Home Front 1942: The Second Act

[mr spikey]

Professor Taylor

She tells me that she has the same type of clothes, but in different colors and would that be acceptable.
"Yes, different colours will do nicely. 8pm sharp, Friday by the way."
We reach her porch and she asks "My parents? I don't understand what you mean by that....Everyone knows I am a small part Japanese and a teensy bit German, so? I am mostly English."
I turn and look her in the eye. "You really don't know that much about your parents , do you? I don't have the time now to explain. I will make it more clearer for you on Friday. See you in school tomorrow, Rebecca. Good night."

 

[mr spikey]

Professor Taylor

She came into class subdued. She avoided my glances and seemed out of focus. I finished my lecture and returned to my office to complete my paperwork. Friday was aproaching fast and I needed to prepare everything for my plan to work.

 

[Messalina]

Grace Anderson

"Don't worry about this. I’ll call you later. Besides, I still need you to save me a dance, okay?" Cap said. Grace couldn't help noticing how weary he looked, the lines between his brows deep furrows that she longed to smooth away with a touch of her fingertips. She knew he wouldn't appreciate the sentiment and stopped herself even as she was reaching out to touch the burly Chief of Police.

"Give Mrs. Anderson a ride home, will you Gresh?" Earl's voice was gruff, and he had reverted back to his normal no nonsense demeanor. Smiling wanly, the gentle widow murmured a quiet goodbye and followed the lanky Officer Gresh back to his patrol car.

"Hop in, Mrs. A. I'll have you home in two shakes of a lamb's tail." Gresh said as he closed the door which he had held open for her.

They drove in silence. Grace wasn't in the mood for small talk and Gresh knew that the Chief would tell him anything he needed to know in his own time. Earl Talbrut didn't like gossip. Especially when it involved a case. Even so, Gresh was dying to know whose body was lying at the foot of the pier beneath the pilings.

"Wait!" Grace blurted out, startling Gresh who had been lost in his own thoughts. "Take me round to the Tradewinds instead of home, please."

"But the Chief said... " The words caught in his throat. "Are you sure... It's late and... " The look Grace Anderson gave him was too much like his wife's when she had set her mind to something and he knew better than to disobey.

"Of course I am. Now get back to where you're supposed to be, Thomas Gresh. I can take care of myself. Been doing it since long before you got your first tooth." Her tone brooked no argument.

Officer Gresh closed his eyes, hoping this wouldn't start a series of "I-remember-when" stories. Why did the old folks always have to do that? Hoping to forestall her, he replied in his most respectful tone of voice. "Yes, Ma'am. I know. I sure do know that. I'll just get back to the pier and tell the Chief you're safe and sound now."

Not waiting for him to come around, Grace opened the door herself and was halfway inside before he realized it. "Thank you, Tom. I appreciate it. Really," she called over her shoulder and gave him a wave. "Go on now."

There were still a few folks in the bar and she gave them all a perfunctory wave as she headed straight for the small kitchen. Coffee. Sandwiches. Maybe a piece of cake. She knew there was a sweater around here somewhere too. Earl was going to be cold and hungry again by time this night was over and Grace aimed to be there. Ready and waiting.

Busying herself, Grace called out toward the bar. "I have to go back down to the pier. One of you live wires care to walk me at least half way when I'm done here?"

 

[captainb]

Earl

With a grunt, the ambulance driver pushed the stretcher into the rear of the van and let the door slam shut. The flashing red light that had illuminated the scene for the past fifteen minutes died as the ambulance slowly pulled away from the pier. No need to rush, Earl thought as he watched it leave. Dead is dead.

“Chief, you need anything else done here?” asked McGreevey. His pants were soaked and his shoes no doubt ruined from clambering over the rocks under the pier. Earl was even worse off; he’d been the one to drag the body clear of the water to check it for signs of life. Even with water and muck sloshing out his shoes, muddy wet pants and a shirt to match, he felt that he looked appropriate.

He’d seen Deak just the other night. The boy had been some trouble, but had clammed up about it completely. Earl had driven him home without pressing the issue. Now he was dead, his head broken open on the rocks under the pier. Suicide was doubtful. The pier wasn’t high enough to seem like a worthwhile place to jump. He didn't know much about his home life, but he'd never had any hints from Marie about that kind of trouble. Marie. Shit, and the same night as Maisy.

“Chief?” McGreevey ventured again. Earl looked up and gave a short smile.

“No, nothing else we can do here, thanks,” he said. “You mind going back in the other squad car and leaving me yours?”

