After Action:From Bridget's Nights

I wanted to say something, but for one of the few times in my centuries I was at a loss for words that might improve the situation. I said nothing.

"I was pretty sure you were asleep, in some form or another, so I got close, put my arm around you and listened. There was no slow, steady breathing of a sleeping person. In fact, you weren't breathing at all. Nor could I find any trace of a heartbeat." She thumbed back the hammer of the Colt. "Can you think of any reason why I shouldn't shoot you right now?"

"Well, one good one I suppose." I replied, as calmly as I could. In response to her look of inquiry I went on. "That reason is that, although the bullets will hurt a good bit, any damage they do will be only temporary. On the other hand," I nodded towards the heavy blackout drapes pulled across the single window, "If it is daylight and I bet that it is, if you pull those curtains aside you'll see an immediate reaction."

I swallowed hard as she stood and stepped over to the dark cloth, the pistol still trained on me. "So what will this reaction be?"

"If the sunlight on me is indirect, I'll begin to alternate sweats and chills. My skin will get very dry and it will feel like its burning. That feeling will spread throughout my body. I will get light-headed and then mentally confused. Eventually dementia may take over and I will become extremely violent. On the other hand, if the sunlight hits me directly, well, I will have just enough time to say a final prayer and you will have to extinguish the bed, because when my body catches fire so will it."

"So you are, what, a vampire?"

"Yes," I answered briefly.

"And you were going to bite me."

"No."

"You're a vampire. You drink blood."

"Yes I am and I do. But popular lore about vampires is wrong on many accounts. One of those misconceptions is that we need to feed all the time. I drank from several of the SS guards at the Gestapo interrogation center. I won't even begin to be hungry for several days. And even then, I have no need, or desire, to kill in order to satisfy my need."

"You just admitted you killed."

"I did, and I'm a soldier of the United States and those men were the enemies of my country. More than that, they were the enemies of mankind, which by the way, I am not. I didn't kill them by draining them of blood but by using unarmed combat techniques I learned in China nearly three centuries ago. Besides, if I was going to bite you, I would have done it already." Even under the circumstances I had to grin. "If I had bitten you in the shower last night and fed from the femoral artery you wouldn't have known it until much later. If at all."

"How did you get into the OSS? The background check..." Jill's words trailed off as what she was asking registered with her.

I nodded. "Yes, General Donovan is quite aware of who and what I am. After all, I've been pretty much on the government payroll for about eighty years. The dossier on me that is buried somewhere in the files must be getting to be pretty darn thick."

Jill sat back down in her chair, rather abruptly as though her knees had given way. Absently, she put the Colt onto a small lamp table and ran her fingers through her hair.

"I can't believe this," she said, more to herself than me. Apparently unable to sit still, she stood up again and began to stride back and forth. "You admit what you are, something that has haunted humanity's nightmares since the beginning. You casually mention things from centuries ago." That thought led her to another question. "How old are you Bridget?"

"Next month I'll be 391," I replied.

I had to give her credit. She had taken in a lot more than most people could have without running screaming through the room. Somehow, this last bit of information was too much for her to process. Her eyes rolled up, she swayed and sat down heavily in the chair.

Worried, I sprang from the bed. I rushed to her side, grabbing a glass of water from the nightstand. I caught the pistol as it slipped from her fingers and laid it on the table with my other hand as I lifted the glass to her lips.

"Here Jill, drink this." She gulped mechanically and I wrapped her in my arms as I knelt by her chair. "I'm not going to hurt you, I swear by Michael and the holy Archangels."

Her eyes fluttered open and she reached out to touch the small silver cross I always wore around my neck. "I think I can believe that."

"You can."

She looked at me sheepishly. "I guess the whole thing got to be too much there for a second. Overload. Vampires exist. I spent the night with one. The government knows they exist. A lot going on here. By the way, did you HAVE to ruin my best handcuffs?"

Now it was my turn to look sheepish as I glanced back at the bed. The cuff around the bedpost was intact but the metal ring that had been around my wrist was snapped in half.

"Sorry. I was in a hurry."

"But you could have done that anytime."

"Yes."

We looked at each other in silence for a while. I suppose at that juncture we had said everything we needed to say. So, we went back to bed. Jill got on top.

I stayed at the sprawling London house for nearly two weeks. During that time I rested but I also was useful. I completed my reports on the raid, both the overt one and the second "Director's Eyes Only" one that detailed my meeting with Thorfinn Olafson and all that I could recall about that Viking vampire. I sat in on meetings designed to improve various operational matters, ranging from the parachute drops into France to the coordination of meetings with the fishing boats.

