No More Perfect Kisses

June 1977

I had to break the lease on my apartment, so I didn't get my deposit back. I put all my belongings in storage except a few personal items. If I made it through Officer Training School (OTS) and got my commission, I would get them shipped wherever my assignment took me. I put the remaining items in my car. I began my long drive down to San Antonio, Texas, where Lackland Air Force Base (LAFB) was located. I had a week to report to OTS at the Medina Annex at LAFB so I could take my time getting there.

When I pulled up to the gate, the airman directed me to where I needed to go to register my vehicle. Once I accomplished that, I headed to the building where I'd spend the next thirteen weeks. I reported to my flight commander, Captain Susan Lee. She was a beautiful, fit woman with brown hair and eyes, about three inches taller than me. I sternly shook myself to avoid drooling over her and stood there nervously as she assigned me to a room.

Having seen the movie "The D.I.," starring Jack Webb, I expected to be yelled at and humiliated while learning to become an Air Force officer. It turned out not to be anything like what I expected. Yes, there were stern lectures about how to conduct yourself in a proper military manner. Nevertheless, most of the time, we attended classes, learning about military protocol and how to be a commander of troops.

Most of the classes were taught by men, and I looked closely to see if they treated the women differently than the men. Thankfully, I didn't see anything to indicate that the instructors were against female officers. In fact, it was clear that if anyone tried to denigrate women officers, they should be reported. Despite that, a few enlisted men seemed to resent that females were being made into officers. The snide comments I overheard while out on the field doing PT gave them away. That inspired me to try even harder in the physical parts of the training to show them that I wasn't a weak, helpless female.

Our flight was all female, many of them being enlisted females trying to become officers. Since they were already familiar with military protocol and how to behave within the rules, I learned a lot from them. I always made sure to ask them about things so they wouldn't be resentful that I was totally new to the whole military lifestyle. I made many quick friends, and the camaraderie helped us through tough times. The most challenging part was doing enough pull-ups and push-ups to pass the physical requirements. I loved the running portion of the physical training, allowing me to let my mind go as I ran around the track.

I'm glad I had the experience of living in the dorm during my senior year because I had to share a room with another woman. Luckily, we were both so busy that we only wanted to get in bed and sleep by the time we returned to our room at night. Mornings were the worst, with everyone in our flight using the community bathroom to prepare for the day. I managed to keep my libido in check, figuring that once I got through these thirteen weeks, I'd be able to pass, and no one would suspect that I was a lesbian.

September 1977

My commissioning ceremony took place this morning. It had been a tough thirteen weeks, but, looking back at it, I really enjoyed it. Being pushed to succeed made it fun as I accomplished things I'd never done before. When I raised my right hand and took the oath of office, I was proud of my accomplishments.

I received my orders for an assignment to the Air Force Weapons Lab at Kirtland AFB. I needed to report on October 15, so I would have three weeks to get there. I planned to drive back to NJ and arrange to get my personal effects, including my car, shipped to Albuquerque. I would then fly to Albuquerque and spend some time sightseeing and looking for a place to live in Albuquerque, close to the base.

The drive back to New Jersey was perfect for de-stressing after OTS. I stopped at a couple of places that caught my interest along the way. I spent a day in Point Pleasant, revisiting the places I'd probably never see again. I stopped at Saint Rosalia High School to visit with Sister Mary. She was pleased to see me and told me how proud she was of me for what I'd accomplished and hadn't let the loss of my parents hold me back. I went away with a smile on my face. I visited White Lawn Cemetery for the last time. I prayed over my parents' graves before leaving, thanking them for giving me life and raising me to believe I could be all that I wanted to be.

I spent a week in New Brunswick, visiting with a few of my former co-workers while getting my stuff ready to be picked up and shipped to Albuquerque, NM. The moving company would keep my belongings in storage until I was prepared for them to be delivered.

Finally, I was ready to head to my assignment and face my new life. As I headed to the airport to catch my flight to Albuquerque, I reflected on everything that shaped my life and how I got to where I am. I once again thought about Sam, wondering how her life was going. My eyes burned with unshed tears as the plane headed down the runway and lifted off.