The patrolman nodded, and Earl turned away. He heard the car’s engine fade up the street, and sagged heavily against the pier railing. Jesus, what a lousy night, he thought. How could something so good turn to shit so fast? He stared at the Quincy, the unhurried movement of sailors on her deck belying the drama played out in the shadows. Just part of the job, Talbrut. We’ve been pretty lucky in this town; now the coin’s turned. I just wish it didn’t all have to happen at once. He listened to the waves’ rhythmic splashing against the rocks below, and let his thoughts float free. He realized it would be easy to feel sorry for himself, to say that no one appreciated what he did, that it wasn’t worth the personal danger and mental anguish the job could produce. What about taking off for Ron’s cabin for a few weeks? he wondered. Do some fishing, boat around the lake, sit next to a fire under the stars drinking beer… He pursed his lips. Grace would like that. Give her a chance to… give us a chance to get to know each other, without all of this civic crap, paychecks, late nights…

He looked down at his soggy clothes and snorted. Well, the inside of the cruiser needs cleaning anyhow.

 

[mr spikey]

Professor Taylor

All week Rebecca's behavior was subdued. She avoided looking directly at me. But I knew she would show up Friday night.
Friday arrived at last and she tried to walked out of class in a hurry. I shouted at her " Ms. Hawthorne, please see me after class." She gave me 'Oh Hell" look.
After all the students had left, I looked at her and reminded her not to forget about tonight. She gave me a look of dread.
"Don't worry, Ms. Hawthorne. You'll enjoy tonight, I'm sure of it."

 

[mr spikey]

Professor Taylor

I hear the doorbell ring at 8pm sharp. I thought to myself 'Good girl, right on time'. I opened the door in a t-shirt and shorts.
"Good evening, Ms Hawthorne. Please come in." I noticed that she was very nervous, which was to be expected. Her clothing was not quite the same as in the alley, her skirt was longer and her sweater heavier, looser fitting.
"Please sit down on the sofa, Rebecca." She sat down, her eyes downcast. I told her "Relax, Rebecca. We both know why you are here. To protect your parents from scandal and to 'earn' a better grade in school." She looked at me with pleading eyes.
"First, lets talk about your clothing. I expected you to wear similar clothing. Why didn't you?"

 

[Lauren Hynde]

http://www.bibracte.dreamwater.org/ATWAS/Claire.jpg
Claire Fourrée:

Clare woke up with a shiver, bathed in sweat, in her large bed in her room. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, trying to recollect what had happened. She recalled being at the diner, working, or at the very least trying; the handsome Coast Guard lieutenant; she remembered Sean; Toni kneeling beside her, helping her; Jack, friendly and confident; the lieutenant's car in the short ride to the farm; Sean; Tony handing her a tea before putting her to bed; Lt. Bronson's concerned face.

Claire stared at the ceiling and then at the dull brass of the old alarm clock on the nightstand next to the bed, which told her it was almost 4 AM.

She got up wrapped in her sheet, very slowly, and walked into the bathroom. As she turned on the faucet, looking in the mirror for a long time, she forced herself to see what grief was doing to her.

'Snap out of it, Claire,' she whispered commandingly. 'Sean is dead. He is not coming back. So get on with your life. Don't let yourself die with him.'

After she freshened up, Claire took a deep breath and decided to go down to the kitchen and prepare something for herself. Still clinging to her sheet, she climbed down the stairs. When she turned on the kitchen light, she looked back to find Lt. Bronson sleeping in the couch, a blanket rumpled on the floor. Claire went over to him, carefully placed the blanket back on. She watched him sleeping for a few minutes, examining his features, his breathing. At one point, she was sure he had awakened, but soon gave up on that idea and walked away, her slender figure backlit by whatever light was pouring in from the kitchen.

 

[Messalina]

Grace Anderson

Grace's heart jumped when she noticed the squad car pulling away from the pier with two men in it. She quickly scanned the area to see if Earl Talbrut was still around. Yes! There he was. A silly kind of grin came over her face as she breathed a sigh of relief.

"Cap!" Grace called out with a wave of her arm, hoping to get his attention. "Thanks, Whitey! I'll take those things now. Next drink's on the house, okay?" Grabbing the Thermos and the overstuffed bag of food, Grace set off at a hurried pace toward the Chief who was just starting to open the car door.

"Cap!" She called out again. "Wait!" The thought that she sounded like a desperate schoolgirl briefly crossed her mind, but for some reason she just didn't care. Earl would be cold, wet and tired now. He needed looking after, and who would do it if she didn't?

 

[captainb]

Earl

Earl looked up at her voice. For a moment he thought something was wrong. Then he saw the smile on her face as she scampered toward the car.

“Grace, what are you doing back here?” he asked, taking her arm as she pulled up in front of him. She brushed a few strands of hair out of her face and looked up at him.

“Well, you’ve had a long night,” she said, holding up the Thermos and a bag. “I knew you would be cold and maybe a bit hungry.” She bit her lip, her breath coming deep.

A smile played at the edge of his mouth, snaking into a grin. He leaned against the car and began to chuckle. Grace cocked her head at him. “Grace, that’s…” He couldn’t help himself and started to laugh. “I’m sorry, it’s not you…”

“That’s a heck of a greeting, Cap,” she said as her smile started to form. “Gee, I bring you coffee and sandwiches, and you’re the one standing there in wet pants.”

