Soldier Doll Ch. 03bybeachbum1958©
Thank you to everyone who helped me to put this together, who waited patiently for me to get up off my duff and do it, and were nice enough to say nice things about it (and criticise what they thought was wrong, or dull, or just not right!.
This finishes Dylan and Louise's story, and I won't be visiting their world again. Dylan is an amalgam of both my big brothers, who both went off to war when I was younger and never came back, so Dylan got the happy ever after they should have, now I can leave it. For your interest, 'Men of Harlech' is possibly the most stirring call to battle I've ever heard, it brings me out in goosebumps every time I hear it; at the battle of Rorkes Drift in South Africa in 1879, B Company, the 24th Regiment of Foot, 150 men, sang this song while successfully holding off 4,000 zulu warriors in multiple attacks over 2 days before being relieved. Every Welshman worth his salt knows this song...
As before, I caution you, this is not the real world, it's my world, so only bits here and there will match reality, or maybe in lots of places, but it's still just storyland, not 9 to 5, Monday to Friday land. If you like it, please rate it, if you didn't, please tell me why.
Louise sat down in the cafeteria with a sigh of relief; her rotation was over, she could look forward to a whole 7 days of sleeping late, slobbing around, and ambushing Dylan as soon as he got back later today or tomorrow; definitely her favourite pastime!
She was currently seconded from the company medical facility to the Cardio-vascular unit in the hospital in Jeddah at the request of the client, who needed a competent cardio surgeon, and the company, ever mindful of their need to keep the client sweet, had promptly loaned her out to the hospital so they could advertise their competence in bypass surgery. She drank her coffee appreciatively; whatever else was wrong with this place, they made the best coffee in the world, that was for sure.
She stretched and groaned, her beautiful face drawn and tired, her glorious bronze hair lank and tired-looking; four CABG's in a row, she felt like her legs were going to fall off after eleven hours straight in the OR. If only these people would eat healthily, she mused, instead of wolfing down salt-laden processed food, burgers, grease-soaked stodgy pizza's, lamb apparently basted in its own cholesterol, and sugar in crippling amounts, every single one of them eating themselves into an early grave. Two of the grafts she'd done had been bypassing Coronary Arteries she could barely manoeuvre out of the way, they were so stiffly congested and distended. Every one of the cases she had come to so far had done this to themselves, she should have specialised in Ortho, at least she wouldn't spend all day grubbing around inside rich fat slobs who'd opted for the 'death by burger' route to end their lives early. Doing this day after day had given her a definite interest in the vegetarian option...
Two hands slipped over her eyes, and a voice whispered hoarsely in her ear "Hello little girl, anyone ever tell you, you've got really nice tits?"
She reached behind her and slapped Dylan's leg, before pulling him down to kiss him soundly.
"I golli chi! Pan wnaethoch chi ddod yn ôl? (I missed you! When did you get back?) she whispered, enjoying the feel of his arms around her again after almost three months on deployment in Warri, in Nigeria, beefing-up the security arrangements for oil operations in the Niger Delta region.
"I got in several hours ago, you were in the OR, so I caught-up on paperwork, did some drugs, picked up some pretty boys...!"
She slapped him again, and pulled him in again for another kiss, uncaring that the other doctors and nurses looked on disapprovingly; she was fed up with this place, and its ridiculous taboos, and restrictions on women, and the smug, 'thank you Allah for making me a man' attitude of every single local male doctor, nurse, orderly, market trader and donkey-drover. She was fed up with being marginalised and talked-down to by male nurses and orderlies; she was the cardio-thoracic surgeon, the one actually doing the life-saving here, but she still had to ask permission of the male nurse in the OR to remove her hijab to put on a scrub-hat, and that had finally driven her to think "What the fuck, I don't need this medieval shit, I want to go home; I'm done!" hence her indifference to the stares and glares of the locals when she kissed her husband in public.
"Drugs? I don't believe you for one second. Pretty boys, now...!" she grinned, and Dylan grinned back, gently pinching her leg as he nibbled her neck.
"Come on Lou, I've been gone three months, even the riggers were starting to look cute, I want to play!" he whispered in her ear, making her flush and smile happily; he may have been a seasoned anti-terrorism 'consultant', and an ex-combat soldier, one of the SAS elite, but she was so glad he was also, at heart, a horny teenager with an endlessly inventive mind and absolutely no inhibitions...
