Page 40 of Down and Dirty

Britta had no idea what Madrene had just said, and she did not care because, whoa, different people were in the box now. Naked people. A man, whose buttocks could be seen pumping up and down, and a woman beneath him who was writhing and moaning and then actually screaming. Before Britta had a chance to ask what that was, there were yet again different people in the box. Four women, fully clothed, sitting at a table eating, and one of the women was the screaming one. How had she dressed so quickly? And gotten to this other place?

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Britta said. “What was that?”

“That was an orgasm, honey,” Madrene said, grinning. Kirstin and Hilda were grinning, too.

“It happened so quickly I scarce had time to study the… uh, process.”

Still grinning, Madrene pressed something on her handheld box, and the same naked scene was happening again. This time she saw some kissing, too. Hard, passionate kissing. She would bet her best sword there were tongues involved.

Britta felt the same pearling of her nipples and weeping in her woman place as she did when Zachary touched her.

“Who are they?”

“Samantha and Jerrod.”

“Do they not have any qualms about doing it in front of one and all?”

“Apparently not.” Madrene was grinning, as if she had some great secret. Over and over Madrene manipulated the magic box till they had witnessed the orgasm six times. “How many times can they do it afore needing to rest?”

“Oh, dearling,” Hilda said, “those aren’t real people. I know how it must seem. We all felt the same way the first time we saw television.”

“As for those orgasms… I see no appeal in all that writhing and moaning and screaming! Besides, you must admit, the man looked a mite ridiculous with his buttocks in the air. Yea, methinks I will abstain from that particular exercise in torture.”

For some reason, the three other women laughed hysterically.

Chapter 8

You want to put WHAT on my penis?…

Zach sat on the edge of the low, rail-less deck with Cage on his right and JAM on his left. Max and Ragnor sat on low beach chairs in front of them. Omar and Slick were down at the Wet and Wild.

They were all swigging down longnecks, having been banished by Commander MacLean to a perimeter of no closer than ten feet from his precious grill. They had been giving grilling advice, which had not been appreciated by MacLean.

Sammy was a short distance away, near a sand dune, blowing bubbles that Madrene had given him, thus giving Zach a short breathing period. Zach figured that should occupy him for, oh, say, five minutes. The kid had the attention span of a gnat.

“How’s the WEALS program going?” Max asked. All the SEALs had nicknames. Torolf’s was Max… short for Magnusson.

Zach rolled his eyes.

“We’re treatin’ them with kid gloves, and they think we’re torturin’ them,” Cage said. “Wait till next week when we start IBSs.” The hated Inflatable Boats, Small, were the bane of every trainee who had ever tried to be a webfoot warrior, though necessary in the field. Some considered that phase of BUD/S even worse than Hell Week. “I ’spect we’ll have a dozen DORs the first day. That bell’ll be ringin’ like a Salvation Army Santa. Talk about!”

“And Britta? How’s she doing?” Max asked.

“She’s holding up,” Zach said.

“Holding up what?” Geek asked with wide-eyed innocence as he joined them. Sometimes Zach suspected that Geek wasn’t as naive as he pretended to be.

“Get your mind out of the gutter,” he snapped.

“Hah! Like your mind isn’t there most of the time,” JAM commented. He ducked when Zach tried to swat him with his free hand.

“As to your question, Max, the WEALS will train for one year, under less stringent conditions, and have weaker bodies in general… ” He shrugged. “Would you want one of those covering your six in a black op?”

“Hell, no!” the rest of them said.

“Still, there might be a place for them. No, there will be a place for them,” JAM, ever the fair one, said. “This country is in antiterrorism mode, and probably will be for the next century. We need every breathing body we can get to help with the good fight.”

JAM’s defense of the WEALS program wasn’t surprising, and he was right. This country needed every able-bodied man — and woman — to fight the ever-increasing tangos in the world.