Looking At The Moon

[Miltone]

Robert "Bobby" Wilson

Trying hard not to laugh, Robert moved his grasping hands up Elizabeth’s calves, feeling as she tried to free her feet and legs. In a loud whisper she called down to him.

“Just give me one good reason for me to not kick you out,” she said struggling against his grasp.

With the heavy door closed, Robert began to ease out from under the bed, sliding on his back looking up at Elizabeth’s legs dangling over the edge of the bed.

“Because you love me,” Robert answered, his voice also a harsh whisper, his hands now able to reach her knees. “And because you want me to stay and make love to you.”

“But this is George’s room,” she protested. “Why I never made love to him in here.”

“Never?” Robert said, sitting up now and able to kiss her legs, her knees, while his hands moved up underneath her robe and gown. “Never once?”

Elizabeth shook her head somberly even though he noticed a twitch threatening to curl her lips upward. Robert’s hands pushed her legs apart and his kisses spread upward to her inner thighs as he rose up onto his knees.

“So you were a good girl, then?” he whispered as his hands pushed her gown up and parted her robe. He glanced up to see her nod affirmatively like an obedient child. “Always did as you were told, did you?” Again she nodded. “Mmm,” he hummed as his face pressed up between her legs, drawing in the scent of her ripe sex. Then as his hands reached her hips he felt a delicate pair of panties. “So I see you are being a good girl tonight, wearing ‘knickers’ are you?” he teased, his voice emphasizing the term he found so cute and quaint.

“Well of course, I had plenty of time whilst getting ready for bed,” she said, as Robert pushed her gown up nearly to her hips so he could see them, sweet and feminine and pink. “And no one hovering around to distract me.”

“So I see … lovely, quite lovely,” he replied, running his fingers along the lacy edging along her thigh. “Such a good girl you are tonight.”

“Yes, I am,” she sighed. Robert felt her shiver as he leaned forward and planted a kiss on the pink silken panel that covered her sex. “Yes, every bit the proper … wholesome … volunteer nurse that I am.”

“You are that, Mrs. Fitzmorgan,” Robert said, then backed away from the bed to sit. He looked at her; so beautiful in her gown, now pushed up to her hips, and her robe falling open so that he could see the taut points of her breasts through the thin silk of the gown. “I want you to do something for me.”

“Whatever for?” she whispered, wiggling her legs wider apart.

“Because you forced me under the bed while your mother paid a midnight visit.”

“But who’s fault was that, you … you … interloper,” Elizabeth replied. “Sneaking around in the dark of night, preying on an innocent young woman, a grieving war widow …”

“Shh!” Robert hissed, placing a finger to his lips. “I want you … to do something … for me.”

Elizabeth tilted her head slightly, quizzically. “And just what would that be?”

“I want you to stand up,” he said, crossing his arms over his knees, which he had drawn up close to his chest. Elizabeth hesitated but stood up from the bed. She went to cinch up her robe, but he waved her off with a shake of his head. “Now I want you to remove your panties … excuse me, your knickers.”

Elizabeth smirked and opened her mouth as if to speak, but Robert shushed her. She reached up underneath her gown and tugged down the silk knickers and stepped out of them. Robert held out his hand and she handed them over to him without having to be told.

“You are a good girl, Mrs. Fitz,” he remarked, passing the silk panties near his nose. He looked up at her. “Now the robe too.”

“What?”

“I want you to take off your robe also,” he said, trying to stifle a laugh at the look she gave him. He could see the blush growing in her cheeks and neck and chest. As she slipped the robe from her shoulders, he could see again the sharp points of her nipples that graced the gentle swell of her breasts. How delightfully they bobbed beneath her gown as she tossed the robe back onto the bed. “Now the gown … please take off your gown.”

“But,” she started to say, her eyes darting from side to side. “But I’ll be … naked!” She whispered the last word loudly. Robert stood up before her.

“Yes,” he whispered similarly loud. “I know. You’ll be naked. And so will I.” Robert began to unbutton his shirt. “Go on,” he said with a wave of his hand toward her. “I don’t want to be the only naked person in the room.”

He pulled his shirt off and tossed it onto the bed as Elizabeth at first slipped the straps of her gown off her shoulders. Then she reached for the hem and pulled the gown up, up over her hips and belly, up over her tummy and breasts, then off over her head, standing before him all rosy pink and naked. As Robert pushed his shorts down and stepped out of them, his eyes swept up over her body, the lovely shapely legs, the downy auburn muff decorating her sex, the flaring of her hips and narrow waist, the gentle swell of her breasts, the pretty face, the sparkling green eyes. He felt an uncontained desire arise in him, one that grew hotter with each breath, with each glimpse of her.

“Now I have you just as I wanted you,” he said softly, stepping toward her and placing his hands on her shoulders. One hand moved gently up along her shoulder to her neck to comb through her hair. “You are so beautiful to me, Elizabeth Fitzmorgan; you mean everything to me; there is nothing that I wouldn’t do for you right now, nothing!”

“Then make love to me,” she answered. “Without any hurry, nor any rush for we have all night, Bobby.”

Robert took her into his arms, her own folding around his back as their bodies fitted together. Their lips found each other and they kissed warmly, wetly, deeply, their naked bodies swaying as if waltzing. They turned and swirled slowly around. Then he helped her onto the bed and climbed on as well. His hands glided over her, his mouth following his touch. In the minutes that followed, there wasn’t a part of her that remained untouched or unkissed, her legs, her toes even, her belly and breasts, her neck and shoulders, her arms and hands, her ears and cheeks and lips.

And her sex as well. He buried his face between her legs drawing his tongue up and down her moist slit, tasting her excitement, feeling her body writhe and wriggle, hearing her voice grow hoarse as her breath became shallow and heated. And after her body trembled and shook madly in a swirling orgasm, she pulled at him, dragging his face up to hers for a kiss, a wild crazy kiss full of passion and desire.

“There is no place I’ve ever heard of in the world for something like this, except for here and now,” Elizabeth said, cradling Robert’s face in her hands and looking deeply into his eyes. “I loved George, I still do, but you … you are different … and I know that wherever he is, George approves.”

Oh, Liz,” Robert sighed. His fingers combed through her soft silky hair, brushing against her cheek. “I feel so lucky, so grateful to be here with you. There have been other girls, one or two, who turned my head and made my heart swoon. But none of them, no one, has ever made it beat like you do. I don’t know if it’s the war, or the excitement of battle, or the loneliness … but I need you so much, and I feel only half a man when I’m not with you.”

Elizabeth held his face in her hands a little while longer, their eyes exchanging a deep look of longing and desire. Somewhere there was music playing, an orchestra with a thousand strings and luscious horns and a singer crooning. Somewhere there were happy people dancing, jittering, swinging, shaking down a hot jazz tempo. Somewhere in the world there wasn’t war, not yet, and people could go on as they pleased unmindful of the threat of death and destruction that ruled this singular island kingdom.

Yet here in this room, the room of her former husband, Elizabeth Fitzmorgan held her grateful lover close to her breast and let him have his way with her. And for his part Robert wished with every nerve and sinew of his body that she knew of his love for her. The others wouldn’t understand their being together this night, so caught up in their own grief as they were. But this was meant to be, this love, whatever it would amount to, existed for a purpose. And with her hand and her kisses and her loving intent Elizabeth affirmed his intentions.

Elizabeth carved a trail of kisses down from his lips, over the heaving expanse of his chest to the soft tender flesh of his belly. Robert groaned deeply as she kissed him there and her hand gingerly stroked his stiff eager erection. And when her lips pressed against the head of his cock, spreading their warmth and wetness along the shaft, he submitted to her, releasing all control to her guidance. Hesitantly she began to draw him into her mouth, tentative and unsure at first. But with each moment she grew bolder, sensing his intense arousal and feeding on it. He grasped at her head that was soon bobbing up and down intently, combing his fingers into her silky hair, holding her, guiding her, bringing him to a new level of emotion and feeling.

“Oh, Liz!” he cried out. “I need to feel you … I need to be inside you so much!”

Laying beside him as he rolled over onto his side and looping her leg over his hips, Elizabeth guided his rigid throbbing manhood to her sex, letting him part her moist lips, yielding to the love that was overwhelming them both. Robert knew that she had loved George, and certainly there had been a girl or two in his life who had left an imprint on him. But this was completely different, so new and challenging and exciting.

Robert let her guide him and set the pace, marveling as she moved on top of him, rocking and bucking toward her own pleasure. Then having achieved it, she reclined as if to let him take the initiative. He rolled them over and with each delicious thrust, tried to tell her of his feelings. Her legs rose up around his hips, her arms wound around him ferociously, her nails bit into his back, her voice cried out in his ear.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Oh, God, yes!”

Robert felt like a madman possessed. He had never felt so aroused, the heat of passion so intense! Everything he had learned about her had only drawn him closer to her. And now as he moved inside her and felt her surround him entirely, he clung to her riding the crest of a fabulous sensation. And when it erupted and subsided and they lie together, their warm damp bodies clinging, Robert touched her and kissed her as if the feeling were brand new.

“Oh, Liz!” came his softly flowing words. “I don’t know from where you came, only that you are here and I am grateful, so much to be in love with you.”

“Oh, Bobby,” Elizabeth replied, holding him to her breast.

It didn’t seem to matter to either that they were together in this place, at this time. Knowing that, Robert also realized that the following day would be terribly difficult for both of them, Elizabeth especially. Although she had found him, she had just lost her husband, someone she had loved so much, and he didn’t want to sully that precious feeling.

They fell asleep at some point, when exactly it didn’t matter, for all he remembered was the feeling of her close to him, this woman whose wit and charm and spirit had infused him with a great feeling of love. It was from a dream of that love that she roused him.

“Bobby, Bobby,” she said softly, her hand on his shoulder. “It’s nearly dawn. You must be up and away.”

Like some sort of automaton, Robert roused himself and pulled on his shorts and shirt. He held Elizabeth and kissed her repeatedly. Then it felt like a comedy of errors as he tried to slink from her room, into the hall and down the stairs. Each step seemed to pound like a piledriver; each breath sounded forth like a jackhammer. As he reached the foot of the stairway, a looming shadow caught him unaware.

“Officer Wilson, how nice to see you up so early,” said the kindly Doctor Travis.

“Yes, just … um, using the … um, facilities … too much brandy last night,” Robert hedged.

“Say no more, say no more,” the older man replied. “T’will be a long day for all of us, no doubt.”

Robert found a short-lived solace in the blankets that awaited him on the couch in the library. His mind was still swirling with thoughts of Elizabeth. There were many things to doubt in this life, his sanity foremost, but he could not doubt this feeling of love for Elizabeth. And the warmth of that feeling would carry him through the coming day without question.

 

[Why]

Elizabeth Fitzmorgan.

Elizabeth watched Bobby leave her room. She sat up in the bed and hugged her knees. “It was the lark, the herald of the morn; No nightingale: look love what envious streaks do lace the severing clouds in yonder east: Night’s candles are burnt out, and jocund day stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops, I must be gone and live….. Or stay and die….” The bard’s words, fell softy from her lips. Elizabeth felt this moment that she was Juliet, torn between family, duty and lover even if it were just for a day.

The day of her husband’s funeral.

She could not go back to sleep, so slipped with a towel under her arm and made for the old bathroom on the second floor. Here Elizabeth bathed slowly, almost rituality, washing away the physical remains of the love she had shared with Bobby. But the heart of their love could not be removed Elizabeth knew this side of…. death The word hit her with all the force of a flaming, spiraling, aircraft hitting the ground. She sobbed and dragged herself out of the bath.

Elizabeth stood there toweling herself dry, cursing her tears, her weakness. She wasn’t the first to loose a love in this war and she most certainly wouldn’t be the last. She had lost and gained, she just wished the love; the man she had gained could truly be by her side today. George would have understood; George knew…George…… Elizabeth could almost hear his voice echoing outside the door.

Then she realized it was her father-in–law bellowing about something. The rest of the household were awake now. She shrugged into her robe and made her way back to her room. Her mother was there with a cup of tea in her hand.

“Thought you might want this?” Her mother said.

Elizabeth nodded and opened the door to her room.

Gwyneth again followed her daughter into the bedroom and again sat on the bed, handing Elizabeth the tea. Elizabeth took it and drank the lukewarm liquid quickly.

“Ready?” Gwyneth asked.

“No, not really…” Elizabeth sighed and began to brush her suit.

“You never are, not for death, but least you have a closure here, least you can say goodbye.” Gwyneth said her eyes taking a far away look. Elizabeth put her brush down and went to her mother and hugged her, she knew her mother was thinking of Elizabeth’s father. Missing in action; went over the top in 1918, two months before the end of the last war. Seen to fall, hit, dying. Then his body never found, one of hundreds, no thousands, just his name on a memorial in the village of Maisthorpe.

Now another generation was making the same sacrifices; living, loosing and loving.

Gwyneth rose with a sigh, leaving, allowing her daughter to get dressed. Again in her black suit, hat in hand, Elizabeth went down stairs. The family, were gathered for breakfast. Edith was banging the silver dishes and complaining about the lack of sausages.

Robert was sitting, at the table and pointed at his cup. “They have coffee, Mrs Elizabeth Fitzmorgan.”

“So I smell. You are very formal this morning Pilot Officer Robert Wilson.” Elizabeth answered, smiling softly. Her smile was rewarded by one of his; that crinkled the corner of his eyes and twitched the lips she had kissed with such passion just a few hours ago.

Elizabeth helped herself to some of the coffee, and sat at the table, cupping her hands round the fine china breakfast cup and sipping the rich dark liquid.

“You drink it black?” Robert asked his right eyebrow shooting up.

“There are some things you don’t know about me Pilot Officer Robert Wilson.” Elizabeth said and refused the plate of food her God Father offered her.

“Indeed, Mrs Elizabeth Fitzmorgan." Bobby replied, barely controlling the laughter Elizabeth could see brewing in his eyes. “But you should eat; it is going to be a long day.”

“I will eat later, if I eat now I will be sick.” Elizabeth said quietly.

“Sick?” Claire, her mother-in-law repeated.

“Nerves, Elizabeth has always been the same.” Gwyneth said, taking a bite of toast. “Martin, you remember the morning before she and George got married?”

“Don’t I,” Doctor Travis chuckled. “Thought we were going to have to call it off, you could hardly keep your head out of the bowl”

“I am not that bad now, being a nurse has toughened my stomach, but this morning.” Elizabeth began to feel like a small child being discussed by adults who were unaware she was listening.

“But you are not really a nurse are you?” Edith said in a sickly sweet voice.

“It would surprise you, what I exactly do on a ward Edith, least it’s useful, helping. Better than sitting on my hands on committees that take a month to decide if they are going to do a paper or aluminum collection.” Elizabeth tartly replied.

“Now girls.” George’s father huffed.

“Now what sir?” Elizabeth nearly snapped. “Edith, I hope you do have a black coat, your gray suit is not that suitable.”

“Oh dear…”Claire burbled. “Edith hasn’t had time and well with the war on…”

“Edith always has a reason for everything, even for going into the Library late at night and leaving the door ajar.” The hit was below the belt and Elizabeth knew it. Edith blushed and pouted. Bobby choked on a mouthful of coffee, spluttering it in a fine mist in front of him.

“Well, people wander all over the place at all times for all reasons, or so I have found.” Doctor Travis stated in a matter of fact voice.

“Yes sir, they do,” Robert answered in between banging his chest.

The maid coming in, saying the cars had arrived silenced any more conversation. The members of the family each made their own final preparations and Elizabeth found herself standing in the large hall, the veil now pulled down across her green eyes, her bag clasped tightly in her hands.

A hand touched her arm and she turned and found herself looking into Bobby’s face. He bent very close, his lips against her ear and said so softly “I love you, Mrs Fitz.” Then he moved away. Elizabeth felt her heart miss a beat and she drew in a ragged breath, thanking the fates for giving her Bobby. She knew she would never make it through this without knowing he was here, that he loved her. That she was not alone in this whirlpool of war.

The front door opened and there were two large black funeral cars. Black crow cars George used to call them. With George’s body lying over night in the church, they had not to follow the horse drawn hearse, watching the bobbing plumes on the coal black animals. Least Elizabeth thought I have been spared that.

She slipped into the dark interior of the first vehicle with her in laws and Edith. The car smelt of old leather and damp. She shuddered. As they moved off Elizabeth glanced back towards the other car, knowing Bobby was in there with her mother and Doctor Travis.

The Vicar was waiting for them in the porch of the Church, he was not alone. There was the polished wooden coffin, which held George, a small spray of flowers on top of the smooth wood. Four members of the home guard served as bearers, and the standard of the British legion was waiting to be carried in behind the coffin.
Elizabeth felt her knees weaken and her throat constrict with pain as she stood in front to the Vicar. The man gave her a soft smile and turned waving to the bearers and they filled into the church, Elizabeth and the rest falling in behind.

“I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die.
We brought nothing into this world and it is certain we can carry nothing out. The Lord gave and the Lord hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”

The Vicar’s words brought them all to the front of the church. The coffin was laid in place and the service began. Elizabeth stood by her father-in-law, she dare not look round, dare not search among the faces for Bobby, it was enough he was here, close.

She could feel him close, just, strangely, as she could feel George. The drone of the service faded, and Elizabeth’s eyes were drawn to the sun dappling the alter. Shafts of coloured light danced through the stained glass window and she remembered the sound of George’s voice,

“Oh speak again bright Angel for thou art as glorious to this night being o’er my head, as is a winged messenger of heaven. Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes, of mortals that fall back to gaze on him, when he bestrides the lazy puffing clouds, and sails upon the bosom of the air. The bard said it Lizzy, oh, he wasn’t talking about flying in that bit, but hell, it’s soooo. You listening to me woman…”

“Yes I listened George…” Elizabeth said as she began to cry.

 

[Miltone]

Robert "Bobby" Wilson

From his seat a few respectable pews behind, Robert watched Elizabeth as the service began. In her grief and sorrow, she seemed to be a half step behind everyone else. When it was time to stand and sing, she was late in rising. When it came time to pray, she was the last to bow her head. When it was time to sit, she was still standing. Poor, sweet Liz, how hard this must be for her, his presence in her life notwithstanding! He wished to be at her side, to comfort her and support her, but knew that it wouldn’t be appropriate.

How he hated the damned word! Appropriate! Sure, his mother had taught him manners, how to act like a gentleman, how to determine the appropriate thing to do. To those assembled for George’s funeral, even the suspicious Doctor Travis, the appropriate thing was for him to keep a respectful distance. This he would do, to honor George, to honor the sanctity of their marriage, to show his love and respect for Elizabeth.

So he sat, smoldering in his yearning, while the service unfolded. There was the singing of a hymn, a prayer, a reading from the scripture, and some words spoken by the Vicar. Then, as arranged prior to the service per a suggestion by George’s father, the Vicar gestured toward Robert.

“As a brave young man who gave of himself in service to his King and his country, the service which he graced would like to honor him in return. Officer Wilson.”

Robert rose and straightened himself before striding up to the pulpit. He looked around at those gathered in the church, but his eyes settled on Elizabeth. Far from being a practiced public speaker, her felt nervous and uneasy. But he cleared his throat and began to speak.

“I came to this country from America several months ago with a mission, to help out in whatever way I could,” he began. He didn’t think or consider his words, he simply tried to speak from the heart. “Being commissioned in the RAF has been a great honor and privilege for me. Along the way I have met many fine and talented and hard working people, both in the service and out; people who have given of themselves unmindful of the consequences. It has been my privilege to serve alongside some of the bravest most heroic men ever. George Fitzmorgan was one of them. When my best friend was wounded and sent home, leaving me isolated and alone, George welcomed me into a wonderful new circle of friends.

“He was infused with a wit and charm that you all knew better than I. The other night, he and I were seated in the officer’s club at Tangmere. It had been a long day following an even longer night. A handful of our mates hadn’t made it back. He told me that as a boy he saw his first Hawker Biplane in the skies here and how he promised himself that one day he would fly. There truly is no other feeling next to flight. He said that once in the air the problems of the world lose their significance, and it’s only when we drag our problems up with us that the skies become a dangerous place.

“With the wink of an eye or a quick word, he could lift the heart of a friend or decimate an enemy. He was a well-respected officer recently promoted to Squadron Leader. He was a fearless pilot, braving weather and the enemy to carry out his mission. He was a good and loyal husband, who will be missed I’m sure by his lovely widow. He was a good man, brave, and decent, and honorable. He will surely be missed. Godspeed, George Fitzmorgan!”

Robert stepped back from the pulpit, turned toward George’s casket and snapped to attention. Firing off a stiff-armed salute, Robert stepped back down and returned to his pew. As he passed Elizabeth he nodded in her direction, stifling the urge to reach out and touch her shoulder.

There was another hymn and a prayer. Robert returned to the front of the church to assist the home guard in draping the coffin with the Union Jack. As the guard conveyed the casket to the church door, Robert lingered for a moment at the front of the church as Elizabeth and George’s parents followed the draped box up the aisle. He could only look on as Elizabeth walked slowly and unsteadily. Then he felt a hand on his arm and noticed that Edith was pulling at his arm.

“Walk with me, Officer Wilson,” she asked, braiding her arm tightly around his. “Thank you so much for the kind words about George. That was so nice of you to speak.”

Robert grinned politely. As Edith tittered on about something, Robert looked up ahead and saw Elizabeth begin to falter as she descended the stairs.

“Excuse me,” Robert said with a tip of his hat and rushed forward to grasp Elizabeth’s arm before she slipped and fell. As his fingers curled around her arm she looked over, a surprised almost frightened look on her face. Through the black veil he could see her emerald green eyes rung with redness and tears. The elder Fitzmorgan shot him a look as well, but Robert smiled gentlemanly, reassuringly he hoped. “Here, let me help you Mrs. Fitzmorgan.”