Taking her hand, he led her away, dismissing the frowns and disapproving looks with a challenging, "fuck you" grin as he openly adjusted his crotch a la Michael Jackson, making the women gasp in outrage and hurriedly look away. They took the lift down to the lower parking garage, where Dylan had parked his company-issue armoured Toyota Land-Cruiser, and opened the door to let her climb in.
As he handed her in, he changed his mind and pulled her back out and held her up, kissing her as hard as he dared, his arms tightly locked around her waist. Louise hung there kissing him for a second or two, alternating between need for the taste of her man, and laughing and giggling at her predicament, suspended in mid-air while he kissed her crazily.
While they were thus engaged, there was a sudden shout in Arabic, and a security guard appeared, obviously offended and angry at this public display of affection in a deserted parking garage. Dylan winked at Louise and put her down, and turned to face the skinny man weighed down with the enormous pistol strapped to his leg, amusedly assessing the angry look and wondering how best to brush him off.
The guard started shouting about 'Western sluts' in Arabic, clearly furious that Dylan and Louise had indulged in public affection, a heinous crime in local eyes, while Dylan stood with his arms folded, a small, sardonic smile playing around his lips.
The little man stopped to take a breath, and Dylan smiled as insultingly as he could and said softly "Have you finished? Good, now piss off!" in Arabic.
The man goggled, his face darkening as started to tug his pistol out of the holster. It was a Browning Hi-Power, and judging by the state of it, it was from the 1940's or 50's, which was probably the last time it had been given a thorough clean. It looked huge in his small hand, and he struggled to tug the 2lb pistol out. Dylan grinned and stepped closer, grabbing his hand and yanking the pistol away from him, slapping him across the face and sending him sprawling on the ground as he lifted the pistol.
Dylan grinned mirthlessly, and leaned down to speak to him.
"You were going to shoot me for telling you to go away? That was foolish, and now I have your gun. You should pray to Allah and unburden yourself of your sins now before I send you to join him!" he told him in Arabic, watching his expression as the rage and shame at being slapped in front of a woman changed to terror as he realised his predicament.
Dylan slipped the magazine out of the butt, and worked the slide to eject any live rounds that may have been in the breech. One round sprang out and tinkled on the concrete. Dylan looked at him in astonishment.
"You walk around with a live round in the breech and the safety off? Perhaps if it had gone off and blown your balls off it would have taught you a valuable lesson! How will you explain to your prophet that you mutilated yourself through your own stupidity, and how will you pleasure your 72 houri's in Paradise when you arrive there with no dick?"
The guard stared at the floor, trembling in abject terror; he'd tried to frighten a man who didn't frighten, and he was going to pay with his life.
"Stand up, you!" ordered Dylan as he threw the pistol over the guard rail into the shrubbery four floors below, pumped all the rounds out of the magazine and threw them over as well, and kicked the magazine as far along the floor as he could, out of sight under one of the other cars parked there.
"You slapped me!" whined the guard, and Dylan glanced at him, shutting him up again.
"I slapped you because you are not enough of a man for me to kill you like one. You insulted my wife, and you attempted to kill me. That gives me the right to kill you, in any way I choose, you foolish man. Now you will beg her forgiveness properly, or I will take you into the desert, and I will come back alone. Do you understand?"
The man nodded rapidly, and turned to Louise, his eyes averted.
"Ana asefa, hal ta'gh'fireeni!" (I am sorry, please forgive me!) he whined, trembling, his eyes downcast.
Louise looked away from him and said "Rooh, rooh!" (Go away!), contemptuously flicking her hand at him in a gesture of dismissal, and watched as he scuttled away, trying to find where his weapon had gone.
Dylan climbed in the Landcruiser and backed out of the space, giving the hapless guard a beep as they drove past him. He looked at Louise and murmured "I've had enough of this fucking place, God, it's a shit-hole...!"
"Dyl, what happens if he tells someone what happened just now?" asked Louise, and Dylan grinned.
"He won't; he got slapped in front of a woman and had to beg her for his life; plus, he's never going to find all those rounds; when he came on duty they would have made him sign for the rounds in the magazine, and they'll count them when he goes off-duty. When they find there's a shortage they're going to assume he gave it to an accomplice to commit a crime, and this time tomorrow he's gonna be face down on a mattress in a police cell while a big sergeant "questions" him thoroughly!"
