If Things Were Different

*Author's Note: Marine Corps reserve units have a small cadre of active-duty, permanent personnel assigned to provide support to the reserve unit. They are known as the Inspector-Instructor or I&I staff, and are separate from the reservists who come in for two days each month as well as two weeks in the summer. They work very closely with the reservists and often attend the training they help set up for the reserve unit.

The senior I&I staff member is referred to as 'the I&I' and is almost always a commissioned officer. He/she and the I&I staff do numerous things for the reserve unit so it can come in and train without spending valuable time doing coordination with other units or reserving a firing range, etc.

The reserve unit has its own commander, and he or she is in charge of all reserve personnel but not the I&I staff.

When I served on active duty, I saw many male first sergeants and a couple of females. Both of them were very unattractive women. Since leaving active duty, I 'met' one on Facebook of all places who is hot as hell, and she is the inspiration for this story.

Lastly, Marine first sergeants are never called 'top'. That is an Army term and never, ever used in the Marine Corps for first sergeants. It is, however, used for Marine master sergeants and master gunnery sergeants, although the latter are increasingly called 'master guns' rather than 'top'. Unlike the Army, first sergeant and sergeant major aren't temporary billets. They are both permanent ranks and Marines do not go back and forth the way soldiers do.

Okay, enough background as this is a romance tale, not one about the Marine Corps or reserve units or even first sergeants. It's...story time!

*****

"Good morning, First Sergeant. You're in early."

"Good morning, sir. I am. I couldn't sleep so I decided to go PT then come to work."

"Let me guess. Ten-mile run?" the handsome, young, male captain said with a smile.

"No, sir. Just five today," the older, very attractive, female first sergeant replied.

He wanted to ask if this was another disagreement at home, but it wasn't his place and the first sergeant would tell him if she wanted or needed his advice.

First Sergeant Amie Carlson was 38 years old and had a little over 19-years of active duty under her belt to include a three-year tour as a drill instructor at Parris Island, South Carolina, back when Captain Dustin Whitaker was a 15-year boy with his first real crush on an older woman, his high school math teacher.

First Sergeant Carlson had been with I&I staff supporting a reserve unit in Tacoma, Washington, for about a year and a half, and had another seven months to do before she was eligible to retire. She still hadn't decided whether or not she would, and a lot her decision was dependent on her long-time, live-in boyfriend, 40-year old Gill Haines.

Gill had agreed to move with her a second time after having spent four years at Marine Corps Air Station Cherry Point and another three at Marine Corps Base Camp Pendleton, California. He was a high school teacher who had little trouble finding work so that wasn't a big deal for him. His issue was with the military in general and those who knew the couple found it difficult to square the fact that she was a hard-charging Marine while he was a laid-back, long-haired 'hippy' type, more interested in solar power than weapons systems.

Captain Whitaker had arrived just three months ago, and 1stSgt Carlson had been a godsend in terms of helping him learn the ropes. He'd been an infantry platoon commander (not 'platoon leader' as in the Army) and company commander with a combat tour in Afghanistan, and was a very sharp, up-and-coming young officer. Everyone had to go through an initial learning curve during any new assignment, and this tour as an I&I was no exception. Having 1stSgt Carlson there made climbing it a whole lot easier. The fact that she was one of the best-looking women Marines he'd even seen (of any rank), made it even more so.

Amie Carlson was extremely health conscious and an accomplished runner with a runner's build with one exception. She had a very nice 'upper body' that was difficult to ignore even in uniform. Captain Whitaker was too professional to stare, but he was human and male, and it was impossible not to notice.

The same held true for her still very young-looking and incredibly-attractive face. He'd seen a handful of attractive female officers and even dated one for a few months a couple of years back. But really good-looking, senior female enlisted Marines were a rare find. In fact, they were almost unheard of. And yet here she was sharing an adjoining office with the Inspector-Instructor, separated by just a door which connected the two spacious rooms with their own individual shower and restroom.

