Life in the military is no walk in the park. That itself was something I had known all my life; had well considered and kept in mind when I had taken the ultimate leap of faith and had enlisted in the armed forces four months ago.
And not just any sort of armed forces - one of the best, if not the best part of the armed forces. A group of the most skilled, well-trained and generally most awesome flyers in the whole country: the Wonderbolts!
Just thinking of it made me smile. I would be a Wonderbolt! I would be a part of this legendary group, make my childhood dreams come true and finally do what I always dreamt to do!
Well, that is, I would be one of them, provided that I would survive six more months of basic training, as well as three excruciating years of what counted as one of the hardest trainings in the whole military.
But even before I could start surviving that, I would have to survive what was about to descend upon me: Spitfire, the captain of the Wonderbolts, had told me to come to her office after dismissing us from our today’s training. It hadn’t seemed like she was peeved or even angry at me, but while I had only been here for a few months, I knew her well enough to know better.
Spitfire was a bitch.
No, really. She was the textbook example of that cliché drill sergeant; that one person that would go the extra mile to make her recruits’ lives as hard as possible. Somebody was a minute late for training? A hundred push ups for the whole group. Someone had forgotten to blacken their boots? Six rounds around the academy for everyone. Captain ‘sadist’ Spitfire was having a shitty day for no apparent reason whatsoever? You could bet your life that she would let it all out on us.
And now she was about to go down on me. I didn’t know what I had done wrong. For all I knew, there might be nothing at all, but that didn’t mean that she wouldn’t summon me into her office to blow off some steam and cut me down to shape anyway.
A fellow recruit had suffered this exact fate last week: she had called him into her office, made up some sort of excuse, and given him the enema of a lifetime. He had fallen into his bunk and cried himself to sleep that night. My heart went out to him.
And as it seems, now was my time to suffer this fate. I took in a deep breath, rubbing my sweaty hands against my pants as I walked down the plain corridor towards her office. I could feel my hands begin to shiver, my mind drawing up images of all the ways Spitfire was going to give me hell today. I swear I could feel the walls to my sides coming closer with every step I took; threatening to suffocate me as I took the ultimate walk of doom.
My heart sank as I stopped in front of her door, giving a muffled cuss as I reached out a hand and led it to the doorknob, knowing that there was no way back now. My look went over to the door to my left; the door that would lead me to the office of Soarin; Spitfire’s deputy and -as far as I was concerned- the best thing that had happened to my platoon ever since we had joined.
Soarin was a real bro. Sure, he was an instructor, and he would make sure we obeyed our orders. He would even raise his voice eventually if somebody would step out of line repetitively, but he was far more understanding and in no way comparable to the cruel, unforgiving fury I was about to face.
My thoughts went back to my drill instructor and the feeling of pleasant relief slipped from my mind. Why did I have to do this? Why Spitfire? Why couldn’t I just get my disciplining from Soarin instead? Hell, for all I knew he might end up offering me a beer and a talk about yesterday’s football match.
Instead, I would probably be yelled at, insulted, and treated like the piece of dirt that -according to my instructor- all recruits were. For a second I really wondered what I was still doing here - why I didn’t just quit and live my life the way I wanted to live it, but I quickly shook my head. I had an aim; I wanted to be a Wonderbolt, and if enduring a rubdown from a human-turned fury was what it took to get there, then I would go ahead and face my fate with my head held up high. If I would go down, I would go down fighting!
With that resolution in mind, I took in a long breath, knocked against the door and, after receiving a curt, sober, “Come in.” opened the door and stepped inside.
Straightening out my back and pushing out my chest, I stepped through the door into a plainly furnished office. Images and posters of the Wonderbolts and various medals and ribbons adorned the walls; two big windows filling the wall opposite of me flooded the room with the light of the bright afternoon sun and shone right onto a big wooden desk where, sitting on a surprisingly basic leather chair, was…
I swallowed. There she was. Dressed in her ‘official’ uniform - a white shirt, a black tie, and a navy blue coat that was plastered with badges, medals and Wonderbolt pins. Her arms were resting on her desk, supporting her head. Her eyes, an equal mixture of amber, orange and brown, were resting on me as I entered.