I didn't mind. Jill and I had to be very cautious of course. I never spent the night with her, always slipping back to the Field grade quarters that I had been assigned, by mistake since I was only a Captain. Being booted from the Army would have hardly bothered me but Jill hoped to remain in the service even after the war and nothing would get her kicked out faster than being identified as a lesbian. Whether she was or was bisexual like me, I never asked. After all, it wasn't any of my business. We did enjoy our time together but neither of us even pretended it was anything more than a casual relationship, although one we both wouldn't mind renewing again sometime in the future. If she was aware that twice I furtively left the guarded compound, she made no mention of it.

One day I was sitting comfortably in the mess hall, which fortunately was in the basement, along with the club. Of course eating is pointless for me, as food doesn't nourish me, but coffee and good Irish whiskey are almost as necessary to me as blood is. The station adjutant stopped by and notified that my presence was requested, in uniform, at Colonel Steven's office in an hour.

I managed to dig around in the bag that I had brought over from the States and find my one uniform. Jill came by with an iron and we managed to get most of the creases out of it. Jill professed that she had no idea why I was being hauled up before the Colonel. I didn't believe her.

I did the whole military thing. I knocked on the door, marched two paces in front of the Colonel once I was told to enter, saluted and reported. He returned my salute and then picked up a piece of paper and began to read from it. I saw there was a crowd. Jill was already there as were several of the other higher-ups.

"Champagne is often appropriate for a promotion celebration," said Colonel Stevens, "But I have it on the authority of the Director himself that Major O'Brien prefers Irish whiskey." He waved his hand and a grinning agent from the training group, who's name escapes me to this day, began to pass around glasses filled with dark, smoky whiskey. I got the first one of course. I got the second one also, because the lovely scent made me down the first drink in one quick swallow.

I was savoring the taste of my second drink and accepting congratulations from the crowd when Colonel Stevens led an unfamiliar man over to me. There was something about him that that tugged faintly at my memory as the man gripped my hand in both of his and pumped it enthusiastically.

"Bridget, you remember Jacques Lorimar, of course."

Realization hit me just as the tall, thin man stopped shaking my hand and flung his arms around me, kissing me on both cheeks in the Gallic fashion, although generally not quite so fervent. This was Jacques, the underground leader. In my defense I should point out that I had seen him only briefly during the rescue operation. I had studied his picture intently during planning, but no one looks quite the same after a week in Gestapo custody.

The effects had showed. His face, so handsome in his picture, was still somewhat bruised and swollen. He moved slowly, favoring his right leg. A cane was clenched in one hand. His trousers were lumpy and his shirt bulged where I could tell he was still swaddled in bandages.

"Thank you, Bridget," he took my hand and bowed over it. "Not just for myself, although Le Bon Dieu knows I owe you my life, but also for my comrades. Sooner or later I would have given way."

Being treated like a lady has always been a quick way to get through my defenses. Not that I seem to have a great array of those. In fact I've been told I have a tendency to give in quite easily. But being romanced, even by such a simple gesture always is nice.

"Thank you, Jacques," I replied in French. "I'm pleased I was able to help, although you underestimate you own stamina, as well as over-rate my role in your rescue. In either case, I am glad to see you up and around."

I think it was Jill who noticed that Jacques and I had yet to let go of each others' hand. She brushed by me, winked at me and whispered "Looks like I won't be waiting up for you tonight." There was no jealousy in her voice and only a devilish little grin on her face.

Jacques and I eventually found a quiet alcove and we settled down to a wonderful chat, in French, which I spoke much better than he did English.. He was surprised how much I knew about Paris and how much I loved the city. Of course, I had been in and out of Paris since the late 16th Century. I had last been there in the mid-30's (the days of great ocean liners were a splendid time for a vampire to travel in reasonable safety) and of course, the more the world changes, the more it seems Paris remains the same.

We talked the day away and on into the evening. The room quietly emptied around us. Finally I saw that weariness was beginning to overcome him. I stood up and apologized for wearing him out.

"Not at all Bridget, this has been most enjoyable. In fact, I'm sorry to see it end."

I expressed similar feelings. I looked Jacques in the eyes and added, "In fact, I don't see any need for it to end. Do you?"

A delightfully mischievous smile crossed Jacques' face. "That would be even more enjoyable Bridget my dear."

I led Jacques to my room and we slipped inside, closing the door behind us. I was torn between treating him like a fragile item and the knowledge that acting like that would be the worst thing I could do.

He solved my dilemma by taking me in his arms and kissing me. The kiss was as soft and as gentle as his hands were as they slowly stripped my uniform from me. Somehow, cane and bandages and all he undressed himself too and then drew me towards the bed.

He sat heavily on the mattress, his arms around my waist. He leaned forward and began to run his tongue over my belly. His head lowered, then rose, his darting tongue sliding under my breasts. His hands were on my back, bending me forward and he pressed his face into my modest cleavage. He used his tongue and lips like delicate instruments, covering every inch of my breasts in tiny kisses and licks before settling down on my nipples. He treated them as if they were two pink jewels he had discovered, and my body responded to his ministrations.

