Lady Behind The Wall

"Oh, you bastard, that hurts! OH, it hurts so good! Don't stop! Don't stop! Bite my tits! It hurts so good! Ahh! Ahh! Oh god, I'm– I'm– cu-u-u-m-m-m-i-n-g!"

"That's good, you horny slut! You're so good, Deirdre! That's right! Cum for me, my vixen! Cum on my cock! Cum for me, Deirdre! Cum!"

I felt her box lock down on my cock but didn't stop moving. I couldn't have if I'd tried. It felt as if I was outside myself, floating somewhere near the ceiling, watching with clinical detachment as my body screwed the willing wench hard, trying to drive her right through the floor. I was aware of her climaxing again, her body shuddering under mine, but my prick stroked in and out of her like the driving-rod of a steam engine and just as tirelessly. She was convulsing in orgasm under my relentless assault on her pussy but gamely stayed with me, trying to keep up as I kept on fucking and fucking and fucking her.

She went limp under me, quivering as I used her honeypot, constantly stirring it with my fuckstick and noting her sweet juices dribbling down the perineum to her asshole, soaking the carpet and the skirt rucked up under her ass. She was lost in a realm where time had no meaning and the only thing real to her was sensation as she rolled from one orgasm to the next, lost to reality as she was hammered into sexual submission, accepting eagerly the energy I was expending on her.

Finally my own need overwhelmed my body and I short-stroked her, preparing for my own climax. I felt my body pulling my self back into it as my penis swelled even more and the seminal vesicles prepared to discharge. With one final, awesome stroke I thrust up to the root into her, my low-hanging balls banging into her anus as I exploded.

"ARRRGGH!"

Sticky, milky spunk shot from my cock and gouted into her waiting pussy in what felt like a never-ending fountain of cum, splashing into her inner recesses, triggering an answering spasm in her cunt muscles. As if a dump valve had been tripped, all the strength that had sustained me while I'd screwed her into subspace drained out of my body and I collapsed on top of her, completely spent, the world fading to black.

When I regained consciousness, I found myself in the guest bedroom on the first floor. Cleo was in a bathrobe, sitting in the wing chair by the window, watching me. I heard the roar of a furnace nearby and my head felt twice its normal size. The crisp, clean sheets on my naked body felt like coarse sandpaper. My eyes felt as if they'd been dipped in diamond dust and used to cut glass. The less said about the taste in my mouth, the better. She sat on the edge of the bed and raised me to a sitting position. The room whirled, but I was too weak to object.

"Take these and wash 'em down with this," she ordered, pouring half a dozen pills and capsules into my mouth and following it up with a straw stuck in a glass of clear liquid. I sucked on the straw and somehow managed to choke the pills down even as my tongue protested.

"My lord, what was that?"

"Thiamine chloride, charcoal capsules, Vitamins B12, B6, C and E and naproxyn sodium, washed down with infant electrolyte solution. A 'hair of the dog' mix Lacey finds useful. You'll feel better in a little while. I'm just going to check on the dryer." She left me to my thoughts.

I heard an alarm bell ring and tired to get up. The hangover grabbed me and slammed me back down. I wasn't going anywhere for a bit.

Cleo heard the phone ring and went to the answering machine. It ran through its message and beeped. A woman's voice came on.

"Mr. Middleton, this is Rosemary Duffy. My guard captain at the firebase just called *"

Cleo picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Who is this?"

"My name's Cleo, Ms. Duffy. I drove Johnny home from the club tonight. He's in a bad way, so I decided I'd better stay and keep an eye on him."

Amusement at the other end of the line. "Went and drank himself bulletproof, did he? Is he in good enough shape to talk to me?"

"I wouldn't advise it. I think right now he could hear an ant walking on the sidewalk two blocks away. May I take a message?"

"Yes. Please tell him that Captain Anson spoke to Deirdre. She's okay, and she sends her love. Right now I'm arranging to forward inmate mail to the base camp the Fire Foxes are working out of, so anything he sends will catch up with her eventually."

Cleo had been scribbling on a pad. She read the message back and got confirmation. "I'll pass this on to him. Thank you for calling. 'Bye!"

She walked back into the guest room. I saw her. She made me drink some water, then sat on the edge of the bed.

