LOVELY LADY LIBERTY

Nicole Wolfe

Justine knew as soon as Olivia Hill stepped onstage that the Axis would never win.

Justine and her fellow WASPs had crammed into the back of the crowd inside Hickam Air Force Base’s mess hall. The USO crew had cleared the hall of tables and chairs earlier and put up their portable stage. All of the airmen on base had filled the hall to near bursting within five hours of the opening act—a live eight-piece swing band. Famous film comics Abbott and Costello had the crowd in stitches with jokes, ad-libs, and comments about the base commander.

Then came Olivia Hall, star of the newest MGM thriller—The Silent Laugh. She played the sultry, strawberry-blonde-haired, hourglass-shaped torch singer who pulled the detective into her web of deceit. She walked onstage in a sequined bikini designed like the American flag and held a burning silver sparkler. The Hickam airmen roared so loud that it would’ve drowned out air raid sirens.

“Happy Fourth of July!” she yelled to the crowd. The airmen exploded with catcalls, cheers and whistles. Justine could barely hear her singing a sexy rendition of “You’re a Grand Old Flag.”

Michelle, one of Justine’s fellow WASPs, shook her head as she watched the crowd. “You’d think those guys had never seen a woman before.”

Carla, Justine’s other fellow WASP, just smiled. “That’s fine by me,” she said. “That means we’ll have our pick of the litter after she’s done warming them up.”

Olivia Hill spanked herself with the sparkler, bringing wall-shaking cheers from the airmen. She finished her song, lit an airman’s cigarette with her sparkler and then disappeared behind a curtain.

“Come on,” Michelle said. “Let’s work our way closer so we can rub against some of those fellas.”

“I’m going to get some air,” Justine said. “It’s like an oven in here.”

“We’ll see you back at the bunks, then,” Carla said. She and Michelle weaved into the crowd and were soon swarmed by horny pilots and mechanics.

Justine shut the mess-hall door behind her while she tugged at her uniform’s collar. It was eerily quiet. She froze in place and thought for a moment that stealth Japanese commandos had raided the base. She let out her breath when she saw a couple MPs walk by.

“Hey, you!”

Justine turned to see another MP was moving toward her with urgency. She wondered if she’d unknowingly committed an offense or if someone had found out about what happened with that waitress outside Hamilton Air Force Base in Novato.

Justine stood at attention. “Yes, sir?”

“You have some hairpins, don’t you?”

The question was so out of left field that Justine gawked at him.

“Hairpins!” he yelled. “In your hair! Right?”

She jolted out of her confusion and patted her pinned brown hair. “Y-Yes, of course, sir.”

“Come with me,” the MP ordered and then turned away without making sure she’d followed.

Justine caught up with him and he took her around to the back of the mess hall. Two more MPs stood at a door, but one opened it to let Justine and her escort inside. She could hear Abbott and Costello cracking more jokes. The swing band lounged in the kitchen’s makeshift backstage area, smoking cigarettes and begrudgingly drinking bottles of root beer.

The MP held open a door to a storeroom. He pointed to the room and kept thrusting his hand to urge her along.

“Today, WASP!”

Justine scurried into the room and was greeted by the smell of lilacs. It had been so long since she’d smelled flowers that the scent almost gave her a head rush. She saw the racks of pots and pans and dry goods and then the mirror propped up on cans of beans. She saw the red, white and blue sequined bikini draped over bags of ground coffee.

Olivia Hall stood with her back to Justine. She was putting on a green toga and her beautiful bare back moved like a rippling bedsheet hanging to dry in a slow wind. Justine saw no lilacs and realized the smell was Miss Hall’s perfume.

“Close the door, will you?” Miss Hall asked.

Justine shut the door. She was surprised at how quiet it was in the storeroom.

“Some dressing room, huh?” Miss Hall asked.

Justine swallowed. “It sure is, Miss Hall.”

“Please, call me Olivia. You’re the pilot here. I’m just an actress.”

“I wouldn’t say you’re just an actress, Miss—Olivia. You’ve starred with Basil Rathbone. I thought you matched him.”

Olivia smiled over her shoulder at Justine. Justine’s hands flinched.

“Thanks,” Olivia said. “Basil’s a true gentleman. He made the job easy.” She turned to face Justine. “What do you think of the outfit?”

Justine thought that the one precarious knot behind her neck in the green sheet Olivia appeared to be wearing would come undone with even a tiny tug. “It’s going to drive those airmen out of their minds.”

“They are sweet, aren’t they?”

“I suppose so.” Justine bit back the words, but it was too late. She looked down at a box of powdered eggs.

“It’s supposed to be a Lady Liberty outfit,” Olivia said. “I’ll walk out there with another sparkler in one hand and a book of Air Force regulations in the other. I have a crown.” She pointed to a green crown near the mirror. “But I forgot hairpins. Can you believe it?”