Captain Whitaker was her boss but not her commander. He was the I&I and her reporting senior or in Army-speak, her rater. He wrote her fitness reports and she owed him her loyalty, but he wasn't in command of anything. So far, she was happy to give her loyalty even though she'd been around long enough to know it didn't matter whether or not she liked or even respected a particular officer. That she did was just an added bonus. That he was strikingly handsome was another.

She'd seen dozens of very good-looking Marine Corps officers throughout her career. Many of them were pilots, but during her first tour as a first sergeant with a Stinger missile battery at MCAS Cherry Point, she'd run into quite a few other nice-looking male officers. Being a consummate professional, she drew the line at dating them, even though several of them hadn't drawn similar lines themselves. Besides, she was with Gill so she had no interest in dating anyone else, military or civilian.

In each case over the years where an officer had asked her out, she'd politely and professionally let them know that was out of the question, and in all but one case, they'd backed off. In the one where a particular major wouldn't take 'no' for answer, she'd had to do something for the first and only time in her 19-career, and reported him for sexual harassment after his third, very-open and aggressive request for a date. What really pushed over the edge was that this major was married and had just become a father and yet he was hitting on her in no uncertain terms.

Amie had always told other female Marines that doing so was a last resort unless there was also unwanted physical contact or an implied threat to their career. When any Marine of any rank asked a female Marine out, there was no real harm in that and she assured them it would happen—often. That was true because in a world where nearly everyone is male, even the most unattractive females get a lot of attention, both wanted and unwanted.

A polite 'no thank you' was more than adequate in most cases. A second such solicitation merited a little more 'oomph' but nothing formal. A third time was when things got serious, but even then, every case was different and whenever possible, one should avoid taking action formally.

"You don't ruin someone's career because they find you attractive. We're Marines, but we're also women, and you can be both," she'd said many times over the years.

Now, at the age of 38, and having a full-time partner at home, she had little concern with being hit on at work, and especially so by someone like Captain Whitaker who could easily date pretty much any woman he wanted, and she was certain he'd never want to date someone her age even if she wasn't technically his subordinate. In a word it was a moot point.

The I&I flashed a perfectly straight, white smiled at her then said, "Oh, okay. Slacking off, are we?" in response to her 'just five miles' comment.

"I'm not getting any younger, sir," she replied with an equally perfect smile of her own.

"Oh, before I forget, do we have both training areas locked on for the reservists next month?" he asked ignoring her comment about age.

"Yes, sir. Both of them are ready to go. We just need the reserve unit to designate a range safety officer and we're all set," she informed him.

"Great. I'll give Lieutenant Colonel Woods a call and see if he can give us a name," the captain said before going into his semi-private office.

He left the door open as he nearly always did. It was a sign of trust and respect for the first sergeant who felt like the two of them made a pretty good team. She'd worked for four different company commanders as a first sergeant, and Captain Whitaker seemed to be someone she could really work well with.

What she didn't want to get into with her relatively new boss was how she was 'late' and why that was such a big deal to her. The last thing she needed was for him to think she couldn't handle her personal affairs. She and the I&I were the ones getting paid to take care of the problems other Marines had, not hers.

Being late was a very big deal because Gill had no desire to have children nor did he want to get married. Ever.

"Marriage is an outdated, patriarchal construct, and as an ardent feminist, I want no part of it," he'd told her more than once.

Even now, all these years later, she often wondered why she stayed with him. And then she remembered how good looking he'd been, how 'dangerous' he'd seemed, and how incredible he'd been in bed. He was still reasonably attractive and still pretty darned good in bed, but he was becoming harder and harder to live with as the years went by.

His being a civilian had made things a lot simpler, too, and she'd been in no hurry to settle down so after meeting him at a bar one evening in New Bern, North Carolina, she'd found herself in bed with him that night and living with him a couple of months later and now, these many years later, they were still living together.

Amie had been on the pill for as long as she could remember, and they'd only had one 'scare' and that had been nearly four years ago. No, the pill wasn't 100% effective, but it was pretty close. And although she was an incredibly private person and would never tell anyone with whom she wasn't very close, she loved making love, and Gill was still a very good partner who satisfied her physical needs.

