Send v///v for an inappropriate or embarrassing thought my muse has had about yours.
“Wearing a USO dancers uniform while performing a strip tease for you. Though there’s not much to that costume, anyway.”
“I like that dream.” Steve sips at his ale. “Should I keep the America helmet on, when I take you outside, and we screw up against one of those military trucks?”
“Kissing you would be more difficult without it though it does accentuate your eyes and lips in the best way. And I was thinking of taking you to my tent rather than something so public.”
“And it has a chin strap, so it won’t fall off, during the thrusting.” He laughs. “Squeamish a little bit?” He brushes over the British woman’s hips.
“It gets in the way of kissing parts of your face.” She narrows her eyes at him, not at all amused by his teasing. “I’d like to take my time with you rather than having something quick.”
“True. That’s the best.” He bites his lip, his smile fading a bit. “Are you okay? You seem upset about something. Is this about the secretary again, at headquarters?”
“Lorraine? Heavens, no. I don’t worry myself about such petty things when we’ve a war to win and I’ve a Captain to bed.” She sets her hands on his shoulders, her eyes holding a bit of fire now.
“And I’ve got a war to fight, and I might get killed tomorrow, so maybe I should start living like it’s my last day on earth.” He nipped at her neck, as he was already unbuttoning her trousers, and pushing her down, the sound of men marching in the distance prominent, pressing the Englishwoman’s back against a tank. “Those cots in the tent are uncomfortable as hell. A wall, or a side of a vehicle is all the same.”