Despite of what dark fate lay ahead of me, I couldn’t help but to let my eyes slip over her body for a few seconds, unable to hide the amazement about her look. True, I was sure Spitfire was easily fifteen, maybe even twenty years older than me, but despite that and what I assumed was an exhausting, stressful life on the fast lane, her body still looked … pretty impressive.
She wasn’t the tallest, and her frame wasn’t what one would call sturdy, but from these rare occasions where she would wear her blue and yellow flight suit (or this one occasion during the swimming-part of the Wonderbolt fitness test where she had worn a black one-piece swimsuit - a sight I wouldn’t forget for the rest of my life) I could tell that her body was still amazingly toned. Toned and … in some strange, taboo way … sexy.
For just a second I caught myself undressing her in my mind, wondering what sort of panties she was wearing today, if she was wearing a bra under that -unexpectedly tight- white shirt, if she lived up to her name or actually swallowed, and … other things.
But I quickly gave the part of my mind that was thinking these thoughts a slap. I wasn’t necessarily proud of it, but perverted thoughts were nothing new for me, and I would lie if I would say that this was the first time I had these thoughts about my instructor, but the fact still remained that this was probably the wrongest of all places to have these thoughts. And that, no matter how attractive she might be, Spitfire was still a bitch. And she was about to show me just how much a bitch she could be.
Shaking my head, I cleared my thoughts, noticing that she still had her eyes locked on me.
I could feel my heart speed up at the eye contact, but didn’t want to give in to that overwhelming feeling of respect and awe just yet, so I pushed my chest out even further and cleared my throat. “You, uh, wanted to talk with me?” I asked, making an effort to make my voice sound as strong and manly as possible.
Spitfire, seeming completely unimpressed by my efforts, kept her face straight as she dryly remarked, “You’ve been taught how to properly enter a superior’s office, rookie. Get out and try again.”
Aaand there went my poise. And with it went my self-confidence, my resolve and most of my pride. I opened my mouth to protest, not wanting to let her defeat me this easily, but she beat me to it.
“That’s an order, recruit.” she remarked soberly, and with that the submissive part of my mind took over again and I found myself giving a curt, apologetic nod, turning around on the spot and walking out of Spitfire’s office with quick, nervous steps, almost tripping over my own feet in the process.
I stepped outside again, took in a deep breath and shook my head. “Come on, you can do this!” I whispered to myself as I turned around again and, in a second attempt, raised my hand to give the door another knock.
“Come in!” the invitation that didn’t sound like one came after only a second and I opened the door, this time stopping in the doorframe.
“Permission to enter, ma’am?” I recited what I had been taught in one of those rare classes my platoon received from Soarin.
“Granted.” Spitfire barked at me, and I stepped inside and closed the door behind myself. Finally relaxing now that I got it right, I turned back around and, addressing my instructor, said, “You wanted to talk with me?”
But once again, the girl with the orange hair weakly shook her head. “That is not how you approach a superior, recruit. Try again.”
I could feel the muscles in my arms tense, clenching my teeth at the realization that this counted as my free time and that my comrades were probably in the nearest bar, sharing a beer together - it was Friday afternoon, after all.
However, realizing that the more I would resist, the longer I would be in here,and the shorter my weekend would be, I gave a short, defeated sigh, walked back to the door, opened it, positioned myself in the doorframe and once again said. “Permission to enter, ma’am?”
“Granted.” Spitfire replied, and by the unfazed expression on her face I could tell that she probably played this little game at least once a week.
Once again straightening myself up and raising my head, I walked up to her, raised my right hand to the side of my head in a salute and said, “Captain Spitfire, reporting back as commanded.”
“There we go.” she finally said and took her arms off her desk, sitting up in her chair. “Stand at ease, recruit.”
At the command, I finally relaxed and assumed a more eased standing position.
“Take a seat.” Spitfire instructed me, pointing at a chair standing opposite her desk. I obeyed without protest and sat down, still wondering what had made her summon me here - and mentally preparing myself for the rubdown of the century.
True, she seemed calm, relaxed even, but I knew Spitfire - and I knew that her temper was like a raw egg: one wrong word and she could explode.
“Do you know why you’re here?” she asked me, and I noticed how her voice was slowly but steadily moving from rough but relaxed to menacingly tense.