The problems really began when she made a conscious decision to come off the pill for the first time a few months ago after discovering a small lump in her breast during a routine self-examination. She'd had it checked out immediately, and to her great relief, it was nothing but a benign cyst. Even so, her doctor strongly suggested she consider other means of birth control as he explained the increased risks of breast cancer over time in women who used the pill. To say Gill was unhappy about her decision was a huge understatement.

"I don't want to have to wear fucking condoms!" he told her seconds after she explained why she wanted to stop taking it. "And I'm damn sure not getting myself snipped!"

Amie gently reminded him that he didn't want children, and that a vasectomy was the surest way to prevent that from happening. But contrary to his stated beliefs about being a strong supporter of feminists ideals, he wasn't about to risk reducing his pleasure during intercourse by even the slightest amount in order to prevent an unwanted pregnancy, and he'd read somewhere that having a vasectomy did that in some percentage of cases.

Tired of repeatedly dealing with the subject, Amie only told him that getting pregnant was now a very real risk unless someone took responsibility. She didn't bother pointing out she'd done that since she was 18-years old, and that it only made sense he take a little responsibility from here on out. Fairness was also an issue, but Amie had long understood that life often isn't fair, so she chose not to even bring it up.

For her part, Amie was an independent woman, but had never considered herself a 'feminist' beyond demanding equal pay and respect. She loved being a woman, and although she never flaunted her looks, she was well aware that she was almost always the best-looking woman in any room, and even in the United States Marine Corps, that came with a few unspoken perks.

She'd gotten to where she was on her superb performance, but she had no desire to give up being a woman in order to be a successful staff NCO, a term unique to the Marine Corps. Other services drew the line at E-7 to be considered a 'senior NCO' but in the Marine Corps, a staff sergeant/E-6, had the same privileges as an E-7 in the other services such as not being able to be reduced in rank except by a general officer in command.

Two days later, Amie had a visit from the Red Baron and breathed a sigh of relief as the current crisis flowed away naturally. She hadn't mentioned it to Gill nor would she. However, the problem was still very much there, and unless her boyfriend was willing to endure a couple of days of discomfort, condoms were their only real choice.

Sure, she could probably get an IUD, but why the hell should that be up to her again, when getting Gill to wear a raincoat was such an ordeal? In fact, it was taking all the fun out of having sex—something they were having less and less as the birth control issue took center stage night after night.

As bad as that was, Amie knew if something didn't change, it would start reflecting in her performance at work, and for a very professional First Sergeant of Marines, that was unconscionable.

Around 11:45, Captain Whitaker popped his head into her office and said, "Hey, First Sergeant. I got a name from Colonel Woods to be the RSO. It's Lieutenant Callaghan."

"Oh, okay. Thank you, sir. I'll make sure range control gets the name. Are you going out to PT?"

"As a matter of fact I am," he told her.

He smiled then said, "But only five miles."

First Sergeant Carlson laughed then said, "Oorah, sir!" which was Marine-speak for anything but 'no', and the Army's equivalent of 'Hooah'.

Amie took an hour for lunch, and when she came back, she forgot the captain was going running and had no idea he was back in his office. She saw the door was cracked a couple of inches as she grabbed some paperwork that needed to be signed. She picked the folders up and walked straight in so she could drop them in his in-box when she stopped dead in her tracks.

He was standing there buck naked with his back to her in front of his wall locker. She was two steps inside the office before she noticed and tried to quietly back out when he noticed her over his shoulder.

"Sir, I am so sorry!" she said as she continued backing out.

He quickly reached for the towel around his feet and said, "Shit! I thought for sure the door was shut tight. My apologies, First Sergeant!"

"No worries, sir," she said as she shut the door. "I should have been more careful."

She stood there for a second inside her office, her back to the door, not sure what to do. For someone who'd seen it all and who never got rattled, Amie Carlson was rattled.

