Bomber Jacket

March '43 Newport News, Va.

"Damn," Maggie cursed softly. "Cigarettes, I forgot cigarettes."

She already had vegetables out to chop for stew and water on to boil.

"Damn this cooking just for me," she cursed again. Her Tuesday night ritual: meat ration for the week, chop vegetables, season, cook, be domestic.

Slipping off the cotton terry robe, she pulled on a pair of jeans and grabbed the bomber jacket Robert had pilfered for her. The Greek market was a block and a half down and two doors on the right, facing the river. She pulled the jacket closer around her upper body, the sheep skin fleece warn against her bare skin. She walked out into the chill March evening.

Maggie opened the door. "Hey, Nick," she said; "couple packs of Chesterfields. God, it's cold out there." She shivered inside the jacket.

"Raw night out, Mis' Maggie," Nick said, handing her the cigarettes. "You hear from Robert?"

"He's on some aircraft carrier down in Florida, must be warm down there, practicing 'touch and goes', she answered. Then, laughing, "I shouldn't have said that. You might be a spy."

Nick laughed. "How long do you know me, Mis' Maggie? How long has Nick been here? In this small store?"

Maggie shivered and reached into the jacket pocket for the wad of bills.

"Mis' Severn, hello." The voice and the whisper of the scrim separating the storage room being opened came from behind. Melvin Turcott stood with his weight balanced on the ball of one foot.

The pit of Maggie's stomach clinched. Melvin's eyes looked straight into her.

"Melvin," she said. Her eyes dropped quickly to his belt buckle. She looked back to his face and held his gaze.

"Walk you home?" he asked. "Slow night. Nick's lettin' me off early." Melvin shifted his weight to the other foot.

"If you're going up my street," Maggie answered. "It's a little out of your way."

"I may stop off by Boats' house and see him. It's early yet." He broke the gaze, looking past her to the door, then back to her. Looking at the jacket.

"Good night, Nick," she said, turning away from Melvin, "thanks." Maggie put the cigarettes and change into the jacket pocket and started out into the night.

Melvin walked fast behind her, catching up at the corner. They turned away from the river and started up the narrow street, houses close on both sides. He reached and took her elbow.

"It's slick. Hold onto my arm."

"My, such a gentleman."

Melvin laughed, deep, almost in his chest.

Flash back: July, '42

Sweat beads covered Maggie's forehead, the cotton blouse clung to her skin. The fan stirred the soup-like air, little more, the house shut up all day.

"Whoever says that southern girls and sweat are sexy is full of shit," Maggie mumbled to herself. She ran the glass of ice water across her brow, willing the beads of condensation into her body.

"Take that!" she heard from across the yards that backed her bungalow; followed by a quick triumphant laugh. Then the 'thump-thump-thump' of a basketball.

"Gimme the ball, gimme the ball."

Standing, looking through the closed screen she saw her back door neighbor, Boats Tilley, and his high school pal she had seen from time to time.

'How do they do it in this heat?' she thought. Her phone rang.

"Maggie," the voice said, "not working tonight?"

"No. Watching two guys play basketball."

"That's a wintertime game ..."

"You tell' em ..." "... are they good lookin'? I'll be right over."

"High school kids. They're cute. This one kid is 'all the go.' He knows it too, you can tell." Maggie pushed the screen door open and pulled the phone cord after her. She leaned against the door jam, one knee raised, her foot against the jam.

Boats' friend, catching the motion of her at the door, glanced at her, looked at the basket, then back at her, quick. He bounced the ball slow. Boats swatted at the ball, knocking it away.

Maggie laughed. "The good lookin' one just lost the ball," she told her friend. "I think he got distracted."

"I bet you're showing your ass, you bitch."

"Just some leg, shorts. You know how hot it is." Maggie traced the icy glass up the inside of one thigh.

"You're the one who's hot."

"You got that right. More ways than one."

Both boys stood, watching her, talking; the good looking one holding the ball. Boats said something she didn't hear. They both laughed.

The rain came three doors before they reached the walk leading up to Maggie' s house, suddenly a full rain, blasting in off the river, cold.

"Ahhh ...," she shouted.

"Run!" Melvin said, grabbing her arm, almost pulling her.

They turned off the sidewalk and up to the door, both trying to crowd under the tiny roof overhang as Maggie fumbled in her pocket for the key. Melvin pressed full against her from behind.