"That was a Rosemary Duffy, Johnny. She said to tell you that somebody named Anson has spoken to Deirdre. She's okay and she sends her love. Duffy also said mail sent to her regular address will be forwarded to where she is."

I absorbed that information and guilt descended like a leaden cloak onto me. Deirdre sent me her love, the best thing she had to give, and here I'd been screwing Cleo! What kind of a dawg was I? The worst kind, I guessed. I groaned.

Cleo read my mind and took my hand. "John, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking you must be the worst man in the world, playing around on your girlfriend when she's out fighting a fire. But it's not like that at all.

"What happened in the living room is a common phenomenon. I'm a Psych major, you know. I've read about this. People in high stress, life-threatening situations frequently find themselves having sex at times and with people they wouldn't otherwise. It's really a life-affirming behavior. It's instinctual. It's nothing you need to be ashamed of. I'm flattered you think enough of me that you'd have me that way.

"Deirdre would understand. You weren't screwing me or screwing around on her. You were making love to her. I was just her surrogate. And to be honest, I envy her. Only someone who cared deeply about her would respond as desperately as you did. You must love her very much."

"But how can I love her and do what we just did?" I cried in anguish.

"John, you weren't listening. I was just standing in for her because she can't be here right now.You were making love to her through me.If the two of us were side by side in this room right now, equally willing and ready to fuck you, who would you bed?"

"Deirdre, of course!" I snapped without thinking. Cleo just looked at me, faintly smiling.

"You see? It's her you want, not me. It's her you love. And I'd bet she loves you."

"But how can I be sure? I've never been loved by a woman; and every woman I've ever thought loved me turned out not to. How do youknow?"

"Well," Cleo said slowly, "apart from high school romances that were more hormones than real emotion, I can't say I've ever been in love myself. But I can tell you what one of my professors says is the surest way to tell the difference between the genuine article and the pale imitations people mistake for the real thing.

"If you have feelings toward someone and ask yourself, 'Is this love?' you aren't in love, not really. However, if you have those feelings and say to yourself, 'So this is love,' then you truly are in love. That's all there is to it.

"You're going to want to think about that when you have a clear head again, but for now, the best thing you can do for yourself is go to sleep. I forgot to mention I added an over the counter sleeping pill to Lacey's mix. I've already emailed your office and let them know you won't be in. Go to sleep and don't worry about anything."

I found it hard to keep my eyes open and surrendered to the waiting darkness. Maybe Cleo was right and things would be okay after all.

Cleo watched John's eyelids droop down and settle into sleep. When his breathing told her he was deeply under, she gently kissed him and went to his bedroom upstairs. It didn't take her long to find the box of letters from Deirdre.

*****

The Fire Foxes had been reassigned to work with the combat engineers. A stream ran due south in a fold in the land. The engineers were cutting a fire break on its west bank ahead of the fire, knocking down trees and stripping the ground to bare earth in a swath fifty yards wide on the west bank. The inmates' job was simple: cut the branches off the trees and pile them up, wrestle the resulting logs into the water and guide them downstream for a quarter of a mile. There, a National Guard unit with backhoes, a dragline and a front end loader was building a crude dam to back the water up and make a temporary pond that this tongue of the fire couldn't cross. Water bombers dropping north and south would force the fire into the denuded, soggy area where it could be pinched off and extinguished.

At least, that was the plan. Whether it would work was something they'd just have to find out.

Deirdre and Ronnie had a squad working with the bulldozers nearest the fire. As they used chainsaws and pulaskis to limb the trees, they could hear the flames crackling a lot closer than they liked. The bulldozer operator was looking west and frowning from his higher vantage point. Whatever he was seeing, he didn't think much of it.

Suddenly he stopped his machine and scrambled onto the roof for a better look. He hollered down to the squad, real fear in his voice.

"The damned fire is crowning out! Get aboard the cat! We have to make a run for it!"

The women scrambled onto the bulldozer any way they could, lying on the hood, clinging to the roof supports, one even climbing onto the roof over the open cab. Deirdre found a spot on the integral hitch that stuck out from the back of the chassis with a tenuous handhold on the back of the operator's seat. Ronnie, last up, squeezed in next to the driver, gave him a quick kiss and shouted, "Goose it!"