She was well aware the young captain had a very athletic body. She just had no idea it was that athletic. His back was wide and tapered into a narrow waist which was a pretty incredible view in and of itself. But those two butt cheeks were so tight and perfect and....

She also couldn't help but notice the long, thick scar on his back where shrapnel from an exploding RPG round had somehow found its way through the back of his kevlar vest during an ambush on his first and only tour in Afghanistan. She'd noticed the Purple Heart the day he checked in, but hadn't asked about it. It came up only once and he downplayed it as 'being in the wrong place at the wrong time'. But the Bronze Star with 'V' device next to the Purple Heart said otherwise.

"Get a hold of yourself, First Sergeant," she said quietly while realizing her heart was racing and her palms were sweaty. "What are we here? Sixteen?"

She shook her head then shook it off as she waited for the door to open again.

"I'm very sorry, First Sergeant," he told her sincerely. "I was so sure the door was shut tight."

Again she said very professionally, "No worries, Cap'n. Shit happens, right?"

"Yes, it does, but maybe we should check into getting a deadbolt. I take this sort of thing very seriously."

Amie knew immediately he'd had sexual harassment drilled into his head since day one, and even though there was no harassment, she understood his concerns.

"Sir? Please don't give it a second thought. And for the record, I don't run around reporting my seniors for just any reason."

The I&I was grateful to hear her say those words out loud, and with that the incident was over. The image of his naked body, however, was permanently seared into her memory.

Things always got very busy the week before the reserve unit came in, and both the first sergeant and the I&I were 'up to their asses in alligators' getting everything locked down tight before they rolled in Saturday morning.

The unit CO, LtCol Brian Woods, showed up Friday evening to check on preparations after working a long day as a very successful attorney in the local area.

"Everything looks great. As usual," he told the captain.

"Thank you, sir, but the credit goes to the first sergeant."

The older man smiled and said, "We both know that, Dustin. But as the I&I everything that happens—or doesn't happen—around here, is your responsibility. Well, until I come in and take over, that is."

He looked at Aimee then said, "Thanks, First Sergeant. We also both know who the continuity is around here and who's making the I&I look good."

She smiled politely, happy to let her boss take the credit. Like all good staff NCOs, Amie Carlson understood the different roles officers and enlisted Marines played, and she loved her role and was very, very good at it.

"I appreciate that, sir, but the captain's picked everything up very quickly. If I do decide to retire next year, I won't have to worry about this place, that's for sure," she said still smiling and giving her immediate boss a nod as she publicly complimented him.

No one had ever called her a kiss-ass because she wasn't. She just called 'em like she saw 'em, and Captain Whitaker was one of the good ones. Were he not, she'd have chosen her words more carefully in a way that showed respect without offering any unmerited praise. But in his case her kind words were very much in order.

"Okay. I'll be in tomorrow around zero six," the unit CO informed them.

Marines never, ever said 'oh-six hundred' let alone 'oh-six hundred hours'. That was Army talk and Marines never used Army talk.

Both of them understood that meant they'd be in by zero five in anticipation of his arrival should he or the unit need anything, and they'd be lucky to leave before midnight on Sunday. That was just part of the job, and neither of them gave it a second thought.

As always, the morning of the first day of a two-day reservist weekend was insanely busy. The only thing that prevented it from being outright insane was all the prior planning done by the I&I and the staff.

Reservists were civilians who came in for two days a month and 'played' Marine or soldier, sailor, or airman—unless they were activated and/or sent to a combat zone. Then there was no playing involved.

Many of these young reservists were college students or former active-duty Marines who missed the camaraderie. In all reserve units, people from all walks of life enjoyed serving in the reserves, and this unit was no different. There were lawyers, accountants, FedEx and UPS drivers, a mail carrier, a grocery store manager, a couple of police officers, a dock worker, a car salesman, a stay-at-home dad, and even two or three folks who were currently unemployed.

The reserve unit sergeant major stood in front of the reserve battalion and called it to attention then executed an about face and waited as LtCol Woods began walking toward him right at 0800.