“N-no, ma’am.” I forced out, feeling my throat getting tighter - any thoughts or plans of not letting her intimidate me seemed forgotten. In fact, it cost me all of my concentration to not wet my pants at the sight of her sitting opposite of me, looming over me like a wildcat about to strike.
“I’m sure you do.” Spitfire explained dryly, then slowly arose from her chair. “I’ve been controlling the cots earlier this day, and there is something you might want to know.”
And as she went higher up, arising to her full height of 5.2 feet, I sank deeper into the chair with every inch. She remained silent like this for a moment, looking down at me, seeming to enjoy the fear radiating off of me.
However, before she could say anything further and possibly cause me to slip through that small gap between backrest and seating surface, the door behind me got opened and I could hear someone walking in, bringing in a much-needed breeze of outside air.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I had been holding now that the lecture had been delayed, if only by a few seconds. And for some reason I was even more relieved as I saw that the one who had interrupted this interrogation was none other than Soarin.
“Hey Spitty! How’s it going?” he greeted his comrade with a cheerful smile, apparently not noticing me at first, “I got these papers you-” he cut himself off as his look met hers and he noticed the death laser-beams shooting from her eyes. Split seconds later, his head shot around and he spotted me, looking a picture of misery, sitting on the chair.
“Oh.” he said ruefully and the smile slipped from his face. “Uh, I-I mean…” his body straightened up abruptly and he saluted his comrade standing at the desk, “Captain Spitfire, Lieutenant Soarin reporting back.”
Spitfire gave a soft sigh, lowering her head and pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers. “At ease, Lieutenant.” she commanded him softly, and Soarin relaxed.
“Put the papers on the table, then leave us alone.” Spitfire said, her look never leaving him, “I have something to discuss with this recruit here.” and with that her look darted back from Soarin to me and I couldn’t help but wince ever so slightly.
“Yes, ma’am.” Soarin affirmed and put a brown paper envelope he had been carrying onto Spitfire’s desk, before turning around. Our eyes met for a second as he turned back, and that look he gave me made my heart sink. “I feel with you, buddy.” I could literally hear him say from the look of sympathy in his eyes, and replied with a weak, appreciating nod.
“Now…” Spitfire started over as Soarin had left and closed the door behind himself. “Since your memory seems to be lacking some things, how about we help it along, huh?”
Without me needing to say anything (or being able to say anything, for that matter) she opened up a drawer in her desk and pulled out another plain white paper envelope.
“Do you know what this is, recruit?” she asked menacingly, locking eyes with me.
I swallowed nervously, “That, uh … looks like an envelope, ma’am.” I started a weak attempt.
“Don’t play dumb!” the reward came promptly in the form of the envelope being thrown onto the desk and sliding into my direction. “Go ahead. Open it!” Spitfire snapped at me, leaning over her desk and glowering at me like a predator about to strike.
Slowly, I reached out a shaking hand and picked up the un-sealed envelope, reaching a hand inside. I got hold of three small snippets of paper, and I could feel my heart sink as my mind counted one and one together and I realized just what she had been implying by telling me about controlling the cots earlier.
My heart rate skyrocketed, my hands began to shake, and cold sweat broke over my forehead as my grip tightened around the papers and pulled them out of the envelope. I could feel my face assume a deep shade of crimson as I looked into the seductive, half-lidded eyes of my instructor who was laying on a heavenly soft-looking red king-size bed in a sultry pose, dressed in nothing but her birthday suit, revealing her soft, tender backside.
Even without looking at them, I knew that the set included two more photos of a similar content - one showing her presenting herself on the same bed in a set of black, lacy lingerie, the other one depicting her standing in a derelict alley, wearing nothing but a way too small white tank top that left little to be imagined, and a set of dog tags.
Spitfire had found my porn stash.
Well, not necessarily porn, as these photos didn’t reveal too much and didn’t involve any sexual acts whatsoever, but I was fairly sure the reason why Spitfire had called me here wasn’t because I was hoarding suggestive photos under my pillow, but because I was hoarding suggestive photos of her under my pillow.
“Uhh…” I stuttered numbly, “I can explain.”
“Yeah, you better start explaining right now!” Spitfire roared, leaning even further forward on her desk, her face now only inches from mine, “What is this!?”
