Casey was pleased when she scored one hundred percent on the first written test of aircraft systems. A passing score was eighty-five percent, and everyone in her class passed, although some just barely. The guys were talking about going out to the Officers’ Club after class on Friday night. Casey didn’t really like hanging out at a bar with a bunch of straight men, but she needed to make an effort to connect with her classmates, so she decided to join them.
After a long, stressful week, Casey was actually looking forward to having a few drinks with the guys. In addition to Mike, a few guys were warming up to her and even chatted with her. The Officers’ Club was divided into two sections. The tradition area, a formal place for dinners where most people dressed up, and then the casual bar in the back, which was a completely different story. This was the official place where the pilots came to blow off steam, and it was unlike any bar Casey had ever seen.
It was one big, dark room that reeked of stale beer with a bar the full length of one wall. There were very few tables or chairs with the exception of a strange-looking long rectangular table in the middle of the room. The place was packed with men in green flight suits at five in the afternoon, and they were all very loud, rowdy, and half drunk. Casey maneuvered her way to the bar to order a beer when she heard someone yell, “Carrier landing!”
She turned toward the commotion and saw six men hoist another man over their heads, running with him toward the long table in the middle of the room. The table was painted to look like a runway, and other men were pouring beer over the tabletop. As the guy held up in the air approached, the other men started chanting, “Whoop, whoop, whoop.” The six guys holding the man up lowered him to the table and shoved him down the length of it. He yelled as he slid down the table, getting soaked with beer in the process. Casey was stunned at this but tried not to show it as she watched the whole ritual unfold. This is going to be interesting. They better not try that with me. The men were laughing and hooting just as Captain Kathryn Hardesty walked in with another woman instructor pilot and sat at a table in the back. Well, Captain Hard-Ass is here with another woman—very interesting.
Casey watched Captain Hardesty sit down and she heard another guy in the bar yell, “Dead bug!” The entire room of pilots threw themselves on the floor, landed on their backs, and flung their arms and legs into the air. As they wriggled their limbs, the room looked like it was filled with giant dying cockroaches. The whole bar was on the floor with the exception of her new classmates.
“New class buys!” someone yelled.
The bartender turned to the new students and said, “That’ll be twenty bucks from each of you for a round of drinks and for being stupid enough to not know how to play dead bug.”
Casey and her classmates put their money on the bar while the other pilots returned to their feet, laughing, yelling, and drinking again. This is the strangest thing I’ve ever seen.
*****
“I don’t know why you insist we always come here on Friday nights. You know I can’t stand this macho bullshit,” Barb said.
“I’ve told you this many times. I need to see what’s really going on with the IPs and students, and this is the best place to see the animals in their natural habitat,” Kathryn replied.
“You have a sick sense of humor. Well, it looks like the new class has found the casual bar. More fresh meat—at least for a while.” Barb nudged Kathryn’s elbow. “She’s cute, the tall one with the dark hair at the bar.”
Kathryn looked at Casey. She was indeed very cute. She recognized her from briefing their class but took in her appearance more closely this time. She was about five feet nine inches tall with broad shoulders, long legs, and a trim, athletic look. She chugged a beer, laughed with her male classmates, and occasionally flashed a dazzling smile. Just as Kathryn was admiring her, Casey glanced over, and their eyes locked for a brief, hot second. Casey turned away quickly, and Kathryn had a nice view of her firm backside.
Just as Kathryn felt her face heat up, she heard another guy yell, “Carrier landing!” She watched with disdain as the other woman student from the new class was hoisted into the air and thrown across the beer-covered runway table.
“Have you seen enough for one night? Can we please go?” Barb asked.
“Yeah, I’ve seen plenty. I need to stop at the restroom first.”
When Kathryn walked out of the restroom, she almost ran headfirst into Casey.
“Oh, sorry, ma’am, I didn’t see you,” Casey blurted out.
“It’s okay, Lieutenant.”
“Is it always this crazy in here on Friday nights, ma’am?”
“Yes, it is.” Then Kathryn looked straight into her eyes and put her hand on Casey’s forearm. “Lieutenant, I hope you’re not driving anywhere tonight.”
“No, ma’am. I’m walking to my room on base.”
“Glad to hear that. Lieutenant Tompkins, one more thing.”
“Yes, ma’am?”
“Please be careful in there tonight. Don’t drink too much. Not all those guys are your friends.” With that warning, Kathryn let go of her arm, walked past her and out the front door.
“Thanks, ma’am,” Casey muttered. How does she know my name? Why does she care if I get too drunk with these guys? She rubbed her forearm. It still felt warm from where Captain Hardesty’s fingertips touched her skin.