He looked down at himself. “Heh heh, yeah, that’s me all over. Oh, boy.” The laughter died, but his smile remained. His eyes rose to hers, and he reached out to rest his hand against her head. Her hair was soft against his palm. “Thanks for coming back, Grace.” His thumb stroked softly along her cheek as they gazed at one another.

Earl cleared his throat. “Look, I need to get out of these things before I go all pruny. Let me give you a lift back to my place so I can change, then maybe we can go for a ride. Get away from the radios and all and just relax for a while.” She hadn’t moved her face away from his hand. “Would you like that?”

She nodded, her eyes large and dark in the night air. He gave a quick smile, then turned and opened the passenger door, closing it carefully once she was seated. He grabbed a blanket from the trunk and sat on it. The cruiser started easily, and they slowly drove back up the hill.

 

[Miltone]

Lt. Nels Bronson, USCG

Diving down deep through the swirling waters, the light dimming with the increasing depth … searching for the lifeless form sinking fast below … the pale shadow forming just beyond his reach … lungs nearly ready to burst … can’t turn back now … one more strong kick would do it … reaching down madly, grasping hair … one final kick bringing him down to her … hooking a hand under her arm, pulling, tugging, kicking now … lungs burning with pain … up toward the light … every muscle and sinew nearly exhausted … finally a hand breaks the surface … the last breath of air exhausted and replenished with fresh … a good deep breath cleansing his lungs … then her, turning her, holding her back to his front, his arms encircling her, hands to her face, opening her airway … a quick hug to exhaust her breath and expel the seawater … she coughs violently … then breathes … an arm around her, pulling her with him now … the others are yelling for him … the splash of the preserver nearby … shoving her into the floating circle of safety … hanging on as they are tugged … exhausted … able only to breath … light fading fast … cold, so cold and wet …

Rolling over, Nels buried his face in the woolen blanket. The stiff linen pillowcase roughed over his stubble. When his eyes slowly opened, Nels was convinced for a moment that he was in heaven for the slim figure in his vision, swathed in a white gown, was truly angelic. And the light filtering through turned the white gown almost translucent revealing a shape that was perfectly composed. But then the reality of the setting intruded and he remembered where he was and gathered the blanket around him.

“Hello,” called out the angelic figure. “That must have been some dream you were having.”

The figure moved toward him. The waitress, yes … Claire, was it? Her fainting, the short drive to her Grandfather's place, his helping her inside and into bed, his volunteering to stay the night—he remembered it all now. He rubbed his head that felt as edgy as if a hangover had come to visit.

“Hello,” he grunted, feeling naked even while still in his skivvies. Clutching the blanket to him, he pushed himself up to a sitting position. “What time is it?”

“Almost four-thirty,” she replied.

“And how are you feeling?” Nels asked sleepily.

“I’m all right … now,” she answered. “Just couldn’t sleep any longer. Care for some tea?” When he nodded, she poured a cup and carried it in to him. He watched as she took her own cup and curled up into the large rocker nearby; it was a languid and fluid and graceful movement. As she looked back at him, Claire brushed her hair back from her face, looping it over an ear, tossing her head back proudly. “Thank you for seeing me home and staying with me.”

“You’re welcome,” Nels replied, taking a sip of tea and savoring the rich spiky flavor. “This is … um, very good,” he remarked, hoisting his cup. Claire looked down, her cheeks quickly flushed a warm pink. She was radiant, with pale skin, a warm smile, and sparking eyes. Her long shapely legs were curled up in the chair, extending subtly from the sheet wrapped about her. The supple curves and lines of her neck and shoulders and the upper swelling of her breasts were all alluringly visible. Nels caught himself staring.

“What?” Claire asked, pulling the sheet up around herself.

“Nothing. Just been a long time since I woke up in a strange woman’s place. Well, in fact, I’ve never,” he laughed, embarrassed by his admission.

“If it’s all the same, I’m not used to waking up and finding strange men asleep on my couch,” she said with a grin, her cheek still flushed.

“So tell me, who’s Sean?”

“Sean?” she said, a vacant look suddenly sweeping over her face, diminishing the glowing radiance Nels had been admiring.

“Yes, you called me Sean at the diner last night,” Nels answered. The moment he saw the look on her face, he regretted the words.

 

[Messalina]

Grace

They drove in companionable silence, it wasn't far to Earl's house. He parked and came around to open the door for her, not stepping back as she slid out and suddenly found herself in his arms. Grace gazed steadily into the steely blue of Cap's eyes as he held her close, his mouth slowly covering hers.

She responded shyly at first. It was a gentle kiss, almost innocent in its brevity. But it was 'right'. Everything about them was right. It had been so long. So very, very long since anyone had held her in their arms and kissed her.

Grace felt giddy and girlish and good. Really, really good. As their lips parted, she giggled almost nervously. She knew that neither of them had planned any of this, but things always happened for a reason and for once she was glad that it had.