October 1977

The plane came in, nearly clipping the top of the mountains east of the airport. As soon as we touched down, the brakes and reverse thrusters were fully engaged, and we came to a stop well short of halfway down the runway. From that, I could tell the pilot was a former Navy pilot right away. They always landed as though they were landing on a carrier. On the other hand, a former Air Force pilot, especially one who flew bombers, used every inch of the runway to land, having had the luxury of long airstrips to land on while in the service.

I caught a shuttle to the Visiting Officer's Quarters (VOQ) and got a room. I'd stay here until I found a place to live. I soon discovered that Kirtland had a glut of on-base housing since the merger of Sandia and Manzano bases six years ago into Kirtland AFB. This was fortuitous because I wouldn't have to find a place off-base to live. I wouldn't get the housing allowance, but I wouldn't need it since the housing was rent-free. I ended up with a two-bedroom ranch house with a covered carport in the housing area of the old Sandia base.

My car and personal belongings showed up a week before I had to report in, so I had time to unpack and set up my new home for the next four years the way I liked. As I unpacked, I came across a Polaroid of Sam and me when I visited her home for Christmas. My eyes burned with tears as I remembered how much I had loved her. "Water under the bridge," I said as I put the photo away and finished getting everything set up. I went to the commissary to get groceries. When I was done, I heaved a sigh of satisfaction with my efforts, trying not to think about having no one to share it with. "You knew what you were getting into," I chided myself yet again.

My base housing was about as far from the Weapons Lab as possible and still be on the base. I quickly determined it was easier to leave the base via the Gibson Gate at the intersection of Gibson Blvd. and Louisiana Blvd., take Gibson Blvd. west to the Truman gate, which was located just west of San Mateo Boulevard, and re-enter the base there. I could have used the Carlisle Blvd. gate closer to the lab, but it wasn't a 24-hour gate, being open only on weekdays from 8 AM to 6 PM. The elementary school was just inside the entrance, so most days, it was a traffic snarl as the military members dropped their children off before going to work.

When I reported to Colonel Robert Kirk, he greeted me warmly. He introduced me to the people I would be working with. They were primarily civilians and other Lieutenants and Captains. I realized I was the only female in the group, so I wondered if anybody would have an issue working with me. I was introduced to Technical Sergeant Jim Pepper, the senior enlisted person in the group. I was wary that he might not be pleased with having a woman over him, but I warmed up to him quickly when I saw the twinkle in his eye when we greeted each other. I learned quite a lot from him about how the real Air Force worked, adding to the theoretical stuff taught in OTS.

I quickly settled into my new assignment, working with high-energy CO2 lasers. Blake Westland was a civilian heading the program, and I enjoyed working with him. He didn't mind that I was a woman. I also appreciated that he didn't try to hit on me, unlike almost every male officer I worked with.

We were working on increasing the efficiency and accuracy of IR trackers, enabling them to keep the laser on a moving target. For the laser to burn out the guidance systems of missiles, you needed to keep the laser on the same spot long enough to burn through the skin to get to the delicate electronics inside the skin. IR sensors were ideal because they would detect the heat generated from the laser beam impinging on the missile.

Lasers powerful enough to burn through quickly were bulky, heavy, and not agile enough to track a moving missile. You certainly couldn't mount it on an airplane. You could use smaller and less powerful lasers if you were able to keep the beam on the target long enough to burn through. It was a fascinating and delicate balancing act, and I enjoyed diving into the project.

January 1978

I took advantage of the Air Force program for Degree conversion. I attended the University of New Mexico to get a Bachelor's Degree in Electrical Engineering. While doing so, I planned to take some computer programming classes. I could start using the computers available at the Weapons Lab to help tune the algorithms used for developing accurate trackers.

