Lewis felt foolish as she trailed behind the two other women. She had on makeup, a loose blouse, tight jeans, tennis shoes, and, of all damn things, leg-warmers like it was three years ago. Both the women in front of her had jelly bracelets on their wrists, something Lewis absolutely refused to wear. Their hair, like Lewis's was teased out and feathered, something Lewis knew had gone out of fashion two years before.
Not that either of the other women had paid attention to her protests.
Miranda just swung open the door yelling: "You, man-slave, convey us to the nearest establishment that serves up hard alcohol and hard cocks!" she shouted.
"Oh for fuck's sake," She heard Patch groan.
"Who the fuck?" Another voice that Lewis recognized as !!!PFC!!! James Roberts, Distinguished Honor Graduate of Basic Training and AIT (DUN DUN DUN!) and all around high speed low drag next Sergeant Major of the Army doncha know.
"It is I, Queen Miranda Stokes, Goddess of Amazons and She Who's Thighs Crush Men's Skulls," Miranda said, stomping into the middle of the room. "With my faithful minions, Fat-Girl and Bobbi Cocksmythe!"
Lewis about burst about laughing when Heather stepped up behind her and blew a kazoo, tossing out a handful of glitter at Patch, who jerked back.
"Oh, goddamn it, you bitches, that's going to take me forever to clean up!" Patch yelled.
Heather and Miranda started laughing, watching as Patch jumped off the top bunk and landed with a thud, his knee brace creaking.
"You two drunk already?" Patch grumbled.
"Nope, just really jazzed up to go to the club," Miranda said.
"We miiiight have done a few shots," Lewis giggled.
"Come on, Bobbi, line up, just like we practiced," Heather said, nudging Miranda.
Lewis looked worried, but moved anyway, moving up between the two other women. They grabbed the bottom of their shirts, facing Patch, who stopped and cocked his head, frowning.
"What?" He started.
"Payment for the ride, duh," Miranda said. "NOW!"
All three women pulled up their shirts, making Patch blush and turn away, raising his hand.
"Goddamn it, I can get in trouble for that shit," he said.
Lewis realized the other two had pulled their breasts from their bras, letting everything hang out.
"Oh, come on, Tony, don't be like that," Heather said, tucking everything back away. "You know we're only joking."
"Colonel Henry said he's cracking down on that kind of shit. I can get in real trouble," Patch said.
"Nobody forced anyone to do that," Miranda said, tugging on the tops of the cups of her bra to settle herself into it.
Lewis was giggling, having an easier time getting her breasts put away. "You two were right, he turns bright red."
In a way, Lewis couldn't believe she'd done that. The other two women had sworn Patch would turn bright red and freak out, and that it would be funny, but she hadn't really believed them.
The thrill, the rush of what had just happened made Lewis tingly all over.
"Dammit, stop teaching the newbies shit like that," Patch said, picking up his denim jacket. Lewis noticed that it had a set of spikes on black leather attached to each shoulder. When he shrugged into it she could see the black patch that covered the entire back of the jacket. Iron Maiden's The Trooper album cover. His hair was spiked, but Lewis could still see the two cowlicks.
YOU ARE READING
Third Person - Complete
Historical FictionPFC James Roberts just wanted to serve his country, like his father and grandfather. He left his middle class life to join the military with the hope of making his family proud. Graduating top of his class in Basic Training, attending Advanced Indiv...