Smiling, she leaned back into the cruiser to grab the packages she had carried down to the pier. "C'mon, Cap. Let's go inside and get you dry and warm."

 

[Yoc]

Frank Jnr

His first thought when he awakes is to wonder why is his mom is asleep next to him. He sees that dawn is breaking and his room is catching the first of that day's sunrays.

Then he remembers.

And his body is shaking from terror at what he has done. He feels the blind panic building up in him again.

I have to get away.

Stilling his nerves, he gently pulls him from under his mother's resting arm. Freezing as he sees her move, only to settle down again.

Still dressed in last night's clothes, he wonders if he has time to pack a bag. But one look at his slumbering mother tells him no.

I have to get away! As far away as possible!

But just to leave like this? Not to tell anyone? What about his mom, his sis, his girl?

No! He shakes his head. After they find out what I have done, they won't want me here anymore anyway. Especially Mai.
No! It is best to run while I still can.

As quietly as possible, he open his drawers of his dresser to get any money he has stashed away before making for the door.

He is halfway into the hallway when he hears his mother call out for him...

 

[Maid of Marvels]

Toni

Toni lay nestled in Jack's arms tracing lazy patterns across his chest with her fingertips. When he whispered "I love you," she propped herself up on one elbow and looked deeply into his eyes.

Who was it that said the eyes were the windows to the soul? Du Bartas? Or was it from the Bible? It didn't matter really. All she knew at that moment was that Jack Beck's eyes reflected the words he had spoken and Antonia Moore wanted to live in them for as long as that look remained. "As I love you," she murmured, lowering her lips to his.

The sudden clanging of the alarm from the nightstand signalled the beginning of a new day. Toni and Jack looked at each other and laughed conspiratorially. Where had the night gone? Neither wanted this magical time together to end but each of them knew that they had responsibilities that came with the day.

"Think we have time for a quick coffee at the diner?" Toni asked, trying to delay the inevitable. "Sure. Unless... " Jack pulled her into his arms, wanting her again. Would he ever get his fill of her... Or she of him?

 

[ariosto]

Lazy sex with Toni on a warm summer morning...Jack could almost pretend there was nothing at all beyond this bedroom and her warm eager body. Their lovemaking was a combination full of slow building passion and delightful play. He loved her breasts, the taste...the feel of them.
She held him close, relishing the touch of his lips on her nipples...wondering if they had the time, if he had the stamina to make love again. It was only nine o'clock...

NINE O'CLOCK!

"Jack...Jack!"
She toussled his hair, pulled his face away...reluctantly.

"It's nine baby and I have to be at the office...fifteen minutes ago!"

She swung her long legs out of bed and grinned down at him.
"Hows it feel to be unemployed?"

"Oh God don't remind me. I still have to be in Quincy by six AM Monday."
He stretched and sat up.
Toni had disappered into the bathroom.

"Saturday...half day right?...how about lunch?"
He said hopefully.

She came out carrying a precious pair of nylons and sat beside him.
"Maybe. Carmody says a big shot from the WPB is coming in this morning. May tie me up."

"He damn well better not TIE YOU UP!"
Jack made a dive for her breasts again but she caught his face, kissed him and winked.

"Silly I only let you do that. Now be a sweet boy and help me on with these stockings."

 

[captainb]

Earl Talbrut

The telltale sounds of morning slowly filtered through Earl’s sleeping consciousness. He heard the birds chittering at the feeder outside his window and was aware of the growing light beyond his closed eyelids. A comfortable dream began to fade, scampering completely out of sight as he tried to lock onto it. The beginnings of a stretch reminded him that he was still sitting on the couch, both feet up on the ottoman and Grace’s head snoozing away in his lap.

He had managed to change out of his muddy clothes when they got back last night, and they had both sat on the couch to relax for “just a few minutes.” It had felt right to put his arm around her shoulder, and they kissed again, long, soft, and gentle kisses that ended with her nestled against his chest, listening to the nothingness of the still night. The weariness from last night’s events had overtaken him swiftly.

He touched her shoulder gently. Grace mumbled something, then suddenly woke and sat up, looking around blankly through jumbled hair. Their eyes met and he smiled. “Good moorning.”

“Hi,” she croaked, then touched her hair. “Oh god, I must look a mess.” Despite his assurances, she pattered off to the bathroom. Earl stood and stretched, grimacing as the memory of Real Life intruded. Deak and Maisy. By now, Marie would know about her stepson’s death. She was bound to be a mess, and Earl didn’t think he’d be much help there. But he had to make an appearance and ask her, as gently as possible, if she knew anything that might help. No, he corrected himself. First stop by the hospital and see if the coroner had learned anything. He heard the bathroom door open and Grace humming. No, first take Grace home.

She stopped in the middle of the living room, smiling at him almost shyly. Her hair was brushed and her eyes sparkled. “Well, this is a little better, I hope,” she said.

