#it WON'T be 'easier on her' to hear that her papas told her she would have a sleepover and they will never come to get her

[rainywithachanceofstars]

[thatbanditqueen]

Basic Training Chapter 5

Summary: Bess has plans to spend the evening having a picnic dinner with Elvis on post, and tries to juggle her family and keeping her relationship with Elvis a secret as her father presses her about her future.

Warnings: Some very heavy petting, dry humping, female orgasm (gasp), and discussions of mental illness, the Holocaust and Cold War operations. And all the usual typos.

WC: 6K

A (very very late) response to the prompt "Hey, quit splashin' me."

Many thanks to my lovely sister wives @whositmcwhatsit, @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @ellie-24 who helped me write this.

If you need to catch up, you can read the previous chapters of this fic about Elvis at Fort Hood in 1958 here

Notes:

This one got more into Bess family life, but it won't always be this top heavy in the future.

Maus and spatz are german terms of endearment. Illsa is a German nickname for Elizabeth.

Schatzeleh, bubeleh, mamaleh, these are all Yiddish terms of endearment. The Yiddish phrase "shayna maidel" means beautiful girl.

Deutsch ist die Muttersprache - German is the mother tongue.

INCOMS - abbreviation for Army Intelligence

The USIA was really a wacky Cold War PR agency for the U.S. government that set up a radio system to blast US music and news into other countries, and promote art and performers and entertainers around the world, along with other stiff. What every fic needs, more Cold War history ;)

Wednesday, April 9, 1958

Schwartz Residence, Killeen TX

6:45 a.m.

Bess hovered over her sister’s shoulder and grabbed a piece of toast off her plate, scooping up some scrambled eggs and chewing as she dodged Kay’s swats to pour a cup of coffee.

“Curlers again? Jeeze, Bess, that’s the third day in a row you’ve worn curlers to sleep.”

Bess hit the back of her sister’s head with her elbow.

Their father’s eyes did not leave his newspaper as Kay yelped and Bess stuck her tongue out.

“Elizabeth, you are not a nomad. Sit and eat.”

“I gotta finish getting ready, Papa.”

“Is there anything special going on today, maus?” Her father raised his eyebrows as Kay giggled.

“Or maybe someone speci - ouch!” Kay got a pinch at her back.

“Oh, no, nothing special, just wanted to look nice, I told Emily we’d go shopping after work today, Papa.”

Papa folded his newspaper, crisping the edges at Bess' expectant eyes.

“Well?”

Kay grinned into her juice.

“I was just wondering if it was ok to take my own car in again, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Ja, fine. Do you anticipate driving separately all week?”

Bess nodded, slowly, swallowing more coffee as her father’s eyes went from one daughter to the other.

“Hmm, sure are getting dolled up to go shopping with Emily OWfff.”

Kay got another swift pinch to her shoulder before Bess washed out her coffee cup and left to fix her hair.  Just as she got to the kitchen door, she heard the piano in the living room and looked back at her father.

“Did Mama wake up and go right back to work on the piano?”

“No.” Her Papa’s face went back to the newspaper.

Kay’s eyes met Bess’. “She’s been in there all night.”

“All night?”

Papa calmly set down his paper. “Your mother is fine, you know how she is. Once she starts a project, she becomes very focused. You both would benefit from such discipline. You just need to let her get it out of her system.”

Bess shook her head and ran to the living room to find her mother at the upright piano, hair wild as she wiped sweat from her brow. Mama had been hunched over sorting through a pile of tuning instruments, but her face lit up with excited energy at Bess.

“Oh Bessie, you’re doing your hair fancy again today, huh? Oh my sweet shayna maidel. Brains and beauty.” Mama stroked Bess’ cheek, then went back to hitting a key on the piano. “Ughh, hear that? Can’t get the D flat right.”

Bess tugged on her mothers house dress, the same one she had been wearing yesterday.

“C’mon, Mama, it will be easier if you rest the ole noggin, come back after you get some sleep.”

Her mother brushed off her hand.

“No, Bess, can’t you hear it? It’s all gooey, everything is gooey, when it should be tight. I can’t possible leave the plunkers gooey, it makes the whole room go orange, bubeleh.”

Bess rubbed her mother’s shoulders as she leaned her chin into Mama’s neck.

“You know the bedroom upstairs is all light and yellow, Mama, it will help you center yourself.”