The big machine headed for the water, zigzagging to avoid as many of the newly made tree stumps as possible. It was a bumpy, dangerous ride; earth-movers are not designed to run a slalom. The sound of the fire grew behind them. Ronnie was using the Guardsman's radio to advise the dam unit of the danger and request a water drop when it happened.

Rather than dodge around a big brush pile, the operator lowered his blade to blast through it. The blade caught the edge of a boulder and slewed the 'dozer, the track on the right riding up and over an exposed rock ledge. The Fire Foxes rattled around like the balls in a lotto machine and Deirdre's number came up. She lost her grip and was hurled into the brush pile.

"STOP!" screamed Ronnie. "We've lost one!" added two of the other girls.

The Guardsman braked to a halt. Without asking permission, Ronnie snatched the knife from his belt and ran back to where her friend was entangled in the brush. The two Fire Foxes who'd seen her go down followed with pulaskis. The forest fire's roar was getting closer.

The trio hacked and dragged the branches away, working as fast as they could. They got her arms and legs free, but when they tried to pull Deirdre out she screamed. Ronnie looked closer. Deirdre had lost her helmet when the bulldozer flung her off and her hair was hopelessly entangled in the mess of green. The fire was closing in. Bits of burning wood were falling around them. The pile was starting to smoke.

"Get out of here, you two!" Ronnie ordered. "And tell that Army jock if he leaves us and I live through this, I'll find him and feed him his balls if it's the last thing I do on this earth!" Reaching into the mess, Ronnie slashed at her friend's hair, the branches, anything she could reach that might help free Deirdre. A spurt of flame showed itself on the far side of the pile as the last strands of hair and pine parted. She yanked Deirdre loose.

The engine roared and the 'dozer blade missed them by scant inches as it plowed into the brush pile, knocking the burning wood away from them. Willing hands pulled Ronnie and Deirdre onto the bulldozer as the operator spun it in its own length and slammed the throttle wide open. When they reached the stream, he didn't hesitate. Running flat out, he drove his 30-ton hot rod straight off the bank into the drink and crossed with the water halfway up the treads, throwing a rooster tail like a speedboat. Climbing out on the other side, he turned south just in time to see two C-130s and a Martin Marauder come thundering along the watercourse, dropping retardant into the area they'd just left. The Marauder winged over and came back for a second pass, dropping between them and the fire as they rumbled south, rocking his wings to let them know he'd seen them as he pulled up to return to base for another load.

They reached the temporary dam site and the operator cut his engine. The girls climbed down from the bulldozer. Ronnie watched her team and squirmed around on the Guardsman's lap where she'd ended up during the wild ride to give him a heartfelt, thorough kiss. She looked him in the eye, memorizing his features.

"Thanks for coming back after us, man. And if you can get to our base camp, I will be happy to reward you properly."

"Happy to be of service, ma'am. Any time, any where," he said, giving her buttocks a squeeze as she hugged him before climbing off to join her squad. With a wave, he left.

"What the hell happened to you all?" asked Sergeant Carter, walking down from her station at the command post radios.

"We almost got barbecued, Sarge," said Ronnie, "and we nearly lost Dee-Dee when the fire crowned. Where do you want us now?"

"You're the last of the platoon still out. I sent the rest back 15 minutes ago. We can hitch a ride with the Army. They're about to pull out. Let's go." The Fire Foxes were too weary to argue.

They got back to the base camp after sunset and reported in. Carter told them to go eat and sack out in the old hangar they were using as a dormitory. The mess lines served around the clock because the smoke-eaters, air attack pilots, heavy equipment operators, support staff and smokejumpers ate and slept when they could. The Fire Foxes were actually luckier than many of the people fighting the blaze. They each had an assigned bunk, to make keeping count of them simpler. That put them ahead of the hot shots and longshots who worked the most dangerous parts of the fire, rarely got back to base camp, and therefore in the eyes of the fire base commander didn't need assigned bunks.

The food was pretty good, but Deirdre had to force herself to eat. She was aware of just how close she'd come to buying the farm today and what she owed Ronnie. She looked at her friend across the table.

"Thanks, babe. I owe you a big one." Ronnie smiled.

"Get me another dessert and we'll call it even." Deirdre pushed hers across the table to her, then picked at her food.

"What's eating you, Dee-Dee?"

"You're going to laugh at me. I just know it."

"Try me."

"I was just thinking, 'What's John going to think when he sees my hair is gone?' I could tell when he visited that long hair really turns him on."