He grinned and walked to her. “You’re beautiful,” he said, leaning to kiss her on the cheek. “Sorry about the morning breath.”

She raised her hand to his cheek. “Don’t be silly,” she murmured, touching her lips to his.

“As much as I’d like to take the day off, it’s liable to be a busy one again,” he said regretfully. “Let’s get some breakfast and I’ll take you home.”

 

[Stardust Memory]

Bette Moore

Bette woke with a start and it took her a moment to remember where she was and what she was doing there. Frankie! She remembered how distraught he'd been. Where was he now? Glancing toward her son's bed as she struggled to get off the floor, Bette hoped that he had gotten up and gone there during the night. But he hadn't. He was gone!

"Frank? Frankie?" She was already calling out to him as she straightened her stiff body and walked into the hall. Toni's door was still open, which meant she hadn't come home. That girl! Davy's door was open as well, though the sound of the radio blaring in the living room told her where her youngest could be found. Right now it was her oldest son she was concerned about.

"Frankie!" She called again and headed for the stairs, almost running into him as she turned. Bette hugged him tightly, half-scolding all the while. "God! You startled me, boy! Where are you going? You look horrible! Get in the tub and clean up while I make breakfast. I don't want to hear any argument, young man. You'll never be big enough or old enough."

Not giving her son a chance to talk back, she swatted his butt and gave him a push back up toward the bathroom as she continued downstairs. "Now shoo!"

"Morning, Davy! Breakfast will be in a few minutes. Try to stick around long enough to eat this morning, will you?" In truth, she wished he wouldn't go out at all after that little escapade he'd had with the German, but children were resilient and nothing was going to keep Davy Jones cooped up on a beautiful morning like this.

Bette sighed with relief when she heard the water go on upstairs and began making pancakes for the boys' breakfast. She didn't have trouble getting this sort of stuff now they were rationing, but she had learned to make do just as everyone else had during war time.

Frank Jr. would feel more like talking about whatever it was that had upset him once he had a full stomach. Bette sighed again. It was times like these she missed having a man around to take charge and she made a point to phone John later that morning.

 

[Yoc]

Frank Jnr

Ignoring her shout, Frank heads for the stairs.

He has to get away! Far away!

The blind panic he is feeling is almost overpowering. He has to tget away before they get him and lock him up.

"Frank? Frankie?" He hears his mother's shouts and he pauses, reasoning momentarily overcoming the hysteria.

Could he leave like that? His father has only died a short time ago. Could he do this to her, to his family?

"Frankie!" And suddenly he feels his mother's arms around him, holding him tightly. "God! You startled me, boy! Where are you going? You look horrible! Get in the tub and clean up while I make breakfast. I don't want to hear any argument, young man. You'll never be big enough or old enough."

"Mom..." He starts to say but his mother doesn't listen. Instead, he finds himself being pushed towards the bathroom.

Why won't she listen to me? He doesn't have time for a bath... does he?

He doesn't know anymore. He just wants to stop thinking. His mind feels so numb that he can't think anymore. Absentmindedly, he goes into the bathroom and runs the bath. Once full, he then takes off his clothes and slides into the water.

The water feels so good! He thinks to himself as sleep claims him...

 

[Guest]

Claire Fournee

__________________
Claire fought to stop the tears that stung her eyes. The weeks of denial, anger and grief flooded over her and she felt a large tear slide down her cheek.
"Hey, I'm sorry" The soldier said "I didn't mean to upset you" He started to stand as if to go to her but remembered he wasn't dressed and sank back down.
Claire brushed the tear away angrily and said a little shakily "I'm fine, really." But she wasn't fine, she was dead inside and that second, when Sean seemed to be there in the diner, had nearly finished her off.

It was Lt Bronson's concerned eyes and manner that did it, and she suddenly buried her face in her hands and sobbed uncontrollably. Forgetting that he was in his underwear, Nels flung the blanket aside and strode across he room to kneel beside her.

"Please, Ma'am, don't cry." He put a hand on her arm, which was smooth and cool. He couldn't take her in his arms to comfort her, dressed the way they were. She shook her head and her hair cascaded forward in a fragrant blond curtain, brushing his face. He felt a rush of compassion for this weeping woman. Who was Sean, a brother? A boyfriend? Surely not a husband. As he knelt there her sobs gradually subsided into small hic-cups, like a child, and he smiled to himself.

Finally, Claire raised her head and looked down at the man kneeling at her feet. She could see why she had confused him with Sean. They shared the same build and even looked a little alike. She shook her head sharply as if to chase the memory of yesterday away.

"My Lord! I must look a mess." She said trying to stand. Nils had been kneeling on the sheet and it fell away as she stood. There was a moment of stunned silence and she grabbed the sheet to cover herself but it was enough for Nels to see he hadn't been far off the mark when he'd thought he'd seen an angel earlier that morning.