"How do you know he'll come up short?" asked Louise, trying not to grin, her laughter pealing out when he grinned and showed her one of the rounds concealed in his hand.
"But supposing he does report us?" she persisted, and Dylan grinned hugely.
"Baby-Girl, our friend has bigger problems than reporting me for giving him a bitch-slap; I think I can state with no fear of contradiction that becoming anal-retentive is something he'll never have to worry about!"
Louise had been turning over what he'd said earlier, and decided to ask him outright.
"Dyl, if I said I was done with this place too, that I wanted to go home, what would you say?"
Dylan smiled and reached over the gear stick to pull her a little closer.
"Funny you should say that..."
When they got back to the compound, Mike Bruce was waiting for them, a big grin on his face.
"Louise, I see our man of the moment has his priorities in order, come and see me when you've relaxed a little, both of you, and, uh...take your time, it's been three months!"
Louise blushed scarlet as she realised he was talking about...her and Dylan...!"
"Oh God, Dyl, does everyone know what we're going to do?" she whispered, and Dylan grinned back.
"Darling wife of mine, I've been away three months, in the hottest, sweatiest, grimmest shit-hole this planet has to offer, fending off Islamist loonies, local thieves, government crooks, wannabe pirates, hijackers, slavers, drug-dealers, gun-runners, and various assorted local scumbags, trash and 'freedom fighters', setting up guard positions, pipeline inspection and protection teams, long hours and no you, so yeah, everyone here's got a pretty good idea; you're the only company wife who works here, on the Cute Wife scale of one to ten you're about 47, and they're all big, butch, horny, hairy guys, so no, they're not going to believe for one instant we're spending our first night together in three months playing Yahtzee!"
Louise laughed, feeling relieved that his sense of humour was still as fresh and cheerfully vulgar as when he was a schoolboy. Seven years out here hadn't changed him in the slightest, and she was profoundly grateful for that; this place had a habit of chewing up fresh-meat, the new blokes who came in positive they could do the job, and she'd seen them crumble as the reality relentlessly wore them down; long hours, no family, none of the amenities they were used to in their home countries, just about everything they took for granted at home either not available or strictly illegal. The turnover rate was astronomical, fully 85% of new intake were gone within the year, unable to stand the constant heat and ever-present dust, the lack of social life, the 24/7 lifestyle, lack of amenities, and lack of women, just work, work, and more work.
Dylan thrived under these conditions; it was like his whole life had been optimizing him for just this role, and he'd been here seven years now, longer than almost anyone; only the core team had been here longer, and he was now a de-facto member of that core team, one of the elite amongst the cadre of specialists the company employed to keep the oil flowing at all costs. Dylan and his team worked long, hard hours, earned spectacular amounts of money, and came home to salt it away for the day when the fun had to stop.
Today was the first time she'd ever heard him express a negative emotion about the job or this place, but she guessed he'd started picking up that vibe from her, that she didn't want to remain shut-away here forever in this sweltering isolated corner of the world.
As they walked in the door of their apartment, Dylan kicked the door shut and slid his hands up inside her scrubs top, making her shriek and giggle as he cupped her firm, tea-cup breasts, her nipples hardening instantly into two stiff points.
"Hello girls, I missed you!" he murmured into her neck as Louise reached behind to hold his neck, pushing her bum back against the prominent bulge she could feel in his CS95 trousers and grinding him into the cleft between her cheeks.
Dylan responded by pulling her hard against him, rubbing his bulging cock against her; she in turn sighed and murmured into his ear as he bit and nibbled her neck.
"Oh yes, Dyl, oh yes, do that, oh, that's nice, do it again!" she whispered as he rubbed and rolled and squeezed her nipples, making waves of pleasure ripple through her, finally beaching in her pussy, her labia becoming tender and moist as they began to swell from the manipulation of her sensitive nipples.
Now he slid his hand down into the waistband of the blue scrubs pants, running his finger momentarily over the smooth cotton of her taut panties, before sliding his hand inside them, and giving a short, "Ooh!" as his fingers encountered only smooth bare skin where he'd expected to find her silky pubic hair.