"Inside," she said, finally getting the door open. "Get in out of the rain." She pulled him inside and slammed the door against the wind.

Flash back: October, '42

"Nick," Maggie said into the phone, "can you send up my ration and whatever are the freshest vegetable you have."

"You bet, Mis' Maggie. I'll have the boy bring' em right up."

"How did you know it was me?" she laughed.

"I can always tell, Mis' Maggie. Nobody else like you," he answered. " Melvin 'll be right over."

Maggie felt the fist tighten in her stomach; her hand, suddenly shaking, put the phone down, clumsy, bumping it twice before it rested in the cradle. She looked in the mirror. 'Tired' looked back at her.

'Damn this working on the flight line. How is a girl going to look good,' she thought. Then, 'it isn't his night to work.'

The knock came and jarred her, even with her expecting it. Melvin stood full in the door, the groceries cradled in his left arm. He made no move to hand her the bags.

"You're suppose to be at practice," she said, watching him.

"Open date this week. Coach gave us a day off."

"Hum," she sounded. "I hear you're pretty good. Three touchdowns last week."

"You ought' a come out and see us. Big rivalry next week: Chesapeake High. I'll score one for you."

"Maybe you could wear my scarf."

"Huh," he said with a blank look.

"You know, be my knight in shinning armor."

"Oh."

Maggie could tell he still didn't understand. "Forget it."

He looked past her toward the back of the house. "I'll just put these in the kitchen."

Maggie turned sideways, making room for him. His arm brushed her breast as he walked past. Shock waves traveled down her body, centered in her lower abdomen.

Melvin put the bags on the table, looked around, taking in the room. Maggie stood in the little hallway, arms folded across her chest. She waited, watching him.

"Uh," he glanced at her, quickly; the silence was heavy. Then, "this is where I saw you first time, standing in the door there, a foot propped up on your knee. That glass of ice water."

Maggie laughed, "I forgot about the glass; I do that sometimes, it gets too hot. Cool's me off."

"Didn't cool me off none."

She looked at him, into his eyes. "Might do you good, sweat a little. I bet not much makes you sweat."

He ran his tongue over his lip; looked down at the floor, then up to her body.

Maggie laughed, low, deep in her throat. "Do I make you sweat?"

His eyes moved back to hers. He reached to touch her face. She caught his wrist. "Best you go see if Nick needs more groceries delivered. Might cool you off some. Might be Mis Burkett down at the corner needs something for all them kids of hers," she said. Then added, holding his wrist, looking into his eyes, "Score me a touchdown. It's been a while since anybody scored one for me."

They looked at each other, wet, hair down on their foreheads. Maggie shivered, chilled, then laughed, "I'll get a towel. Dry you off. Stand right there." She moved down the short hallway, disappeared into the tiny bathroom.

Melvin met her in the hallway, coming back to the tiny parlor. She reached up with the towel, drying the rain from his face. Then reached to dry his close cut hair, rain water running down his forehead and the sides of his face.

I think I just pushed my body against him, she thought. She had not realized that he was as tall as he was, the compactness was deceiving. Her nipples hardened against the jacket fleece.

"My turn," he said, taking the towel from her, his voice low, a noticeable quiver.

He ran the towel over her hair, then the sides of her face; Maggie all the time looking at him, not backing away. His hand went under her chin and to her throat.

"How did rain get to there?" he asked. A dumb ass thing to say, but neither of them cared.

"The wind blew it there, Melvin. Lick it off me." Maggie leaned against the wall, tilted her head back.

He leaned forward, ran his tongue over the hollow of her throat. She held his head with both her hands, feeling his short cropped hair under her fingers. "Sweet Jesus," she said, the quiver in her belly growing, her knees going weak. Suddenly she felt his hands working the zipper of the jacket down her front.

"Son of a bitch," Melvin blurted, "you don't have a shirt on!" His eyes bulged.

Seeing him, Maggie laughed, grasped his head in her arms and pulled him to her chest. "No; and I don't have on any panties either."

He pulled the zipper free at the bottom and pushed the jacket back, exposing her breast. She saw his tongue run, quick, across his upper lip.

"Is this the first time, Melvin?" she asked. "Did you ever see a girl's boobs before?"