 

[Miltone]

Lt. Nels Bronson, USCG

She didn’t look a mess, not in his eyes anyway, the perfect pale skin, the silky blonde hair that fell over her eye as she looked down at him. And he had caught a further glimpse of heaven when the sheet pulled away from her naked body for that brief moment. He almost smiled at her reactive modesty as she pulled the sheet up and tried to tuck it around her body. It only accentuated the firm curves of her breasts and made the points of her nipples stand out further. Nels tried to help by getting up from the floor and helping lift the sheet. But when his hand brushed lightly and innocently over her hip, he sensed the warmth her body radiated, and he suddenly felt naked in his skivvies.

“You don’t … you look … beautiful,” he said haltingly, feeling the flushing warmth of a good blush creep over his cheeks.

Claire smiled weakly, perhaps not believing the sincerity of his compliment. There was a distrustful way in how she regarded him, yet a certain unfathomable affinity. There was a mysterious look in her eyes that he couldn’t plumb. Nels wanted to comfort her, but was afraid to touch her. He wanted to dress and leave, but didn’t want to leave her side. He wanted to kiss her lips but couldn’t overcome his inherent shyness.

“Um, maybe I should leave,” he ventured hesitantly, looking down and away from her.

“No … don’t,” Claire said reaching out to rest her hand on his shoulder. “I think I need someone here with me for a time. Besides, I should maybe offer you an explanation.”

With that last word, her eyes shot over to the end table where the crumpled yellow Western Union envelope rested beside the telephone. Nels knew that a local unit had been overseas when the war broke out and by reading the lists of the unfortunate at the Post Office, there was little good news. When her eyes returned to him, the mysterious look was explained. He could see the pain and loss and the sheer sense of hurt throbbing inside her. He remembered seeing a picture of a handsome Army Lieutenant last night, and the telegram now explained the rest. There was never good news delivered by telegram these days.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply, seeing the tears well up in her pretty eyes. “I didn’t realize. Sorry.”

Her shoulders began to shake uncontrollably; her hand went to her face as tears streamed down her cheeks; great sobs of raw emotion poured out as she clenched her folded arms to her chest. Nels opened his arms and took her inside them. Her body trembled madly and she pressed her tear stricken cheek against his chest, her tears moistening his well-laundered faded undershirt.

“It’s all right,” he whispered into her ear through the soft veil of her blonde hair. “I’m here to watch over you so just let it all out.” He began to rock gently back and forth, whispering,” It’s all right ... it’s all right ... it’s all right!”

 

[Guest]

His voice was so gentle, so concerned, she melted into his arms and he took almost all her weight. She had thought that her first outbreak of crying had emptied her heart but the tears just kept coming.

How long they stood there she had no idea but it seemed the most natural thing for her to lift her damp face to his and accept his long, deep kiss. Even as he guided her to the sofa she wanted him, wanted Sean.

They sat, still kissing. What had started as the comforter comforting the greiving had turned into two lonely people finding solace in one another.

For Claire it was like a drink of cool water for a parched throat. She greedily accepted his tongue and allowed his hands to peel away the sheet.

It was Nel who broke away. Holding her from him he gently replaced the sheet and stroked a damp strand of hair from her flushed face. "I can't do this, Claire." He said and the sound of him saying her name made her heart leap.
"W-w-why not?" Her voice trembled. "We both want it - need it."
"You're vulnerable...not sure of things. Wait until you're sure." Nels whispered. She turned away. Perhaps she had cheapened herself and the memory of Sean. How could she have done this to Sean?
"Are you alright?" Nels asked after a moment's silence.

 

[Miltone]

Lt. Nels Bronson, USCG

“I’m … I’m fine,” Claire replied shakily.

Although the strength of his kiss had helped her gain control of her sobbing, he knew she was lying. She looked anything but fine. Beautiful? Yes! Vulnerable? Absolutely! Desirable? Positively! But she also looked lost and confused and Nels knew it was wrong for him to be sitting here with her at this time of the morning, dressed in just his skivvies and her with just a light sheet barely draped around her pale quivering body. He felt just a bit foolish at succumbing to the mad impulse that had brought them to be sitting in this tight embrace.

“Here, let me help you back to bed,” Nels said, getting up from the sofa and taking her hands. “Maybe a little more rest will help you, Claire?”

She looked up at him appealingly, particularly so when he spoke her name. Nels smiled softly and pulled her up from the sofa. Holding both of her hands with his one big strong one, he slipped his other arm around her shoulders and guided her toward the bedroom. Once inside, Claire spread open the sheet and climbed onto the bed, moving onto her back as Nels spread a blanket over her long curving form.

“You aren’t leaving me … are you?” she asked as he tucked the blanket near to her chin.

“No, I’ll stay a while longer,” Nels replied, easing his hips onto the bed beside her. “You probably need someone to watch over you.” The strains of the Gershwin song dangled in his mind and made him smile. Isn’t that his life in a nutshell, always watching over someone else? When was there going to be someone to watch over him? He felt Claire snuggle up close to him underneath the bed covers. As they lay together he felt a slight chill draft pass over that reminded him of his state of dress.