Elizabeth smiled weakly stuffing her handkerchief to her nose as they reached the walkway. He took her arm with his hand, very formal and proper, a strong hand leant to the grieving widow. He tried not to remember the last night, the sensational love they had shared, the sound of her voice calling out to him, the feel of her body writhing and quivering.

The home guard loaded the coffin onto the horse drawn cart and Robert helped Elizabeth up into the car. With a formal bow, he excused himself back to the other car to ride to the cemetery with Mrs. Clancy and Doctor Travis.

“It’s so nice of you to attend to this service, Mr. Wilson,” Gwyneth said. “It’s nice to know that Elizabeth has a strong shoulder to lean upon.”

“My pleasure, ma’am,” Robert replied. He looked over Mrs. Clancy closely. It was easy to see from where Elizabeth had received her good looks. “Just doing what I can to help out George’s family in this time.”

Doctor Travis glanced over at Robert and smiled. If the older gent suspected something, he was gentleman enough to keep it to himself.

“So where are you from in America?” Gwyneth asked.

“Fort Wayne, Indiana, ma’am, originally,” Robert replied. “We moved to Cleveland when I was a child.”

“I’ve heard of Cleveland,” she replied. “Is that where they make the automobiles?”

“That’s Detroit, ma’am, not far away,” Robert answered. “But we are home to a couple of car companies still and up until Henry Ford and General Motors came along, Cleveland was something of an automobile capitol.”

The car lurched to a stop as they reached the cemetery. The small procession worked up along the rutted path to the Fitzmorgan plot. There was a chill breeze coming up as they gathered around the site where the raw earth was piled and the coffin was placed on the stand. The Vicar led a prayer and Robert assisted the home guard in removing and folding the Union Jack. A bugler began to play a sonorous melody that Robert didn’t recognize. Robert took the flag and stepped right up to Elizabeth, handing her the flag. She took it from him and held it tightly against her bosom. He then stood beside her as the Home Guard with assistance from the undertaker began to lower the coffin down. Robert felt Elizabeth begin to sway weakly. He slipped his arm around hers and she leaned against him, her head resting against his shoulder.

“Ashes to ashes; dust to dust,” recited the Vicar. “As we come into this world so do we depart.”

The undertaker handed the spray of flowers to Elizabeth. As she stepped forward, Robert went with her. She tossed one of the flowers down onto the casket along with a pinch of dirt. One by one the other family members did the same and they proceeded back to the cars. It was a short drive to where the mourners were gathering for dinner. As they went inside, Robert lost sight of Elizabeth and soon found himself being cornered by Edith. She raised her hand up to rub his arm lightly as if trying to feel his muscle through the stiff wool of his uniform jacket.

“Thank you for everything, Officer Wilson,” she cooed. “You have been such a big help to us in this time.”

“Glad to do my part to help out, Miss,” he replied. “You had things planned out so nicely. I’m sure that George would have been pleased.”

“Thank you,” Edith replied. “I always pay attention to details.”

Robert wasn’t sure what she meant by that comment but was glad to see that Elizabeth had returned having freshened up a bit. But when he looked around and saw that the refreshments were tea and weak lemonade, he leaned toward Edith.

“I don’t suppose it’s possible to order up a pitcher of ale is it?” he asked her.

“Well, we hadn’t planned for that,” Edith replied.

“If this is George Fitzmorgan’s wake, then there should be some ale flowing,” Robert said. “Here, I’ll take care of it.” Robert made arrangements for ale and glasses, even to the point of pouring a few glasses himself, including one for Elizabeth. “I’m not one for making toasts, but I’d like to offer one up to the memory of George Fitzmorgan.” Everyone turned toward Robert as he raised up his glass. “We cannot share this sorrow if we haven’t grieved a while. Nor can we feel another’s joy until we’ve learned to smile. So George, we know that your glass was always full and the roof over your head was always strong. And I hope that you were in heaven half an hour before the devil found out you were dead. Here’s to you!”

There were shouts of “Cheers!” and the ale needed to be poured again. When Robert finally caught Elizabeth’s eye, it was the first time he had seen her smile all day and it made him grin broadly.

 

[Why]

Elizabeth Fitzmorgan.

Blurred. The service became blurred for Elizabeth. Out of step and out of tune, caught in her grief and wanting her love, her lover close. Hearing Robert’s words, listening to him speak of George only made Elizabeth feel more cut off. Her father-in-law offered no arm or hand. She heard her Godfather sigh, then he squeezed her shoulder, he was sitting behind her. It was a comfort and anchored Elizabeth long enough for the service in the church to come to its conclusion.

She faltered coming down the steps almost falling; then a hand curled round her arm. She knew the touch; it burned through the sleeve of her suit. It was Bobby. She raised a tearful, frightened face. He shouldn’t, yet she wanted him too. The conflicting emotions warred within her as she took strength from his touch and his words. “Here, let me help you Mrs. Fitzmorgan.”

Then Robert was gone from her side and she was again in the car. The grave side was hell. Elizabeth fumbled her way through the motions, trying to be what she should be and knowing she was not. Could not be. As she glanced round the faces surrounding the open maw of the grave, she felt some wanted her in there, that to them her life was ended with George’s. It wasn’t; she had a reason to continue, to love and he was standing close to her as the coffin was lowered. She swayed and felt his arm slip round hers and she leaned against him resting her head against his shoulder. Bobby was with as she tossed the one of the fading blooms into the earth after George.

Robert was then separated from her as the family closed round her and removed her back to the cars. Elizabeth stumbled up the stairs to one of the bathrooms. She turned up her veil and splashed water on her face. She tried not to look at her red swollen reflection in the hazy mirror.

She knew she had to go down stairs and be the widow, be the perfect English lady. But her heart wanted for her to crawl into George’s bed and wait. Wait for her lover to come and hold her, to allow her to sob, for them to make love and then sleep in each others arms. Could she really survive another night here? Was it possible for her and Robert to slip away with the dusk? To travel back to Tangmere tonight? She needed to ask him, needed to know?

Elizabeth slipped into her own room before going down stairs and stuffed her things into her bag, tumbling them in, kneeling on the leather lid to hold it closed as she snapped the lock shut. Then putting her chin up, she went down stairs.

She walked into the room just as Robert said to Edith “I don’t suppose it’s possible to order up a pitcher of ale is it?”

“Well, we hadn’t planned for that,” Edith replied.

“If this is George Fitzmorgan’s wake, then there should be some ale flowing,” Robert said. “Here, I’ll take care of it.” Elizabeth watched as Bobby made arrangements for the ale even pouring a few glasses himself, including one for her. Elizabeth took it, her fingers gently touching his, hoping he could feel the “thank you and I love you” in the touch.

Robert cleared his throat and said. “I’m not one for making toasts, but I’d like to offer one up to the memory of George Fitzmorgan.” Everyone turned toward Robert as he lifted up his glass. “We cannot share this sorrow if we haven’t grieved a while. Nor can we feel another’s joy until we’ve learned to smile. So George, we know that your glass was always full and the roof over your head was always strong. And I hope that you were in heaven half an hour before the devil found out you were dead. Here’s to you!”

Elizabeth smiled, as the shouts of Cheers echoed Bobby’s words. She took a large drink of her beer and suddenly felt hungry. She set down her drink and took a plate, filling it from the array of food on the table, it was almost pre war standard. Claire must have laid out a lot money and not through “normal” channels, the smoked Salmon, screamed black market.

She took her plate and sat on a chair by the open French windows. A leaf fluttered by the window, the season had begun to turn. All of a sudden summer was gone, harvest was over and autumn was tumbling in. A time of change and one for her too. Her eyes strayed to Robert as he talked with her Godfather, Martin Travis, who glanced her way for a second and winked.

Elizabeth gulped and finished her plateful and went back for more. The second plate she just picked as she mingled with family and friends. She found herself as the afternoon drew on, standing on the lawn a glass of beer in hand, looking at the cloud strewn sky.

She became aware of someone standing by her side. She smiled thinking it was Bobby. It was not; it was Edith.

“You made a bit of a fool of yourself today didn’t you...?” Edith said flatly.

“Pardon?” Elizabeth exclaimed, plainly shocked at the woman’s words.

“Oh I don’t mean the tears; I mean you did love my brother. I meant the way you clung to Pilot Officer Wilson, the man was totally embarrassed by it. I could see it in his face. You should really learn some decorum Elizabeth. In fact I am sure it was only his friendship with George, and the fact that he is a gentleman, that stopped him commenting on it when I mentioned it to him.”

“You what?” Elizabeth stammered torn now between anger and amusement, and the amusement was winning. She felt the laughter trying to force its way out of her throat.

“Yes, and I am sure that is the reason he mentioned that he, and I assume you are traveling back this evening. I think he wants out of his erroneous duty of escorting you, which is a pity I had hoped for his company for at least another night.”

“I see…” Elizabeth remarked and looked back at the house. Bobby was standing by the French windows watching her. “Will you excuse me, if I am leaving I must make my farewells.”
Elizabeth turned and began to walk back to the house. Bobby started towards her.

“What were you two talking about?” He asked; a slight smile on his face.

“Oh Edith just told me we are leaving tonight, it is what I hoped.”

“I thought you would want too.” Bobby’ s eyes locked on hers and he leant close. “We don’t have to go all the way home; I mean there is bound to be a Railway hotel close to one of those stations we passed through.

“Why Pilot Officer Wilson, what do you mean?” Elizabeth whispered back as her body began to tremble in anticipation. The day was over, the future was here.

*****

The clock was just striking 10.00pm in the lobby of the Station Hotel in Royal Tonbridge Wells as Robert signed the book and took Elizabeth’s hand as they followed the elderly porter to their room.

As the door closed Elizabeth said “Turn your back”

“Pardon?” Robert said laughing as he did so.
Elizabeth switched off all the lights save one by the bed and then took of her clothes, throwing the black suit into the far corner. She stood there her arms open and said “Turn round, Bobby.”

“Oh, Liz, Mrs Fitz…..” Bobby whispered as he took her in his arms, kissing her softly on the lips; then lifting her onto the bed. He then stood and removed his own clothes, joining her. His fingers roamed down her breast bone, then began tracing circles, round her breasts, inching closer to the rosy tips, hardened and waiting for his touch, his kiss.

Elizabeth cupped her breasts and offered them to him. Robert took first one then the other into his mouth nibbling gently, making her laugh at the sensation the crept through her body, firing her need. She pushed him away; Robert pretended to be surprised then rolled over, his hands not losing contact with Elizabeth’s body.

She squirmed on top of him, kissing his lips, chin, neck, chest, circling his nipples with her tongue, down into his belly button, making him laugh softly. Elizabeth nuzzled in the hair round his manhood and ran her tongue down its length, hearing him moan. She glanced up at Bobby’s face; his eyes were half closed as he savored the touch of her mouth.

Then slowly Elizabeth worked her mouth and tongue round him taking her deeper into her mouth this time, still a little unsure, but knowing this brought pleasure to the man she loved. She could feel him swelling in her mouth, feel the velvety flesh tense.Then it was her turn to be pushed away.

Elizabeth gasped and Bobby said. “Your turn…”

 

[Miltone]

Robert "Bobby" Wilson

Elizabeth looked startled as Robert pushed her back onto the bed, her green eyes wide, a look of surprise as if afraid that she had done something wrong. As she lie on her backside, propped up on her elbows, Robert clambered to kneel between her legs on the small squeaky double bed. He lifted her legs up and crawled beneath them, spreading her sex wide apart. She began to smile in anticipation; she was beautiful. As his fingers danced along her inner thighs, Robert licked his lips and looked deeply into her eyes. He could feel his rigid manhood throbbing.

“Mrs. Fitz, you are the most beautiful woman that I have ever known,” he said. “In every possible way.” Her eyes grew heavy lidded but did not close as his fingers drew near to her sex. He looked down at her, her rosy pink folds spreading open like a dewy blossom framed by a light downy fur. He could feel her try to maneuver her hips and navigate his fingers toward what she wanted him to touch, but he resisted for a moment. He glanced back up toward her face and smiled. “I love to see you like this, feel every part of you; you mean the world to me, Liz.”

With that he leant down and kissed between her legs, his lips and soon his tongue savoring the moist heat that flowed from her. He buried his nose into her muff, inhaling the intoxicating scent of her womanhood. His hands cupped her bum and lifted it from the bed, holding her body so he could best press his face against her. His eyes closed and he concentrated on the feel and taste of her. His tongue probed deeply up the silken channel of her sex then withdrew to circulate around the petals of her wet rose. Again and again he repeated this motion, feeling her body writhe and her wetness grow.

When he moved his tongue in endless circles around her hooded little nub, she cried out loudly and grabbed at him, her fingers clutching at his hair. When he suckled the tender bit, she exploded, her thighs clamping tightly around his head, her hips bucking and grinding against his face, her fingers clawing at his scalp. He hummed as he felt her body tremble and shake. He held still for a moment until her gasps and moans died down.

“Aren’t you glad I spent some time in Paris?” Robert finally said, as he began to kiss his way up along the soft smooth skin of her belly.

“And just what did you study while you were there?” she asked as he worked his way up over her body.

“Architecture, fine art, engineering, anatomy,” he began to recite. With the mention of each subject he paused and kissed whatever part of her was nearest his mouth, lastly dwelling on her firm little breasts, kissing the taut puckered tips and sucking them into his mouth.

“Oh, and you learned that last subject well, Officer Wilson,” Elizabeth sighed. “Very, very well.”

Robert had snaked his body up beside her, his hand exploring her soft tender curves, his kisses finding her neck and ear. Elizabeth rolled over onto her side and pulled his arm tightly around her, holding it against her chest. He nuzzled up behind her, his thick erection prying its way between her thighs until the head rubbed up against her wet sex. He freed his hand from her grasp and drew it down along her body until it reached her mons. Then spreading his fingers, he parted her and guided the tip of his erection toward her. Despite the heat and wetness, she gasped from the tight fit. Robert took her thigh and lifted it, spreading her wider and allowing him entrance.

He began to rock his hips gently, guiding himself in and out of her slowly with long languid strokes, feeling her grow wetter and hotter as he grew longer and harder. Spooned together, they began to move faster and grind harder. Elizabeth reached back to clutch at him; Robert managed to wrap both his arms around her as he thrust wildly into her. The little bed was rocking wildly and squeaking loudly keeping tempo with their movements. The force of his lovemaking soon rolled her over onto her stomach with Robert on top of her, crushing the firm cheeks of her bum with his hard thrusts.

Elizabeth clutched at the pillows and sheets madly. Concerned that she couldn’t breathe, Robert worked up onto his knees and pulled her up with him onto her hands and knees. As he grabbed her hips and began to thrust every inch of his rigid tool deeply into her, she began to cry out. She reached for the wooden headboard railing and clung to it as he humped her madly.

“Oh, Bobby! Oh … oh … oh … oh!” she screamed.

Robert leaned forward and moved his hands around underneath her body, feeling her undulating belly and her bobbing breasts. When she pushed herself back towards him, he buried his face in her hair. The bed was creaking and groaning loudly as their lovemaking escalated.

“You drive me crazy, Liz,” he growled into her ear. “I can’t get enough of you … I love you so!” His words seemed to ignite her and Elizabeth began to rock her body against him harder, which made him feel his climax quickly grow near. He held her fast to him and began to pour his love into her, feeling his seed spurt deeply inside her with each crazy thrust.

Just as he emptied himself into her with a mad series of deep thrusts the little groaned and creaked one last time and collapsed sending the mattress and squeaky boxspring onto the floor with a loud thump. Robert and Elizabeth found themselves immersed in a deep pile of covers. Slowly as they gathered themselves and saw that they were both all right, they began to laugh. Elizabeth rolled over onto her back and took Robert into her arms.

“Guess we don’t have to worry about getting hurt if we fall out of bed tonight,” Robert cracked as they snuggled and he spied the short drop to the floor. They lie together on the collapsed bed, exchanging tender caresses and lovingly little kisses, eventually pulling the covers up for the night.

“I am so glad to have met you, Liz,” Robert whispered as she stroked his cheek.

“And I’m so glad to have you here in my life,” Elizabeth responded. “I need you so much right now.”

“What I feel for you goes so far beyond what I promised, George,” he added. “I never expected to fall in love.”

“You promised something to George?” she asked, suddenly looking concerned.

“Well, yes,” Robert said quickly. “George made me promise that I would look after you if something happened to him.”

“So this is the way you look after me?” she asked.

“Well, not to the point of breaking the furniture,” Robert said, tracing his fingers around her face. “I had thought that we might become good friends, and I would look in on you from time to time … I never in my wildest dreams thought that you and I would fall in love. I mean, you do love me, don’t you, Liz?”

“I do love you, Bobby,” Elizabeth sighed. “And I love the way you love me in return.”

“Mmm,” Robert hummed as they snuggled together in the covers.

Sleep came quickly to them both. In the middle of the night, when Robert was besieged by a violent nightmare that drove him to sit up suddenly in a cold sweat, Elizabeth was there to calm him and caress him gently. He fell back into the covers and felt her climb onto him, resting her head on his chest, her arms holding his shoulders, her legs sprawled over his belly.

He encircled her with his arms, closed his eyes and let the warmth of her body and sweet scent of her hair lull him back to sleep. He wanted the night to last forever for the morrow meant going back to Tangmere, back to the war they had managed to escape for a day. He fell back asleep remembering the sweet and gentle moments they had shared, hoping to dream of more.

 

[Why]

Elizabeth Fitzmorgan

As the first light of day takes over from the dark of the early morning on Thursday 19th September 1940, members of the Civil Defence, the fire services and many civilians counted the cost the nights bombing. About 2200 hrs the previous night, German bombers had attacked a number of installations in Northumberland and County Durham causing considerable damage.

But it was again on London that the bombing was as its most severe. Just before midnight, heavy bombing occurred along the Thames and as the night wore on this extended closer to the city centre. By daylight, the extent of the damage could be clearly seen. The once high class shopping areas of Regent Street, Bond Street and along Piccadilly were a scene of devastation. Many shop fronts had been blown in; the once beautiful facades that had formed a part of London's history for many years now lay in a crumpled mass of bricks and mortar in the streets.

Yet life went on, signs soon appeared stating business as usual, what business could be conducted, was mute. But it was the stubbornness of the British people at its bullish.

Waking up to a rather dismal and damp morning, it was obvious to many of the British pilots still sleepy in their bunks, that it was certainly not going to be a day that one should be up there in that dull grey murk and they hoped that the Luftwaffe would see it in the same way. They were not going to be disappointed. Radar stations along the Channel coast were idle, the CRT screens blank

Margaret Farmer. Radar Operations was glad that there was no activity that morning. She and the others could take things a little bit easier, have breakfast in comfort, but there was always one of them keeping an eye on the screen just in case.


Half a world away in a place not at war, on that day at the Cleveland Stadium a game of baseball was played, between the Cleveland Indians and the Washington Senators

The War was still being fought, and fought hard by civilian and military. Only for Elizabeth and Bobby that damp morning was the war far away. Robert had pinned four white five pound notes to the broken bed, ignoring Elizabeth’s comment that it was far too much. They had breakfasted quietly the memories of their night together shared in the touch of hands on the table top and eyes, seeking eyes.

The journey home had seemed to go too fast for Elizabeth; she was soon on the doorstep of cottage, watching Bobby pull away in the taxi. He was going to Tangmere to report back. He watched out of the back of the taxi till it vanished round the corner, Elizabeth half waved and smiled, letting her hand drop as the taxi vanished from sight.

She sighed and went into her home, placing her bag down and making a cup of tea. As she sipped the liquid Bobby’s words of the previous night echoed in her mind. They were so intense; the mere thought of them brought a rush of desire flooding through Elizabeth. “You drive me crazy, Liz, I can’t get enough of you … I love you so!”

The passion expressed was beyond anything she had heard, her simple answer of “I love you,” seemed weak in comparison, yet she loved him with every fibre of her being, Bobby had wrapped himself round her heart in a way George never had.

Bobby had touched her both mentally and physically in a way she still found hard to comprehend. Now as she washed out the cup, she felt her nipples tighten and her womanhood, the entrance to her core, become damp at the mere thought that her lover would soon be back with her. That he would soon be taking her, driving himself deep into her, kissing her in places she never in her wildest imaginings believed she would be kissed and actually want more or it.

Yet both of them had other parts of their life. Robert had returned to his. She should begin to return to hers. She went to the bedroom and stripped, then washed and changed into a plain skirt and blouse, slipped her coat on and went to see if Hattie was home. She wasn’t. Elizabeth sighed, that left Alexandria.

Elizabeth but back her shoulders and walked round the vicarage. Alex welcomed her reluctantly, sending her boys to play in their room. Alex waved a hand indicating for Elizabeth to sit. She did, primly on the edge of a straight backed chair.

“So…you are back…” Alex said sitting at a small desk in the vicar’s study, she had been writing letters when Elizabeth arrived.

“Yes, for good I am going to take up my duties at the cottage hospital. There is a war on; I can be of use here. I wondered if, well if you are still working there, can I go with you tomorrow, it is too late to day, see the matron, get things sorted.”

“I suppose so,” Alex began, “You are sure this is the right thing to do, perhaps you should go home, yes go home, find a hospital close to the Manor, it would be for the best.”

“Not for me, “Elizabeth said crossing her legs, bringing her chin up, her eyes flashing a little. Alex it seemed knew better, Elizabeth knew at that moment she was going to have to defend herself and Bobby.

“You are being silly, no misguided Elizabeth, I and some of the other wives understand, well when one loses someone. It will end badly Elizabeth, you know it will.”

