's been several hours..."

Jack wasn't going to give up that easily. "I want to watch you
fuck David," he said. "And Beth's like a blonde version of _you_.
What could be better?"

"What could be better?" she teased in reply, distracted by his
fingers on her clit. "Well, I'll tell you..." She composed herself.
"Better would be waiting for her to actually give birth. Pregnant
women may be sexy, but they're also ungainly. On the other hand,
I'm _not_ ungainly." She squirmed out of his grasp, turned, and
sank to her knees. "And David might be a nice guy," she said,
reaching for Jack's belt buckle, "but he's not _here_, and I'm
not planning to suck _him_ tonight."

Jack knew when he was defeated--for the time being--so he simply
grinned down at her as she concentrated on freeing his hard-on.

"I want to suck _you_," she said, lowering his pants and
underwear at the same time, his dick springing free. "Now," she
said, a cross between humor and pique, "if you don't mind..."

With that, she engulfed him, her lips closing around his shaft,
just past the crown.

He watched for a moment as she concentrated on sucking him, her
tongue working its magic against the underside of his glans. Then
he ran his fingers through her hair, holding her head as she
tongued the underside of his dick.

She put her hands on his hips to guide his pace as he began
thrusting, his shaft shiny with her saliva.

As he sank his cock into her mouth, he closed his eyes and
groaned softly. Unbidden, an image of a blonde woman sprang to
mind, with bright blue eyes, her lips wrapped around his shaft.
He shuddered at the thought, his hands gripping his wife's head
as if to steady himself. Instead, he shook off the fantasy,
opened his eyes, and swallowed hard.

Susan was bobbing her head back and forth, her lips open to
receive him and then tight around his shaft as he slowly withdrew
it. They moved in sync, her hands gently pressing against his
hips when he thrust too far and threatened to make her gag.
Finally, she pulled back, his dick slipping free of her lips.

"There," she said softly, "that's better." She kissed the tip of
his dick, the sound wet and soft in the quiet house. "We can talk
about Beth and David some other time." She kissed him again, her
lips open as she ran them along the underside of his shaft. For a
moment, she nuzzled his balls, her breath warm on the base of his
shaft. "In the meantime," she continued, "the only thing we need
to talk about is where you want to put your dick next."

"I was thinking about your pussy," he said, trying not to groan
as she tongued his balls, her mouth hot and wet.

"Not yet."

He arched an eyebrow and glanced down at her, just in time to see
her close her eyes and run her lips along the length of his cock.
When she reached the tip, she gently planted kisses on it, her
cool fingers holding him steady.

"I want to enjoy myself a little longer," she said, her voice
husky with desire.

With a roguish grin, he resigned himself to being her pacifier.

Susan _loved_ sucking his dick, and she could do it for what
seemed like hours on end. Even better, she had a way of gripping
the base whenever he was in danger of coming. It postponed his
climax, but heightened the pleasure, and when he _did_ finally
come, his orgasm was usually mind-blowing.

_Besides,_ he reflected with a low chuckle, _sucking me off makes
her horny as hell. She'll be wet and ready when I fuck her._

She slowly fellated him, her lips and tongue working him to the
brink of orgasm several times. Each time, she pulled back,
squeezing the base of his shaft until the urgency passed.

Finally, he pulled her to her feet and unceremoniously bent her
over the couch. Her round ass invited him forward, and his
erection probed the heat and moisture between her legs. She
groaned as his shaft slid along her slit, her damp pubic hair
parting before its advance. He pulled back and angled his hips,
the tip of his dick at her opening. Then, with a steady thrust,
he entered her.

She wasn't as tight as the seventeen-year-old girl she'd been
when they first met, but he wasn't about to complain. After two
children, she had filled out, her hips flaring into the curves of
womanhood.

Her breasts were bigger too, he thought, reaching for them. She
moaned softly as his fingers gently kneaded them. When his hips
met her ass, she moaned again, her pussy hot and smooth around
his invading shaft.

He bent over her back and kissed her shoulder, his own breath hot
in his face as he kissed her again, his lips moving to the nape
of her neck. She shuddered when he reached it, her body writhing
at the combination of his lips and his dick. He added his fingers
to the mix, gently rolling her nipples between them.

After several drawn-out moments he began rocking his hips, his
shaft moving within her, teasing her with short thrusts. She
whimpered insistently, her back arching as the sensations
assaulted her. His own need eventually drove him to stop teasing
her.

He straightened and reached for her hips. He began pumping into
her, filling her with each thrust. She cried out softly, the
sound mingling with the slaps as his hips met her ass.

_I shouldn't've let her suck me so long,_ he thought with a
combination of amusement and irritation. _She got me all worked
up, and now... I... won't... last... long._

With a grunt, he buried himself inside her, his balls drawn tight
with the first twinges of orgasm. The sensation built for a
moment and then exploded, radiating outward like a nova. He
closed his eyes, his back arched and his butt clenched in
ecstasy.

One spurt filled her, followed immediately by a stronger one.
Blazing pleasure raced along his nerves as the spurts died to
gushes, and then finally to a thrumming sense of exhaustion and
release.

He collapsed over her back, panting, the smell of their sex
filling his nostrils. She sighed beneath him, and it took him a
moment to realize that his weight was full on her. He pushed up,
but she merely shook her head.

"You're fine," she said softly, languidly, as if reading his
mind.

He smiled and leaned forward again, kissing the nape of her neck,
tasting the saltiness of her body. Then, with a surge of guilt,
he realized that she hadn't come yet. He pushed himself up yet
again, but she shook her head.

"I'm fine," she said.

He looked a question at her, but her eyes were still closed.

"Really," she insisted softly. "I'm fine. I just want to lie here
like this. Is that okay?"

Instead of answering aloud, he wrapped his arms around her, his
chest pressed against her back, his dick slowly softening within
her.

"I love you," she said softly.

"I love you too."

After several minutes of companionable silence, he felt her
smile. He couldn't tell _how_, but he knew she was.

"You might be right," she said softly.

"About what?"

"About Beth and David," she said, picking up the thread of their
earlier conversation. "I think we need to get to know them
better."

**

Copyright (c) 2007 Nick Scipio. All rights reserved.

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