“Are you cold, Lieutenant?” she asked after feeling Nels shiver.

“I’m all right,” he answered trying to stifle another shiver.

“No you’re not,” she said trying to open the covers up. “Why don’t you join me inside here. It’s much warmer.”

“Um, I don’t know … is that such a good idea?”

“Haven’t you heard sailor, there’s a war going on and we have to conserve energy?” Claire held the covers open invitingly for him, her pale body winking in the shadows of the sheets.

Nels looked over at her. “Well, I suppose … just for a little while … just to rest, right?”

Claire nodded and wiggled the covers insistently. Reluctantly, Nels slipped between the sheets and drew the covers up to his chin. He lay stiff and straight beside the soft warm body of this woman he barely knew. Yet when she melded the curves of her soft warm body to the straight angular lines of his, his arm looped around her instinctively almost as if they were familiar lovers.

“Now isn’t this better?” Claire asked sweetly, her cheek coming to rest on Nels’s shoulder. She let out a soft hum that gently reverberated through his body.

“Yes,” Nels replied with a deep sigh. It wasn’t yet morning and he still had a few hours before he was due back.

 

[Guest]

Claire Fournee

As she felt his body warming against hers, Claire started to relax. He had awoken something in her that had died the day she received the news of Sean’s death. She lay very still, listening to his breath, slow, deep and regular. Perhaps he had been sent, by some miracle, to help her cope with the loneliness. She smiled to herself against Nels’ shoulder; it might even be a miracle from Sean. He wouldn’t have wanted her to be so desperately lonely.

Nels felt her face move as it smiled against him and leant back away from her so that he could see he face. “What?” He asked, smiling too.

“Oh, nothing. I was just thinking about Sean.”

“Your hubby? It’s good to see you smiling instead of in tears. What were you thinking?”

“I was wondering if he sent you to me.” And she snuggled closer to his, now warm, form. Nels stroked her hair absentmindedly as he turned that idea over in his mind. It did seem odd that her fainting spell in the diner had ended up with them in bed together.

In bed together!! Suddenly he felt the unmistakable, uncontrollable sensation of a growing erection. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He found this girl incredibly attractive but he had joined her here to comfort her, not seduce her.

But, he reasoned to himself, hadn’t she invited him here to her bed, encouraged him to hold her naked body. The more he wrestled with the subject the harder he grew until, he was sure, there must be quite a tent in the covers.

He prayed her eyes were closed and that she would have no idea of the effect she had on him. But she had felt his excitement and slowly slid a hand across his flat belly to gently grasp it. Nels gave a gasp of surprised pleasure as Claire started to move her hand slowly..

 

[Miltone]

Lt. Nels Bronson, USCG

It had been so very long since he had felt the touch of a woman’s hand on his privates, that Nels found his body trembling as this set of warm fingers curled around him. Some of the other officers and men had no problem with driving up to Bangor where Mother Red’s establishment could provide all of the carnal entertainment a horny young sailor could possibly desire. Maybe it was his Midwestern Minnesota upbringing, but even when at the GLTC in Chicago, he had never been that type, more content to stay close to home and read or visit the movies.

There had been a few girls in his life so it wasn’t as if he was completely inexperienced. Two years ago there had been Suzanne, freshly arrived home from the University. He had seen her and some friends walking along the esplanade, romping in the surf, giggling in the diner. And then there was that gorgeous day in early July when she was sitting on the pier sketching charcoal in an art pad as he brought a small rescue craft in from a brief excursion. He had almost passed by giving her little more than a smile, when a sudden impulse to know what she was drawing seized him. The following hour seemed a blur as they talked without stopping, her pretty smile bewitching him endlessly. Within a week they were inseparable, within a month he had fallen completely in love.

They spent warm afternoons in her room at home, they spent long nights at his cramped apartment, talking and laughing, reading and listening to the radio, and making the sweetest love he thought ever could exist. They had talked of everything but the future and in the fall she took a job in New York and he never saw her again. It was well over a year since he had heard from her and with the slim pickings of a small town, he had slowly adjusted to living his life alone.

But now he found himself in bed with a strange beautiful haunting woman whose hand was curling around his dick through the thin fabric of his under shorts. For several moments he lay there feeling the wonderful flush of arousal flood his body as her hand stroked him lightly. His hand idly combed through the long silky hair that trailed down her back. But when her hand slipped down underneath his shorts, he reached for her wrist with his other hand.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “We don’t hardly … know each other.” His words were separated by a gasp when her fingers gripped him firmly and pulled his free of his shorts.

“But I like what I’m finding out about you,” Claire whispered into his ear before planting some soft dainty kisses on his neck.

“But we … is it right?” he said sternly, trying not to succumb to the seductive touch of her hand.