“I know nothing of the sort, and what you think is happening, what you and the others have been yapping about like pug dogs, is none of your business. What I do, what Pilot Officer Wilson does, doesn’t harm you or anyone, it doesn’t harm the memory of George." Elizabeth said coldly.

“Doesn’t it?” Alex’s retorted. “It will end badly Elizabeth, he can’t love you. You are handy, easy prey, can’t you see what this Yank is up to. He will hurt you and leave you Elizabeth, then what?” Alex’s hand came out now in false comfort towards Elizabeth. Elizabeth looked at her friend’s hand as if it was a coiled snake.

“No it is you that do not understand; Bobby, Pilot Officer Wilson, might die, he might say goodbye to me one day and die. But he won’t leave me.” Elizabeth felt the conviction, the truth of her words, the power of the love between her and Bobby behind each word thunder through her heart and soul.

“You are being so stupid Elizabeth, “Alex was barely controlling her temper. “I take it that you will be going to the Officer’s club with him?

“I might, I might not… depends.” Elizabeth said coldly and stood.

“I will not cut you in public again Elizabeth, but I don’t approve.”Alex announced.

Elizabeth walked to the door of the study and looked back at her ‘friend’ “ Alex, I never realized until now that you were such a snob, please don’t get up. I will see myself out and I will make my own way to the cottage Hospital tomorrow and I will go where ever I please, with whom ever I please.” Shaking with anger Elizabeth made her way out of the vicarage as she walked down the street, the roar of aircraft cut the dull autumn afternoon and two Hurricanes tore across the skies.

 

[Miltone]

Robert "Bobby" Wilson

The first few days back felt strange for Robert. He had reported to the airfield and was sent through another medical exam, this time being pronounced fit for duty. His wingmates welcomed him back cordially, and he noticed a certain swagger in Finch’s step, gained no doubt from the experience he had encountered over the past few days. Finch was a cocky fellow to begin with. Things had settled down from the hectic pace of the week prior. Not as many raids with fewer German aircraft, not as many patrols and sorties. Yet everyone remained on high alert. A huge barrage had followed every previous lull and this time was expected to be nothing less.

Without an aircraft to his name, Robert felt disconnected. He was given some administrative work to do while he waited. He spent some time with Colin and the ground crew. The Lady Jane had been found and recovered, but deemed unrepairable. She had been shipped to the Hawker factory in Gosport where she would be stripped of salvageable parts that could be used in new or repaired craft. He felt sad when realizing that he had never had a picture taken of her.

“So how did things go in Kent?” Nigel had asked as he and Robert settled in for supper at the club that first night back.

“As to be expected I suppose,” Robert replied. There were so many things to remember of the trip, so many things that he didn’t feel comfortable sharing, at least not yet. Yet of it all, the one that lingered most in his mind was the last scene, the look of Elizabeth standing on the cottage doorstep with a brave smile and little wave. She had looked so forlorn, so alone that he was glad the taxi turned the corner and swept her away from his sight. He had tried calling her later but there had been no answer. “Family and friends were nice. The service went well.”

“And the widow?” Nigel asked, his eyebrows raised with an impetuous curiosity.

“It was hard, but she held up pretty well,” Robert answered.

“Of course, with your able assistance,” Nigel teased.

“It was an official visit, Nige,” Robert replied. “I was on my best behavior.”

“I’ll wager that you were,” Nigel said. “And the smile on the widow’s face tells all.”

“What’s that you say?” Robert said. Nigel gestured toward the door and Robert turned to see Elizabeth and Hattie standing with Commander Mason and the Cordwines at the doorway to the dining room. Elizabeth was standing primly but the glow of her smile beaming toward Robert was obvious. “Excuse me, will you, Nige?” Robert got up and walked over to the group of old friends from the 607. “Hello, Mrs. Fitzmorgan, how are you?” he said with a grin before nodding toward the others.

“I’m feeling well, Officer Wilson,” Elizabeth smiled and rested her hand on his arm, almost undetected by the rest. He was aware that Alexandria was eyeing them suspiciously while the rest seemed glad to see him.

“How are you old chap?” Mason asked giving him a hearty handshake.

“Healthy as a mule,” Robert replied proudly. “I’ll be back in the air before the week is out.”

“Good news,” Cordwine remarked exchanging a similarly brisk handshake.

“So are you going to join us?” Hattie asked as they were told their table was ready.

“Yes, please do,” her husband rejoined.

“Thank you,” Robert said gesturing toward Nigel. “But we’re almost finished. Just wanted to say hello.”

They all smiled, Alexandria Cordwine the least warmly, and Robert returned to his table. They stopped at the bar for a couple of drinks while Nigel tried to engage him in a card game. When some of the other 213th gathered and moved off to play, Robert found himself alone. He still had a full glass of whiskey left and lingered to finish it. Then he spotted the gramophone and decided to give it a crank or two. Of course the Tommy Dorsey orchestra record caught his eye and he cued it up. By the time the bridge was playing, a flash of pale green caught his eye and he glanced over to see Elizabeth walking toward him.

“Lovely tune, isn’t it?” she remarked casually. “I was just on my way back from the restroom when I heard it playing.”

“Yes,” he answered. “One that I’ll not forget.”

Her eyes glanced around the half-filled barroom. “Would you care to dance?” she asked.

“The song is half over,” he said.

“We can fix that,” Elizabeth answered picking up the needle and dropping it again at the beginning. “See!”

They slipped into each other’s arms and danced slowly to the tune. Robert found himself humming along and Elizabeth rested her head on his chest. He remembered the night before, and the night before that. He held her tightly as they swayed together gently. Too quickly for him, the song was over and the needle dragged in its exaggerated circle at the inside loop of the disk.

“Thank you for the dance,” Elizabeth said as the stepped apart. “I should be getting back.”

“Would you care to come to dinner with me tomorrow?” Robert asked.

Elizabeth smiled and then laughed as she looked at him. “Of course, Officer Wilson.”

“We could come here or go somewhere else, if you prefer,” Robert suggested.

“Here would be fine, unless you have something else in mind,” she replied.

“There is a new place some of the fellows were talking about,” Robert said.

“Surprise me then,” she answered.

They parted with the plan to meet the next evening warm in Robert’s mind. And so the next few days began to unfold. During the day he attended to his desk job while Elizabeth worked at the cottage Hospital. In the evening they would meet formally, casually, respectfully, and be seen together socially. They took walks together, arm in arm. They even caught a few friends by surprise when attending a church service together. They spent the nights together at her cottage, talking, laughing, and making love. Each day seemed to bring them closer together, and Robert’s return to the airfield in the morning grew later and later.

Then word came down that Robert was to leave for the Hawker Siddeley factory at Kingston to pick up his new aircraft. The main factory was nestled beneath some huge expanses of camouflage netting. Many of the operations had been farmed out to smaller facilities dotted around the countryside. Robert felt a quiver of excitement when taken to the hangar and introduced to his fresh Mark IIa. He ran his hand over the smooth aluminum skin, and inspected the engine compartment and cockpit. This new one was nearly identical, with only a few differences in the instrument faces and the shape of control handles due to material substitutions. But she flew like a dream, taut and lean and perhaps even a bit faster than the Lady Jane.

Though he was gone only two days, it seemed to take forever and several times on the return trip he found himself wanting to break formation and see just how fast he could take his new craft. Upon landing and taxiing up to the pad where his crew was waiting, he found Colin and the crew waiting. They eagerly combed over the new plane, finding some of the paint still tacky.

“She’s a beauty, isn’t she?” Colin exclaimed as they checked out her every part. “You know what this means, don’t you?”

“Back on the flight duty roster,” Robert beamed.

“So I know you Yanks are big on naming your planes,” Colin remarked. “And I do have to stencil on the markings. So do you have something in mind.”

“As a matter of fact, I do,” Robert said and whispered the rest of his reply into Colin’s ear. Colin glanced at him and smiled.

“All right. We can do that we can!” he said.

By nightfall on September 25th Pilot Officer Robert Wilson took to the air again as part of a scramble to fend off a large German raid that crossed over near Portsmouth and was intent on London. It wouldn’t be until 0500 hours the next morning that the last Germans had been chased away. For the next two days, Robert and his wingmates were on call, waiting at the ready for the call to intercept, running to their fleet of Hurricanes and powering up into the air. He had missed the action and once engaged felt that nothing had changed. But he missed his Elizabeth and carried the thought of her with him on each flight.

 

[Why]

Elizabeth Fitzmorgan

The following days fell into a pattern. During the day Elizabeth became the VAD, changing beds, emptying bed pans, being the extra pair of hands for the trained nurses, allowing them to do the “serious nursing.”

Bobby was tied to a desk, and Elizabeth knew he hated it, but for her it was welcome, he wasn’t flying; he wasn’t risking his life. It was selfish of her she knew it, because Robert, like George, was not complete, not whole, when he was not flying.

The evenings, well it was strange. They courted, a gentle slow courtship enacted out before everyone. In some ways a pretense, in others, not, it was as real as their nights alone together.

Sitting wrapped in each other’s arms listening to the wireless, talking softly and making love with passion and such abandon that Elizabeth felt it could not be real.

To wake up in the morning to the touch of Bobby’s hands on her body, to feel him enter her, when she was still lightheaded from sleep, wrap her body round him, draw him deeper. To squirm beneath the sheets, laughing using her tongue and fingers on his manhood; to trace the veins on the smooth length of flesh, to explore every inch of him, with her own body. To know him in a way she had never known another.

It was precious, special; a time that Elizabeth locked away inside and in future times would open, like a long lost toy box. Sometimes in anger, sometimes in bitter pain, but always, always with love for Bobby. And through the memory ran the song, the music.

I’ll be seeing you;
In all the old, familiar places;
That this heart of mine embraces;
All day through.

In that small cafe;
The park across the way;
The children’s carousel;
The chestnut tree;
The wishing well.

I’ll be seeing you;
In every lovely, summer’s day;
And everything that’s bright and gay;
I’ll always think of you that way;
I’ll find you in the morning sun;
And when the night is new;
I’ll be looking at the moon;
But I’ll be seeing you.


Hattie’s pregnancy was now showing and she finished at the Cottage Hospital, Elizabeth visited her friend, dined with her and Thomas, watch the two parents-to-be begin to realize what they had done and begin to make plans, in a haphazard way.

Elizabeth even tired to teach Hattie to knit, without much success. So she took to knitting small things for Hattie in her breaks at the Hospital, causing Alex’s eyes to widen and Hattie to laugh at Alex’s stupidity.

Behind, the deepening of her love for Bobby and his for her the war continued. Heavy night time bombing was becoming more the norm. The face of the causalities transported in to the Cottage Hospital changed, still military, still the small maternity and children’s wards. But now battered, bloody and confused civilians from Plymouth, Portsmouth and the surrounding area began to appear in the beds, lost, angry and concerned for family and friends.

Then the time ended, it changed pace, became foreshadowed again as the war caught them up. Robert left to collect his new aircraft. Elizabeth knew now what to expect, the worry, the lonely nights when Robert would not come home, when she would not see him.

On the evening of the 25th September Elizabeth sat curled up on the overstuffed chair by the fire. The evenings were drawing in now; autumn had a strong grip on the land. She sat there hugging Bobby’s spare jacket, drinking in the smell of him. In her mind she was holding him, keeping him safe until he could come home to her.

 

[Miltone]

Robert "Bobby" Wilson

It was two in the morning before Robert cleared briefings and his wing was called to stand down. His new plane had flown marvelously, taut and lithe as a Hurricane could be. They had fended off a raid that had come over from Le Harve toward Portsmouth and on to London. They had been called up close to London to help dispel the relentless raids that were coming in from the east along the Estuary.

Robert was tired and hungry and Nigel asked him over to the officer’s canteen for a bite and a blow. But with his feet on the ground again, Robert wanted something else, he needed something else. He walked the blocks up Tangmere Street and onto Edwards Avenue. The shops and homes were dark and silent at this hour. His footfalls were the only sounds to penetrate the still early morning air. When he reached the little cottage, he let himself in.

Curled up in the chair, covered by his spare jacket was Elizabeth. Robert smiled, knowing that this woman was what he needed. She looked so sweet as she slept soundly that he had second thoughts of waking her, and instead rummaged in the kitchen for a bite to eat and then sat watching her as he dined on some bread and cheese and tomatoes. With his simple meal extinguished, he went to her chair and scooped her up in his arms, jacket and all, and carried her to the bedroom. She hardly stirred nor did she awake as he held her in his arms. Setting her down between the sheets, he stood and stripped out of his clothes and climbed in beside her.

Elizabeth smelt so fresh and sweet, so far different than the pungent oil and gasoline fragrances that he was used to while at the airfield. It took little time for him to fall asleep with her warm and soft curvy body nestled next to his. There were dreams that came to him, one that brought him bolt upright, eyes wide, only to feel the warmth of Elizabeth beside him. He lie back down and fell back asleep. The next thing his conscious mind knew, he was on his back and the sun was streaking in through cracks in the heavy curtains. And Elizabeth was kneeling beside him, the covers pulled back, her loving hands stroking his huge erection and her lips sliding up and down along the underside of his shaft.

“You came home to me,” she said as her hands glided up and down his rigid manhood. “I didn’t think that I’d see you,” she said with a smile and then her smile parted and she took him deep inside her warm wet mouth. Robert’s eyes closed and his head fell backward onto the pillow. It had been a marvelous to experience how she was growing a new talent for pleasing him, and she seemed rather pleased with herself in doing so.

“I have to be at the airfield by 8,” he said, then groaned with pleasure as Elizabeth swirled her tongue around and around the sensitive tip.

“Then I need to get going before you get going,” she giggled and brought her luscious mouth back down to his organ and drew him deep inside her again. When he felt himself nearly ready to explode, Elizabeth climbed up on top of him and guided his thickened shaft toward her warm wet entrance. Then she began to rock on top of him gently, taking him inside her fully.

Robert reached up and pulled at her nightgown, slipping the straps down over her shoulders, baring her firm little breasts. He took them in his hands and held them, caressing them, squeezing them together, feeling the nipples grow taut and hard. She leaned forward and let him take them to his mouth. His hard eager kisses brought a delicious moan from her mouth and made her rock her hips more urgently.

“Bobby … Bobby … Bobby!” she cried out as she held herself just above his body. He rocked his hips up against her, bumping against her, their love dampened bodies making a sharp smacking noise with each intimate penetrating touch. And just as he felt her body begin to tremble, he rolled them over and brought himself up over the top. She clutched at him tightly, her fingernails digging into his shoulders, her legs arcing up and around his hips.

“Lizzie, oh, Lizzie!” he growled into her ear as he felt himself explode inside her. Again and again he thrust into her, long after he had emptied himself, the pleasure of being linked so closely overwhelming him until he fell against her, panting wildly.

“Bobby!” she whispered into his ear, while she let her tongue and lips kiss and lick their way around it. “I’m so glad that you came to me.”

“Every chance I get, Mrs. Fitz. Every chance I get,” he answered.

And he would. Though not the next night, for the raids didn’t start until late and kept up throughout the night until dawn had broken the sky open. There was no time for the fair weather continued and there seemed to be not a single square mile in the south of England that the Germans didn’t try to attack. With only a couple of hours of rest, Robert and his wingmates of the 213th and their fellows squadrons at Tangmere and elsewhere were summoned up regularly on that day and well into the night.

Robert felt like a ghost of a man as he staggered up Tangmere Street early on the morning of the 28th. There were few people roused so early to even notice. But Elizabeth was nursing her morning cup of tea and flew into his arms the moment he came through the door.

“Oh, darling!” she cried out hugging him tightly. “I’ve missed you so much.”

Robert simply held her waiting for her warmth and love to penetrate him.

“Are you all right?” she asked, pulling back to look him over. “Is there something wrong?”

“Wrong? Shorter to answer what’s right,” Robert replied. “Nigel … Saunders … gone.” He suddenly felt pale and weak and needed to sit—no, lie down. He stumbled toward the bedroom and fell onto the bed. Elizabeth rushed to him and kissed him and held him.

“What can I do? What can I do, Bobby?” she asked, taking his face in her hands.

“Just hold me, Elizabeth,” Robert answered. “I need you to hold me right now more than ever.”

 

[Why]

Elizabeth Fitzmorgan

Elizabeth woke early; silly really today was her day off. She had swapped shifts with one of the new VADs yesterday, Friday. Elizabeth had been due to work the Saturday, but the girl wanted to see her boyfriend, because Friday looked set to be fine and clear and experience told Elizabeth that such a day would deny her Bobby’s company. The Hun, Bosh, Nazi, the enemy on black wings would be pouring across the channel intent on smashing her world.

And from the stories reaching even the small back water cottage hospital he was succeeding. Oh the BBC gave brief details about areas hit, playing down the devastation being dropped from above, praising the pluck of city dwellers in London, Manchester, Bristol Cardiff, Portsmouth and Plymouth. The announcer extolled the skill and courage of the RAF pilots holding the line. But Elizabeth knew how thin that line was being stretched with each passing day.

People talked in whispers of whole streets, disappearing, communities having the hearts ripped out of them. Hushed voices told of the dead lying under rubble for days, of basic services totally broken down in parts of London. Some faces showed the fear and doubt about the course of action the country was set on against such an overpowering enemy. But none spoke of it; none wanted to be charged with sedition. A real fear and given the British nature to moan about what had to be done then get on and do it regardless, some felt the government had gone a bit too far.

One good thing had brightened Elizabeth’s day, a small package had come via an ambulance driver from the orderly with “friends” It had cost Elizabeth quite a bit of money, but she felt it was worth it. She had wrapped the package well in her uniform before leaving, as she swore the coffee could be smelt by one and all.

The small packet now sat on the kitchen table before her. She shifted in her seat crossing her slender ankles and smiling gently as she drank her tea. It would be a lovely surprise for Bobby when he came, not if he came, but when he came. Elizabeth refused to allow herself to think that he would not. Bobby was too alive, he loved her and she him. He would come.

Then she heard the door open. Elizabeth slammed her cup down, it tipped, sending the dregs spilling across the table. One look at Bobby as he came in sent a shiver down Elizabeth’s spine. She had seen that look before on George’s face. The shiver turned to ice as she went to Bobby, wrapping her arms round him, saying, “oh, darling! I’ve missed you so much.”

Robert didn’t reply her just seemed to hand in her arms, his own arms wrapping round her, yet having no strength. He wasn’t the strong one at this moment, she was. It was as if Bobby was drawing, strength, warmth and love from her and Elizabeth, pulled him closer tightening her hold on him, letting him know she was there, for him, him alone.

After a few moments Elizabeth pushed herself to arms length; looking hard into Bobby’s face, fearing for a second he would now begin to push her away like George had. “Are you all right? Is there something wrong?”

“Wrong? Shorter to answer what’s right,” Robert replied. “Nigel … Saunders … gone.” The words were harsh, barely audible. Robert’s face went ashen; he began to shake, as if what strength he had left had been drained out of him. He stumbled into the bed room and fell on the bed.

Elizabeth scrambled up beside him, taking his face in her hands, her thumb rubbing the smear of oil on his forehead. “What can I do? What can I do, Bobby?” Elizabeth whispered, trying not to let her voice break. Her lover was in pain, hurting deep inside. The events were catching up with him. The strain was beginning to wear at his mind and body. Elizabeth knew the signs and it shocked her, yet his words filled her with hope, with a way to help him.

“Just hold me, Elizabeth,” Robert answered. “I need you to hold me right now more than ever.”

And she did. Elizabeth took his shuddering form in her arms, laying his head on her breast, rocking him gently as if he were a child. Bobby sobbed; the sounds, dry racking, as if they were being forced out of him against his will. She kissed his temple, unmindful of his grip on her tightening, of his fingers digging into her flesh as the anguish and pent up emotions found some sort of release. Then Robert’s hold slackened; his breathing deepened and Elizabeth lay him down, for a while even though drifting to sleep Robert clung to her like a child. Eventually she managed to free herself, her arm numb from his weight. She slipped off his shoes and covered Bobby with a blanket and sat for a while watching him sleep.

Once sure he was sleeping soundly Elizabeth quietly went about doing some work. It was while she was laying the fire in the small lounge she heard a shout. No a bellowing scream. She rushed into the bedroom and Robert was sitting bolt up right, his eyes wide, yet unseeing, his hand were lashing out, warding something or some one off.

“Bobby?” she reached out to take one of his waving hands, but he hit her away, muttering.

“On your tail….. Pull up…. check your six….. Going down…. round and round, twisting…. Burning…. round and bloody round….. Pull up!!!”

Elizabeth bit her lip, shaking, almost backing away, then she lunged, catching both of Bobby’s arms, holding on as he shook her, swore and then his eyes jolted into focus and he fell into her arms.

Again she rocked him; again she kissed his temple, eye lids, softly his mouth. This time before he slipped back to sleep, Elizabeth managed to help him undress; it was like undressing a child, unsure of how the strange invention of a button worked. She left his underwear on and covered Bobby with the covers, stroked his brow till his eyes shut and again he slept.

This time he slept deeply, barely moving. As the clock stuck one in the afternoon, she heard Bobby stirring, Elizabeth made some of the coffee and took it into him. Bobby was sitting up in bed, running his right hand roughly through his black hair. He gave a crooked smile as she walked in with the steaming cup.

“Can I believe my nose,” Bobby said as she sat down on the bed and handed him the coffee.

“I think you can,” Elizabeth replied as she watched him blow across the top of the cup before sipping the hot liquid.

“God, that is good!” Bobby said and closed his eyes, leaning back on the pillow.

“Make the most of it, I haven’t much and it cost a fortune.” Elizabeth said, placing a hand on his chest.

“Dealing with the black market Mrs Fitzmorgan,” Bobby laughed.

Elizabeth smiled and stood up. “I will go run you a bath Pilot Officer Wilson.”

