We sat in silence for a moment, then she smiled. “I want to play something on that jukebox. Got a dime?” I pulled some change from my pocket and handed it to her. Grinning, she pushed back her chair and skipped over to the jukebox that sat in the corner of the room. Bending over, she studied the music menu and I noticed just about every man in the room had his eyes on her plump derriere as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. Finally, beaming, she turned as the sound of the Andrews Sisters’ Boogie Woogie Bugle Boy bounced off the walls of the room. “Come on,” she said, reaching her arms out to me. “Let’s boogie!” I grinned and shook my head. “No can do, honey. Remember, I got a bum leg.” She stuck her lip out in a pout, then turned to face the rest of the bar’s patrons. “Anyone?” she asked. The words had barely left her mouth when a green corporal stood up and took her hand. “I’m game,” he said as he escorted her to an empty space in the back that served as a makeshift dance floor. All eyes were glued to them as he tossed her about the floor in a frantic jitterbug. I leaned back in my chair, sipping my drink, until the song ended. A flushed and happy Myra thanked the young man, then returned to our table as the soft baritone of Dick Haymes singing You’ll Never Know filled the room.
“You can dance to this one, can’t you?” she pleaded. “We don’t have to move. We can just sway.” I put down my drink, took her hand, and pulled her into my arms, surprised at how nicely her body fit against mine. I closed my eyes, inhaling the soft scent of coconut shampoo in her hair, as we moved to the music. When the song ended, she remained in my embrace. “Isn’t there someplace we can go?” she whispered, looking up at me. “Actually,” I replied softly. “There is. I live here. Upstairs.” Without another word, we separated. I grabbed the bottle and glasses, then took her hand and led her through the door to the stairway. When we arrived at my room, I opened the door, allowing Myra to step inside. “Gee, this is nice,” she said, reaching for my hand and pulling me to her. As I wrapped my arms around her, I kicked the door shut with my foot. The heat coming off of her was incredible and I leaned over, pressing my lips to hers. We kissed, chastely at first, but then with passion as our tongues danced to the heat of our desire. My hands found her round bottom and I pulled her tightly to me. When she felt my arousal, she moaned softly. At this point, my vow to respect her war widow status had flown out the window. I hadn’t been with a woman since England and that was before I was shot down. I’m afraid at this moment, my physical needs completely overcame any sense of morality I had left. The fact that she seemed more than willing to accommodate me didn’t hurt much either. Together, we fell on the bed, both desperately pulling at our clothing, needing to get as much off as possible so that we could succumb to our desires. Her blouse unbuttoned, I let my hands roam her generous breasts as I pressed myself to her. She reached down and undid my trousers. “Now,” she whispered huskily. “Now.”
Never one to disagree with a lady, I shrugged off my pants, pulled up her skirt, and snaked my fingers under the lace of her panties. Slipping them down over her bottom, I pulled away and reached into the nightstand for what the Brits called a “French letter.” In the States it was better known as a rubber. Myra reached up and stilled my hand. “No,” she said. “It’s not necessary. I want to feel you inside me.” I looked at her questioningly. “What do you mean, not necessary?” She sighed. “After my little boy was born, there were complications. They took my uterus and ovaries. I’m sterile, so you don’t need to protect me.” “You sure?” “I’m sure.” Without another word, I turned back toward her and resumed the dance we’d started. When I entered her, she was hot and tight and exactly what the doctor ordered. She raised her hips to meet mine, then in one surprising movement, shifted her weight so I was on my back and she was on top of me. Clenching me tightly, she shrugged off her blouse and undid her bra clasp, letting those spectacular bosoms fall gently into my waiting hands. She knew what she was doing and soon I reached the point of no return. Quickly, I rotated our bodies so I was on top for the final moments. Surprisingly, we came together, something, in my experience, only happens in movies or with seasoned lovers. Spent, I collapsed on top of her. For moments, we lay panting, each trying to catch our breaths and ease the pounding of our hearts.