It wasn't only his mouth that was driving me crazy. His fingers, his palms, good lord, even his arms were roaming up and down my body. They touched and caressed my back, my bottom, my legs. Now his fingers were teasing the soft spot behind my knees and now they were sliding up the inside of my thighs, almost, but not quite touching my pussy.

All I could do was clutch the sides of Jacques' head and hold on for dear life as he brought me closer and closer to the edge, and then pushed me right off it. I shuddered happily and cried out as my body let go.

Jacques was well aware of my response. Lifting his face from my breasts he smiled up at me.

"I think you enjoyed that," he commented.

"I think you are right," I replied.

"I wish I could offer you more," he said, "But alas, I fear my body is not up to the task..." He suddenly fell silent as I reached down between his legs and gripped a very respectable hard-on.

"I'd say you are quite up to the task Jacques. I let go of his cock long enough to gently push him back on to the bed." It was my turn to be leading as I helped him stretch out on his back, taking care not to jostle his ribs or the leg that had been so badly hurt.

I was at a loss for a moment as what to do, even as I let my lips explore all of his torso that they could reach. Of course I could simply continue to wander down his body and take him in my mouth. I do love doing that to a guy, but tonight I wanted Jacques inside of me.

Together we figured it out. He moved his injured leg as far to the side as he could, resting it on a pillow with another pillow protecting it. I straddled his other leg and slipped sideways, trying to work his cock into me.

A friend once accused me of being acrobatic in sex for its own sake. I suppose I've been guilty of that but tonight I wasn't getting anywhere, no matter how much I contorted. Once I nearly fell on Jacques' injured leg and was about to give up when I had a thought. I turned around, facing away from him and knelt down. I leaned forward, braced my hands on the bed. My butt slid back over him and I lowered myself.

Success! I was happy that poor Jacques hadn't fallen asleep waiting for me to get it right. His hips lifted at the same time I settled down on him and his cock slid right up in my until my ass rested on his groin. His hands stroked my firm little butt and then gripped my hips.

I flexed my legs and found that I could get a quite satisfactory bounce onto his stiff shaft. In fact, more than satisfactory. I got so excited that once I bounced clean off his cock after I had driven down far enough for his head to be slamming against my spot. We nearly ended up having anal sex on my next down stroke but he slid right back inside of my pussy.

This was very good, because from the sounds Jacques was making back there he wasn't going to last very long. But then neither was I. A small portion of my mind wondered if having sex with another girl just made the sex with a guy even hotter when it came around. And vice-versa of course. Then that part of my mind went crazy with the rest of it as the guy under me pumped me pretty darn full of his cum, mingling it with my own juices as I let out a slightly muffled yell and came myself. Just in time really. Even my leg muscles were cramping something awful. We spent the rest of the night cuddling.1

Two nights later, shortly after dusk, another staff car showed up to drive me to the airfield. I exchanged handshakes with everyone. Jill and I smothered grins as our hands touched, bringing back to mind vivid images of the night before and how we had said our goodbyes. I also made a mental note to be sure to get that soap to her on the next transport plane to England if I had to eat someone to do it.

Standing at the back door of the staff car, holding it open for me, was the young corporal who had picked me up at the pier on my return from France. Shaking my head, I pointed to the front seat. He nodded and opened that door for me. I climbed in and waited patiently as he closed both open doors and ran around to get behind the wheel.

On the way to the my destination I learned all about Corporal Russell White, a young man far away from his Indiana home, including his excitement at being transferred to the OSS. I learned even more from the way his eyes continued to drop to my legs and I chuckled to myself, recalling my doing the very same thing to Jill. I leaned back into the seat and without seeming obvious about it shifted until my skirt had ridden up over the tops of my stockings. Just like Jill had.

It certainly had an effect on my young driver and I scolded myself severely for teasing him. The bulge in his uniform pants had become quite pronounced by the time we passed through the gates of the airfield and found a parking space in the row of similar cars. I hoped out and told him to stay with the car, I just needed to check something and would be right back.

After receiving the information I had hoped I might, I returned to the car and got back in. From the way Russell jumped, I was pretty sure he had been at least contemplating unzipping his slacks if indeed he hadn't already done so. I pretended not to notice as I shut the car door.

"Okay, my flight doesn't load for another thirty minutes. Do you need to get back right away?"

"No ma'am," he answered. "Colonel Stevens and Colonel Shelby both told me to take care of you and see you off."

I giggled. I slid across the seat. His eyes widened as my fingers traced the outline of his stiff cock, then unfastened his slacks.

"What a good choice of words. Because I'm going to take care of you." I lowered my head and licked the head of his cock. "And you're going to get off too, right down my throat." With that I slid my lips down his shaft and began to blow the happiest corporal in the OSS.

(The End)