“You think I need one?” Robert asked as he finished his coffee.

“It will make you feel better.” Elizabeth said and winked.

She went into the bath room and ran more than the four inches of hot water, one should. As the steam began to rise from the water Robert walked in.

“Well get them off,” She said, pointed to his under wear.

“You like this with the men you bathe at the hospital?” Robert asked laughing.

“No I just place bowl where they can reach it and hand them a flannel.”

Bobby shook his head and laughed louder as he got into the water. When he was settled Elizabeth slipped off her clothes and said. “Move up.” Robert did, as his right eyebrow nearly vanished into his hair line.

Elizabeth got into the bath behind Bobby and began to wash his hair, standing on her knees, her stomach pressed to his back.

Carefully she soaped and rinsed his black hair, feeling is “squeak” as she pulled her fingers through it. Bobby spluttered as the water trickled in his mouth and Elizabeth tutted at him, then set about soaping him, first his neck, shoulders and back then she ordered him to turn round and did the same to his chest, stomach, legs and arms.

Robert pointed to his manhood, Elizabeth giggled and began to soap that too, commenting tartly that it was bobbing about rather a lot. “Mind of its own,” Robert replied. Elizabeth laughed and let him take the soap from her.

Bobby washed her, gently, letting his hands linger on her breasts, stomach and mons, then rinsed her down and sat looking at her. Elizabeth leaned towards him, her hand circling round his length slipping up and down, taking the head between her finger and thumb and softly exploring it, causing waves of soapy water to lap the sides of the bath. His mouth soon found hers, his kisses, wet, his tongue pushing apart her teeth, probing deep, exploring her mouth as she did the same to him. They both surged to their knees. Bodies wet, fingers slipping off flesh, seeking to touch, to give each other pleasure.

Then Bobby broke their kiss. Elizabeth found herself turned round, facing the end of the bath. She felt Bobby’s hand in the middle of her back pushing her forward. Felt his other hand spreading her legs, the head of his manhood, pushing against her, running the length of her cleft, parting her lips with his head, and then pushing hard. Elizabeth squealed as he rammed into her, her stomach slapping against the end of the bath, the water surging up and out.

“Yes…” She panted as Bobby withdrew from her and entered her again, harder, holding her this time, holding her tight to him, his hands on her hips, forcing her back on him. Elizabeth allowed her own hand to slip down between her legs; she felt Bobby’s shaft, tight in her, heard him groan as her fingers lightly touched him.

Elizabeth then touched the small nubbin of raised flesh she knew gave her pleasure, the part of her Bobby had kissed, teased with his teeth, driving her wild with desire as he did so. She bent further, rubbing her fingers round, delighting in the shuddering, tensing, stomach fluttering sensations spreading through her, then touching Bobby, feeling him as he slid in and out of her.

Again and again she repeated the swirl of her fingers, as if measuring herself as she expanded to take Bobby deeper into her. Each time Bobby moved into her Elizabeth knew he was exercising the demons; removing the war from their lives for a few brief moments.

“God I love you!” Elizabeth blurted as she felt Bobby fill her, she gloried in the feel of his seed pouring into her and trickling down over her fingers.

 

[Miltone]

Robert "Bobby" Wilson

After what could have been the two worst days of the war—well, not really the worst, as Robert thought about it, there had been the day he was shot down and the day he Garner was knocked down—he had found himself walking—no, staggering from the airfield, lost and dazed. Nigel was confirmed as dead and Saunders was down and missing. He knew in his heart that this effort was worthwhile, but he had doubts. How so few men had been given such a great responsibility with such little material at hand to help! So futile it all seemed as he had trudged along Tangmere Street and Edwards Avenue. But an angel had appeared, someone to take him in, someone to care for him, someone who would provide the normalcy that he so desperately needed. So many things about the days just passed seemed like a dream that he didn’t really know where the dividing line between reality and illusion lie.

But as he felt his lust erupt in the bath while making love to Elizabeth, hearing her cry out with such a great passion, drawing him deep into her, Robert began to feel real and sane and everything began to make sense again. God, how he had been shaken by the loss of his wingmen, dashed to the ground like pestilent flies by a lazy cook. But he had known them hadn’t he? Why shouldn’t he be affected? The card games, the endless hours spent together awaiting Lord knows what. And now it was just him and Finch. Damn!

Robert fell upon Elizabeth, pressing her against the tub, his arms reaching about her, pulling her close to him, desperately clinging to her, the only scrap of sanity in this, what had become his world. He held her and kissed her, every part of her his lips could reach. He pulled her back as he sat in the tub, their bodies still interlocked intimately. He felt her lie back against him and he wanted to surround her, protect her with his love.

“Mrs. Fitz,” he whispered into her ear as she rested against him. “I do love you! So much, and so badly!”

“I don’t think you love me badly at all—I think you do it rather well,” she replied with a giggle. “In fact I’ve become rather fond of the way you love me.”

“Oh, you know what I mean,” Robert laughed, the first genuine laugh he had known in a couple of days. His arms pulled her back against him as they lie together in the tepid water. What little suds there had been had vanished. It was only the two of them together now, and he didn’t want to let go of her. He felt so grateful to be with her and so ashamed of the mindless way he had come to her. “I should apologize for the way I showed up here.”

“Oh, Bobby,” she replied, reaching her fingers back to touch him. “Don’t think of it. For all I’ve been through down here, I can only imagine what it must be like up there. Why any turn of the moment and you could be …”

Robert lifted his fingers to her lips to quiet her. He knew what she was saying and he felt so lucky to be able to come to her, knowing that she would understand, no matter what. He kissed her neck and around her ear tenderly. He could tell that it was afternoon already, the fall sun resting lower on the horizon, filtering in through the windows with a different brightness. He whispered into her ear, “Come with me.”

“What?” she asked but once, as they toweled dry and dressed quickly. He was deliberate in his actions and Elizabeth made herself ready. Robert paused for a moment watching her tug her knickers up and arrange them properly. Such a simple thing brought him such joy. “What?” she asked again for an entirely different reason. Robert smiled and began to dress himself. But before they left the little cottage, he pulled her close and held her fast to him.

“You know that I love you, Liz,” he said dreamily. “You do know that. More than anything else in this dammed life of mine.”

“I know,” she answered. “I know, Bobby.”

“I don’t know how it happened or why or wherefore,” he rambled on. “But I feel it every day and it is what keeps me going.”

Elizabeth raised her hand to his cheek and rubbed it gently. Then she kissed him, a soft tender kiss that he had never before felt. In the foggy glow of the strange feeling her kiss had induced, they finished dressing and Robert took her hand and led her toward the airfield. They walked the entire distance there in the late afternoon sun. The skies were fair enough and even though the breeze had a fall chill to it, it mattered little to the couple as they strolled along together.

“Are we going to the Club?” Elizabeth asked as they drew near. The club was actually a rambling large house that stood just outside the airfield proper. At some point in the past it had been converted into a hotel and was now made over into the officer’s mess.

“Not exactly,” Robert replied as they took a path that lead around to the garden in back and the wishing well. Robert took her hand and led her further along the fence that cordoned off the airfield. “You can’t tell anyone,” he whispered. “This is a secret.” Along the fence there was a small gate that the officers often used as a shortcut bypassing the front gate when going to the club and back. Robert took Elizabeth through the secret gate and onto the airfield.

“Am I allowed in here?” she asked as they ducked around behind the hangars.

“Shh!” he said leading her up to a side door in one of the hangars. Once inside the cavernous building that smelt of gasoline and grease, he put his hands around her face, cupping her eyes as he pushed her along. “No peeking now,” he insisted. “No cheating!”

“I’m not going to, Bobby!” Elizabeth said.

He finally stood still for a moment and let his hands fall away from her face. “So?”

“So what?” she said startled by where he had lead her, as if she were seeing some sort of war secret, which she in fact was.

“What do you think?” Robert asked. “This is my new one … isn’t she a beauty?”

Elizabeth looked at the Hurricane Mk IIa standing proudly before them, fully dressed and ready. She looked at Robert then back to the plane. Outside the open doors there were other squadrons active that late afternoon, some landing at that very moment having dealt with a scant raid or two. But her eyes were taken up by the new Hawker Hurricane standing before her. Lettered across the engine cover and cowl piece was the inscription, “Lovely Mrs Fitz”.

“Oh, Bobby! Can you do that?” she asked incredulously. “Are you allowed?”

“They give us Yanks a little liberty for such things,” Robert laughed. “What can I say, we like to name our planes.”

“But this? This?” she gestured.

“Liz, it’s only because I love you and want to have you with me every time I fly.”

“Oh, Bobby!” Elizabeth exclaimed giving him a hug and a little kiss.

“Come on!” Robert said taking her hand and leading her up to the plane. “If it’s going to be named after you, you might as well have a closer look.” He boosted Elizabeth up onto the wing, her feet finding the slope ungainly. But he clambered up and settled her uneasily into the cockpit. He knelt on the wing beside her as she brushed her fingers over the knobs and levers. When she tugged on a tall handle to her left, he grasped her hand quickly and held it fast. “Not that one, darling,” he said. “Wheel brake. We want to keep this one parked for the time being.”

He laughed; they laughed together. Elizabeth grasped the stick with both hands and began to emit strange silly sounds of an airplane in battle, of course adding the rat-a-tat-tat of the machine guns as she blasted at an unknown enemy. She looked like a little kid sitting there in his aircraft, a part of his world fully.

“You are a brave girl, Mrs. Fitz,” Robert remarked. “Too bad they don’t let women up in the air.”

“But then you wouldn’t have me to come home to,” she remarked with a grin.

“I know,” Robert replied, reaching his hand over to caress her chin. He leaned over the sill of the cockpit and kissed her.

“Hey!” came a shout from the open doorway. It was Colin and Mickey his other grounds crewman.

“Just me,” Robert called out as they approached the Lovely Mrs Fitz.

“Who you got there?” Colin shouted up.

“Well, I thought that it would be nice to introduce the real lovely Mrs. Fitz to the Lovely Mrs Fitz,” Robert said. “Colin and Mickey, this is Elizabeth Fitzmorgan. Liz, these chaps are my grounds crew.”

“Nice to meet you,” Elizabeth smiled.

“Ma’am,” said Colin while Mickey nodded. “Mr. Wilson, you do realize that this place is off limits to civilians.”

“Yes, but in this case …” Robert went to say.

“And I understand and all, specially seeing now your inspiration for the moniker,” Colin said with a smile. “But we’ve finished the 100 hour inspection and have to take her out to the pad for the armorer to do his job.”

“Well, in that case,” Robert said, helping Elizabeth up from the cockpit and down from the aircraft. “We were just leaving. And you didn’t see us, all right.”

“I’m turning my back,” Colin said. “I don’t see a thing, right Mickey?”

“Right, mate!” Mickey replied.

As Robert ushered Elizabeth to the side door through which they had entered, they heard Colin remark, “Sort of makes you want to be a pilot, doesn’t she?”

Elizabeth giggled and Robert smuggled her back along the fence and through the secret passage to the club. They could hear the sound of the Lovely Mrs Fitz starting up and taxiing out to the flightline.

“When are you due back, Bobby?” Elizabeth asked as they passed through the garden.

“Night fall,” Robert replied. “Jerry may have a surprise waiting for us tonight.”

“That’s in just a few hours,” Elizabeth noted. “You should have some rest.”

“I’ll walk you home first,” Robert said.

“That’s what I was hoping,” she said. “I can fix you a bite maybe and you can rest there.”

“But if you are there with me, I might not get any rest, Mrs. Fitz,” Robert said, pulling her close beside him as they continued up Tangmere Street to Edwards Avenue. Elizabeth laughed naughtily.

 

[Why]

Elizabeth Fitzmorgan.

As Elizabeth felt the water cool around them, she became aware that Bobby had become himself again, that the horror, pain and loss had been set aside for now. Not forgotten, just eased by sharing love.

As they rested in the water his words, “come with me” took her by surprise.

He didn’t answer her questioning, “What?” and her repeating the word when she saw the cheeky glint in his eye, as she slipped her knickers up and fiddle with them, only met with a smile.

"You know that I love you, Liz, You do know that. More than anything else in this damned life of mine. I don’t know how it happened or why or wherefore,” he rambled on. “But I feel it every day and it is what keeps me going.”

“I know, I know, Bobby.” Elizabeth said, feeling again that her answer was not enough, plain, simple and true as it was. She loved him beyond anything; it was just sometimes she felt the words were not enough. So Elizabeth raised her hand to his cheek, rubbing it gently and then kissed him, willing all that she felt inside into that small soft embrace of her lips on his.

In the quiet after the kiss broke apart, Elizabeth found herself dressed, her hand taken and walking towards the airfield.
At first Elizabeth thought they were going to the Club, but Bobby answer was cryptic “Not exactly” In fact the next few minutes was like something out of an Agatha Christie novel. They crept though the unkempt garden behind the officer’s club to a small gate in the fence.

Elizabeth asked if she was allowed in, as they ducked round the back of one of the hangers. She had a knot of excitement in her stomach; it was like sneaking out of class at school, the same flutter of excitement.

Robert pushed open one of the side doors of the hangers. As she stepped in, Elizabeth heard the lonely echo of their footfalls as they walked across the concrete floor. The immense space reeked of oil and petrol that wrinkled her nose and reminded her of the barn at the Manor, and Josh, her mother’s head ploughman, fiddling with his pride and joy, the estates one and only tractor.

“No peeking now. No cheating!” Bobby cupped his hands over her eyes and gently pushed her along with his body. Elizabeth stumbled as her heel went over, giggled and replied she wasn’t going to. The excitement inside her was mounting. What was Robert up to and also what would happen if they got caught?

“So” He said his voice filled with pride.

“So What?” Elizabeth replied as her eyes traced over the curves of the aircraft before her. She had seen a Hurricane before, not this close of course and it was that fact that startled her a little. She knew she should not be here, but it was exciting.

“What do you think?” Robert asked. “This is my new one … isn’t she a beauty”

Elizabeth stepped forward and looked her rival for Bobby’s affection over. She, (Elizabeth thought of the plane as a “she”) was painted on her underneath, a beautiful sky blue, with the roundels in the colour of the union jack under each wing. The upper part was a large camouflage patchwork, with the roundels and the plane’s call sign and number breaking the pattern up on each side.

As the roar of aircraft taking off rattled round the hanger Elizabeth’s eyes caught the lettering across the engine cover and cowl. Her hand flew to her mouth. It couldn’t be? Yet there it was “Lovely Mrs Fitz”

“Oh, Bobby! Can you do that? Are you allowed?” Elizabeth asked, quite taken aback by the whole thing.

Robert laughed and caught her hand, saying, “They give us Yanks a little liberty for such things,”. “What can I say; we like to name our planes.”

Elizabeth gestured asking again, still unsure and worrying that the “powers that be” might not like it at all. Robert assured he it was fine adding that it was because he loved her and wanted her with him when he flew. Elizabeth smiled, hugging Bobby, hoping the small kiss again told him how much he meant to her and how much this, the naming of his plane after her meant.

The next thing Elizabeth knew Robert was leading her up to the plane and boasting her onto the wing. Her feet slipped and Elizabeth nearly squealed half in fun and fear as she started to slither down the metal. Bobby clambered up behind her and helped her settle in the cockpit.

Elizabeth sat there for a few moments, wondering about this “other Mrs Fitz.” Her hands ran over the dials and leavers, hesitantly, as if the plane might in some way disprove of her presence in here. She giggled at the silly thought and tugged on a tall handle on her left. Robert’s hand shot out and his eyebrows up as he said quickly “Not that one, darling. Wheel brake. We want to keep this one parked for the time being.”

He laughed; she laughed, giggling like a pair of children, playing in their father’s car in the garage. Elizabeth grasped the stick with both hands and began “to play” making the sounds she did, when running after Alex’s boys. Only this time her arms were not pretend wings, she was sitting in the very aircraft that was the heart of the child’s game.

“You are a brave girl, Mrs. Fitz, Too bad they don’t let women up in the air.” Robert remarked.

“But then you wouldn’t have me to come home to,” Elizabeth answered and Bobby agreed caressing her chin as he leaned over and kissed her.

A shout came from the open doorway; it was, by the looks of it, Robert’s ground crew.

Bobby explained and introductions were exchanged, the crew’s chief made a bit of a show of lecturing Bobby about “civilians not being allowed.” But Elizabeth could tell by the ear to ear grin on Colin’s face that he was not serious. She did feel a bit conscious of the fact that the ground crew, now knew who “Lovely Mrs Fitz” was, and as she, and Bobby slipped out to Colin addressing his companion “I don’t see a thing, right Micky?” She hoped they approved.

Back they walked to Edwards Avenue, arm in arm as the daylight began to fade. Robert said he had to be back at night fall. That gave them a few hours at most. On letting herself into the house, Elizabeth went straight to the kitchen putting on the kettle to make her some tea and Robert some of the precious coffee.

Robert switched the wireless on and the cottage filled with the sounds of the broadcast of a concert from London. As she went back into the small lounge, Bobby was laid out on the couch, his left hand behind his head and a newly lit cigarette in his right, listening to the music. She sat down on the floor beside him, while she waited for the kettle to boil.

The cigarette in Bobby’s hand began to burn down. His eyes were shut and his breathing had deepened. Elizabeth inched the cigarette out of his hands and stubbed it out. Then she sat and looked at the man she loved. How long she sat there, Elizabeth did not know, but at the light finally failed, Bobby woke with a start.

“Damn, I fell asleep...” He cursed then laughed.

“So you did, " Elizabeth answered with a grin and got up to make his coffee.

 

[Miltone]

Robert "Bobby" Wilson

He could hear the gentle clatter of tea cups and china in the kitchen as Elizabeth brewed some tea and poured the coffee. The unmistakable scent of fresh brewed coffee filled his nostrils and brought Robert up from the couch. He slipped quietly up behind her as she stood at the counter fussing with her tea. Robert slipped his hands around her waist and nuzzled his face up beside hers.

“What smells so appetizing in here?” he said, kissing her lightly near the ear.

“I should have known the smell of coffee would get you up,” she giggled as his hands moved higher, fondling her breasts through the soft fabric of her dress. He felt her lean back against him, pressing the firm curves of her buttocks against his belly.

“Silly girl,” he said after nibbling on her ear. “I was referring to you.”

“Oh,” Elizabeth said, tilting her head to the side as if to give him better access to her tender sensitive neck. “And just what do you find appetizing about me, Officer Wilson?”

“Mmm,” he hummed as his fingers began to toy with the buttons that lead down the front of her dress. “Everything tastes so good to me.” His lips grazed up and down her neck. “This part of you is delicious,” he said. Then his fingers pried a pair of buttons open and his hand slipped inside, gently scooping up her firm but pliant breast. “And this part of you is absolutely mouth-watering.” When his other hand cupped around her other breast, Robert began to grind his hips up against her behind. Elizabeth moaned and began to turn within the circle of his arms.

“Then why don’t you show me,” she said, her voice sounding low and husky. She freed the rest of the buttons and pulled her dress open as Robert inched forward cupping her breasts and pressing her against the cupboards.

Robert kissed the soft smooth flesh around her breasts, then his tongue flicked out to circle each firm orb, to tease the puckered tips. When his lips closed around a taut nipple, Elizabeth reached for his head and held him to her breast, letting him suckle the teat now grown fully engorged and erect. Then he shifted to the other one and then back again, moving from one to the other hungrily.

“Ahh … ahh … ahh! Bobby!” she sighed deeply as she lifted his head, pulling his lips from her breasts up to her mouth where she kissed him with a fierce passion.

Robert reached for the hem of her dress, pulling it upward with a desperate urgency. His hand caressed the soft mound beneath her panties, gently at first, but with each stroke his touch grew heavier until he had moved them aside to feel her heated folds now growing moist.

“Oh, Bobby!” she called out as his fingers probed her dampened labia. “Wait … I can’t afford to lose another pair of knickers!” When she reached down to lower her panties, Robert boosted her up onto the counter and did it for her, leaving the dainty pink garment to dangle from her ankle.

He bent down and kissed her enflamed womanhood, seeing her spread her legs apart opening up the petals of her sex. Robert kissed her there, licking her frantically, feeling her sensitive little nub grow hard as her sweet nectar began to flow. Finally, he could stand it no longer and he unbuckled his belt and lowered his shorts and guided his fully engorged manhood to her moist center. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders, his hands grasped her hips, her legs locked up around his hips, and he began to plumb her velvety depths with long deep strokes.

Each minute that flew by seemed to bring them to another level of excitement and passion. They ground their bodies against each other; they exchanged hot wild kisses; they clutched and grabbed each other desperately; they called out to each other loudly, their voices a mix of moans and cries, growls and grunts, and crazy declarations of love.

“Yes, Bobby! Oh … oh … oh, god, yes!” Elizabeth cried out as her heels dug into his back. Her mouth found his shoulder, kissing it then biting it.

“I love you, Liz … love you … oh, god I love, you!” Robert growled loudly. Then he felt himself begin to erupt inside her, his hot fluids spurting up deep inside her, like a glue that would bind their souls together. He felt Elizabeth hold onto him tightly, her own body trembling and shaking as her built up passion was released.

They remained locked together for several moments, catching their breath, trading little kisses and compliments. Robert had never known such intensity of feeling like what was coursing through his veins now. He knew that his duty called him away for the night and perhaps the next day too, but he knew he would be back; his love for her was that inescapable. They took their time breaking free, Elizabeth laughing nervously about how silly she must appear, her clothes in such disarray.

“Why just look at me,” she giggled as she sat on the countertop reaching for her panties. “My knickers hanging off like a … a … a …”

“Like the beautiful woman that you are,” Robert said, sweeping in to kiss her and help with the buttons on her dress.