"You shaved, that's nice, was it for me?" he murmured, nibbling her ear and making her giggle.
"You wish! It's for the Pool Boy, it's his favourite look...!" she teased, and Dylan nibbled harder and slid a finger between her lips, making her gasp as he rubbed lightly against her clitoris, sudden pleasurable sensation shooting through her and making her sag against him as her knees buckled.
Dylan spun her round and slid his hands down the back of her scrubs and into her panties, to cup and squeeze her taut cheeks as he pulled her close, kissing her properly for the first time as his fingers lightly rubbed and massaged her tight little rosebud. Her hands clasped his head tightly as she kissed him back with three months pent-up need.
He began sliding her scrubs down, but she wriggled out of his grasp.
"No Dyl, I need a shower, really, I've been knee-deep in chest cavities all day, I reek of Hibiscrub, antiseptic, and innards, and my hair is starting to move by itself, I feel all yuk, give me 10 minutes, OK?"
Dylan grinned and nodded and kissed her again, noticing for the first time a certain...medical...component to her usual scent of shower soap and shampoo.
"You're right Lou, you do seem a little aromatic! 10 minutes, then I'm dragging you out, finished or not! I have needs, wench!"
Louise grabbed and squeezed his balls lightly, making him gasp as she grinned minxily.
"You're all talk; in ten minutes you better have a big present for me or I'm hauling the Pool-Boy in here!"
Well before the 10 minutes was up, Louise was out, towelled-off and sitting on the bed drying her hair, while Dylan lay back under the covers, watching her closely.
Suddenly he reached over, took the dryer from her and grinned.
"Okay, that'll do, you're dry enough for me!"
So saying, he slid her back to him, Louise rolling over so she was facing him, looking searchingly into his eyes and examining his face carefully. So far, there were no stress indicators, no tightening of the facial muscles that indicated long-term stress or exhaustion; he really seemed to be the same Dylan, and she felt a wave of relief roll over her. He wasn't suffering from the kind of shell-shock she'd seen so many of the newbie's succumb to, the job hadn't gotten to him yet, and there was no sign of the mythical '1,000 yard stare' she'd heard so much about but had never seen.
Dylan was still just Dylan, happy, cheerful, horny, devil-may-care, and still hers. His eye looked relatively normal now, his habitual squint gone now that the ocular implant was doing so much to correct his blurred and dimmed vision, so much so that he didn't need or wear the eye-patch anymore.
However, Dylan now suffered from Nyactalopia, Night Blindness, an unavoidable side-effect of the ocular implant surgery to increase the refractive capability of his damaged retina in normal light. Louise dosed him regularly with Vitamin A to boost his Rhodopsin levels, but it was no cure, just a stop-gap. Dylan was just happy he didn't have to wear that ridiculous, sinister-looking eye-patch any more, even though Louise thought that, with the eye patch and the network of thread-like white scars on his left cheek that stood out clearly against his tanned face, he looked buccaneering, battle-scarred and romantic. Still, the red line across the white of his left eye, and the tendency for his ocular implant to reflect light like a cat's eyes at night was sufficiently intimidating for would be troublemakers to back down when he looked directly at them.
His hands slid down her back, to clasp her bottom tightly and pull the cheeks apart, making her gasp and giggle, while the same devilment she'd always seen danced happily in his eyes; she knew that of old, it meant he was up to something, usually something that made her sweaty, breathless, and hot!
Dylan rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so she was now lying on him, her knees on either side of his torso, and his solid erection trapped between the two of them. Louise grinned and gently rolled from side to side, massaging his cock, making him gasp and groan softly. Dylan lifted his head, and Louise dipped down, their lips meeting as his hands roamed over her taut bum, squeezing and pulling the cheeks apart, sliding his fingers along her swelling labia, and rubbing her tender rosebud with the side of his thumb.
Grinning happily, Louise lifted up to take hold of his cock, rubbing it along the dampness seeping from her slit, before slowly sliding herself down on him.
Dylan gasped as her damp heat enveloped him, her pussy tight and delightful, and he had to seriously damp himself down to not come immediately as the sensations in his cock threatened to overwhelm him. Louise also gasped as he stretched her open again, three months of need finally being satisfied as his solid seven inches of thick cock invaded her hot tightness.