"Not one that knew I was looking." He reached, touched a nipple with one finger tip, traced down to the bottom of her breast and back up to the nipple. He held and rolled it between his thumb and index finger and middle finger. Shock waves coursed through Maggie's body.

"I think you are lying, Melvin Turcott. I think you've done this before."

"No mam," he said, switching breast, having a strong to need to touch them both, "I never." He ran one hand down her rib cage, reached behind her, rubbed her back, feeling the smooth skin under his hand, the fleece of the jacket.

"Put your mouth on me," she said, pulling his head back to her chest. She pushed hard back against the wall, leaning her weight into it. "Put your mouth on one and your hand on one."

"Oh shit, Mis Severn, oh shit." He ran his hands over her body. He had not thought the skin would be so smooth under his hands. He kneaded his fingers into her ribs, her back.

"I'm going to feel all of you," he said, "every inch of you."

"One thing at a time, Melvin. There's plenty time. Take off your trousers. I want to see you."

He blinked. Does she want to see me? Do girls want to do that?

Toe to the heel of a loafer, he pushed one off; then the other.

"Oh god,"

"It's not your feet I want to see. You've seen my tits. Now it's my turn."

Belt buckle, buttons, his fingers worked frantically. He hooked a toe into one trouser cuff and, lifting his knee, pulled one leg free, trousers and shorts; then the other, standing naked below the waist.

The sensations were coming too fast for Melvin to handle. He wanted to process it all: the sight of her body, the feel of her skin, the sound of her urging him on ... coaching him. He wants to participate in it all, to slow it down. He wanted to stand back and watch.

Flashback: December, '42

"You find those lights yet?" Robert called from the front of the house. "Let's get these decorations finished

"Just a minute," Maggie answered, "I' m checking to see what we might do for supper."

'Thump-thump, thump-thump-thump.' The basketball pounded the worn dirt backyard court. She leaned against the cabinet, over the sink, running warm water across her hand. She watched the arch of the ball, heard the rattle when the ball struck the goal, loose on its wooden backboard.

"Ha ..." she heard Boats shout, "missed! Now I'll show you how it's done."

"Never happen!" Melvin Turcott grabbed the ball back, slammed it to the ground and shot again.

The ball arched its way to the basket again, Melvin stretched toes to fingertips in mid-air, outlined against the sky.

'Wonder if it's true,' she thought, watching him, 'what they say about fingers and cocks? Long fingers; a long cock.' She stroked her hand across her belly, under the loose sweat shirt. ' Have to ask Rachael about that.' Maggie watched him jump again, reaching, hands, fingers, for the rebound.

"You're not lookin' for dinner," Robert came up behind her, put his hands on her hip, stroking down the outside of her thighs and back again, up to the hip bones.

"You're watchin' Boats and his buddy freeze their asses off, bouncin' that damn ball." He ran one hand under the sweat shirt, cupped her breast, first one, then the other.

She leaned back into him, pushed her hair against the space between his chin and shoulder.

"God, I love it when you don't wear a bra," his voice caught. "Not many women can get away with that. Forget about lookin' for dinner. After I take your clothes off and play with your body we're going to the club, drink some and dance some." He unsnapped the catch at the top of her pants.

Maggie moved her hips away from his body, he pushed the pants down her legs. She watched Melvin jump again, against the sky, reach with hands and fingers and wrest the ball away from Boats.

You couldn't tell about fingers and cocks by judging Robert, she thought, he's not long in either department.

He turned her around, knelt in front of her and kissed her belly, just above the hair line.

'But, oh sweet Jesus, he does have other talents.' She clutched his head to her body.

Melvin pushed the lapel of the jacket back off her shoulder.

"No. Leave it on," Maggie said. "Do my jeans. Unbutton my jeans."

He backed away from her, reached to her waist, undid the buttons: one, two ... fingers fumbling ... three, four, uncovering the skin of her belly. Skin he had never seen before. Five, six. Maggie, placing her hands on his shoulders, pushed him down to his knees. He tugged the jeans down from her hips, uncovering her.

"Kiss my belly, Melvin," she said. "Lick me where the hair starts."

"Oh, god, Mis Severn," he mouthed the words. "Oh God." Quiver in his voice. He clutched her buttocks with both hands, pressed his mouth into her belly ... his tongue onto her skin.

"Maggie," she said, pulled his head into her body; feeling his mouth against her. "Maggie. If you are gonna fuck me, you have to call me Maggie."