They washed up and finished dressing. They finally did enjoy their tea and coffee. But when that was finished, the sound of Hurricanes thundering off overhead told Robert that it was time to leave. They paused at the front door, Elizabeth holding the lapel of his jacket for a moment.

“I love you, Bobby,” she said, her eyes looking him over, as if tracing each line and shape of his face. “I want you to have this.” She handed him a small hard bound book. Robert read the cover on the binding. It was a volume of poetry by Browning. “Maybe when you haven’t time to come by you can read this and think of me.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Fitz,” he said, tucking the book into his jacket pocket. “I’ll carry it with me always.” Then he returned her kiss and turned to walk away. When he got down to the street he turned back to see her waving and yelled out to her, “I love you, Elizabeth! I love you!”

“Bobby!” Elizabeth stammered, flushed and looking about as if afraid that the neighbors would hear. But Robert didn’t care. He patted the little book of poetry in his pocket and walked briskly back to Tangmere.

And so the days and weeks began to turn. There were busy days and intense nights full of air raid activity, but they seemed to become rarer, as if the Germans were backing off a bit. The weather was becoming cooler and damper and soon the channel would be inhospitable for an invasion. But just after a lull for a couple of days there would come a frightening day with the skies full of German planes and the fears would be renewed. The pilots would barely have a chance to land, refuel, and rearm when the call was out to scramble again toward a new intercept target.

Robert continued to find his way up Edwards Avenue every chance he got. And when he was forced to remain at Tangmere, there was the volume of Browning that Elizabeth had given him. He wasn’t really much for poetry, but knowing and loving the person who had given him the book kept his feelings warm and complete. During one long dark nighttime vigil, he opened the book and began to read.

Thou lovest me—the past is in its grave,
Tho’ its ghost haunts us—still this much is ours,
To cast away restraint, lest a worse thing
Wait for us in the darkness. Thou lovest me,
And thou are to receive not love, but faith,
For which thou wilt be mine, and smile, and take
All shapes, and shames, and veil without a fear
That form which music follows like a slave;
And I look to thee, and I trust in thee,
As in a Northern night one looks away
Unto the East for morn, and spring and joy.
Thou seest then my aimless, hopeless state,
And resting on some few old feelings, won
Back by thy beauty, would’st that I essay
The task, which was to me what now thou art:
And why should I conceal one weakness more?

He closed his eyes and Elizabeth’s face appeared to him. He thought of how he had known no boundaries with her, how there was no restraint between them. There was a war going on and there was no reason to hold back any thought or feeling. Perhaps that was why he loved her so, that they were both caught up believing that there could be no tomorrow, so why not live each day to the fullest?

Then as he was getting ready to leave Tangmere early on the morning of October 9th, he noticed a particularly high level of organized activity coming from the hangar and flight line of the 607th Squad. It was not like regular patrols or scrambles.

“What’s with all that?” he asked Colin.

“Didn’t you hear?” Colin replied. “The 607th is moving up to Montrose in the North and the 145th is rotating down to take their place.”

“I hadn’t,” Robert replied, and the news made his walk to Edwards Avenue all the brisker, for he hadn’t seen Elizabeth in a couple of days, and he wondered if their days together were numbered. Within a scant few minutes he was at her door.

 

[Why]

Elizabeth Fitzmorgan.

Autumn was fading fast, the nights drawing in the mornings cold and dark. October was well advanced. Elizabeth was tempted to bank the fire up in the small lounge at night, so at least the small cottage was kept aired. But fuel was scarce and expensive. Some mornings she was loath to get out of the warm bed, even when Bobby was not by her side.

Not that their lovemaking was limited to the bedroom. Sometimes when prim Alex sat on the couch, holding her tea cup, her little finger tilted just so, Elizabeth giggled inside as she remembered things that had happened on that spot.

There I sat, my legs open, one on each of Robert’s shoulders as he kissed me, but not on my mouth. His tongue had parted my sex, probing, his unshaven beard rasping against my skin as he explored every inch of my moist, warm flesh. There I had also returned the favour; using my tongue to trace the raised vein along his manhood, taking his purple head into my mouth deeper each time. Sometimes his seed had exploded, coating my face, dripping off my chin. Here in this room I had learned to love, to be not ashamed of that love, to hold it close and not think of tomorrow.
Escape me?
Never-
Beloved!
While I am I, and you are you.

But sadly as she thought those four opening lines from Browning’s “life in love” Elizabeth felt tomorrow rushing towards her at a headlong pace and she needed to live in it a little, to accept it and move through it. Though her heart wanted time to stop, to be just now, her and Bobby

She had written to her mother asking for her to send some winter clothes. Elizabeth couldn’t buy new; the ration for clothing would hardly get her a coat, not to mention thicker skirts and knitwear. Besides, money, though not a problem yet, was getting tighter Elizabeth had her wages from the Hospital and her small income from the estate. Things were expensive now and the rent for the cottage had been put up again.

Elizabeth sat on the floor going through the two trunks she and Hattie had collected from the station. Hattie sat on the couch her feet up and a cup of tea balanced on her stomach, the cup every now and then vibrating as the child within her made its presence felt.

“Kicks like a mule.” Hattie moaned.

“Or a fighter pilot in a Pub brawl.” Elizabeth said as she pulled out a letter from her mother, which had been slipped into one of the trunks.

“Oh Lordy, you heard of that?” Hattie chuckled. “Thomas was in fine form; damn loud mouth got what he deserved.”

“You mean his trousers removed, then dropped from 5,000 feet the next day?”

“Yes… Thomas said it was just like the old days, in fact he said it was strange how the joking around comes back in these lulls, only the faces different.” Hattie sighed and sat up, poking at the top layer of the one trunk.

“Yes, only the faces….” Elizabeth said as she remembered the high jinks before France was invaded, before Dunkirk, before, what the press were beginning to call the “Battle of Britain”, had begun. Before Bobby had come into her life and before she lost George.

“Losing other faces soon too.” Hattie said quietly.

“Huh?” Elizabeth exclaimed looking up from her mother’s letter, suddenly feeling cold.

“Rumour has it the 607th are being rotated out, same for the other squadrons, not very forth coming about wives and such trailing after, keep hammering on about there is a war on.” Hattie sighed and pulled a pair of riding jodhpurs out of the trunk and held them up, there were at least two other pairs in there, all a bit worn in the seat.

“Bit different from when we came here,” Elizabeth sighed thinking what if Bobby’s squadron was moved. Would she go? Could she afford to go? She was not a wife; she was in a sort of limbo, with regards to official channels, just some woman a pilot officer was seeing. Bedding, some would put it crudely. Least here, with her friends, with her job, she could keep busy for most of the day when Bobby was away. The times alone were bad enough. If she were sitting in some lonely room not knowing where Bobby was, not, most likely, even been informed if anything happened to him? Elizabeth began to shudder.

“You alright?” Hattie asked as she still inspected the jodhpurs. “Your mother got her wires crossed? Does she think you will be riding to hounds this winter with the local hunt?”

Elizabeth tired to smile and said, looking at her mother’s letter as she did so. “My mother said, putting your jodhpurs in as well as lots of jumpers and a couple of jackets, coat , gloves and what not, blankets too. The land girls wear them all the time, besides stockings are getting harder to come by, even woolen ones.”

“Woolen ones! I won’t be seen dead in them, hated them at school; itched like hell” Hattie interrupted.

“As I was saying, no reading,” Elizabeth gave a small laugh now. “Mother says I can wear them when the weather gets colder.”

“Your mother is encouraging you to wear trousers in public when not on a horse? What is the world coming too?” Hattie put the back of her left hand on her forehead in dramatic fashion.

“Yes, but I doubt these will still fit, they are my old ones.” Elizabeth took the jodhpurs from Hattie and held them against her.

“Try them on.” Hattie said.

Elizabeth slipped her shoes off and her skirt and pulled on the jodhpurs, wrinkling her nose at the smell of mothballs. “They feel a bit tight?”

“Where?” Hattie asked signaling her friend to turn round.

“Round the bum,” Elizabeth said and twisted at the waist examining her rear, running her hand over the curved flesh.

“Hmmm… bend over, could be just the fabric has gone a bit stiff with being stored.” Hattie advised.

Elizabeth did, once, twice. Ripppppppp the harsh sound of tearing fabric rattled round the lounge.

“What oh,” Hattie burst out laughing, “Knickers at 12 o clock high.”

“Oh bloody hell,” Elizabeth exclaimed standing up and feeling the large rent down the seam.

Just then the door banged open and closed.

“Hello Bobby, you are just in time, Lizzy is just showing off her knickers.” Hattie laughed out loud, the tears running down her rounded cheeks.

Elizabeth gave a small squeal and blushed to the roots of her hair and tried to hide the rent. This made Hattie laugh even more, thumping the side of the couch in her amusement.

 

[Miltone]

Robert "Bobby" Wilson

“That is certainly something worth looking into,” Robert said with a grin creasing his face. He quickly crossed the room to Elizabeth and tried to have a look, but she kept pivoting around keeping her rear from his view. They laughed as they wrestled for position with Robert finally grasping her firmly around the waist and pinning her still while he looked at the split seam and ran his hand over the slice of silken panties that was visible.

“Bobby!” Elizabeth screamed trying to wiggle her bum free from his gently probing fingers. “We have company!”

“So?” Robert replied giving her bottom a nice smack with his hand and a quick smooch before turning her loose.

“So what?” Hattie laughed. “Pay no mind to the old pregnant lady.”

“Tell me, Hattie, is this the latest fashion?” Robert asked, helping himself to a seat beside Hattie as Elizabeth straightened herself and stepped into her skirt before removing the riding pants.

“Just some warm things sent from home,” Elizabeth. “You don’t want me to freeze my bum this winter now do you?”

“Of course not,” Robert replied. “But I have my own ideas on how to go about it.”

“Bobby!” Elizabeth exclaimed.

Hattie batted at his arm. “You are a bad man,” she laughed.

“Just doing what I can to look after our dear Mrs. Fitz,” he said with a smile, watching as Elizabeth looked through the clothes in the trunk. “And speaking of which, are you planning on following Thomas north, now that the 607 is rotating out?”

“Heavens sake!” Hattie replied. “Officially, they sort of frown on that, but in my current condition, who knows. Thomas said it might not be a couple days before the move.”

“It looked on the flight line like they were flying out today,” Robert remarked. “They had to make way for the 145th rotating down from Montrose.”

“Oh, dear,” Hattie said. “Just like the Service to make changes at the last minute. Perhaps I should get home then and check with Thomas. We can’t afford to keep up two places, even on a Wing Commander’s salary.”

As Hattie struggled to rise up, Robert stood and assisted her to her feet, with a courtly flourish and bow. She tittered.

“I still think that you’re a bad man,” she remarked patting his cheek and he rose up from his bow. “But so very cute. See you later this afternoon, dear?”

“Yes, Hattie,” Elizabeth replied.

As they walked Hattie toward the door and Robert went out with her to help start the Morris, the phone rang and Elizabeth stayed behind to answer it.

“Yes, Alex, I heard the news,” carried her voice to the outside. “It does seem sudden.”

Robert waved to Hattie as the old Morris puttered away and returned to the cottage. Elizabeth stood at the little telephone settee.

“I’m not planning on going anywhere, Alex,” Elizabeth said, sitting on the upholstered seat. “I have my work here … yes, I know … I’m going to hold out though …” Robert stood beside Elizabeth and could hear the sound of Alex’s voice over the receiver. “Yes, but my work is important, if only to me not to mention the patients I help with my care …”

Robert placed his hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder and bent down to kiss her hair. She stirred and shifted the phone to her other ear, which only gave him a ready target. He brushed her hair away from her ear and kissed it, flicking his tongue out to circle it. Elizabeth shivered and leaned away from him, so he bent down further and kissed her neck lightly.

“But you and Matthew have the boys to look after, Alex,” Elizabeth said. “Doesn’t that complicate things?” She moaned slightly as Robert’s tongue licked along her neck. “No, I’m all right … yes, he’s here.”

Robert let his hand trail down over her breast, feeling her nipple rise up as his fingertips circled it.

“I’m not sure … depends … yes, when he’s due back,” Elizabeth said as Robert’s kisses on her neck continued.

As his hand drifted lower on her body, Robert stooped to his knees in front of her. His fingers pulled at the buttons of her blouse, easily working a couple of them free so that his kisses could reach the tender sensitive flesh of her breasts.

“Oh, really?” she said, trying to stifle a giggle as Robert suckled her firm puckered nipple. “That would be something …” She moaned loudly. “No, no, no, I’m all right,” she insisted, giving Robert a dirty look but then leaned her head back, eyes closed when his hands cupped her breasts together and his tongue skated a figure eight around the rosy tips.

As his lips explored her breasts and the soft valley that lie between, Robert’s hands began to tug at her skirt, lifting it up past her knees, and pushing it toward her hips. When Robert went to move between her legs, Elizabeth tried to lock her knees together, but he pried them apart and let his fingertips dance up her thighs and flirt with the mound that lie at the top.

“Umm, no, not yet … Alex … you’re kidding … really?” Robert glanced up and saw Elizabeth’s eyes were closed, her head tilted back and a warm blush was flooding her neck and chest. When he pulled at her panties, she looked down at him with a nasty furrow to her brow, but he grinned and kept pulling at her silken undies until she relented and let him remove them completely. Robert pulled her hips toward him slightly, then leaned forward and kissed her belly letting his tongue move out to comb down through the downy auburn fur that covered her sex. “Oh, yes, Alex … yes …” she sighed when his tongue reached her slit. “Um, I mean no, no … I couldn’t do that.”

Finally when Robert thrust his face forward and let his tongue probe the warm moist depths of her, Elizabeth suddenly sat upright.

“Have to go now, Alex … sorry … tea kettle ready to explode … yes, good bye!” She banged the telephone down in its cradle and put her hands on Robert’s head, nestled firmly between her thighs. “Hattie is right,” she moaned as his tongue laved her sex slavishly. “You are a bad influence … and I love you so much!”

Robert looked up at her for a moment and grinned. Then he plunged his face back down between her legs and kissed and licked and suckled the wet folds of her womanhood until her thighs clamped tightly to his cheeks and she cried out loudly, “Bobby! Bobby! Oh, god, Bobby! Yes!”

She pulled his head up from her lap and kissed him with a deep fierce passion. When he stood up, her hands stroked up his thighs, then reached to open his belt. She frantically lowered his trousers and short and took hold of his nearly erect manhood.

“Oh, Lizzy!” he growled as he felt her hot wet mouth envelope him. He pulled off his jacket and shirt. His eyes closed and his head tilted backward. From the hungry way she took him into her mouth and the rising tide of desire welling up inside him, Robert knew they wouldn’t make it as far as the bedroom … the hall carpet was rather plush and cushy.

 

[Why]

Elizabeth Fitzmorgan

The thought that Bobby’s squadron might also be moving soon fired Elizabeth’s passion. Part of her would follow him to the ends of the world, the other part, the part of Elizabeth that lived in the real world feared, no knew she could not.

The war had changed things. This was a war of machines and swift movement; there was no place for camp followers in the baggage train of the aerial army Bobby fought in. Wives were tolerated if they were in the area. A mistress? A lover? Elizabeth knew she was invisible to the powers that be.

Don’t think of that now, she told herself as her body still resonated to lingering touch of Bobby’s tongue on the lips of her womanhood. Elizabeth pulled at his belt, tugged at his trousers and took Bobby’s manhood into her mouth, feeling the silky tip slide along the roof of her mouth and touch the back of her throat. She allowed the thick shaft to slide out as she raised her head, her tongue running the length as she did so. Bobby gave a growl and thrust his hips forward, Elizabeth giggled and curled her hand round the base and began to work her mouth up and down, licking, teasing with tongue and teeth.

She marveled at the feel of him, the change of texture from the silky smooth purple head, to the veined skin. Both left an impression on her lips, tongue and sides of her mouth as it slipped down and up. Saliva ran from the corner of her mouth, dripping off her chin as she brought the man she loved closer to his climax.

Bobby’s hands were tangled in her hair, half formed words fell from his lips as Elizabeth felt his manhood expand in her mouth, shudder, almost draw back, then explode. His seed, coated her lips, touched her tongue and amazed her.

“God Lizzy…” Bobby said as his hand cupped her chin. Elizabeth gave a laugh, he was standing; they both were, half naked on the hall carpet.

Elizabeth, hand was still gently stroking Robert’s manhood when the door rattled.

“Oh sod it…” Elizabeth swore and fumbled with her clothes.

“Language Mrs Fitz.” Bobby said as he shuffled backwards pulling up his trousers as he went down the hall and slid into the lounge.

The door was rattled harder. Elizabeth swore again and tucked her blouse in, her hand reaching out and opening the door.

“Took your time Missus.” The largest of the small group of children on Elizabeth’s door step said.

“Yes I did and to what do I owe the pleasure of this call ?” Elizabeth frowned at the boy. The lad sniffed, rubbed his nose and scratched his knee. He seemed a bit big to be in short trousers, in fact his jacket was as long as the trousers and covered his hands.

“We are collecting for the war effort.” The lad announced proudly. The youngest member, a girl with soft blonde curls sticking out of her knitted hat pointed at the push chair behind the four children. It was full of old newspaper and from the handle dangled a number of aluminum saucepans. “The group that gets the most by Saturday, gets a prize.”

“Chocolate……” The four children said as one, the young girl lisping the word as she licked her lips.

“Paper goes towards cartridges and the pans go to make Spitfires.” The lad said peering behind Elizabeth.

“Not Hurricanes?” Bobby asked as he came up behind and put a hand on Elizabeth’s shoulders.

“Pooh, no…” The lad scoffed.

“Oh dear… you don’t like Hurricanes?” Bobby laughed and winked at Elizabeth.

“They are not Spitfires,” the Boy announced as if that should be enough. He then squinted at Bobby. “You is a pilot, you should know?”

“Oh I do, young sir, I do. Do we have any spare pans?” Robert asked Elizabeth.

“Well…” Elizabeth was flustered; the pans like most things in the house were rented with it. “The Large one hanging from the ceiling and the pile of papers in the box by the back door.” Elizabeth called after Bobby as he turned and went back into the house.

Robert came back with his bounty and with great ceremony helped the children load it on to the old pushchair. The children waved their thanks and the eldest marshaled his troops for the assault on the next cottage.

Elizabeth shut the door and stood there for a moment, then sighed, biting her lower lip. The fears that had begun to haunt her came back.

“Penny for them?” Robert said as he slipped his arm round Elizabeth’s waist.

“Your squadron is going to be rotated soon too isn’t it?” Bobby did not answer, just pulled Elizabeth close.

“I don’t think I will be able to follow you. I mean things are different now, when I and the other came here in April, it wasn’t a real war then, not a killing one. Now we, wives, lovers are a nuisance, a burden, they even say our being around affects the “moral fiber” of the men… Besides what would I do… God, I loved you sooo..” Elizabeth blurted the words into Robert’s chest and sobbed.

 

[Miltone]

Robert "Bobby" Wilson

He felt Elizabeth’s body trembling as she cried, her tears wetting down the front of his shirt. He held her tightly against him, one hand firmly at her waist, the other moving up her back, first rubbing back and forth over her shoulders, gently up the back of her neck, then combing through her hair. He kissed the top of her head while his fingers continued to pass through her soft auburn locks. God, he loved her too! So much so that he hadn’t thought about the future, any kind of future with her. Swept up in the daily battle and the love that had grown between them, Robert hadn’t considered the possibility of being taken from her and how it would affect her.

The war seemed to grind on constantly; sure some days were lighter than others, but whatever the level of action, he could always come home to her, walk with her, with her, talk with her, read poetry together, share a simple meal, and make love together. For the first time he considered a life with the war still raging on but a life without Elizabeth. The thought tore into him like a Messerschmitt introducing a thousand questions into his mind. What of Elizabeth? How would she get on? Her wages from the hospital certainly wouldn’t keep up the rent here. Would she have to return home to her family? Could she follow him? However could they manage that on only his salary?

“Elizabeth,” he whispered as she struggled to control her sobbing. “I love you too, so much that I can’t imagine being without you. Now that I’ve been with you, I can’t imagine being without you.”

Elizabeth lifted her head from his chest and looked up at him. Her eyes were red and puffy and filled with tears. Robert leaned down and kissed her with a desperate urgent passion. If only this moment could last forever, if only their love and desire could keep this damned war from pulling them apart!

“Neither can I, Bobby,” Elizabeth said as they broke their kiss for a needed breath. “But we can’t stay here evermore.”

“I know the day is coming when we will be apart,” Robert said. “But we’ve got today and tomorrow and the next day. And while we do, I don’t want to miss a moment that I can with you. We both know that the next German raid could mean the worse … I could be gone in an instant.”

From the pained expression on Elizabeth’s face, Robert regretted his words the moment they left his mouth. While they had spent their time together falling in love, there had been an unspoken agreement to avoid mentioning certain things, and that was one of them.

“Bobby, no!” she said breaking away from him. She put her hands up to her ears and ran toward the bedroom.

“Lizzy! Liz! Wait!” he called out to her as he followed closely behind. “That’s not what I meant!” Robert pushed open the door that she had closed behind her. Elizabeth had thrown herself onto the bed and was sobbing uncontrollably. He moved cautiously toward the bed and climbed on. He tried to embrace her, but she pulled away from him. “Lizzy … Mrs. Fitz … don’t do this … I love you … please, let me love you in return.”

Elizabeth folded her arms up to her chest tightly as she continued to cry. Robert wrapped his arms around her. He tried to calm her down with soft kisses and caresses and gentle words.

“With this damned war, I don’t know a lot of things, where I’ll be tomorrow even,” he said in a low quiet voice. “But wherever I am, I will be loving you. When this war is over, in a year, two years, ten … whatever it takes, I will find you … and we will be together … we will … and then no one can then pull us apart.”