Hesitantly, I opened my mouth to give her an answer, but she cut ahead of me, “No. I know what it is.” I could see her facial muscles tense even further, “But why do you have this? How did you get it!?”
Again, I swallowed, sinking back on my chair. At this point I wouldn’t be surprised if she would just shoot forward and bite my face off or something - looking at her face contorted in barely restrained fury, nothing seemed impossible.
“Uh, the internet … ma’am?” I tried timidly.
“Where? Who!?” Spitfire probed furiously, and I was sure if I would give her a specific name that person would be six feet under in not even a day.
“I don’t know!” I affirmed truthfully, holding my arms up in defense. I had indeed found these images on an anonymous file-sharing website a few months ago, way before I had enlisted. I had never really cared too much about these, but when I had joined and found out that this cute, attractive girl on the photos would evolve into probably one of the harshest, strictest people I had ever met, these photos had gotten a whole different value to them. Because all lewd-ness aside, it had something fascinating to it seeing a person who normally was so strict and unforgiving looking so … innocent; so pure.
And yet, the fact that Spitfire had found these well-hidden under my pillow left little to be imagined about their actual purpose - a realization that was now reflected in an all new wave of outrage and anger sweeping across her face.
I could tell that she wanted to say something; that look on her face left no doubt that there was something on her mind she wanted to share with me, and the veins starting to show on her angry red forehead suggested that whatever it was didn’t involve thanking me for sharing her natural beauty with the world, let alone spanking the monkey to sultry pictures of her.
But she remained silent, at least for now. All she did was stare at me with that death-stare of hers in a seemingly eternal silence - a silence that I wasn’t enough a fool to break.
Finally, my superior lowered her head, giving a growl that sounded more like the roar of a grizzly bear than anything else.
“You know I could have you thrown out, right?” she finally said, her voice sounding surprisingly smooth. “You’ll be given a dishonorable discharge and never would be able to join the military again if I only so much as say the word.”
Slowly, I nodded my head. “Y-yes, ma’am.” I actually wasn’t entirely sure about this. After all, I had -as far as I could tell- not broken any sort of law, neither civil nor military, and I was fairly sure the captain of the Wonderbolts, no matter how great and powerful she might be, could ban me from the armed forces, but I had enough reasoning in me to not contradict her in this case.
“Look.” she started over, fixing me once again with that all-pervasive stare of hers. “I don’t even know how you managed to find these. They were taken eight years ago, and never meant to be published.”
Acting against my good sense, I broke eye contact with her, looking instead at the photos again which I was still holding in my hands. These had been taken eight years ago? Sure, my captain looked a little younger and, in lack of a better term, fresher in these photos, but I couldn’t believe that these were eight years old already.
“I don’t know where you got these from,” Spitfire continued threateningly, making me look up from the photos and back at her, “But if you think you can use them against me; blackmail me with them or something…” she paused for effect, leaning forward and putting her face right in front of mine, “You will regret it. Because I will make your life a living hell.” she said slowly, threateningly.
“D-don’t worry, ma’am!” I hastily sputtered out, “I would never even think about using these against you!” That was actually true - I had used these for … purposes, but it had never crossed my mind that these might hold some value against her. And the fact that she had not yet realized what I had really done with those did relieve me to some extent.
“In fact, for what it’s worth...” I continued, trying to save an obviously lost cause, “I’ll just dispose of them right here, right now.” With that, I grabbed the photos in my hands and tore them in two, then in four, and finally in so many pieces that I was sure nobody could ever guess what had been on them.
But my instructor seemed unimpressed by that. Keeping a straight face, she moved back and stood upright again, turning away from me and looking out her window. “I’m not stupid, recruit.” she huffed dryly, “I know you have these saved somewhere else. Your phone, your computer or something.” She shot back around again, fixing me once again with that freezing glance, “And I don’t care! I know I can’t make you delete these entirely, but do know that if I should ever catch you with these again…” and she was back leaning over her table and staring at me, “I will end you.” she growled at me.
I replied nothing to that for a few moments, just looking at her in awestruck silence. Then, finally, I gave a curt nod and affirmed, “Understood, ma’am.” Once again, I raised my arms in defense, “But I can assure you, I never had any intentions of sharing these - with anyone. These were for personal purposes only.” It took my mind a second to catch up with what my mouth had just proclaimed. My eyes widened and I forced my mouth shut, but it was already too late.