Being buried in my work while surrounded by males made my first day of school a bit of a shock since many women were in my circuits class. My suppressed libido was tested by all the long legs and tight outfits the other female students wore. It helped that I attended class while in uniform because that tended to keep the other students from trying to get too friendly. Still, my breath would catch in my throat from time to time. I had to remind myself of my celibacy pledge when a beautiful woman would sit near me. It was especially tough when the woman reminded me in some way of Sam.

January 1979

After working on the IR sensors for nearly a year and a half, I switched to the Deformable Mirror project. Due to the great work I had done with the IR sensors, my new boss, George Carson, was happy to have me in the program. Blake was sorry to see me go, but he realized I needed to broaden the scope of my work if I were to get promoted and move up the ranks. Unlike Blake, I think George was interested in me. Luckily, he had the good sense not to try to get anywhere with me when I didn't respond to his subtle advances.

I was still working with high-power lasers. However, instead of working with IR sensors to steer the laser, I was focused (pun intended) on keeping the laser collimated. Unless the laser was in space, vagaries in the atmosphere tended to de-collimate the beam as it traveled through the atmosphere. Dust, moisture, and changes in air density played havoc with the laser beam. To help overcome this, my team worked on developing a mirror that could be deformed in response to changes in the beam to keep it collimated.

The mirror had actuators attached to the back to push or pull on the mirror to change its shape to help keep the beam focused. A beam splitter and an off-bore-site sensor measured how collimated the beam was and sent signals to the mirror controller to make the tiny changes needed to the mirror. To demonstrate the flexibility of the mirror, we would hook a radio up to the controller. In that way, we could use the mirror as a speaker to listen to the radio.

Tuning the mirror controller required digitizing thousands of images of the light being reflected from the mirror. The images would change depending on which actuator, or combination of actuators, was being moved and how far the actuator(s) moved. Luckily, I had several tech-savvy airmen to do the actual grunt work. I spent my time designing and setting up the tests, delineating which parameters would be changed for each image taken.

I loved my work and buried myself in it. I spent so much of my time in the lab that I didn't spend any time exploring Albuquerque and the surrounding areas. I practically lived in the lab, except when attending classes, and went home only to sleep.

September 1979

I stopped at the Denny's on Zuni Boulevard SE on my way back to the base from UNM. I was running late because my lab for analog circuits had run long due to an issue with the test bed, causing our circuit designs to malfunction. This was the last class/lab I needed to get my BSEE, and I would be glad to get it over with. I was starving, frustrated, and tired, and I didn't feel like going to my lonely place and fixing a meal.

When the waitress came up to my table, the first thing I noticed was her unusual haircut. Her auburn hair was shaved on the sides, long on top, and brought back into a low ponytail that fell halfway down her back. Then I noticed her piercing green eyes and was captivated by them. She was scoping me out, probably because I was still in uniform.

I had recently been promoted to 1st Lieutenant. Last week, I received my commission into the Regular Air Force, so my silver bars were new and shiny. Her eyes flicked to them before she said, "Hello, Lieutenant. My name is Glory, and I'll be taking care of you tonight."

Maybe it was because I was tired and frustrated. My libido suddenly flared up at the sound of her voice. My chest tightened, and my heart beat a tattoo as I ran my eyes over her taut, fit body. After more than two years of celibacy, I wanted, no, needed, some release. My pussy burned hot, and my nipples ached and rose to attention. My mouth watered at the thought of our bodies entwined together in a sweaty tangle.

I must have given something away because a brief flicker of surprise flashed over Glory's face before a brilliant smile broke over her face. I struggled for a moment to get myself under control. Before the silence became awkward, I said, "Thank you, Glory." I always made a point to use the server's name to connect with them, and I really wanted to make a connection with Glory.

Glory handed me a menu, and when I took it from her, our fingers lightly touched for a moment, and a pulse shot up my arm and to my aching nipples and burning pussy. I noticed Glory's eyes flicked to my breasts, probably noticing my nipples tenting my uniform blouse before she withdrew her hand.

"Would you like something to drink?" Glory asked.

"I'll have some unsweetened iced tea, Glory," I said, returning Glory's smile with one of my own.

