Today he was coming home, though, and I wanted to make his homecoming special. I waxed, shaved, plucked, and perfumed every inch of my body. Underneath his favorite dress—the red-and-white polka-dotted one I wore when I first returned to him—I had brand new panties and a red-and-white polka-dotted lace bra. My three-inch heels would make it easier for him to kiss me, I figured. I dabbed a bit of my favorite citrus perfume on the backs of my ears and a little in the small valley of my breasts. Over the top I added a white cardigan. It was colder now, and I needed it.

Karen finally charged out of her bedroom dressed in high-waisted grey checked slacks and a fire-engine-red poet's shirt with billowy sleeves. Her hair was styled Katherine Hepburn-esque with soft waves molded close to her head. She looked like the embodiment of a 1950s glamorous actress.

Karen said that she always felt the need to look more beautiful than any other woman standing on the dock because Rose, as a lesbian in the Navy, felt like she had to do and be better than anyone else just to be perceived the same. Times were changing though. Gray didn't care and many of his contemporaries didn't either, although there were definite disagreements about women in combat infantry. Gray acknowledged, after a heated argument with Rose, that it was the men who'd need to change their attitudes but thought that it wasn't something that could be done overnight or even in Gray’s lifetime. Rose and Gray agreed to disagree, but that they’d remained friends was an achievement for both.

"You look great," Karen said, giving me a once over. I smoothed back a lock of curled hair and she batted my hand down. "No mussing. That's for Gray to do."

"I'm nervous," I admitted as I drove my Rover toward the base. "I feel like we’re meeting for the first time. Like it's a crazy blind date."

"I know, isn't it great?" She laughed wildly. "Your relationship can never get old. He steps off the boat and the bloodlust surges through you like you were shot with a lightning bolt."

"Can't wait." It was the truth. Karen and I had argued over who would drive, and finally I told her that if I didn't then I'd probably have Gray undressed and in a compromising position within two minutes of him being in the Rover—and only Gray would appreciate that. She'd conceded that maybe my need was just slightly more elevated than hers. Although she did ask me if I didn't self-pleasure as she figured Gray had been doing.

"As if that's even the same thing," I had scoffed.

I'd masturbated plenty while Gray was gone. We'd actually bought a couple vibrators for me to use and, while I never would admit this to anyone—not Eve, not Karen, no one—I’d used the vibrator on myself a couple of times while Gray and I Skyped. Gray just sat there, his eyes burning like crazy, headphones on so no one could hear my pants and then my pleas for him to touch me and finally my cries when I came.

We did it only twice because during second time someone must have interrupted Gray and he’d slammed his laptop shut before I'd gotten myself off. That night had been a pisser. If guys got blue balls, then I’d had a blue clit or something because I felt like I ached for days afterwards. I'd refused to do it again no matter how sweetly Gray pleaded because I didn't like that feeling of unfulfilled emptiness. But the truth was that having Gray watch me use the vibe was better than using it alone. Anytime he was with me, it was better, even if he couldn't touch me, even if he couldn't use his voice to whisper all the filthy things he'd like to do to me. Because there were only rare moments of privacy, I didn't get to hear them, although he emailed me. Oh boy did he email me. I wondered if his superiors read his messages and hoped that they didn't, or I wouldn't be able to look at any of them ever again.

"Thinking dirty thoughts about Gray," Karen teased, breaking into my mental fog. I realized we were almost at the dock.

"No, why?" I lied and then blushed.

She laughed, "Because you're squirming like a recently landed fish."

"Nice visual."

"Killed your little fantasies, right? Don't want you popping off before Gray gets off the boat."

"What about you?" Karen seemed unnaturally calm.

"I took care of myself a couple times this morning because Rose is going to need a lot of attention."

My face fell. Maybe I should've done that.

"No worries," she patted my shoulder. "Gray will be thrilled that you can't wait to jump his bones. Every couple is different and every deployment is different. Don’t worry about it.”

Gray

"I HAVEN'T SEEN YOU THIS excited since we went base jumping in Castle Valley two years ago," Hamilton muttered next to me.

"Base jumping has nothing on Sam." I hadn't had anyone but my parents waiting for me when I came home from a tour. This time I asked that they stay home because I just wanted to be with Sam. That she would be out there with the wives and girlfriends excited me more than I would have imagined. Yeah there had been moments when I envied the guys who were greeted by their girlfriends, wives, and kids, but in the next second I’d always wondered which of the Marines who’d stayed back home were screwing the wives and girlfriends of the deployed. And I congratulated myself on being wise and single.

Now I was one of those poor sacks whose balls were completely owned by some girl, and I couldn't be happier. "Someday, Hamilton, it'll be you."

"Nope," Hamilton muttered. "I like my balls attached to my body, thanks. I don't need to give them to some little woman back home in order to be able to function."

"You only wish you could cut off your balls and leave them on some chick's table." Fact was that Sam didn't just have my balls; she had the best part of me with her. But thoughts of my balls naturally led to a nude Sam. I had to stop thinking about the last email she'd sent back. There had been a picture of just the bottom half of her body with one of my blue physical therapy shirts draped over her thighs, pulled up up in the center to the top of her belly button. Her one hand held up the T-shirt to expose the white lace of her boy shorts and the other hand? I shuddered at the memory. The other hand was inside her boy shorts, and all I could see were the bumps of her knuckles against the cotton fabric. I got up immediately and went to the head and jerked off for about five minutes after that visual.

I can't wait for your fingers to replace mine.

I could jack off just thinking about the words that came with the photo.

“Five minutes, sweethearts, and you’ll finally get off your holiday cruise. We know you have zero choice in the matter, so thank you for fucking floating with us,” First Sergeant Gracias shouted as he walked by.

Leaving the boat with a hard-on was unacceptable for a Staff Sergeant. I thought of Hamilton's dirty socks, the transmission of a 1970 GTO, the shit ton of paperwork that I'd have to file when I got back to base.

And then I was walking down the ramp, eyes scanning the dock and then hooking on a red-and-white polka-dotted dress. She had her hair all done up for me, looking like a million dollars. I wanted to fling out my arms and circle around, screaming, "See her? She's mine. She's going home with me." In a rare fit of possessiveness, part of me wanted to take her right there on the dock to mark her as mine so that no one would even look at her without seeing my body covering hers. She'd probably gnaw off my balls with her teeth if I did that, though.

But right now, looking at the glow of excitement, lust and just pure happiness in her face, maybe not.