“Then what are you…” Spitfire began, but cut herself off as she, too, understood what I had just implied. Her eyes narrowed and I pulled my head in, bracing for the impact.
“Oh you dirty little pervert, you.” Spitfire said, slowly shaking her head. “And here I thought you actually were up to something.” she turned away, and I was sure I spotted the ghost of a grin on her face.
“I-I’m sorry, ma’am.” Still waiting for her to pounce onto me in some spontaneous fit of rage, though in lack of anything better to say, I apologized, “It won’t happen again.”
“It better not.” Spitfire replied, turning back around again. If there had ever been a grin on her face it was gone now, “And my point stands.” she continued, “If I should ever catch anyone with these photos, you will be held responsible. Got that, recruit?” she asked dryly and I quickly nodded my head.
“Good.” she said briefly, giving a confirming nod in turn. She paused for a moment, then focused me again. “Dismissed.” she commanded me curtly, “Get outta here.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I replied back and arose from my chair. I was just about to walk back towards the door, but stopped dead in my tracks. Had I forgotten something? Was there some sort of formal farewell I had to bid to her?
Deciding to rather be safe than sorry, I straightened myself up again, turning towards her, and said, “Permission to leave, ma’am?”
“Just get out.” Spitfire replied dryly without looking at me, sitting back down on her chair.
“Yes, ma’am.” I affirmed once again, turned around on the spot and walked out of her office.
As I closed the door behind myself, I couldn’t help but to feel … strangely relieved. Sure, the realization that she knew about my secret was a little unsettling, but nevertheless, I still had all my limbs attached, my head was still safely atop my neck, and my pants were dry - what more could I ask for?
I let go of the door handle and was about to turn away and be on my merry way, but found myself hesitating.
Despite everything, I couldn’t deny that tiny little bit of guilt in the back of my head. I felt … dirty. Ashamed, even. I couldn’t put my finger on it; I couldn’t explain it, but there was this voice in the back of my head that told me to go back in there and apologize. Sure, she hadn’t seemed too affected by all this, but I still felt guilty for having her find out about this.
Was owning sultry photos of someone without their knowledge considered to be rude? Spitfire was, as far as I could tell, one of the most confident, assertive and strong women I had ever met, so for all I knew she might actually like the idea of people enjoying this sort of body art if it involved her.
But really, could I be sure about that?
I bit my lip, but couldn’t get myself to turn around and walk away like this. I had to go back to her; at least apologize for what I had done. Not because she was my instructor, but because she was a person like anyone else.
I turned back around again, facing the door, and raised my hand to knock, but hesitated as I heard her voice from inside.
“Really had it in you back then, didn’t you?” I could hear her chuckle dryly. “Back in these days…” She gave a heavy sigh and I heard her chair creak as she sank back onto it.
“Fuck.” she cussed after a moment, followed by another sigh. “Fuck fuck fuck. What happened to you? So many years, and what happened since then? Made it big? Achieved anything? Done anything that’s gonna last?”
To my very surprise I could hear a sob come from her room and a sound that must have been either her head or her fist hitting her desk. “They all hate you! They’re scared of you! It’s been years and you’ve achieved nothing! Nothing!” Another, heavier sigh followed. “Don’t think of your sister.” I could hear her whisper, “Don’t think of your sister, don’t think of your sister, don’t think of your- Shit!”
A moment of silence followed, then I could hear her chair creak as she leaned back and one of the drawers of her desk being opened.
“You really shouldn’t be doing this.” I whispered to myself. Spitfire had spared me once already - god knows she wouldn’t let me off the hook this easily if she would catch me eavesdropping on her.
And yet, I couldn’t get myself to walk away. I had a hard time believing that this was really happening - was she kidding? Was this some sort of staged prank? Or was she actually serious? Could this be? One of the strongest, most independent and generally untouchable personalities in the whole academy, acting like this?