"I'll get that right away," Glory said before turning and heading to do just that. I couldn't help but watch her ass move in her tight uniform pants. All that did was make my chest tighten to the point that I found it hard to breathe. I think she knew I was watching and was working her walk for my benefit.

While Glory was gone, I fought to get myself back under control. I had to be careful because I couldn't lose control and give in to my lust for the sake of my Air Force career. I took some deep breaths and finally got myself calmed down. When Glory returned with my drink, I calmly ordered my meal and avoided thinking about Glory in a sexual way.

As I ate, I noticed Glory spent more time looking after me than her other customers. That told me, without actually saying it, that she was as interested in me as I was in her. Call it 'gaydar' or whatever, but I was sure she loved women as much as I did. When I was done, I left a generous tip, and Glory thanked me and worked her walk for me again as I watched her walk away.

I got home and headed for the shower. I furiously masturbated, cumming several times before I was relaxed enough to settle down and finish my homework before turning in for the night. My dreams were erotic, and my panties were soaked when I woke up the following day.

Despite my vow of celibacy and the Air Force's prohibition of homosexuality, I showed up at Denny's again the following evening, hoping to find Glory working again. She was, and I asked to be seated at one of her tables. I had changed out of my uniform, so I was in civilian garb this time, a nice spaghetti strap tank top, high-waist shorts, and sandals, with my hair down in a low ponytail. When Glory approached my table, she gave me a big smile and said, "Hello again, Lieutenant."

"Hello, Glory," I replied, returning her smile. Again, my whole body flushed at Glory's smile, and my nipples ached and tightened, tenting my top. My clit pulsed, and I squeezed my thighs together as I resisted the desire to reach up and massage my breasts to ease the ache.

"Unsweetened iced tea, Lieutenant?" she asked. I saw her tongue peep out between her lips as her eyes zeroed in on my nipples, standing out proudly.

"Please, call me Virginia," I said. "Yes, I'd like that, please," I finished, licking my lips as I noticed her nipples were tenting her top. My mouth watered as I envisioned wrapping my lips around them and sucking, licking, and biting them. I nearly moaned but managed to keep a smile on my face.

"Of course, Virginia," Glory said as she lightly touched my shoulder with her fingertips, sending a shock through my body that did make me gasp and suck in a breath. I was sure I heard her do the same before she abruptly turned and headed off to get my drink. My eyes feasted on her taut ass, swaying and bouncing as she walked away.

I reluctantly tore my eyes away, thinking, "God, Virginia, you're playing with fire!" I took some deep breaths and tried to compose myself, despite my pussy burning and my juices flowing. By the time I saw Glory returning with my drink, I was under control but needed that cold drink to cool myself off.

Glory leaned in to put the glass down on the table. Our eyes locked, and for a brief moment, the only thing in existence was the two of us. This time, I did let out a small moan. It was barely audible, but I knew Glory heard it because I saw her eyes dilate to nearly black as she stood back up. She saw that I had the menu open and asked, "See anything you like, Virginia?"

I wanted to shout, "God, yes! I'm looking right at it!" but refrained and said, "Yes, Glory, I'd like the Cobb Salad with ranch dressing on the side." Denny's salads weren't the best in the world, but, to be honest, if it tasted like cardboard, I'd still consider myself lucky if Glory brought it to me.

"I'll get right on that, Virginia," Glory said with a smile. She turned and walked away, and again, my eyes locked on her ass until she entered the kitchen. I heaved a sigh, knowing I couldn't have it but desiring it anyway. I resigned myself to looking and not touching.

I stretched out my dinner as long as I dared just to be able to interact with Glory. She obliged by stopping by my table frequently, almost to the neglect of her other customers. We swapped some small talk, and when I finally reluctantly conceded that I was done with dinner, I tipped her nicely and said goodnight.

This kept up for the next two weeks. While I was there, we told each other our life stories. I discovered she was a bit of a gypsy, not by ancestry, but by being a wanderer. She never stayed in one place very long, always moving on, wanting to see another corner of the world.