Ronnie pushed back from the table, laughing. "You almost got killed today and all you can think about is what your boyfriend is going to say when he sees you with a new hairstyle? Get a grip, girl! From what you've told me about John, as long as you're there for him he won't give a damn what you wear, how you style your hair, or what kind of shoes you have on! Damn, but I wish I had somebody like that. I mean, he calls up the Warden and demands to know why you aren't calling him, and makes her find out where you are and report back to him? I'm surprised he hasn't found a way to send a care package directly to here!"

Thinking about her lover beyond the wire eased Deirdre's mind and put the day into perspective. Her stomach unknotted and her appetite returned. Around a mouthful of meatloaf, she asked Ronnie, "Do you think we can find some barbering equipment around here? I'd like to get one of the girls to at least even this out so I don't look like I backed into a chainsaw."

"Doubt it, honey, but maybe Jarhead has scissors or something." Spotting the platoon sergeant moving through the mess line, she went on, "Let me ask." She walked over, intercepting the guard as she was drawing a cup of coffee from one of the big urns.

"Beg pardon, ma'am, but I was wondering if you could do me a favor."

"What did you have in mind, Talliferro?"

"Did you happen to notice Little Fox's hair, ma'am?"

"Yes, I did. What happened? Doesn't she wear a helmet like everyone else?"

Ronnie explained briefly. "So I was wondering, ma'am, if maybe you could lay hands on a pair of scissors. She has a comb and I have a stiff brush. If we had scissors, at least we could clean up the mess I made of her hair some."

"I have a pair of surgical scissors in the first aid kit in my pack. If you will give them back to me in an hour, I'll bring them to your bunk after I eat. Do I have your word?"

"Yes, ma'am, and thank you, ma'am."

"One thing you can do for me, if you would." She fumbled with her tray and fished an overnight letter envelope out from under it. "This was forwarded for Little Fox. Would you give it to her, please? I expect it's important."

"Yes, ma'am." Ronnie took the letter and returned to the table where Deirdre was sopping up the last of the gravy with a piece of bread.

"Letter for you," she said, handing her the cardboard envelope.

"From John?" she asked eagerly.

"No. Don't know the name." Ronnie watched as Deirdre opened the mailer and took out the letter inside. It was dated three days before.

"Dear Deirdre:

"You don't know me. My name is Cleo Mahfouz. I'm a friend of John Middleton's and he has spoken to me a great deal about you. I'm writing to explain something that happened last night, so you'll understand why I am concerned for both of you.

"I'm an exotic dancer, just as you used to be. I work the southeast club circuit, but my 'home' is the Galaxy Club, where I met John and got to know him. He's the club's resident plumber and Ms. Lacey, the boss, thinks very highly of him personally and professionally.

"Anyway, he's been 'up' since the two of you started writing back and forth, and he's been really happy since he went to visit you in Texas; Ms. Lacey told me about that. He really cares for you, very deeply. I hope someday I'll meet someone who cares for me as much as he does for you.

"When he found out you Fire Foxes had been sent to fight the Grand Canyon fire, he was nearly out of his mind with worry. He actually called up the Warden at your prison and demanded to know where you were and what you were doing. She couldn't or wouldn't tell him much. He came to the Galaxy – he's a regular there; we all like his company and he's a perfect gentleman, unlike some of the pervs and creeps we get in the place. But I've gone astray.

"The bottom line is he was so worried about you he got totally bombed and I had to drive him home. I managed to get him into the house and tried to get him to talk about his fears, hoping to ease his mind so he wouldn't be so afraid for you. He started crying like a baby, something happened and the next thing I knew, we were on the floor making love. This is the thing I want to make clear.

"He wasn't screwingme. He was on the floor making love toyou, because he was so afraid you were going to get hurt or perhaps even die in that fire and he couldn't live with that. He kept calling me by your name and I did everything I could to help him, telling him I was you, a surrogate you, and urging him to use me to purge his fears for you. Which he did, at least for awhile, but now he feels guilty.

"He feels like he has betrayed you. He loves you very much whether he has ever told you so or not, I think. But he has so little experience with love – not sex, there he's experienced and well worth the bedding, I assure you! – he has a defenseless heart. He cares so much about you, you could hurt him so much he would throw up a wall, hide behind it and never come out again.