Mama shook her head, and Bess sighed as she returned to the kitchen and mixed some of the thalidomide barbiturates hidden above the spice cabinet into a glass of milk.

Kay paused washing the dishes.

“Papa left.”

“Of course he did. A one star General who strikes fear into the Army Intelligence training officers, but won’t deal with his own wife.”

“That is not fair, Bess, Mama has been better since the treatment. Papa said she was great on the trip, she just needs to get back to routine and get the jitters out of her system.”

“Jitters, jitters is bupkis and you know it. Did you know Aunt Rachel came down to babysit Mama when they were in D.C.?"

Bess sighed and finished stirring the milk, and was finally able to coax Mama upstairs where she undressed her and tucked her into bed with a kiss.

“Oh Bessie, you have a yellow halo around your head schatzeleh, good things await you today, my pretty girl. “

“Thanks mamaleh, get some sleep.”

The black pumps were the last thing Bess slipped on before heading off to work, dropping Kay at school on the way. It was not far to Killeen High School, an easy 10 minute walk for Kay in her saddle shoes, but Bess wanted to talk with her.

“Can you come straight home after school? Keep an eye on Mama, maybe try to get her some sun gardening or going for a walk.

Kay nodded, tightening the scarf around her ponytail, “Sure Bess, she’s ok. I 'm telling you, she just needs rest after goin’ to DC and New York for two weeks.”

“Mmmmhmmm.”

A car of high school boys pulled up next to them, their radio blasted as they made their way to the student parking lot. The boys looked over, whistling and laughing at Bess and Kay.

“Ugh, high school boys.” Kay moaned, fluffing her hair.

“Speaking of which, my dear sister. I thought we had a deal, ixnay on the elvisay or I’ll spill the beans on how often you sneak out with Dickey and tell Papa and Mama you’re spending the night at Gloria’s.”

“Aww, heck, Bess, you know I am not doing anything wrong, not since you scared me half to death about getting pregnant and having to get a back alley abortion.”

“I wasn't trying to scare you, Kay. I just want to make sure you take precautions. And that you understand it, are sure about it, ya know, when you are ready. Sex isn’t bad,it can just have consequences. You know you can always talk to me about that stuff.”

Kay rolled her eyes and hit Bess before getting out of the car.

******************************************************************

5:15 p.m. Fort Hood Front Office

“She’s cooking brisket, and singing along with the radio.”

Bess held the phone receiver to her ear, she could hear her mother’s voice in the background along with Doris Day's. Guilt had been tugging at her heartstrings all afternoon, telling her what a selfish daughter she was to make plans with Elvis instead of going home to check on her mother. She kept listening to her sister talk as Dori come out of her father’s office and waved the CO on, telling him to bring the car around front.

“You sure everything’s okay?”

“Yes, Bess, jeeze, go already. Have fun with Emily.” Bess grimaced momentarily at Kay’s sarcasm then remembered she was trying to smile back at Dori.

Mabel was typing along, making no sign that she registered any human life in the office. Hanging up the phone, Bess began to cover her type writer.

“So y’all really don’t think I should go walk my lil ole self round about his barracks?”

The clacks from Mabel’s typewriter paused as she exhaled a deep huff of smoke, meeting Bess’s eyes for a split second before returning to her paperwork.

“Uh, no, Dori, you don’t want to be another girl chasing after Elvis Presley.”

Bess mused that quite a few members of Fort Hood’s female workforce seemed to have business near the 37th’s barracks lately. She avoided Mabel’s stoic, knowing stare as she explained that she had not seen Elvis since the night of the dance.

“He is a world famous entertainer, Doreen, adjusting to the first phase of basic training, the hardest phase. Women are probably the last thing on his mind.”

This elicited an eyebrow raise from Mabel behind Dori’s back, as the blonde conceded with a sigh that Bess was probably right and skulked out of the Command’s Front Office, flinging her handbag around in disappointment.

“The most eligible Southern bachelor in the world is at my base, even takes me on a date, but has to live in a shack with forty other men and no phone while doing drills all day.” She stomped her foot. “Jus’ isn’t fair.”

Bess stopped watching Dori walk down the hallway and pulled out her compact, giving her lipstick one last check.

“I am just glad the Executive Officer has three male children.”