I shook my head, stepping back from the door. I shouldn’t be doing this. This was wrong on so many levels! I should have never stayed to listen to her! If she would find out that I had been standing here all this time, I was sure she would-
“Get in here.” The dry, slightly hoarse command coming from the other side of the door almost made me jump in surprise. Standing stiffly like frozen to the spot, I remained silent, hoping that she was somehow referring to someone else and not me. A ghost, maybe? A higher deity? An invisible comrade who was trying out a new stealth suit or something?
But my hopes went down in flames as another, more assertive command came from inside. “You heard me, recruit. Get your sorry ass in here.”
I swallowed nervously, but knew that walking away now would only make things worse. Knowing that I would have to swallow this bitter pill, I hesitantly put my hand back on the doorknob, opened the door and stepped inside.
Captain Spitfire was still sitting at her desk. Her face was red, though not from anger this time, and she was holding a paper tissue in her hand which she used to quickly cleanse her face of any tears that might have been left.
“P-permission to enter ma-”
“Just get in here and close the damn door.” she growled at me, and I obeyed without hesitation, closing the door behind myself and slowly walking over to her desk. I stopped a few feet away from her, unsure how to proceed from here. Was she expecting some form of apology? Would I get my ass whipped for eavesdropping on her?
I could feel my mind drift off for just a second at that last part, but quickly shook my head. Wrong time. Wrong place.
“Sit down.” she commanded me in a voice that wouldn’t allow any backtalk, and again I obeyed without hesitation.
She placed her arms on the table, leaning forward and stretching her head into my direction, shooting me a serious look.
“You. Heard. Nothing.” she told me without any ambiguity. “Understood?”
Again, I quickly nodded my head. “Yes, ma’am. Of course, ma’am.”
“If I hear anything from anyone, I’ll have you scrub the toilets with your toothbrush for the rest of the year. Understood?”
“Understood … ma’am.”
“Good.” she replied briefly, never breaking eye contact with me. “Now get out of here. And leave this time!”
“Yes, ma’am.” I obeyed and got up from my chair, walking once again towards the door, fighting to contain that one sentence that had formed in my head the second I had heard her talking to herself earlier.
It had been out of instinct, really. I would say something like this to most people I would meet in such situations, though with her, I knew it wouldn’t just be a nicely-formulated lie to cheer her up. No, if I would say this, I would be serious about it.
But I couldn’t do this. Whatever lucky streak I had to thank for her not tearing me apart twice was now clearly at its end, and I knew that pushing my luck beyond this point could and would probably just end in a catastrophe.
I stopped in front of the door and reached for the handle, but hesitated again. I shouldn’t say this. She would probably take it the wrong way and really make me clean the toilets with my toothbrush.
I pushed down the handle. No, I really couldn’t. I should listen to my common sense for once and not get in any bigger trouble than I already was in.
Shaking my head and putting a mental tape over my mouth, I opened the door.
“You still have it in you, though.”
Damn you, mouth! Damn you to the deepest depths of hell!
I pinched my eyes shut, hoping that through some miracle of the universe, Spitfire hadn’t heard that last comment and would simply let me go.
But no such luck for me, it seemed. The loud, more surprised than outraged “What!?” I received in return made me wince and seriously consider running out the door and starting an attempt to escape.
But I couldn’t; not even if I had wanted to. I was thunderstruck; like petrified as I stood there, waiting for her to come pouncing on me like a lion on a gazelle.
“N-nothing!” I hastily started an attempt to backpaddle - an attempt that was promptly met with a harsh and unambiguous “Close the damn door, recruit! We’re not done yet.”
Giving a defeated sigh and hoping for the ground to open up and swallow me, I did as I had been told, closed the door behind me for the fourth time that day and turned to face a rather pissed-looking Spitfire.
Silence filled the following moments - silence I once again didn’t dare break.
Keeping my look focused on the wall behind her to avoid eye-contact by any and all means, I could feel her gaze looking me over, her eyes seeming to scan every inch of my body, and couldn’t help but to feel like she was contemplating which part of my body tasted the best. The rump, maybe? How about a nice slice of belly with a bit of coriander? Or just a good, healthy bite right from the collar, all fresh and bloody.
“What’s your deal?” Spitfire finally asked, interrupting my thoughts about being cooked, cocking an eyebrow at me and crossing her arms in front of her chest.
