"Do me a favor, Jackson," she said, as they headed out for the day. "Keep things down tonight? I've got NCO duty."
"Hell Sarge, I won't be a problem at all," Jackson replied. "I'm staying off post overnight. Already got everything set up, I just need to shower up, make myself even better looking than I already am, and it's all good for me."
Linda sighed, but couldn't criticize him. It was well known that Jackson had a very active social life, and sometimes she thought the man was juggling multiple girlfriends. That wasn't the case this weekend though, she was relatively sure that he was only seeing one girl at the moment.
"Keep it safe, keep it sober," she reminded him. "And I better see you bright and early for PT Monday."
After a quick shower to wash the day's dirt and sweat off of her, she settled in behind the NCO duty desk, ready to pull duty for the night. Linda groaned as the aches and pains of the day caught up with her. The shower helped, she wasn't going to have to face the idea of twelve hours of stinky armpits, and she had changed into a fresh uniform in order to make sure she was dry that way as well.
Her body screamed for rest. Friday night NCO duty was the worst, no extra day off to recover, just the long, slow burn of lost sleep gnawing at her energy. It meant sacrificing a precious night with Brutus, and that thought stung.
Thankfully though, Brutus already knew, and promised her that if she wanted to crash in the barracks she could, and if not, the bed at the house was all hers. She hadn't made up her mind yet as to which option she was going to take, but was leaning towards going to Brutus's house.
She knew she needed the sleep, but having Brutus right there might not be that good for her getting any. Then again, she could use a Saturday of pampering from her boyfriend, and she knew he'd do it without her even asking.
In the meantime she had to stay up all night. Linda wasn't a video person, she found that trying to watch a movie or TV show on her phone mostly led to her nodding off. Instead, she did her shifts with a book, old school paper and ink. In this case it was an older book she hadn't read before, Stephen King's Carrie. She'd seen the movie of course, but wanted something short enough she could get through it in one night if things stayed quiet.
And for the first few hours of duty, they were quiet. In her book, Tommy was being convinced by his girlfriend that it'd be the right thing to invite that weird girl, Carrie White to the prom.
Still... it was hard to believe these teenagers could be so blithely cruel. It made her think of her own past, the subtle ways people could tear you down even when they thought they were helping. Carrie's fate felt inevitable, a dark mirror of her own struggles.
It was just about midnight when she heard a noise outside. Putting her book aside, she walked outside, and saw John Mahoney pissing on the blacktop of the basketball court. Clearly drunk, it appeared as if he was trying to write his name in urine on the pavement, and making a general mess of the whole thing.
"Ahhhh!" he groaned as he swiveled his hips up and down, left and right in his futile attempt to legibly piss out his name onto the ground. "Yeah, that's it!"
"Doing some painting, Mahoney?" Linda asked, trying to defuse the situation. "You should try the bushes."
"Oh, hey Saaaaaaarrge!" Mahoney slurred, standing up fully while not tucking himself away. "What's up?"
"How about you put your dick away and go get some sleep is up," Linda said. "It's too late for arts and crafts time. Know what I mean?"
Mahoney squared up, and looked down at his dick. "Little intimidating, is it? Nah, I get it, it's one big example of manhood."
Actually, Brutus is bigger, Linda thought, but set aside the comment to deal with the drunken soldier. She'd tried being casual and nice about it. Now it was time to be an NCO.
"Mahoney, put yourself away, go back to your room, and go to sleep. That's an order."
Instead of obeying, Mahoney reached down and grabbed his cock, stroking it in a lazy masturbatory motion.
"How about you get on your knees and tuck it away for me, bitch?" he asked. "After you suck it dry?"
"Put it away." Linda stepped forward. She wasn't going to be intimidated, and she for damn sure wasn't going to let Mahoney harass her.
"My next order's not going to be polite."
Linda tensed, ready. Mahoney had a good thirty pounds on her, all muscle. She knew this wouldn't be a fair fight.
But Mahoney was drunk, and as he moved to slap her he was slow, telegraphing his move. She stepped in, grabbing the slap while sticking out her leg to throw him over her hip.
He held on though, the two of them tumbling to the blacktop in the puddle of piss. Linda could feel his hands trying to grope her, and his hips ground against her ass.
"Mmmm, yeah, fight it Sarge… I like it when-"
Linda snapped, memories of Bayamon fueling her anger. Snarling, she threw a back elbow that caught Mahoney in the face, snapping his head back. Scrambling to her feet, she squared up with him, ready to kick his ass from here to the end of base if necessary. But before the drunken soldier could get to his feet, another soldier, Staff Sergeant Brandon Korderas, emerged from the barracks. Grabbing Mahoney, he yanked him back down to the pavement.
"What the fuck was that?"
Linda's heart hammered in her chest, and she could feel in her mind the way Mahoney's hands groped her. Almost reflexively, she wiped her chest with her hands, then her ass.