“Mabel, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Like hell you don’t, that boy is gonna start world war three at this command, getting involved with two generals’ daughters. And, by the way, you need to come up with a better cover, one that doesn’t involve anyone on post.”

Flicking her cigarette, Mabel looked Bess directly in the eyes.

“General Schwartz was asking me about Emily in the switchboard office while you were at lunch.”

Bess swallowed, putting her compact away and rolling her feet back into her heels.

“Huh. Maybe I don’t give the old man enough credit?”

Mabel’s eyes were back on her typewriter. “You should go, before your father returns from his meeting and finds what is waiting for you at the bottom of the stairwell.”

Bess hesitated before she left. “I, um, I mean it, thanks, you know, for -”

“Git already, before I beat you down there and steal him for myself.”

Bess smiled as she tried very very hard to walk with calm composure down the hall and into the back stairs. Just the thought of Elvis’ touch made her tingle and Bess had to use her hands to try and keep her dress from blowing up as she danced down the stairs, heels clicking like Ginger Rogers. Heart in her throat, she nearly did a two-step on the landing mid-flight when she caught sight of a light green cap below. The cap tilted slightly, revealing lips, lips that curled into a welcome reprieve as Bess bounded down to meet him. The beat of her heart matched the sound of her breath as she launched herself onto Elvis’ mouth. He was a cushion and Bess threw herself into him unabashedly, feeling her body lift off the ground as Elvis twirled her around. It was exhilarating.

His light chuckle tickled her forehead and hands pulled her forward. “Happy to see me?”

“I guess.” Bess murmured into his clavicle. “You think too highly of yourself, Tupelo, just happy to be done with work, mostly. I actually forgot you were meeting me.”

He pulled her chin up and Bess heard her voice falter as his eyes melted her nervous system into a giddy mess.

“That why you are runnin' down these stairs like ya got a burr in ya saddle? Maybe I should check.”

His voice became slower as his hands moved from her waist to her bottom, pulling on her skirt as if to inspect it.

“Leave my saddle be, dirty boy.”

Bess cheeks flushed red swatting off Elvis’ hands and he grinned, fingers returning to their deliberate pace at her waist. Just their slow movement heated her belly, a sensation intensified by the warm air from Elvis nostrils as he nudged her eyelid. Bess was happy to see him, happy to have his arms around her, happy to have his fingers pushing the fabric of her dress back and forth over her skin. Those insistent, needy thumbs took her away from all her turmoil and into the comfort of his arms.

“So you aren't excited to see me? Go on then, tell me, tell me why you got ya hair all done up and ya lips all painted up, huh? Meeting someone else?”

Bess traced the top of his lip with her index finger, she was so close to him she could smell the faint hints of cologne, sweat and gun powder on his neck.

“I’m not meeting anyone else.” She looked up, not sure how she was summoning the strength to form words. “I just want to be here. With you.”

“Me too baby, me too.” He ran his finger over her nose. “Got lucky, boy, did I get lucky, that night I caught you stealing - ”

“ - reallocating Army resources.”

“Imma reallocate some Army resources.” He kissed her forehead, right between her eyebrows. “Right here.” She closed her eyes at the way his arms tightened around her. “Right now. For important morale operations.”

Bess’ nodded her forehead sideways into his nose and let her hands roll up his shoulders, the heat between them buzzed up her body. She sucked her bottom lip and the sound of air clicking from her mouth seemed louder in the still concrete stairwell. Bess kissed him gently at first and then with her entire being, grinding up as he thrust back into her and his hands moved to cup her face while his hips becoming sharper and more desperate. A moan escaped her mouth and Elvis stepped back, chuckling as he wiped the lipstick from his mouth.

“Let’s get out of here, huh?” Bess murmured, grasping at his waist to steady herself.

Bess tripped into him as they walked to her car, her head rotating from side-to-side, wondering if any one saw them and could tell how intimately Elvis gripped her hand. He didn’t seem to care, popping open her car door and sliding across the leather as if it were his own. His fingers were instantly over her shoulder, always pursuing physical contact, and he whistled at basket of food on the back seat.

“Watcha cook up for me, lil girl?”

“Um, just, ya, uh know, meatloaf sandwiches, potato salad, some pop.”

“Mmhmm, sounds real good, yessir boberino, real good.” Elvis growled and nibbled into Bess’ shoulder and she suddenly found driving very challenging.