Justine looked up from the powdered eggs. “Oh! I wondered why that MP kept asking me about them.” She took off her hat and pulled the pins from her hair, letting her brown curls bounce down to her jaw. She handed the pins to Olivia. The palm of her hand was soft and warm.

“It’s a shame you can’t wear your hair down,” Olivia said.

“It’s adorable.”

Justine blushed. “Thanks.”

“Now will you help me with the costume?” Olivia asked.

Justine looked around the storeroom. “Which one?”

Olivia pointed at her chest. “This one.”

Justine’s lips curled out as she attempted to express her confusion but couldn’t find the words to do it. “It looks great. I don’t think it needs anything.”

Olivia giggled. “Oh, darling, you’ve been on this base too long. It’s a good thing you don’t play baseball because you’d never make it home if you kept missing so many signs.”

The room grew humid. Justine’s hands twitched again. “Signs?”

“You threw enough at me the moment you walked in.”

“I did?”

“It’s in your walk, honey. And in your eyes when I caught you looking at my back.”

Justine started to back toward the door. “Miss Hall, I can’t—”

“Neither can I. It’d be quite a scandal if MGM found out, wouldn’t it? It’s a good thing the band’s going to play a couple numbers and I have this dressing room to myself. No one will hear a thing.” She took Justine’s hands and moved them to the toga’s knot. “Now help me with this outfit.”

They started with a slow kiss as Olivia’s toga fell to the floor. She was naked and Justine wanted nothing more than to get out of her WASP uniform, pop open a can of cooking oil and rub it all over both of them. Olivia kept it slow, however, and their tongues quickly met before Justine dared to hold Olivia by the head for a stronger kiss. She stroked Olivia’s plump breasts and Olivia finally started to unbutton Justine’s uniform.

She had Justine naked just as the band started up their set. She nudged Justine to sit back on a stack of sugar bags. Justine leaned against the cool wall as Olivia got on her knees. She didn’t waste time. She licked down Justine’s belly and soon Justine was holding her by the head and rubbing her pussy on Olivia’s face. Justine closed her eyes and turned her head to make extra sure she wouldn’t linger too long on the sight of Olivia Hall’s movie-star mouth clamped onto her cunt. The image almost made her come and she didn’t want things to end too soon.

Olivia stood up so they could kiss again. Justine let a little shudder escape, but held back the lurking spasms that struggled against the cage of her belly. She took Olivia by the shoulders and laid her back on the bags of sugar. She wanted, needed, to feel inside her. Olivia smiled as she spread her knees and stroked Justine’s hair. Justine lapped at her clit and slipped one finger inside her. It was like reaching into a little jar of warm honey. She tasted just as good.

She wanted to feel more. She slipped another finger into her and used her other hand to rub Olivia’s clit. Olivia rocked on her hand. Little cries popped out of her mouth that went unheard by the USO crew outside the room thanks to the swing band.

Olivia grabbed her by the chin and looked dead into her eyes. “Harder, pilot, harder.”

Justine grinned. “How much harder?”

Olivia grabbed her wrist and pumped Justine’s fingers deeper and faster. “Just like that. Like that.”

Justine obliged as Olivia sat back to play with her own nipples. Olivia’s little moans became little giggles and then joyful laughs as she soaked Justine’s fingers. Justine pulled out her slippery fingers and put them in her mouth, humming as she sucked them.

“I love these USO tours,” Olivia said.

She pulled Justine down on top of her and wrapped one leg around her back. She slapped Justine on the behind to encourage her, and Justine started grinding her cunt against Olivia’s. Olivia nodded in approval and her short cries and moans, mixed with the smacks on Justine’s ass, started to fill the little room.

Justine felt the fuse light at the bottom of her throat as Olivia kept spanking her and their pussies bumped each other so hard that the sugar bags started to shift underneath them. The fuse ran down over their sweat-beaded tits and between their bellies. It reached her clit, which she pictured as a big hard cock plowing into Olivia, and there it set off the charge. Justine’s body snapped rigid, her eyelids fluttered, a sugar bag burst, and she let out a long grunt that she was sure could be heard even over the swing band.

They lay in a sweaty clench atop the sugar bags and stole little kisses from each other until there was a knock.

“Five minutes, Miss Hill,” said a USO crewman from the other side of the door.

“Do you still want help with that outfit?” Justine asked.

Olivia laughed. “I sure do.”

Justine helped her put on the Lady Liberty costume. They pinned up the toga so it showed off her shapely legs. Justine gave Olivia’s hair a quick comb as Olivia scribbled a note with her lipstick on the back of a bag of coffee.

Justine put the crown on Olivia’s head. Olivia grabbed the airmen’s manual and another sparkler before heading for the door. She turned back and tossed Justine the bag of coffee.

Her phone number was on the back. Justine stared at it in disbelief. There were hundreds of airmen outside who would go on a hundred suicide missions for it.

Olivia opened the door and looked back before heading out for her next number. “Call me if you’re ever in Hollywood, and stick around for now, pilot. I’ll need help getting out of this in about fifteen minutes.”