“W-what do you mean?” I asked her, partly because I really didn’t know what she meant, partly because I dreaded the talk that was about to start and wanted to delay it for as long as possible.
“I mean what I said.” Spitfire elaborated soberly. “What is your damn deal, rookie? You just don’t know when to stop, do you?”
A long period of extremely awkward silence followed, with the two of us just blankly staring at each other. Then I finally lowered my head, forced my mouth to open and brought out a muffled “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Spitfire’s reply came within less than a second. She still hadn’t released me from her stern glare.
“For having these photos without your permission, for not telling you about it, and for eavesdropping on you while you clearly wanted to be left alone.” I finally put all my thoughts into words, and let out a noticeably relieved sigh as I finished.
Again, Spitfire replied nothing at first. For almost a whole minute, she just sat there, looking at me in silence. For all I knew, everything was possible in this moment.
Then, finally, she leaned back on her chair, and said some of the most relieving, yet at the same time surprising words I had heard in my career. “I won’t get you in trouble - for any of that.” she clarified soberly. As I just stared at her with wide eyes, she elaborated, “I already warned you about these photos, and whatever you heard while standing in front of my office never happened.” she lowered her head, giving me a serious look,” Understood?”
Feeling relief wash over me, I replied with a happy nod and a spontaneous salute, accompanied by a cheerful “Aye, ma’am.”
I could see that she wasn’t pleased with my sudden outburst and inappropriate usage of military jargon, but instead of admonishing me like she did most of the time, she just rolled her eyes and dryly replied, “Yeah. Dismissed, soldier.”
Giving her a genuinely grateful nod of my head and a smile, I arose from my chair and was already halfway to her office’s door when I was stopped by her speaking up again.
“One more thing though…” Spitfire said, making me turn back around again. Her anger about the prior events seemed forgotten for the moment, and that almost ever-present grim expression on her face was now replaced by a sly, almost cocky grin. “What was that part about me still having it in me?”
“Uhh…” I stuttered, not sure at all how to handle this unexpected twist. I could feel my hands tense up, hoping for her to say that she was just playing with me and let me off the hook.
But she wouldn’t let me go without an answer.
“No, go ahead.” she said with a devious grin, “I’m listening.”
“You, uh…” I started hesitantly, “You said, uh … I mean, I accidently overheard that you thought you didn’t have it in you anymore.”
“And?” Spitfire questioned, raising an eyebrow. She seemed to be enjoying this little interrogation, though despite her apparent change of mood, I still was convinced that any word I said could decide about my doom or success - success being the ability to walk out of this office with my limbs attached and my pants dry, and doom being … well, doom.
“You…” I could feel my face turn red, my discomfort slowly but steadily turning into a physical pain, “You … still do.” Was all I brought out before forcing my mouth shut again.
“Elaborate, recruit.” Spitfire commanded, fixing me with a serious glance, “What do I still do?”
“You…” I started another attempt, but fought with myself. Could I really say what was on my mind? It felt like this was exactly what she was aiming for, but knowing her, she might just end up holding it against me later on.
I took in a deep breath, forcing my eyes shut, well-aware that I had to say something now.
“You still are as attractive as the day these photos were taken, and I’m sure if you would take photos like these again today people would enjoy them just as much.”
Well, shit. Now I had said it. My heart sank, and I braced myself for the impact.
To my very surprise, however, all that came was a curt chuckle. A chuckle that soon turned into a full-grown laugh.
“You sure have nevers, recruit.” she finally said, still chuckling lightly as her laughter faded. In lack of anything better to say, I hesitantly joined in and forced out a few weak, tense chuckles as well.
“Got the hots for me, huh?” she asked as her laughter finally faded and I could feel my breath catch in my throat. Again, Spitfire just smirked, “Who could have known?”
“Tell you what,” she said as she slowly arose from her chair, “If you really think so, come to my room at nine tonight. Then we’ll talk. Alright?”
W-what? I mean ...what? What? What!?
Feeling dumbfounded, like thunderstruck, I looked at her with an empty gaze, wondering if I was dreaming or something
“Good. I’ll take that as a yes.” Spitfire said with a pleased smile, “And now get out. You’re dismissed.”
“Uh, y-yes, ma’am.” I affirmed with another weak nod, then numbly turned around and walked out of her office - for good, this time.