Her struggle to hold the steering wheel only got worse as Elvis mumbled into her cheek while his fingers smoothed the small of her back. She tried, unsuccessfully, to elbow him away as he smirked at her breathy response. It was very clear to Bess that Elvis knew exactly what his fingers did to her as she drove them to a park at the back of Fort Hood’s residential area. Elvis lips trailed up and down her cheek in a way that made Bess not want to get out of the car, made her forget that she was hungry, made her forget her own name.  Grinning, he pulled back and pinched her side.

“Les eat, I’m so hooonnngry I could eat the north bound end of a south bound polecat.”

Elvis carried the basket of food with one hand, the other in Bess’ as she led them to a picnic table near a very small man made pond. She clucked at him to help even out the table cloth, and he grinned at the way Bess set out plates, cups and food methodically. Elvis caught her wrist as she moved to sit across from him, and guided her on to his lap.

“Where you goin’ baby? Don’t want you to get any splinters in that fine caboose.”

“Ha, ha, ha. How chivalrous.”

Bess pushed a spoon of potato salad into his mouth to shut him up as she set out the sandwiches for them, and opened the red cream soda with a bottle opener. Elvis took his pop, sucking it down.

“Just for future reference darlin, I like Pepsi.”

Bess grabbed the drink out of his hand with a playful sniff.

“This is the best cream soda this side of Little Rock, you can use it to make punch, jello, dye dresses red and clean your carburetor. And if you don’t like it, you can get your own drinks.”

Elvis pulled it back, stuffing meatloaf sandwich in his mouth before talking through his chews and taking another swig.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it, now, no need to get sore.” He slapped her bottom, making her bounce up as she chewed some sandwich. “Jus’ sayin’ I like Pepsi best. ‘Sides, Dori said you were from New York, how come -”  He paused to take another gulp, “How come you like this local fizz so much?”

Bess took the bottle of Big Red from him, letting her mouth linger down and back up over the top as she sipped it, enjoying the way he raised his eyebrows while he chewed.

“Well, Private, I was born in New York. But I have lived in Killeen, Texas on and off since I was five years old. Papa was trained here before the war, and then we went back to Brooklyn while he was in London and then Germany - did your daddy fight?”

Elvis shook his head but offered no explanation, and Bess thought she saw a flicker of disdain or anger in his eyes for a split second, but it was gone. Then he pulled her closer with his right hand, holding up a sandwich to her mouth, lips apart in apt concentration as he guided the food into Bess' mouth and she giggled, swallowing it. He picked up the second bottle of pop and offered it to her as she wiped her mouth.

“Well, anyway, at first we went back and forth when Papa was overseas. We were in New York, and D.C., then he was given orders back here and they bought the house. Mama, Kay and I have stayed here whenever he got orders to go somewhere else: Heidelberg, Fort Hood, Berlin, then, you guessed it, Fort Hood, then DC, then back here. It’s been better for us to stay and go to school here.”

“So, uh, what, your daddy goes all ‘round teaching German?”

“Uh, well, yeah, mostly. Training Army officers to speak German has been a big part of his career.”

Elvis tilted his head for Bess to feed him more potato salad, his fingers otherwise occupied at her hips.

“How’d he get so interested in that?”

Bess licked the spoon they were sharing after feeding Elvis, looking across at the pond as twilight settled over the park.

“He, um, well, he actually grew up in Berlin. His parents sent him to New York in 1931 to live with his aunt and uncle.” She hesitated, scratching his collar, wondering how Elvis Presley felt about making out with Jewish girls. “You see, that was when his family’s synagogue was burned down, and they, um, started to, you know, worry.”

Elvis nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Ah, gotcha.” His hands tightened at her waist. “Ya know, this explains why Dori looked at me funny when I told her I met you outside the base Chapel.”

“Ha! Yeah, well, I could have been there picking up dates.”

“You do that often, Moo Moo?”

“Oh, yeah, good little Christian boys are my favorite.”

He bounced her on his lap and tickled her sides.

“Huh, that right? I don’t know if I like the sound a that.”

“Yeah, well, apparently I’m no good at meeting good Christian boys. Only bad ones.”

“Oh baby, you have know idea what a good boy I can be.” He drew her close for a soft kiss on her neck, and the warmth of his lips made her shiver as he talked into her nape. “I’ve been told I’m very, very, very good at bein’ a boy.”