“I can see that you are a good and honorable man, that you’re very, very responsive,” she cooed into his ear as her hand slipped down to cup his sack, feeling him all wrinkled and pulled tight against his body. “And I can tell that it has been too long since you’ve been with anyone.”

“But your husband?” Nels protested, though not very firmly as her hand plied his erect dick with firm caresses. “He’s been gone only a short time … shouldn’t you be mourning or something?”

“For one thing, Sean was my fiancé,” Claire remarked lifting her head to look Nels in the eye. “And for another, though I loved him very much, he’s gone from my life and now that you’re here I can tell that we both want this very much.”

Claire eased closer to Nels and brushed her soft wet lips lightly against his. His hand moved up along her bare back to her neck. He could feel the warmth of her body, he could sense the passionate energy in her every movement, and he could discern the desire that was coming close to consuming them both.

 

[Guest]

Claire

Claire knew, beyond a doubt that she wanted, no, needed Nels right then. She felt his reticence, almost reluctance. What she felt wasn't some impulsive thing, she was sure it was meant to be. He looked so like Sean, even sounded like him. Was that a coincidence?

She felt his hand travel up her back to cradle her head. Oh Sean used to do that ---her heart gave a painful lurch.

Claire felt she was being torn in two, here in the strong arms of this stranger she seemed to know so well. Her body responded to his caresses and she melted to him.

His lips were like fire on the skin of her neck, her jaw and suddenly, her lips. She kissed him hungrily.

They were so like the lips of her Sean, that she had kissed so often and yet, the subtle differences reminded her it was Nels she held so tightly. The scent of this man was not Sean's scent, the muscles flexing under her hands were harder, more developed than his had been.

Claire found herself seeking differences, individualities between her dead fiancée and this gentle man in whose arms she lay.

 

[Miltone]

Lt. Nels Bronson, USCG

Claire’s kisses were devouring him by the sheer force of their intensity. She kissed him ravenously, as openly and warmly and deeply as would a familiar lover but with the unfettered passion of a newfound love discovering uncharted territory. At first he lay there receiving her, feeling her desire flow into his body and send tingles trickling down his spine. But when her tongue pried his mouth open, Nels began to respond.

His hands roamed up and down the supple curves of her back from her narrow delicate shoulders, down along the curving indentation of her spine all the way till they cupped the firm round cheeks of her ass. And when she moved her body further on top of him, her legs parted and his fingers felt the fine downy fur of her blonde sex parting for him.

Her thighs straddled his hips and her muff ground down against him, drawing the heavy breath from his lungs. Nels shifted his hands slowly up over her body, his thumbs and forefingers exploring the softly undulating curves of her tummy that led upward toward the tender firm flesh of her breasts.

“Yes, Nels,” Claire sighed as his hands captured her breasts, his palms and fingers forming to her shape. With her hands on his shoulders, she pushed her body up from him and he could easily see the flush of arousal filling her neck and chest with a rosy glow, and her tiny pink nipples growing stiff and erect. There was no pretense of being clothed now as he let his eyes and hands see and feel her pale beauty.

Her nails raked down over his chest, clutching at his undershirt and pulling it roughly up. When it was pulled off and tossed aside, she bent over and ran her fingers through the light dusting of hair on his chest, and then kissed his nipples, her teeth nipping wildly at his taut flesh. Nels responded by squeezing her breasts and pinching her nipples firmly. Her hips began to grind against him more ferociously, the effect being to push his under shorts down away from his throbbing member.

Claire sat upright, tossing her head back and shaking her blonde tresses down over her back. Her breasts rose high and proud as her chest filled with a deep breath. She swung her head around and down toward him, her hair cascading forward, and as she leaned back toward him, it brushed against his chest. Her luminous eyes gazed down upon him.

“Oh, Claire, you are so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice so thick with passion he was barely able to sound the words.

Claire smiled and bent forward until their lips met again. Their hands clutched at each other’s shoulders as their hips began to move together. When Nels felt the soft grain of her muff rub on his hard sensitive dick, he grasped her tightly and rolled her over. He looked down into her soft cornflower blue eyes, large and full of surrender to this moment of passion. He reached down and furiously pulled his under shorts down to his knees. The sight of this tender willing woman had rent any further reservation from him. A simple rocking of his hips brought the head of his long hard dick to the damp parting of her sex.

“Oh, god! Yes, Sean, Baby … please take me!” Claire moaned, her eyes closing, her legs spreading apart, her body drawing him into her. “Please, Sean … I need this!”

Nels froze, looking down at her for a moment before withdrawing his hips and moving to the edge of her bed. He swung his legs over the sides and let his head fall into his hands, rubbing his forehead. What had I been thinking? Damn! I should have known better! Then he felt her warm hands on his back and shoulder and looked back to see her face.

“What’s the matter? What’s wrong?” she asked plaintively, not bothering to cover her naked body as she embraced him.

“I’m not Sean. I knew this was too soon for you.”