Slowly, as his words settled on her like his hands gently stroking her arms, softly combing her hair, wiping clear her tear sodden cheeks, Elizabeth began to quiet.

“I love you, Bobby,” she sobbed. “Unlike I’ve ever loved a man before. I loved George, too, but I lost him to the war.” Elizabeth turned to face him. “I can’t bear losing you too, for any reason.”

“You will never lose me, Lizzy,” he replied. “I will always be with you, in person,” he said kissing her lips. “In here,” he said as he patted her forehead. “And in here,” he whispered, placing his hand over her heart. “I promise.”

“Oh, God, Bobby!” Elizabeth cried out as she took his shoulders in her hands. “I love you so much! You will always be inside me … forever.”

Their next kiss was more than light. It was full of an urgent need and desire that enflamed them both. Robert felt her hands clawing at his body, nearly rending his shirt from his chest. He pawed at her blouse, barely careful enough to avoid ripping it as he pulled it free from her creamy body. His trousers, her skirt, his skivvies, her panties were all made quick history as they wrestled each other naked, rolling from side to side on the rumpled bedcovers, kissing heatedly, their lips and tongues and teeth engaging in a rout of wild lovemaking; their voices crying out a mad mix of laughter and sighs and growls; their hands touching and caressing, grasping and squeezing each other until Elizabeth rose up, pinned Robert to the bed and then guided his long stiff manhood toward her hot wet sex.

The tingle from the first touch of their most intimate parts sent a tingle through both of them. Robert picked his head up from the pillows and brought his mouth to her stiff rosy nipple. Elizabeth slowly eased him inside her, letting each inch of him stretch her apart and plumb her velvety depths. He savored the feeling and moaned from the sheer intense pleasure. He was inside her now physically; he knew at this moment that part of him would always be inside her, just as she would always be in his mind and in his heart.

 

[Why]

Elzabeth Fiztmorgan

Elizabeth savored the feel of Bobby stretching her as his shaft slid deep within. She ground her hips gently forcing herself down, trying to take every fraction of him so deep inside her that Bobby was part of her, locked to her. The rushing torrent that swept her and Bobby, locked by their sex to a shuddering climax, and the soft whispers of “after love”, stayed with Elizabeth long after Robert had left her.

As she lay alone, wrapped in the warm blankets, Elizabeth’s hand strayed to her stomach, the touch of her fingers mimicking Bobby’s. Up and down, soft circles, teasing the down that covered her sex, as her mind remembered Bobby’s touch. The wafting of his breath as he bent his head to kiss her. The lick of his tongue as he parted the soft flesh of her sex, taking the small raised nubbin between his teeth and opening a box of delights Elizabeth never thought possible.

Elizabeth groaned and rolled over, licking her lips. In her mind she could taste him, the maleness of him, the texture of his seed as it splashed her lips and coated her mouth. Elizabeth began to sweat. She sat up, hugging her knees, aware that her nipples had hardened, responding to her thoughts, swollen, desiring the touch of Robert’s callused fingers and the lap of his tongue.

She pushed back her hair from her eyes and squinted at the clock hiding in the gloom. Seven hours since he was here with me. Elizabeth thought, yet he was still there with her, part of her. Inside, caught in her heart, tangled in her mind and her body remembering his touch.

When and how had this happened? To say she loved him, Elizabeth knew was just a pale expression. What she felt for Bobby went beyond. Robert was so much a part of her that each movement of her body, each thought trickling across her mind was linked to him, in strange, marvelous ways.

Elizabeth went about her life as autumn turned to winter; the days became colder, shorter. Some began tinted with frost, others damp and so dark that it never seemed to get light. The world began washed out, grey as the light changed and the sun lost all its power to warm the land.

Slowly over the next few days Elizabeth struggled to come to terms with the fact that the war would most certainly tear them apart physically. Yet she knew as long as she lived, Bobby would be part of her, even if the horror, the fear they never spoke of happened. He would still be there inside her, locked in her memories.

Once she burst out laughing in the ward as the thought hit her that in this topsy, turvy war, it could be her that died, was snatched away. Bombs did not ask if you were civilian or military and often German bombers, damaged, struggling to return to France released there deadly cargo when and where they could. More than one cow had been killed in its field, more than one school; hospital, cottage, torn to pieces.

Day after day past. Elizabeth dealt with each. She warded off the butcher’s snide comments and winks as he asked “Did she want a little extra?” when she collected her rations. Turned mattresses, emptied bed pans and wrote letters for patients at the cottage hospital.

Sat with Hattie and talked, helped Hattie get things “sorted” Hattie wasn’t going north, she was staying put, least for the time being. Alex too, stayed with her family. Between the three women there was an uneasy truce, Alex still disapproving, Hattie, trying to keep the peace and Elizabeth biting her tongue in an effort to not blurt out what she wanted to say. The three rubbed along, each holding on to the familiar in a war that was stripping away the old, the known.

As October faded, Elizabeth prized each moment with Bobby as if it was their last together.Her eyes drank in the contours of his face, etching them deep, the sound of his voice when they talked and laughed, most of all the feel of him inside her.

The nights cold, yet both of them warm; their bodies glowing with sweat from their frantic, heart stopping, love making. Elizabeth straddling her lover, rocking gently, squeezing with her muscles, drawing Bobby in deeper with each thrust of his hips. Her head thrown back, eyes half closed, glorying in the sensations. Her hands over his on her breasts, encouraging him, delighting in each pinch, each rub between forefinger and thumb. Elizabeth wanted the gut wrenching, shuddering cascade of the sexual tide she was riding to never stop, wanted to love Bobby like this for always and ever.

But she knew that soon she would not have this physical contact, this expression of what she felt for Bobby, to show him how much she loved him. All she soon would have would be the memory locked in her heart and mind.

 

[Miltone]

Robert “Bobby” Wilson

It was late morning when Robert awoke to the noise of machines running up on the airfield. The sound irritated him; he had a horrible headache. Having been on every flight the previous day, the morning was his to do with as he pleased and his mind settled on signing out to visit Elizabeth. He got up, dressed quickly, and wandered over to the mess for breakfast. It must have been nearly twelve o’clock when he looked out onto the tarmac to find the clouds and a list mist forming a dull pall over everything. He started to walk across the airfield to the Dispersal Point on the far side. There were only a handful of machines on the ground so he concluded that the rest of his squadron was already up. Then he heard a shout and his ground crew drew up in a lorry beside him. Colin leaned out.

“Want a lift, sir? We’re going round.”

“No thanks! I’m going to cut across. I have someplace to go, someone to see!” he shouted. He knew that walking across the airfield was forbidden for obvious reasons, but it would take less time and he could soon be on his way to see Elizabeth.

“Okay, sir,” Colin shouted back. “See you round there.” The lorry trundled off down the road in a cloud of mist. Robert walked on across the landing ground. He hadn’t seen Elizabeth in more than a day. He remembered that she wasn’t working this day, October 15. He longed for her touch on his shoulders, for the sound of her voice caressing his ears, for her kiss. He was yanked from his reverie by the voice of the controller shouting over the loudspeakers.

“Large enemy bombing formation approaching Tangmere. All personnel not engaged in active duty take cover immediately! Repeat, all personnel not engaged in active duty take cover immediately!”

Robert looked up. The German aircraft were still not visible. At the Dispersal Point he saw his new wing mates Bubble Waterson and Pip Cardell make a dash for the nearest air raid shelter, which was little more that a crude dugout underneath a slab of reinforced concrete. Three Hurricanes from the 47th had just landed and were taxiing along the tarmac, but then turned about and roared past him to take off down wind. His support lorry with Colin and Mickey and the other crewmen was still trundling along the road, maybe half way round the airfield. Now standing in the middle of the airfield, Robert suddenly felt like he was an awfully long way from the Dispersal Point.

He looked up again, and this time he saw them, about a dozen Messerschmitts shining in the bright sun and coming straight on. As the battle had progessed the Germans had begun to use the faster and more maneuverable fighter bombers almost exclusively to attack strategic targets, particularly the advance aerodromes and airfields. At the rising scream of the first bomb he instinctively shrugged up his shoulders and ducked his head. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the three Hurricanes that had just left the ground. One moment, they were about twenty feet up in close formation; the next, they were catapulted apart as though on rubber bands. The leader went over on his back and plowed along the runway with a rending crash of tearing metal; Number 2 put a wing into the ground and spun round on his airscrew, while Number 3 was blasted wingless into the next field.

That’s the shortest flight they’ve ever taken, Robert thought and then his feet were nearly knocked from under him and his mouth was filled with dirt. Waterson, gesticulating like a madman from the shelter entrance, was yelling to him, “Run, you bloody fool, run!”

Suddenly awakened to the folly of his stroll across the airfield, Robert ran, covering the distance to the shelter as if propelled by a rocket. He shot through the entrance while once again the ground rose up and hit him, and his head smashed hard against one of the pillars inside the makeshift bunker. He landed on a heap of rubble.

“Who’s here?” Robert asked, peering through the dust and gloom.

“Cardell and me and three of our ground crew,” said Waterson. “And, by the Grace of God, you!”

Robert could see that Waterson was still talking but a sudden concentration of the scream and crump of falling bombs made it impossible to hear him. The air became thick with dust and the shelter shook and heaved at each explosion, yet somehow held firm. For about three minutes the bedlam continued, and then suddenly ceased. In the utter silence that followed nobody moved. None of them wished to be the first to see what devastation had been wrought outside. Then Waterson spoke up, “Praise God, I’m not a civilian! Of all the bloody frightening things I’ve ever done, sitting in here was the worst! I’m making for the air next time!”

His comment broke the tension and the occupants scrambled out of the entrance laughing nervously. The runways were certainly in something of a mess. Gaping holes and great clumps of earth were everywhere. Right in front of them a bomb had landed very near the Lovely Mrs Fitz, covering it with a shower of grit and rubble.

He turned to the grounds crewman standing beside him. “Can you find Colin Ross and tell him to give her an inspection.”

“I think I’d better collect the crew myself, sir,” the crewman remarked, jerking his head towards one corner of the airfield. “Doesn’t look like Sergeant Ross will be doing any more inspections.”

Robert followed the crewman’s glance and saw the lorry lying grotesquely on its side, the roof about twenty yards away. He felt a sick twinge in his gut and smacked the side of the Lovely Mrs Fitz. Not knowing what else to do, he climbed up into the cockpit and, feeling sad and faintly sick, began to test out the switches. Waterson poked his head over the side.

“Come on, Bobby,” he said. “Why don’t you leave that and let’s go over to the mess and see what’s up. All our machines will be landing down at the reserve landing field and they’ll order the crews over there anyway.”

“Oh, all right,” Robert said. He slowly climbed out and followed Waterson over to the Officer’s Club. On their way they saw that the Operations shack was undamaged, no hangars had been touched, and the Officer’s Mess had just a pair of broken windows. There was a celebration going on in the bar on behalf of the three downed Hurricane pilots from the 47th, quite unharmed but for a few superficial scratches, in spite of being machine-gunned by the Messerschmitts.

Robert had to forego his visitation to Elizabeth when the aerodrome commander ordered every available man and woman on to the job of repairing the airfield surface. By four o’clock there was not a hole to be seen. Several unexploded bombs had been marked off, and two lines of yellow flags were laid down to mark makeshift temporary runways. At five o’clock the rest of the 213 Squadron returned from the reserve field, landing safely on its home base. Thus, apart from four men killed in the lorry and a network of filled-in holes on the landing surface, there was little to show for the ten minute German bombing run. It was a striking proof in the minds of the pilots and grounds crew of the ineffective attempt of the German to wipe out the advance fighter airfields.

Since one of his squadron mates had taken a bullet through his foot, Robert eagerly took his place in readiness for the next show for he had had enough of the ground for one day. Six o’clock came and went, and still no call. Waterson and Cardell and some others started to play poker, goading Robert into playing. Strangely enough Robert was winning. It was agreed that they should stop at seven. Should there be a scramble before then, the game was off. He gazed anxiously at the clock. He was always unlucky at cards, but when the hands of the clock pointed to 5:55 he really began to feel his luck was changing. But sure enough at that moment came the voice of the controller, “213 Squadron take off and patrol base. Further instructions in the air.”

The pilots of the 213 made a dash for their machines and within two minutes were off the ground. As the Lovely Mrs Fitz left the ground, Robert realized that he couldn’t remember the faces of the crew that had prepped her. Morgan-something and Pease, Peter Pease. He liked knowing their names but felt a twinge grip him inside as he remembered Colin and Mickey, but couldn’t remember their last names. The full squadron circled the airfield twice to allow all twelve planes to get into formation. They were flying in four sections of three; red section leading, blue and white to right and left, and the three remaining planes forming a guard section above and behind them. Robert was flying No. 1 in the blue section.

Over the radio came the voice of the controller, “Hullo Red Leader,” followed by the instructions and their acknowledgment by the leader. As always, they flew counter to the ordered course for the first few minutes until they reached 15,000 feet. Then they turned about and flew on in an all-out climb, thus coming out of the sun and gaining height all the way.

During the climb Wing Commander Forthwright was in constant touch with the ground and the others listened on. They were to intercept about 20 enemy fighters coming over near Beachy Head at 25,000 feet. Robert glanced across at Finch and saw his mouth moving; he was singing again. Robert chuckled for sometimes Finch would set his radio on “send,” mingling their instructions from the ground with a raucous off-key rendering of “Night and Day.”

And then quite clearly over the radio he heard the Germans excitedly calling to each other. This happened every once in a while and it made it feel like they were right behind, although the Germans were still some distance away. Robert switched his radio to “send” and called out “Halt’s Maul!” and as many other choice pieces of German invective as he could remember. To his delight he heard one of them answer, “You feelthy Englishmen! Ve vill teach you how to speak to a German.”

He heard the laughs of Forthwright and the others echo through his receiver. He looked down. It was a completely cloudless sky and way below lay the English countryside, stretching lazily into the distance, a quite extraordinary and colorful picture in the setting sun drawn in hues and shades of fall colors. He took a glance at his altimeter. They were now at 28,000 feet. At that moment Gilroy yelled, “Tallyho!” and dropped down in front of Forthwright in a slow dive in the direction of the approaching planes. Forthwright saw them at once.

“Okay … line astern,” the commander called over the radio.

Robert heard Finch close in behind him and looked again for the enemy. They were about 2,000 feet below them, which was a pleasant change, but the Germans must have spotted them at the same moment, for they were forming a protective circle, one behind the other, which is a defense formation that is hard to break.

“Echelon starboard,” came Forthwright’s voice. They spread out fanwise to the right. “Going down!”

One after the other they peeled off in a power dive. Robert picked out one machine and switched his gun button to “Fire.” At 300 yards he had him in his sights. At 200 yards he opened up in a long four-second burst and saw the tracer going into his target’s nose. Then he was pulling out, so hard that it felt as if his eyes would drop down his throat. Coming round in a slow climbing turn he saw that the squadron had broken up the Germans. The sky was now a mass of individual dogfights. Several of them had already been knocked down. One, he hoped was his, but on pulling up, he had not been able to see the result. To his left he saw another wing mate make a head-on attack on a Messerschmitt. They were headed straight for each other and it looked as though the fire of both was striking home. Then at the last moment the Messerschmitt pulled up taking fire full in the belly. It rolled onto its back, yellow flames pouring from the cockpit, and vanished.

The next few minutes were typical. First, the sky was a bedlam of machines; then suddenly silence and not a plane to be seen. Robert noticed then that he was alone, very tired, and very hot. The sweat was running down his face in rivulets. But this was no time for vague reflections. Flying around on his own was not a healthy course of action.

He still had some ammunition left. Having no desire to return to Tangmere until it had all been used to some good purpose, he took a look around the sky for some friendly fighters. About a mile away over Dungeness he could see in the twilight a formation of about forty Hurricanes on patrol at 20,000 feet. Feeling that there was safety in numbers, he set off in their direction to catch up. When about 200 yards from the rear machine, he looked down and saw another formation of fifty machines flying in the same direction maybe some 5,000 feet below. Flying stepped up like this was an old trick of the Germans, and he was glad to see his mates were adopting the same tactics.

But as though hit by a douche of cold water, he suddenly woke up. There were far more machines flying together than the RAF could ever muster over one spot. He took another look at the rear machine in his formation, and sure enough, there was the Swastika on its tail. Yet they all seemed quite oblivious of his presence. He had the setting sun behind him and a glorious opportunity.

Closing in to 150 yards he let go a three-second burst into the rear machine. It flicked onto its back and spun out of sight. Feeling like an naughty schoolboy who has perpetrated some nasty prank that would inevitably be found out, he glanced around him. Still nobody seemed disturbed. Robert supposed that he could have repeated the performance on the next machine, but felt that it was not advisable to tempt Providence too far. He did a quick half roll and made off for home, where he found to his irritation that Finch had three planes down to his two.

“You bugger!” Robert said to Finch as they exited the debriefing room. They noted their names posted up on the daily roster for dawn patrol the next morning and sauntered in a tired gait toward the mess. There was to be a special band concert in one of the hangars that night, but as they had to be up at five the next morning, they took a quick dinner and a couple of beers, and went to bed, Robert feeling not unsatisfied with the day, but missing his Elizabeth, his sweet Lizzy, so very badly.

 

[Why]

Elizabeth Fitzmorgan

Thursday 24th October started like any other day off for Elizabeth, doing her washing. Up to her elbows in soapy lukewarm water, scrubbing away at the wash board, pounding her undies, uniform and anything else that came to hand as Elizabeth took out her temper and her frustration at not seeing the man she loved.

Elizabeth had her hair tied back and covered with an old scarf. She was wearing an apron two sizes too big for her and her face was peppered with soap suds.

The front door opened and closed and Elizabeth swore “Bugger!”

“Arh! It’s Mrs Mop!” Bobby laughed and pointed at her. He pulled a chair out and sat down, whistling.

“Well,” Elizabeth huffed as she pulled out the final item ready for rinsing.

“Well, I was wondering were Mrs Fitz was?” Bobby said quietly

“Why you…” Elizabeth filled her hand with soap suds and flung it at Bobby.

He dodged to his feet laughing. “Watch the uniform.”

“I will watch the uniform all right.” Elizabeth picked up another dollop and threw it, hitting Bobby on the side of the head. The off white suds trickled down round his ear and dropped onto his shoulder. Elizabeth giggled and rearmed herself moving round the table as Bobby made a lunge for her.

Splat! the third handful caught him in the middle of the chest.

“Out gunned by a woman!” Bobby cried and filled his own hands with suds. Elizabeth stuck her tongue out and fled into the lounge, the two handfuls following her, split, splat. they hit her back, soaking through her jumper, the damp prickling her skin. Elizabeth ducked behind the couch, but Bobby had acquired more ammo and was kneeling on the couch, leaning over ready to fire.

Elizabeth stood up and grabbed his wrists the suds erupted over both of them and Elizabeth found Robert’s lips locked to hers. “I have the rinsing, then I have to put it through the mangle.” She mumbled between the deepening kisses.

“That sounds painful” Robert said as he half helped half pulled her onto the couch and began to undress her, cursing the strings of the apron as he tried to undo them. Elizabeth just yanked at it, pulling it over her head along with half her jumper.

“Targets in sight.” Bobby words accompanied his movements as he cupped her breasts, feeling for the nipples through her slip. Elizabeth groaned as his touch awakened the heady need in her. Soon all of her clothes and most of Bobby’s were in a pile in front of the newly lit fire and Elizabeth was astride her lover’s knee.

As she eased Bobby’s manhood into her Elizabeth felt the first wave of her impending climax begin. It was a torrent, a raging river she rode, each touch, each movement of Bobby inside her drove her higher and faster. So intense that Elizabeth’s sight blurred and her heart jolted, almost stopping from the pleasure that tore through her.

Now as Robert slowly began to work himself up into her Elizabeth, screamed, begged and cried out wanting this to go on, and on.

But end it did and they sat, linked by their sex, talking, kissing, and holding on.

“You going to help me rinse those clothes?” Elizabeth teased…

“Errrr…..” Bobby answered.

“Well you can turn the handle of the mangle then.” Elizabeth retorted as she reached for her jumper.

Bobby did help and hinder the finishing of the chore, helping by turning the mangle, hindering by trying to pinch Elizabeth’s bottom every time she bent down to pick up a piece of washing to put through the rollers.

“You are a horrible man.” Elizabeth teased.

“So you won’t come and have lunch with me?” Robert gave dramatic sigh as Elizabeth put her clothes to dry on the clothes horse before the fire.

“Lunch, where?” Elizabeth exclaimed.

“Oh I have it on good authority that there is roast beef on offer at the Dog and Doublet.” Bobby said inspecting his nails.

“Yum… two minutes” Elizabeth said and flew to the bedroom.

“Want some help?” Bobby called after.

“The pub will be closed by the time we get there if you do” Elizabeth’s muffled voice came back.

“Oh such a pity, the woman prefers a beef dinner to me.” Robert said as he leant on the door frame, watching Elizabeth change. She just stuck her tongue out and pushed her feet into her shoes.

“Think I will do?” She asked looking at her reflection in the mirror. She was wearing a wool skirt, silk blouse, and small wool jacket in various shades of green.

“Oh yes,” Booby said and opened his arms to hold her.

“Beef!” Elizabeth giggled and pushed him towards the door.

“You are heartless.” Robert laughed as he helped her on with her coat.

The two lovers were soon walking arm in arm towards the Dog and Doublet. The day was damp, overcast; one of those grey English days that seem to have no sunrise or sunset, just a semi gloom. But the gloom did not bother Elizabeth and Bobby as they exchanged what little news they had since they had last met.

The lounge of the Dog and Doublet was warm, the dinner good.