“Ha!” She shook her head, hands clutching the back of his hair as she looked into his attentive, gleaming bright blue eyes. They made her weak. Everywhere. “Hey, you haven’t even told me how your day was, Tupelo.”

“Oh man, honey, today was a goddamn circus, and I was the lead clown, I tell ya.”

“What happened?” She played with the soft part of his ear lobe as Elvis wiped his forehead and sighed.

“Well, we had target practice for three hours today.”

“That sounds normal, it takes three hours to kill all the paper men.”

“You have idea, baby, no idea.” He looked over his shoulder, as if to make sure no one could hear him. “Well, go on ta find out I forgot to load my gun this mornin’, I was so goddamn flustered getting ready for inspection. Looked like a grade A idiot, man, standing out there front a every one.”

Bess soothed the top of Elvis’ shoulders, all the teasing lilt from a moment ago was gone from her voice as she massaged the stiff, anxiousness there.

“Boy, got me so keyed up, had ma hands in fists all day, bout nearly bust out of my uniform I as so mad at ma self.”

Bess soothed his cheek, running her hand through his hair.

“No one will remember tomorrow, I promise.”

“Huh, I bet you million dollars they all back in their barracks, writin’ home bout how they had a good laugh at Elvis Presley, the Elmer Fudd of the army.”

“I promise, if those soldiers have anyone to write home to, and that’s betting they know how to write, they aren’t wastin’ their time tellin’ their girls about the most handsome stud in America.”

Elvis looked up.

“Most handsome, what was that, baby, stud?”

“Ugh, stop, I was just tryin’ to cheer you up.”

Bess jumped up, and started packing up the picnic, and Elvis was instantly behind her, arms tugging at her was as she popped the last spoon of potato salad greedily in her mouth. He gave her a big, sloppy kiss, then let go, distracted by the water, he wondering down to the edge of the pond where he began skipping stones. She finished folding the table cloth and followed him down to the water, squatting beside him as she selected another rock and handed it to him.

“Sorry excuse for a lake, isn’t it.” Bess said, watching as Elvis aimed the flat stone across the small body of water.

“You better take that back, Moo Moo, you’re hurtin’ this poor lil baby pond’s feelins’” Elvis bent down and threw some water at Bess’ face.

“Hey,” Bess pushed him lightly, then stood up, backing away at the mischievous look in his eyes. “Quit splashin' me! You, you rock n’ roll hoodlum!”

Elvis grinned and cupped his hand full of water, throwing it at her as she backed away.

“Ohh baby, thems fighting words, better watch out!”

Bess shrieked and ran back up to the picnic table, circling around it as Elvis chased her, matching as she changed directions. Their laughter and panting filled the air until he caught her, running his dirty pond fingers through her hair with gusto as she made a face while he slapped her on the butt. Elvis quelled her protests with a kiss and brought her into his side and grabbed the food basket with his other hand. They walked  back to the car sweaty and out of breath like two giddy teenagers.

“Any lakes round here?”

Bess settled back into the car and smoothed her dress down while Elvis’ hands did their best to ruffle it back up, starting with the area over her right knee.

“There’s a reservoir, Lake Belton, bout 30 minutes away. You can go swimming, boating, horseback riding. Why?”

“This weekend phase 1 is over and I can start going off post on the weekend. Planning to see my friend Lamar, maybe some more of my guys, and I wanna take them somewhere fun Sunday. Somewheres maybe like this Lake.”

Bess tried to contain her disappointment that Elvis’ first thought wasn’t to spend the time with her. But she reminded herself that they weren’t serious, they were having a fling and besides, he saw her everyday. He sensed her mood change anyway as she sat up stiff and straight to start the car, and his hand became more attentive to her knee.

“I want you there, Bess, you’re coming out with me this weekend. Right after drills end at 1700 hours Saturday.”

“When does your friend get to town?”

“He’s already here. Lamar, he grumbles and fusses, but he is loyal and true. From Texas, too.”

“Where’s he staying?”

“At the Star Motel.” Elvis looked over at Bess, then down at where his long, thin fingers were on the inside of her knee, then back up to her eyes. “He, uh, he went and got a few a rooms so we can have a party Saturday night.” His voice became softer as he murmured. “Reckon it would be nice to have some time, just to be alone with with you, Bessie baby. Somewhere that ain’t a picnic bench. Or a car. Somewhere we could be alone and just talk.”

