Page 54 of Confessions of an Apache Pilot

“Serious tactical drills?” She looked at me quizzically. “Define serious?”

“You know, something other than the pop-up range back in the states. Tactical reloads, close quarter drills, pistol transition?”

Her eyes widened in a combination of fear and embarrassment. I continued, “Please tell me that MEDEVAC practices something useful outside the aircraft?”

Her look shifted from fear and embarrassment, to a combination of embarrassment and guilt. She gave me the guilty grin. It was so cute I could have kissed her on the spot. Instead, I said, “Well, you’re fortunate that we kidnapped you today. Let’s go.” I handed her a rifle and some ear plugs. We walked out to the targets and I centered her on one of them. We were about fifteen meters in front of them.

“Aren’t we a bit close?” she asked, while putting the plugs in each ear.

“For conventional Army training, we are. But we’re not conventional Army, and this isn’t standard training. If you or I are in a fire fight with rifles, it’s because the aircraft crashed, or was forced to land out there.” I waved my arm towards the wall, “and someone is running up to the aircraft. You and I have a very small chance of ever being in a long-range fight.”

She nodded her head, “Makes sense.”

“Some other things that they don’t tell you, it’s not uncommon for insurgents to be hyped up on some kind of narcotic, opium usually, when they fight. So, the traditional double tap might not be enough. We’re going to practice five rounds to the chest for our first drill.”

“Sounds good,” she said, raising her rifle to her shoulder.

“No, no, no!” I yelled at her.

“What?” She looked worried that she might have done something unsafe.

“Your stance is all wrong, your grip is wrong… Your everything is wrong,” I scolded her, stepping in to correct her. Maybe not everything was wrong, I thought, as I eyed her ass while I moved in close to her. She was wearing her regular uniform, camo pants which were essentially cargo pants, and a regular long-sleeved top. Somehow her ass was managing to look great.

“Square off on your target.” I grabbed her shoulders and twisted her to face the target head on. “Give yourself a wider stance.” I was still behind her holding her shoulders. I kicked the inside of her right foot with mine, then kicked her left foot, a little harder than I intended. She let out a grunt that, if I didn’t know better, sounded almost like a moan. I must be hearing things.

I stepped to her left side and moved her hand from under the barrel of the rifle to the side. “Make a ‘C’ with your left hand and grip the barrel tight.” I slid to her right and moved the butt of the rifle further into her shoulder, “Keep the stock in the meaty part of your shoulder. Well, not that you have much meat here, but you definitely don’t want it sitting on your shoulder joint.” Her skin was turning red. Was she blushing? Or was I projecting my own horny thoughts? Being this close to her, and not making a move, was harder than I thought it would be.

Mentally shaking my head, I stepped around her again. “Finally, bend your knees slightly and lean in.” I put one of my knees to the back of hers, giving it a slight push while putting one hand on her hip and one on her shoulder, pivoting her so that she leaned forward. Her ass brushed against my crotch inadvertently, making my dick jump to attention. Sucking in a quick breath, I shot her a look out of the corner of my eye. Her shoulders perked up an inch, and she seemed to try to repress a smile. That was an accident, right?

I stepped back and moved to her side so that she could shoot, unencumbered. “Okay, you’re ready, aim for the throat. Your sights are set too high at this range, so the rounds will fall into his heart. Go for it.” She ripped off five shots quickly, leaving a group in the chest less than two inches in diameter. “Nice!” I yelled, pride for her spreading through my body. “First time with this drill and you already have a good grouping. Do it again.”

She did the drill five more times, emptying the magazine. We walked up to the target to look at the groupings. She was beaming. “Nicely done, you’ve got a talent for this. Let’s bring it up a notch.”

I walked out and dragged over two more targets, placing one on either side of hers. I put a fresh paper target overtop of the one that she had been shooting.

When I turned around to walk back, I stopped dead in my tracks. Walker had pulled her top off and was just wearing the t-shirt that was underneath. It was skintight, forming perfectly to her curves. Her rifle was slung behind her, with the rifle’s sling sitting between her breasts. They weren’t oversized, and she wasn’t wearing a push up bra, but it was clear that they were plump and firm. I regretted—not for the first time—failing to get my hands, and mouth, on them when I had the opportunity. I yearned for the day I would get the chance to rectify that.

My eyes continued down her body. Her cargo pants hung tilted to one side of her waist. Cargo pants aren’t supposed to be sexy. In fact, the entire point of issuing them to females is to de-sexualize them. And here she was, looking like she was a model walking off a photo shoot.

And then the evil bitch fixed her hair. The drills from the first shoot had knocked a few strands loose. She reached up behind her head and undid the bun, and simultaneously ran her hand through her hair while she shook it loose.

She has to be doing this on purpose. There is no way that this is a coincidence. Even the god damned sun is conspiring against me.

The sun glistened off her hair while she teased it loose. It lit up her whole face, giving her skin a little glow. If it wasn’t for the sunglasses it might have been over for me. One look at those blue eyes with the rest of her shining like this…it just wasn’t fair. How was a man supposed to resist the temptation?

This had started out as a fun idea for a date, at least what could pass for a date out here. Instead it was quickly backfiring on me and becoming a self-induced torture session. I bit down on my fist in an effort to compose myself. You started this, time to see it through.

CHAPTER 31

Mark

Somehow, I managed to compose myself, before she noticed me staring, and walked back in time for her to finish tying her hair back. Instead of the bun that is normally required she fixed it into a ponytail, sitting higher on her head the way athletes tended to do. It was still sexy beyond reproach.

Bitch. How dare she look so enticing right now.

She gave me a grin. Her cheeks pinkened while the corners of her mouth tipped up. Her eyes were lit up with humor. It was a good look on her.

She knows what she just did.

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