“Where did he get this beef?” Bobby asked as he cut at his meat.

“It’s not tough is it?” Elizabeth asked as she attacked a Yorkshire pudding.

“No the opposite….” Bobby answered taking a drink of his beer.

The owner’s wife watched them from behind the bar and winked broadly at Elizabeth, who nearly choked, coughed and spluttered.

“You ok.” Bobby asked beating her on the back.

“I think,” Elizabeth said in a spluttering whisper. “Mrs T has come to special arrangement with the winking butcher.”

“It’s a hard war…” Bobby joked and smiled at Elizabeth. She giggled and reapplied herself to her meal.

By the time they had finished it was gone two ‘o’ clock and the covers had been put on the pumps. The Pub closed, the owners just waiting for their lunchtime customers to drift off.

As Bobby was helping her into her coat Elizabeth noticed the bar skittles on a table in a corner. She walked over to the game and stood there looking at it, remembering the night, here in this very room. It was the first night Bobby had touched her. Bobby’s hand had been over hers as she had held the ball. Mind over matter, just a matter of direction…mass and velocity

As Elizabeth remembered Bobby’s words, she realized that their relationship was the same, only the direction now was soon to change, she had to accept that. not like it, but deal with it, because she believed no matter what, she would never stop loving Bobby, and he, her.

She reached out and took the ball, pulling it back and releasing it. The skittles sprang off, clattering down. All save for two in the centre.

“Not bad, Bobby,” commented as he came up and took her hand.

“No… not bad, good even, things are very good.” Elizabeth sighed as she leant against his arm. Robert slipped the arm round her and they walked back through the village in the fast fading afternoon light.

 

[Miltone]

Robert “Bobby” Wilson

They grew quiet as they strolled together the last few blocks to Edwards Avenue, their arms around each other, Elizabeth’s head resting against Robert’s shoulder. Drifting through the neighborhood towards the little cottage that had become a warm cozy haven to Robert, they came upon a small park, no bigger than a couple housing lots in size. There were shrubs that stubbornly held most of their color despite the advance of fall. A swing set and carousel were to one side and Robert directed their path in that direction. Elizabeth looked at him but smiled as he helped her onto the seat of the swing.

“I can’t remember the last time I sat on a swing,” she giggled as he began to push her. Robert watched as she stretched her legs out, her skirt billowing as the breeze caught it. She leaned back letting her hair trail off behind her, the scattered strands of auburn catching the last rays of sunlight. Robert had never felt more in love with life than at this moment, nor more in love with anyone than the real, lovely Mrs. Fitz, his Elizabeth. When she stopped the motion of the swing to tuck her skirt in and keep it from rising higher than her stocking tops, Robert leaned toward her, nuzzling his face into her hair and humming near her ear.

“I love you, Elizabeth,” he sang softly.

“Mmm,” she hummed in return. “And I love you too, Bobby.”

“Do you?” he said kissing her cheek as she turned toward him. “Do you really?”

“Of course I do,” she said with a puzzled look. “What sort of question is that?”

“Just a silly one I guess,” he said, kissing her lips now that she had turned her head completely to face him. “There are times that I can’t believe that we met, how we met, how we’ve fallen into love. I fear that one day I’ll wake up and find that this is all a dream.”

“Bobby,” Elizabeth said, raising her hand to his cheek and stroking it. “This is real enough, all too real some days, especially when you are gone. But I …”

“I know, Lizzy,” he said kissing her again. “I miss you so much when away … well ‘cept for a moment when I’ve got a nasty old Messerschmitt on my ass. I just don’t want this to end, even though I know that the war will take us apart at some point.”

“Bobby,” Elizabeth said. “No matter what, I will never stop loving you. You will always be in my heart.”

“And you will be in mine, Mrs. Fitz,” Robert replied. They kissed, a warm deep mutually expressive kiss that tied their loving souls together ever deeper. And when they broke, Robert began to push her on the swing again. Elizabeth leaned back, kicked her feet out straight in front of her. The sky had grown rich in color as the sun faded, the clouds growing a deep shade of orange with streaks of red. “Red sky at night, pilot’s delight,” he said.

Elizabeth laughed. Robert met her each time she swung backward, catching her supple hips and pushing her forward, sending her higher and higher, making her shouts and squeals louder. Finally with a great push he sent her quite high and then stepped around safely in front of her, watching as she swung back and forth. Her skirt had untucked itself and billowed widely, giving him a lovely view of her legs and stockings and the delight that lie between them covered in pink silk.

“Officer Wilson,” she said trying to close her knees. “Are you peeking up my skirt.”

“That I am, Mrs. Fitz,” he laughed. “That I am. And a most inspiring sight it is too.”

“You truly are a horrible man,” she giggled. “Just wait till I get you home, you’ll pay for such a molestation.”

“All right then,” he said, holding his arms apart. “Why don’t you fly into my arms?”

“What?”

“Jump off the swing and into my arms,” he said. “Haven’t you ever done that?”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “You going to catch me?”

“Of course, silly girl,” he reassured her, waggling his arms widely and bracing his legs. “Come on! I’ve got you!”

“All right then,” she said, kicking her feet to edge the swing higher. “Get ready!”

Robert stood back and opened his arms. Simple physics really. Mass, velocity, direction. With a final kick of her feet, Elizabeth guided the swing forward and at the apex pushed herself free from the seat. She flew a few feet through the air and just as her feet began to lower down, Robert grabbed her out of the air and they tumbled together, eventually falling onto Robert’s back, laughing like children, their arms wrapped around one another, their bodies pressed tightly together, their faces just a kiss away.

“I love you, Robert,” Elizabeth said calmly and seriously. “I always will.”

“I love you, Elizabeth,” he replied. They kissed and rolled on the grass, putting her on her back, Robert between her legs. Then she shoved and rolled him over, straddling his hips and grinding herself against him. Just as a shiver passed through her body, she bent down and brought her nose to touch the tip of his.

“I think we need to get home, before I take you right here and now,” she said with a deep husky voice, one that sent a trembling quake through him. Her eyes were filled with a lustful desire and Robert felt the same building up inside. They rose from the ground and brushed each other off.

They quickly made their way to the cottage and once inside flew at each other. His jacket and her blouse lay by the front door; her skirt and his trousers in the lounge; his shirt and her slip in the hall; her panties and his shorts near the door to the bedroom. For the next hour they were locked in a deep intense and urgent fit of lovemaking, one that left then both drenched and panting and clinging tightly to each other, and one that made Robert late reporting back into the airfield.

* * * * *

Robert’s squadron was up for dawn patrol and after checking in and enduring a bit of a reprimand from Forthwright, he joined the half a dozen pilots who were sleeping at the Dispersal Hut to be ready should a surprise enemy attack come at dawn. It seemed that the Germans had settled into an every other day pattern. On even numbered days they would fly reconnaissance missions, probing here and there to determine the extent of damage from the previous day’s bombing. This day, October 25th, was an odd day, a day of heavy formations of Messerschmitts and Dorniers.

It was like drawing the short straw to fly dawn patrol on an odd numbered day. Dawn patrol meant being up by 4:30 and by 5:00 o’clock having their machines warmed up with the oxygen, sights, and ammunition tested. On this day, the first German attack came over breakfast time and from then until 8 o’clock at night the 213th Squadron was almost continuously in the air. The pilots ate when they could, with baked beans and bacon and eggs being sent over from the mess to the flight line. Often, the Hurricanes would come back to their base just long enough for the grounds crew worked to refuel them and put in a new oxygen bottle and more ammunition with beautiful speed, before the pilot would take off again.

Over the months, they had grown cannier and were determined not to let themselves be caught blindly from above. They would fly in the opposite direction of the course given them by the controller until they got to 15,000 feet, and then fly back again, climbing all the time. By this means they usually saw the Germans coming in below them, and were in a perfect position to deliver a full squadron attack. If caught at a disadvantage, the Germans would never stay to fight, but always turned straight back for the Channel. Robert and his fellows had perfected their system whereby two pilots always flew together—thus if one should follow a plane down the other stayed 500 feet or so above, to protect him from attack in the rear. They tried to adhere to the two pairs or quadrature formation whenever possible, but the relentless Germans always had a say in how long their formations remained together.

It seemed that for the past months they were always so outnumbered that it was practically impossible, unless they were lucky enough to have the advantage of height, to deliver more than one squadron attack. After a few seconds they always broke up, and the sky was a smoke trail of individual dogfights. The result was that the squadron would come home individually, machines landing one after the other at intervals of perhaps two minutes. After an hour, Forthwright would make a check-up of who was missing. Often there would be a telephone call from some pilot to say that he made a forced landing at some other airdrome, or in a field. But the telephone call that came wasn’t always so welcome. It would be a rescue squad announcing the number of a crashed machine; then Forthwright would check it, and cross another name off the list. During these few months, the losing of pilots became a somewhat impersonal experience; after the first friend or two was lost, everyone learned not show to any great emotion—there simply wasn’t time for it.

Early that morning Robert flew practically to France before shooting down a ME109. There had been two of them, flying at sea level and headed for the French Coast. Finch was flying beside him and caught one halfway across. Robert got right up close behind the second one and gave it a series of short bursts. It darted about in front, like a startled rabbit, and finally plunged into the sea about three miles off the French Coast.

Later in the early afternoon, Robert was foolish enough actually to fly over France. The sky appeared to be perfectly clear but for one returning Messerschmitt flying very high. Robert had been trying to catch him for about ten minutes and was determined that he should not get away. Eventually he caught him inland from Calais and was just about to open fire when he saw a squadron of twelve Messerschmitts coming in on his right.

Robert felt his pulse quicken and sweat break across his forehead, but having no time to become frightened, he turned in towards them and opened fire at the leader. He could see his tracer going past underneath the German leader, then he saw the cowling fly off, and the next moment they were past. Robert didn’t wait to see any more, but turned quickly and made off for home, pursued for half the distance by eleven very determined Germans. He landed a good hour after everyone else to find Forthwright just finishing his check up.

Later that afternoon, there had been the usual dogfights over the South Coast, and the squadron had become broken up. Having only fired one snap burst, Robert climbed up in search of some friendly Hurricanes, but found instead a squadron of Spitfires flying round the sky at 18,000 feet in sections of stepped-up threes, but with no rear guard. So he joined on.

Within a few seconds, he became reacquainted with the truth of the old warning, “Beware of the Hun in the Sun.” Robert was making pleasant little sweeps from side to side, sort of playing ass-end Charlie to the Spitfires to cover their rear, and peering earnestly into his mirror when, from out of the sun and dead astern, bullets started appearing along the port wing of the Lovely Mrs Fitz. There was always an appalling tendency to sit and watch this happen without taking any action, as though mesmerized like deer caught in headlights; but he managed to pull himself together and go into a spin, at the same time attempting to call up the Spitfires and warn them, but after a second and third try, he found that his radio had been shot away.

At first there appeared to be little damage done and he started to climb up again, but black smoke began pouring out of the engine and there was the unpleasant smell of escaping glycol. He thought he had better get home while he could; but as the wind-screen was soon covered with oil he realized that he couldn’t make it and decided instead to put down at Lympne, where there was an airdrome. Then he realized that he wasn’t going to make Lympne either— he was going at full boost and only clocking 90 miles per hour, so he decided that he had better put down in the nearest field before he stalled and spun in.

Descending quickly Robert surveyed the countryside. He chose a freshly harvested cornfield and put the Lovely Mrs Fitz down. Despite the engine overheating and the leaking fluids everywhere, nothing had caught fire. He had just climbed out and switched off the gas, when to his amazement he saw an ambulance coming through the gate. “Damn, now this is some real service,” he said to himself with a chuckle, until the corporal and two orderlies who climbed out started cantering away quickly in the opposite direction, their necks craned up to the heavens. He looked up and saw about 50 yards away a parachute, and suspended over the end, his legs dangling vaguely, was Finch. He was a slightly burned about his face and hands but quite cheerful.

“Did you see Bobby? Did you see? I got him!” Finch claimed proudly.

“I didn’t, Finch, but I trust you,” Robert replied.

They had no sooner slapped each other on the back when they were at once surrounded by a bevy of officers and discovered that they had landed practically in the back garden of a Brigade cocktail party. A doctor took charge of Finch; a salvage crew from Lympne took charge of the Lovely Mrs Fitz, telling him that they would have her back to Tangmere in a day or two; and the rest took charge of Robert, handing him double whiskies for his nerves at a laudable rate. He was put up that night by the Brigadier, who thought Robert to be suffering from a rather severe shock, but only because by dinner time he was so pie-eyed that he didn’t dare open his mouth, and answered all his questions with a glassy drunken stare.

The next day he went up to Biggin Hill by train, a somewhat incongruous figure, carrying a helmet and parachute. The prospect of a long and tedious journey by train back to Tangmere following his debriefing did not appeal to him, so he called up the Air Ministry and demanded a car and a WAAF. He was connected to the good lady in charge of transport, a sergeant.

“I’m sorry sir, but I must have the authorization of a Wing Commander,” she protested apologetically.

“Do you realize that with this battle going on,” Robert said forcibly, “That at this moment I am considerably more important than any Wing Commander. Do you even realize the complete disorganization of Fighter Command in the event that I am not back at Tangmere within an hour?”

“No sir, I do not,” the sergeant answered sheepishly.

“Of course and I don’t think you are aware—and this is very hush hush,” Robert said very softly but surely into the telephone. “But you see, my parachute is an important military secret which must on no account be seen in a train.”

Perhaps it was his Yankee accent or the force of his words, but by the late afternoon Robert was back at Tangmere and found himself surprised to see the Lovely Mrs Fitz sitting proudly by the hangar, her new V12 engine and cowling nearly completely installed. By evening, he was in the air flying Number 2 in the blue group.

They were on their way up when the mobilized 213th ran into the Germans at 18,000 feet, manning some twenty Messerschmitt 109’s about five hundred feet above. Their Squadron strength was eight, and as the Germans came down on them they went into line astern and turned head on to them. Brian Carberry, who was leading the Red Section, dropped the nose of his machine, and Robert could almost feel the leading Nazi pilot push forward on his stick to bring his guns to bear. At the same moment Brian hauled hard back on his own control stick and led them over them in a steep climbing turn to the left. In two vital seconds they had lost their advantage.

In the dim night sky Robert saw Brian let go a burst of fire at the leading plane, saw the pilot put his machine into a half roll, and knew that the German belonged to him. Automatically, Robert kicked the rudder to the left to get him at right angles, turned the gun button to “Fire,” and let go in a four-second burst with full deflection. The German came right through his sights and Robert saw the tracer from all eight guns thud home. For a second the German seemed to hang motionless; then a jet of red flame shot upwards and he spun downward toward the ground.

For the next few minutes Robert was too busy looking after himself to think of anything, but when the Germans turned and made off back over the Channel, and the 213th was ordered back to Tangemere, his mind began to work normally again. They descended toward the ground, aligning their machines with the few landing lights allowed by the blackout restrictions switched on only for approach, then to be blackened again after landing was confirmed. The Lovely Mrs Fitz touched down and Robert immediately thought of her namesake.

What day was this now, 26th October or 27th? He couldn’t remember and it hardly mattered if he could, for by this hour she would be home perhaps even sleeping. Robert breezed through his debriefing by intelligence and checked the duty roster for the morrow. The 213th was to stand down for the day. Then he saw the notice. Advance warning to them that November 11 they would rotate up to Turnhouse near Edinborough. Two weeks. Two fucking weeks and he would be gone. Should he tell her? Should he wait? Damn!

Robert felt his heart sink as he stumbled into the mess for a quick bite before he left. He found Finch replete with bandages and fully roasted by strong drink in the bar, regaling any and all with tales of his dramatic falling to earth.

“Another day or two and I’ll be back up with you, Bobby, just you wait,” Finch warned him. “Just you wait.”

“I can’t wait,” Robert replied, then muscled himself out into the chill night air. He pulled his collar up about his neck and trudged toward Edwards Avenue, his little light in the dark, his oasis in the maelstrom of war, his soft place in the harsh reality that was this war.

He entered the little place and found Elizabeth asleep in her uniform, slumped in a chair, a half eaten bowl of soup beside her dead cold. Robert stood for a moment, drinking in the sight of her sleeping. My god, how much he would miss this sight! He knelt down and kissed her softly and tenderly, drawing in every bit of her scent and warmth. Then he scooped her into his arms and carried her to the bedroom and laid her out on the bed. While she still dozed, he stripped off his uniform and then very carefully all of her clothes. She didn’t awake or resist, so deep was her sleep.

Robert nestled in behind her sleeping form, clinging to this soft warm slice of sanity that he needed so much. What were the words he could use when she woke to tell her? Could he even bear to do so? As he felt the dread sweep over him, he felt the first warm trace of wetness on his cheek; he felt his body begin to shake and his cheeks wrinkle up as his tears began to flow.

“Mrs. Fitz, I love you,” he sobbed softly. “I don’t want to lose you, ever.”

And that was when Elizabeth finally began to stir and turn within his arms toward him.

“Bobby? Is this really you?” she asked.

 

[Why]

Elizabeth Fitzmorgan

From the civilian point of view the end of October 1940 saw a change in the war. The days where the skies were full of the silver trails of fighters hunting their prey were getting fewer. “The Battle of Britain” as it was to be called had been fought and won, yet to the British public and the men and women fighting this was not yet known. The enemy still flew from France attacking the very fabric of the people’s life.

London still suffered and would off and on for the rest of the war. Scenes of civilians sleeping on the platforms of London’s Underground stations soon became the best-known images of wartime Britain. But the government had long resisted allowing the Tube to be used as an air-raid shelter, and only slowly gave in to the inevitable public pressure.

The official reluctance to this seemingly obvious response to the Blitz stemmed from two main fears. Firstly, the government discouraged the use of any public shelters because a direct hit among dozens or even hundreds of occupants could have devastating consequences. Instead, the government strongly urged its citizens to remain at home during air raids, making use of pre-fabricated personal shelters such as the Anderson and Morrison shelters. Secondly, Britain’s war leaders feared that once people began taking refuge beneath ground, they would never come back out, preferring to live in the Underground rather than emerging after each raid to work at important war industries.

But despite these fears, the government was not prepared to forcibly keep people out of the Underground, and gradually the stations became a more and more resorted-to alternative to the usually cold and damp Anderson shelters the government had supplied to Londoners. Once the government had bowed to the inevitability of the situation, it took steps to ensure that conditions within the unofficial shelters remained as comfortable as possible by seeing to it that Underground stations were supplied with portable toilets, and that space remained on each platform for those who wished to use the trains. Libraries donated books to keep the occupants entertained, and play areas helped children pass the time.

Nothing could be done, however to make the Underground immune to the results of a direct hit. (Few if any of the city’s shelters were bomb-proof. They were expected only to protect occupants from the blast and flying debris from near-misses.) On 14th October, 1940, the government’s fears about mass casualties were realized when 68 people died in a hit on the Balham Tube station; 56 others died in a blast at Bank station. There were other fatalities as well, but they were a relatively small number compared to the 60,000 or so people who sheltered in the Underground.

It was also not known to the general public the cost in this the first Blitz. 40,000 civilians were killed, 46,000 injured, and more than a million homes destroyed and damaged, together with an immense amount of damage caused to industrial installations.

And London was not the only target. Other cities in the country suffered. The Blitz was spreading and would over the coming winter take its toll on all the major cites of the country. The British people shouldered the fact that a long, hard struggle lay ahead. Night after night, people faced the possibility of death, serious injury, or the loss of loved ones.

Life was particularly difficult for the sick and the elderly, and for mothers with young children and husbands in the forces. Adding to their problems, public transport services were frequently disrupted, food was in short supply and bombing was usually accompanied by periods without gas, water, and electricity.

Further, the winter of 1940-41 was one of the harshest in living memory, with long periods of bitter cold weather that blast-shattered windows and meagre coal supplies did little to counter. In every way it was a winter of little cheer for the British people, with no hope of an early release from their predicament.

Yet, contrary to Hitler’s expectations, Britain fought on alone, her people strangely confident of eventually overcoming the seemingly invincible might of Nazi Germany. At the same time their plight brought the British people together as never before, breaking down to a marked degree the long-outdated British class system. In many ways it was a strange winter; certainly it was never to be forgotten by those who lived through it.

All this was sweeping round Elizabeth and partly lay in the future. She listened to the BBC, hearing that a “city in the Midlands” again suffered “light” bombing the night of the 26th October. In reality Birmingham suffered its 3rd night of heavy bombing in succession.

Though London was the “main target” taking ‘bomb density’ into consideration--the weight of bombs per acre--the residents of Plymouth had a particularly bad time. Elizabeth saw this is the increase of patients trickling into the cottage hospital. Tired, shocked and worn faces peered out from under sheets. Voices shook as they spoke of the horrors. The siren going and the trundling of patients to safely sometimes three or four times a day did not help. Often the German Bombers flew over Tangmere on there way to London and other inland targets. But to not take cover was folly, one could never know.

It was the uncertainly, the living now, the existing for the moment. It added to life, but took away. Elizabeth knew both intimately.

As Elizabeth worked through her weekend on duty, her mind went back to the last few hours she had spent with Bobby, the meal at the Dog and Doublet and the park The words they had exchanged and the memory of Bobby’s touch helped Elizabeth deal with the endless round of exhausting work.

Late on evening of Monday 26th of October Elizabeth let herself into the cottage and kicked off her shoes, balancing on one foot as she rubbed the other swollen limb. Her feet throbbed and she winced as she trundled into the kitchen in her bare feet, seeking her slippers.

Half in a daze Elizabeth opened a small tin of soup and placed it to warm through, holding her hands to the gas flame. For a second she thought about lighting the room fire then decided against it. It would be a waste of coal; she was so tired as soon as she had eaten the soup she would go to bed. She sat in the over stuffed chair, listening to a concert on the BBC. She put down the soup, not able to finish it and found her eyes closing.