Finally, I rolled off of her. “Cigarette?” I asked. “Yeah,” she replied. Pulling off my trousers, which were bundled around my ankles, I hiked up my shorts and walked a bit unsteadily over to the dresser where a pack of Luckies sat waiting for me. I picked up the pack and my zippo, returned to the bed, standing next to it. I pulled two smokes from the pack and, doing my best Paul Heinreid “Now Voyager” interpretation, put them both in my mouth and lit them with the lighter. I inhaled, then passed one on to Myra. “Thanks,” she drawled. I took a hit, then looked at her. “Tell me,” I said softly. “If you don’t mind my asking, how did you get over it? I mean, the surgery.” She gave me a wry smile. “It weren’t easy. Davey, that’s my husband, was on a mission when I went into labor. I didn’t know what happened until I woke up. His folks, well, they’re real born-again Christians. Holy rollers, you know. His mom was there when I came to, quoting scripture that seemed to blame me for what happened. My baby boy was fine. I just couldn’t have any more children.” “What happened when Davey found out?” Myra took a deep drag. “Well, it was the day after I gave birth when he got home. He came to the hospital carrying the biggest bouquet of daisies and such that I’d ever seen. He handed me the flowers then went to look at his son, who was in a bassinet near my bed. He picked him up and I’ll never forget what he said.” “What?” She grinned. “He said, ‘This is the damnedest best baby boy in the whole United fucking States.’ I remember smiling at him and then his mother pulled out her Bible and started again quoting scripture — stuff ‘bout being fruitful and shit. Davey, he turned to her and gave her one hard stare, then he came and sat on the side of my bed. ‘Darling,’ he said, ‘I know about the surgery and it’s okay. Just think, now we don’t have to worry about counting days or wearing condoms. Now, honey, we can just fuck our lights out anytime we want!’” I laughed. “Sounds like he was a regular guy.” Myra smiled. “He was. He was the best. I miss him like crazy, but I know he wouldn’t want me wearing black and staying home and such. As long as I take good care of his kids, and I do, he’d want me to get as much fun out of life as I can.” I nodded. She was a good and honest woman and it sounded like her husband had been a standup guy.
“Another thing, Steve, this,” she said, indicating the bed, “is about all I want. Davey was the love of my life and I’m not looking for another one. A roll in the hay once in a while, some good conversation, and whiskey — well, that’s about all I want. Understand?” I nodded again. “Understood, Myra. We’re on the same wavelength. I’m not looking for a rose-covered cottage either. What say we just be, mmmm, f*** buddies?” For a moment, Myra looked shocked, then she laughed. “Yeah, that’s it! F*** buddies! And speaking of f***ing, how about you get back over here right now.”
I enjoyed this scene...This was undoubtedly the plight of many military widows, left alone, trying to deal with the loss of her husband and needing to take care of their child, on her own. I added more music just because I enjoyed the selections popular at that time. Here's to all those military widow heroes who, in their own way, also fought in that war!
~~~
Steve Daniels had been hurt in the war and sent home with an injured leg. He had been assigned to teach flying instead of continuing the career of flying that he had always dreamed of. It was 1943 and Steve was just 31. Unexcited by his new assignment was being kind, but he would wait to see how it went.
His first need was a good meal, a place to stay and wheels. He had been referred to the Last Call and found just about all that he could possibly need, especially a room that was vacant because of the nightly noise, which he wouldn't mind, and especially since it had inside facilities for basic personal care and coffee in the morning! What he hadn't been planning on so quickly was seeing an attractive lady that set him thinking about just how long it had been...
The problem was that she was married... To the commandant of the base! A Commandant that questioned him carefully, almost too carefully, on his first day.
Steve hadn't tried to become a hero, but when he was shot down, he remembered to pull out the photos that had been shot and taped it to his chest. He had been found by locals, cleaned up by a local vet, and set to sail alone, with a few staples to hopefully last until he reached shore. He had pulled himself up onto shore and the next time he knew where he was he was in the hospital... The physical issues had been addressed as he left for his new assignment, but, he had to admit to himself, mentally he was still having dreams that threw him back during those last few days after being shot down...
Nor had he planned to try anything with the beauty he had seen, once he knew who she was. But when she contacted him and asked to meet, he knew he would, even though another woman he had met earlier had warned him that she, the commandant's wife was...trouble...
But the heart wants what the heart wants??? Well, by the time I finished the book, I was thinking along with his lawyer... Men! In any event, Steve became involved with and fell hard for the commandant's wife.
And the Commandant was later murdered...
And Steve was arrested and convicted and placed in jail...
I was surprised when the novel includes an entire legal case, which I thoroughly enjoyed. The counsel for the defense was named by the Army as were the jury members. The Prosecutor had done a good job, so much so that as mentioned, Daniels was convicted and placed in jail. Although they quickly filed an appeal and continued to look for the eye witness, who had left town, that could clear Daniels.
Watkins has done an excellent job of creating the setting of what was happening in the early 40s, even to cover the race relations at that time. Using Steve's connection to Black servicemen with whom he had worked, he would make it clear that he did not appreciate the prejudice that some people chose to demonstrate.
The reality of the ending was unsettling to me, yet, even if I was unhappy with how it ended, I understood that it had to happen the way it did. Personally, I was not impressed with Steve Daniels as a main character. Linda Watkins--is he going to get his act together next time? LOL I'll give him one more chance. LOL I've read Noir before but don't remember its being such a turnoff for me...Yet the book, written to match the definition, is excellent for this genre. Linda Watkins has traditionally given me books that I love...well... I've finally found one that I could say it's a great book, but... I was disappointed with the ending... Well written, characters carefully and correctly drawn, but, just... Men! By the way, I did love the female lawyer who came into the story via the murder court case. And her role was, at least for me...perfect!
Linda Watkins has become one of my favorite authors whose work, when I get a notice, will usually be immediately purchased. If you enjoy historical novels, this book was exceptionally well done for the time period. Check it out! And if you disagree with my assessment of Captain Daniels, let me know why! Would love to hear your thoughts!
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