Casey walked back to her room after drinking several beers at the O Club. Her first week of pilot training had been overwhelming, but she loved every minute of it—even the scary stuff like the ejection seat and the altitude chamber.
She also remembered the feelings of arousal from her hypoxia in the altitude chamber. Combined with the stress of her first week, the beers, and the hot, lingering touch of Captain Hardesty on her arm, she was buzzing and needed some womanly attention. She called her college roommate, Trish, to see if there was any action she could get in on.
*****
Casey walked up to Trish’s house. She heard the sound of women’s voices and started to relax just to be in the presence of women after working around only men for the first week of pilot training. She grabbed a beer, scanned the crowd of women, and found several lovely prospects. Trish introduced Casey to her friends, and Casey gave Trish’s partner, Rhonda, a big hug. The evening was filled with drinking and laughing, and Casey enjoyed herself immensely.
One woman in particular, Marilyn, kept eyeing Casey throughout the evening. As the party started to break up around eleven, Marilyn hung around and found every excuse she could to touch Casey or look at her. As Trish and Rhonda were cleaning up from the party, Marilyn sidled up to Casey and whispered in her ear with her hot breath, “Why don’t you stay with me tonight, honey? You look like you’ve had a long, hard week, and I think you and I could have some fun.”
A shiver ran down Casey’s spine at the warm breath in her ear, and she thought, why not? Marilyn was older than Casey with luscious curves and full, ripe breasts. She had shoulder-length red hair, green eyes, pale, soft skin, and long red fingernails. Marilyn took Casey by the hand and led her out to the dark, quiet patio. Marilyn pulled her down onto a chaise lounge, lay down next to her, turned Casey’s face toward her own, and placed a warm, wet kiss on her lips. Marilyn’s lips were full and luscious, and Casey could do nothing but respond. She opened her lips and Marilyn slid her wet tongue into Casey’s mouth and proceeded to devour her with hungry kisses. She rolled on top of Casey, pressing her thigh into Casey’s center and grinding her hips onto Casey’s pelvis. Casey felt heat from the apex of Marilyn’s thighs through her clothes and knew exactly what she wanted. Marilyn wanted what most women wanted from her. She wanted Casey to take her, to dominate her, to make her moan and cry out, and to bring her to climax again and again. Casey didn’t feel any real emotional connection to Marilyn, but she certainly was aroused. She was hot and needed sex. She was more than happy to oblige Marilyn because she wanted a connection with a woman, any woman, and she wanted it now.
They stole off to the guest bedroom, exchanging knowing looks with Trish and Rhonda, and ripped each other’s clothes off. Marilyn was voracious and spread her legs wide open, her glistening center beckoning. Casey’s mouth watered at the sight and scent of her. She held Marilyn’s thighs open as she lowered her mouth, deliberately tasting the delicate folds. Marilyn moaned, and she tilted her hips up, giving Casey the signal she wanted more. Casey entered her, stroking her deeply as Marilyn got louder. Casey was intent on giving her a long, slow ride, but Marilyn started gyrating her hips faster. Casey matched her deep strokes with the rising hips. Marilyn went quiet and clamped down on Casey’s pummeling fingers. Casey drove in harder and gave Marilyn exactly what she wanted over and over again.
After Marilyn’s breathing returned to normal, she rolled Casey onto her back, settled between her thighs, and gave Casey her own tongue-lashing. Casey loved the feel of the hot tongue on her flesh and climaxed quickly with a short, hard spasm. Casey was more than happy to satisfy Marilyn many times, but she knew Marilyn could not give her what she really needed. After Marylyn dozed off, Casey slipped out of the bedroom, gathered up her clothes, and started to leave. Just as she was about to make her escape, she ran into Trish walking down the hall in her T-shirt and boxers. “Hey, girl, you leaving so soon?”
“Yeah, I have to get up real early tomorrow and study. I have several big tests this week.”
“Thanks for coming over. You know you’re welcome any time. We both love you and want you to knock ’em dead.”
“Thanks, Trish, you guys are the best. Give Rhonda a big hug for me. I’ll call you next week.”
Casey kissed Trish on the cheek and slipped out of the house. She drove back to the base for a hot shower, then went to bed. She’d achieved her objective and connected with a woman even though it was not exactly spectacular. The need to be in the presence of other women, to feel surrounded by the comfort and safety of their energy—this was what she needed more than the sex. The overwhelming “maleness” of pilot training made her keep her guard up all week. She drifted off to sleep with the lilting sound of women’s laughter in her mind.