She must of fell asleep, for the next thing Elizabeth was aware of was a voice she loved telling her how much she was loved.

“Mrs. Fitz, I love you, I don’t want to lose you, ever.” Bobby’s words were choked with emotion. Elizabeth through the haze of sleep felt him shaking as his arms held her naked body where she lay in bed.

Naked? In bed? How on earth? The thoughts rattled in her mind as she asked “Bobby? Is this really you?” It was a silly thing to say really, who else would it be? Who else would have lifted her sleeping body and slipped her clothes from her and who else would lie in her arms telling her how much he loved her?

Still partly wrapped in sleep Elizabeth began to embrace her lover, softly kissing him, guiding his hands to her breasts, encouraging him to tease and twist. Gently she eased her body under his, spreading her legs, welcoming Bobby’s probing manhood, feeling his shaking stop as he began to respond as she wanted him too. The head of Bobby’s penis parted her, rubbing against her clit, seeking entrance. The tip slid into her and Elizabeth gasped.

Bobby just stopped. He didn’t press into her even when she raised her hips to meet him. Elizabeth clenched her muscles trying to draw him in, and then became aware of Bobby holding himself over her, looking through the gloom at her face.

Oh God, he knows when the squadron is leaving. The thought struck her at the same time she noticed the small tear on his cheek. Her own eyes filled and she whispered, “love me… if you go tomorrow we have now, if you go next week, we have till then, just love me…”

Bobby groaned and pushed deep into her, Elizabeth responded saying his name, almost growling in the back of her throat. Bobby withdrew, entering her again, no swift pounding strokes, but clean, slow, deep thrusts. Each one savoured, each one drawing them both up the slope of their joint passion.

Elizabeth drew her legs up curling them round Bobby’s hips widening her entry. His hip bones nudged hers and Bobby’s eyes never left her face. She circled her hips, groaned and felt her climax begin. Elizabeth arched her back seeking to take more of Bobby, to lock herself to him.

Bobby now was no longer controlling his penetration of her; his body was seeking the release it desired. He thrust hard into her, pushing her back down onto the bed as she screamed his name. His seed spurted into her and as he began to relax on top of her, Bobby began to shake again. “We have two weeks Mrs Fitz.” His words came reluctantly from his mouth as his fingers brushed way small wisps of her hair from her face.

“Two weeks.” Elizabeth repeated and tightened her hold on his warm body. Two weeks that Elizabeth knew would soon be come one week, five days, two days… no days and a one hurricane would sweep low over the cottage, rattling the windows and she would strain to see the features of the small figure in the cockpit.

 

[Miltone]

Robert “Bobby” Wilson

The last days that the 213th Squadron spent in Tangmere passed slowly at first. Robert spent every last minute he could with Elizabeth. Sometimes they would meet and begin shedding their clothes the moment that they touched, so urgent was their passion; other times they would walk together in the fall sun or the evening moonlight and drift back to the cottage on Edwards Avenue and take their time making love.

Sometimes they would lie together afterward all naked and spent, talking about family and friends, sharing their remaining moments with thoughts about each other and favorite memories; other times they would be silent, communicating with the tender look in their eyes or the gentle touch of their hand.

Sometimes they would laugh and play like naughty children, like when Robert arrived on Edward Avenue and caught Elizabeth in the bath with more than the allowed amount of hot water, and then stood by the door refusing to return her clothes until she rose up naked in the tub, dried herself off and then kissed him. Other times they held each other, clinging desperately to the only warmth that fueled their lives, whispering their insistent pledges of love.

With less than a week left, Robert had been gone for almost two days straight with little sleep and he came to Edwards Avenue only to find the place empty. He fell asleep on the bed and didn’t wake till it was night and the light was switched on. He heard Elizabeth gasp at the sight of him rumpled and disheveled on the bed. He beckoned her to come to him, but she wrinkled her nose, stood fast by the door in her stiff heavy uniform and pointed toward the bath. She drew some hot water for him and helped him strip down, giving him a wicked smile as her hands passed lovingly over his naked body.

Resisting his amorous advances she bathed him, every part of him, his hair, his back, his solid manhood, and then took a razor to his chin and cheeks. When she turned to put away the razor and fetch a towel, Robert reached out suddenly, grabbed her uniform, and pulled her forcefully into the tepid bath water. She screamed and protested, pounding her little fists against his chest as his arms wrapped around her snuggly.

“Bobby!” she screamed. “I’ve got to wear this uniform tomorrow! It’s my only one!”

“You’re going nowhere now, Mrs. Fitz,” he said, kissing her roughly and madly. “I’ve got you now and I’m not letting you go!”

His hands pulled at her uniform, raising the wet cloth over her head. Then he pulled at her slip, tugging the straps off her shoulders until her firm breasts were bared. His mouth closed around each rosy nipple in turn, suckling them until they grew fully hard and erect. While she moaned and arched her back, pressing her tender flesh into his hungry mouth, his hands went lower, pulling her slip up and her panties down.

“Bobby! Officer Wilson!” she said splashing about in the tub, struggling free of her silken panties. With her drenched slip matted around her waist, Elizabeth straddled him and lowered her hips down, angling herself toward his erection, rubbing her sex against his. But Robert had another idea, pulled her toward him and scooped an arm under her legs. Picking her up, he rose unsteadily from the tub and carried her dripping body into the bedroom, tossing her gently onto the rumpled sheets.

Robert peeled the coarse stockings from her legs and then the wet slip. With his erect penis waggling straight out from his body proudly, he knelt between her legs and smiled at her, spread before him, begging him to love her. He bent forward and kissed her belly, then parting her sex with his tongue. Elizabeth ground herself against his face as he buried his tongue up inside her. She grabbed at his hair and ears and held him firmly against her.

And after she exploded from the pleasure of his sexual kisses, Robert crawled up between her legs, his firm erection parting her sodden folds easily. They rolled about on the bed, she on top, he on top, then side by side. Elizabeth pulled away and knelt, taking hold of the headboard and wiggling her bum in Robert’s face. He knelt behind her and buried himself inside her. They made hot, hard, and fast love until the poor bed frame squeaked from the fierce and untamed passion that was erupting on the sheets.

“Oh, god, Bobby! Oh my god! Yes! Yes! Yes!” Elizabeth screamed loudly.

Robert growled and grunted as he thrust wildly again and again. He could feel his heat rising, the hot flow of his seed burning and churning its way out from deep within him until it splashed inside her and they collapsed on the bed, their faces buried side by side in the pillows.

The following morning was November 10 and Robert awoke restless and rose up from the bed. He stood at the window and pulled open the heavy curtains letting the morning light wash into the room and splash onto the bed and the sleeping form of Elizabeth Fitzmorgan. He fished through his clothes and pulled out a cigarette. He leaned against the window frame and puffed on his smoke until it was no more than a butt, watching the shadows change as the sun rose higher and his lover remain asleep. Finally with the blue haze of his cigarette smoke settling, Elizabeth stirred and glanced sleepily at Robert.

“Bobby,” she said. “Come to bed with me.”

Robert smiled but remained by the window. He didn’t want to move; if he moved then the next things would happen, but if he could remain where he was those things might never come. Elizabeth rolled over onto her side, holding the bed sheets around her naked body.

“Come on, Bobby!” she pleaded. “Come back to bed with me.”

Still Robert didn’t want to move. When Elizabeth poked a leg out from underneath the sheets waggling her foot around, he grinned. When she tugged the sheet down a little, nearly exposing a breast, he laughed but shook his head. She frowned and pouted. Cupping her breast and toying with the erect nipple, Elizabeth raised her exposed leg up farther opening up the sheets. Robert craned his neck but could only see shadows in the bed sheets.

“Come on, darling!” Elizabeth asked. “Don’t make me do something I might regret.”

“I might be the one with regrets, Lizzy,” Robert replied with a chuckle.

She pulled at the sheet and edged it further down along her body, rolling onto her back and baring her other breast. Cupping her soft pale breasts with both hands, she closed her eyes and sighed deeply. Elizabeth stretched her arms high above her head and arched her back. Robert felt his cock twinge and throb at the sight of her like this. He shook his head side to side and grinned. Sweeping her hand down, Elizabeth pulled the sheets completely off her body. Rolling slightly onto her side, she presented herself to him, the bright morning sun washing over her and the bed covers.

“Come to me, darling” she said. “I want you, Bobby … I need you.”

Robert could feel her words tugging at his heart and began to stir from the window. He knew that he could remain where he was and he wanted so much to be with her for every minute that they had left. Elizabeth stretched and rolled on the bed languidly, her eyes never leaving his face.

“Are you trying to seduce me?” he asked.

“Yes,” she sighed. Her smile was warm and seductive. “And judging by your reaction, it’s working.”

“You know I cannot say ‘no’ when you look at me like that,” he admitted. Robert took a step and was standing beside the bed just an arm’s length away from her.

 

[Why]

Elizabeth Fitzmorgan.

Two weeks, just two to share. Elizabeth had wanted to shut out the real world; to turn her back on her job, to drag Robert to some far corner of the country. To turn the lock on the cottage door and live with Bobby alone for just those two weeks.

But life doesn’t allow that. The war doesn’t allow that. So each moment they were together Elizabeth and Bobby tried to live a week in a second, a year in a day. They crammed in the silly things, the tender moments, the looks that spoke of dreams and hopes, into what time they had.

Elizabeth remembered the words her godfather, Dr Travis, had told her some years before. “Love doesn’t come often into our lives, the grand passion, the affaire du Coeur, when we love, with heart, mind, body and soul is so rare, one can never be touched by its wings. If it finds you, embraces you, hold onto it for as long as you can.” That was what Elizabeth was doing; holding on, but this morning the 10th of November 1940, Elizabeth knew her hold was slipping. Not on Bobby’s heart, she felt he would be part of her for as long as she lived.

It was her hold on his physical presence in her life at this time that was being wrenched from her. By the war, by duty, by circumstances she could not fight against. It left her feeling, bloody, beaten and shaken to her core. But she swore she would not say anything, would not turn into a shuddering heap on the floor, begging and pleading. What good would it do, save turn their last day together into a bitter memory.

Elizabeth woke to the smell of cigarette smoke. For a second a frown marred her still sleepy brow, then she looked over to the window. The thin winter sun was slashing through the thin haze of smoke around Bobby. He was standing there watching her.

“Bobby, come to bed with me.” Elizabeth asked.

Robert smiled but remained by the window. He didn’t move, he just watched. Elizabeth rolled over onto her side, holding the bed sheets around her naked body. She was now aware of the chill of the air. No heating, the only warmth that of the blankets, warmth she wanted Robert to come back and share with her.

“Come on, Bobby!” she pleaded. “Come back to bed with me.”

Still Robert didn’t want to move. Elizabeth poked a leg out from underneath the sheets, feeling the cool air nip her flesh as she wagged her foot This produced a grin from Bobby So, in for a penny in for a pound Elizabeth thought and tugged the sheet down a little, nearly exposing her right breast. Robert laughed but shook his head. Elizabeth frowned and pouted. Cupped her breast and toyed with the erect nipple. This moment she was glad of the cold, it made the rosy bud stand out more, this must get Bobby’s interest. And to increase the items on display Elizabeth raised her exposed leg up farther opening up the sheets. Robert craned his neck Good Elizabeth thought, it won’t be long before he joined her

“Come on, darling!” Elizabeth asked. “Don’t make me do something I might regret.”

“I might be the one with regrets, Lizzy,” Robert replied with a chuckle. Right this called for a full frontal attack, Elizabeth told herself.

She pulled at the sheet, edging it further down along her body, and rolled onto her back baring her other breast. Ignoring the chill of the room, Elizabeth now cupped her breasts with both hands offering them to her lover. She then stretched her arms high above her head and arched her back. Still Robert stood there watching and grinning. Elizabeth then produced her coup de grace, the finishing blow.

Elizabeth swept her hand down and pulled the sheets completely off her body, rolled onto her side, showing her beloved what was his to claim. She felt the weak heat of the morning sun, trickle down her flesh, adding to the excitement gathering in the pit of her stomach.

“Come to me, darling” she said as she latched her eyes to his features. “I want you, Bobby … I need you.”

Robert moved slowly almost reluctantly from the window “Are you trying to seduce me?” he asked.

“Yes. And judging by your reaction, it’s working.” Elizabeth sighed seductively

“You know I cannot say ‘no’ when you look at me like that,” he admitted. Robert took a step and was standing beside the bed just an arm’s length away from her.

Elizabeth stood and embraced him, pressing her still warm flesh to his chilled body, her small breasts burning holes in his chest; such was his reaction to her touch. Bobby groaned, half sobbed and closed his arms round her as if in pain. Elizabeth tilted her head up and kissed his stubble laden chin, then his lips, parting them with her tongue, running it along his teeth and plunging in. Bobby responded, crushing his mouth to hers.

They lurched towards the bed in a strange replay of the first time. They fell together onto the rumbled bed; his finger’s and lips exploring her skin as they had that day, which seemed so long ago. His touch at the side of her breast still send shivers through to her nipple, The surge of exquisite pleasure granted her by Bobby taking the nipple in his mouth and moving it with his tongue, encouraging it to grow, to fill his mouth if that were possible, still thrilled her, still had her wishing for more.

Elizabeth ran her hands through his black hair as if counting the strands and memorizing the number, as she moved his head from one side to the other, allowing him to feed on her again. Her hand moved down between them, circling his manhood, her fingers stretching round his girth.

Warm. Hot. Bobby’s whole length pulsed with life, the life he was sharing with her this moment, the life together they so wanted to keep. Elizabeth gasped as Bobby slipped deep into her, this time she was not unready, she was warm, soft, begging him to fill her.

Elizabeth felt every inch of him slip into her, gloried in the sensation as she always did. She squealed. Each time she raised her hips to meet him the words she had thought before came back. Inside me, safe, inside me. He was for now, this moment, but after to day. He would be safe, he had to be, but he would not be inside her, part of her as he was this moment.

Elizabeth could feel the climax building in both of them. The rush, the pounding of hearts, the need answered. She cried out now. “I love you, God knows how much, so much it hurts!”

Bobby did not answer, he ground his hips against hers, his head
on her shoulder, faint trickle of tears, washing her flesh. Elizabeth tightened her hold on him and held him tight until the passion ebbed away and he lay still in her arms.

Unlike the first time Elizabeth did not squirm from under him and run away, she lay there, waiting.

Bobby raised himself on his arms and ran I finger round her face. “I do love you Mrs Fitz, I always will.” The words were said plainly, so simple, yet so full of feeling that Elizabeth sobbed. For a while longer they held each other, then not speaking, they washed and dressed. As they did, their hands strayed to each other, a soft touch, a gentle embrace, a finger run down a chin or the taking of a curl between finger and thumb.

Each gesture told the other more than words.

Over breakfast they talked of nothing and everything, till Elizabeth said. “Hattie is letting us have the Morris.”

“Oh, and where in the Morris are we going?” Robert asked as he cleared the table.

“Portsmouth, to the pictures, we have never been and I…. thought.” Elizabeth rambled.

“Pictures?” Robert frowned, then laughed. “A movie… well what’s playing?”

“Gone with the wind?” Elizabeth replied.

“Oh……” Robert answered and went to get their coats.

“Don’t you like the idea?” Elizabeth said, suddenly worried.
“Not like the idea of sitting in the dack holding you.” Robert chuckled as he helped her on with her coat.

The drive took longer than expected, an unexploded bomb on the outskirts of the city meant finding their way to the picture theatre by another route, one they both didn’t know. When they stopped to ask directions, the woman they asked looked at bobby as if he was a spy when he spoke of finding the movie house.

“He’s American.” Elizabeth said laughing; the woman grinned as if that explained everything and sent them on their way.

Elizabeth and Bobby sat wrapped in each others arms as the newsreels spoke of the sinking of convoys, battles in the skies over Kent, the pluck of the workers in factories attacked night after night. The black and white film of now, this war, blended in Elizabeth’s thoughts into the vivid colour of the story played out on the silver screen. She knew herself the mixture of love, war, desire and pain.

As the credits rolled up and the national anthem played, Elizabeth muttered to herself. “How could they do that to each other?”

“Frankly my dear I don't give a damn.” Robert evilly mimicked the famous last words of the film as they left the theatre.

“By heck mate,” a sailor commented as they stepped out into the fading afternoon light. “You got that Yank accent down pat!”

Elizabeth burst out laughing and hugged her “Yank”.

“Best get moving,” Robert said softly. “I have to report back this evening.”

 

[Miltone]

Robert “Bobby” Wilson

The drive back to Tangmere didn’t last long enough. Time seemed to be going by too quickly no matter how they tried to slow it down. Robert stopped them along the way at a place very near the coastline. They sat out near the edge watching the waves move against the rocky shore. By the time they were back it was nearly dark and their minutes together precious and few. For the longest while, they stood in a close embrace just inside the door of the cottage. They rocked slowly side to side, savoring each little bit of warmth that they could.

Elizabeth broke away and rummaged through some papers on a table. Robert went to her and took her shoulders in both hands, leaning forward to brush her hair away from her neck and kiss her gently and with all the feeling he could summon.

“Here it is,” she said and turned round to face him.

“What’s that?” he asked.

“Remember when the lot of us gathered at Hattie’s and Thomas’s for his birthday last month?” she asked.

“Oh yes, the one where Cordwine fell stinking drunk into the ditch on the way home?”

“Yes,” Elizabeth laughed. “The very same. Well, remember Alexandria brought along her Brownie and snapped some photos? She gave me some and I want you to have this.”

She handed him a small snapshot showing the two of them sitting together on a high-backed wooden chair, she perched on his lap, his arms wrapped around her waist, her arm resting on his shoulders. Robert looked at the photo long and hard. He hardly recognized himself. Perhaps more slender and gaunt than when he had come over. But she looked gorgeous, her hair beautiful pinned back from her forehead, long and curling stylishly at the ends.

“Hardly seems fair, Lizzy,” he said looking at her. “What’ll you have?”

“I have another,” she said, picking up another photo and showing him. It was a snap shot from the same party. Robert was standing with Thomas, each holding a glass of ale; Thomas was cracking a joke while he was looking at the camera with a crooked grin. “That’s the way I always want to remember you … smiling.”

“But we’ll see each other again,” Robert said looking down at her bright green eyes. “I promise I’ll come back and visit you at Christmas.”

“Bobby, please don’t make promises that you can’t keep,” Elizabeth pleaded.

“But I will, Mrs. Fitz,” he went on strongly. “Every chance that I get.”

“You and I both know that the service will rarely allow leave for the married officers much less the single ones …”

“But I will see you again,” he said firmly. “This … this doesn’t end here and now. I love you too much to ever lose you.”

“You won’t lose me, Bobby,” Elizabeth said. “You’ll always have me body and soul.”

Their arms found their way around each other and held on tightly. They held each for the longest while. They kissed, they touched each other, but they did not make love. Elizabeth warmed up a simple supper and they ate quietly, as if both were afraid that their next word might be their last. When Robert went to wash the dirty dishes, Elizabeth took the dishrag from his hand and pulled him away. He could feel her shoulders shake as she held him.

“I love you, Lizzy,” he said as he held her tightly, feeling his own body tremble at the thought of bidding her good bye. “I always will.”

“I love you too, Bobby,” she sobbed.

After another tearful kiss he was at the door and made sure that he had the picture in the pocket of his jacket. He leaned forward to say goodbye, but Elizabeth put her hand on his mouth.

“Don’t say it, Bobby,” she said, trying to stifle her tears with a weak little smile.

“I’ll see you soon, Mrs. Fitz,” Robert said. “I love you.”

“Love you,” she answered.

He stepped outside and the door closed behind him. Robert stood there on the porch for a moment, drawing in a deep breath and trying not to hear the sound of Elizabeth crying on the other side. Then he took what felt like a long, long walk back to the busy airfield.

Within an hour of his return he had everything packed up and loaded onto the lorry that would truck their belongings northward. He slept only fitfully on his bunk and wandered out to the dispersal hut with the overnighters. He ended up at the Officer’s Mess slumped into an overstuffed chair beside the small but warm fireplace.

Robert took out the photograph and looked at it for an hour. He tried to remember everything she had said to him, everything they had done together. He remembered the day they had first met, but not the day just passed. Holding the photo close to his chest, he finally fell asleep. When Finch woke him just after 5:30 he had a terrible crick in his neck and struggled to rise from the chair.

By 7 the Lovely Mrs Fitz and the other machines of the 213th were warmed and ready for takeoff. They trundled along the taxiway and took their turns taking off from the runway at Tangmere. Of the 32 men who had flown with the 213th during what the newspapers were now calling the Battle Of Britain, 11 had lost their lives during the fighting. Little did anyone know that another six of those 32 would perish before the war was over. Robert’s mind did not dwell on these facts this morning but on a little woman whose love he carried in his heart. After leaving the ground at Tangmere, he banked around and flew low to the north and west and made sure to rattle the windows along Edwards Avenue before climbing to join the rest of his squadron in formation flying north.

“I love you, Mrs. Fitz!” he whispered to himself.

“Come again, Blue Number 2,” came Forthwright’s voice over the radio.

“Just saying goodbye,” Robert said, realizing that his finger had been resting too heavy on the “send” button. “Just saying goodbye.” He looked over to his left and saw Finch’s mouth flapping away. Robert pressed the “send” button again. “Come on Finch, how about singing for us? Night And Day, all right?” Finch was only too happy to comply characteristically off key and Robert found himself joining in for a chorus or two.

Night and day you are the one
Only you beneath the moon and under the sun
Whether near to me or far it's no matter darling
Where you are, I think of you night and day.