Bess parked behind the armory buildings near Elvis' barracks and turned to him, blushing.

“Um, yes, I guess I would like that too. To be able to just be somewhere, just talk.”

A wave of shyness suddenly overwhelmed Bess as she thought about being alone in a motel room with Elvis. What she thought he might really be asking her.  She wasn’t sure how far she wanted to go with him this soon, though she could feel desire pulsing up through her rib cage and knew that if Elvis even looked at her sideways she would throw all abandon out of the window. But she had the impression, from just the few weeks she had known him, that Elvis was more old fashioned then she would have thought. She wasn’t sure where his boundary was, as far as respecting girls who went to bed with him. But his invitation definitely seemed like a proposition and the prospect of sleeping with him was at once exciting and terrifying.

Bess began to fiddle with her hands where they lay in her lap and Elvis picked up her left hand, bringing it to his cheek and kissing her palm delicately.

“Hey there, lil Moo Moo, you’re so pretty. How’d I catch the prettiest lil moo cow in the field, hmmm?”

The words rumbled out of Elvis mouth in a low babyish voice and his eyelids drooped down in time with his bottom lip. Bess’ chest tightened, and it felt like the world tilted sides when she pulled him in and he kissed her down into the leather seat. They pawed at each other there, exploring how their noses fit together as their tongues played tug of war for control. It sent a jolt straight to Bess’ core when she felt his excitement stiffen against her thigh and she smiled into his goofy bedroom eyes.

“Hey, wait, are you calling me a cow, Elvis Presley?”

Elvis shook his head, his face focused on where his right fingers brushed over her breast, savoring Bess’ shiver, as his knuckles trailed back down over the hills and valleys of her skirt. Her blood rushed between her legs and she took a deep breath.

His fingers were back at her bosom, setting her skin on aflame with the way his finger tips trailed back and forth circling her breast.

“Mmmmhmm, not jus any cow, baby, you the prettiest little milk cow, bet you have the sweetest.” He bite his lip as he circled the cloth around her nipple again. “Cream.”

Bess exhaled out with a gasp, curling her left fingers at his wrist as he spoke.

“Makin' me want dessert.”

Elvis’ hand stayed at her side where she held it, his fingers brushing against her dress, but it was his eyes that knocked the wind from her lungs as they moved downward to settle on the apex between her legs. Elvis bit his lips and Bess felt a desperate flame tingle out from her core. No one had ever done what he was hinting at, and it scared her. Suddenly she didn’t consider herself as experienced as she had before. She had slept with what, twenty men? And no one had ever kissed her there. That was something she needed to prepare for, perhaps double the talcum powder she applied. Coughing, Bess slide out from him to sit upright and straighten her dress. Elvis’ hands were back on her hips, pulling her over to straddle his lap.

“You know, Moo Moo, I’d never do nothin’ you don wanna.”

Elvis kissed her neck as she nodded.

“I bet you taste sweet, though.”

Bess swatted him playfully, then gripped his shoulder as he nibbled her ear. Playtime was over. A feverish yearning took over and she met his hips as they rocked up into her. Bess’ heart was racing, Elvis slow and deliberate movements made him different from any man she had ever been with. He halted mid thrust to savor the moment, and his eyes looked deep into hers with a longing and and an eagerness to please. They were an invitation and a command that he followed with his fingers, trailing them softly over the curve of her breasts. She could feel his cock twitch when he noticed her shudder, or felt her nipples harden, and she knew what made Elvis different. Her pleasure turned him on.

So she chased it, moving in tandem to the rhythm of his thighs while she pushed her lips on top of his, feeling his tongue meet hers once more. She felt his bulge and sought the friction of it between her legs. His movements became more urgent, and Bess’ grasped for anything she could find to hold on to as the car filled with sound of heaving, gulping, loud moans. Her orgasm erupted suddenly with a litany of “oh Gods,” and Elvis thumbs stroked her cheeks as he shushed the fear and hesitancy from her.

“I gotcha, I gotcha, sshhhhh baby, don worry. Jus ride it out. That’s a good lil girl.”

Bess’ chest heaved up as she remembered how to breathe. This was the most intimate experience she had ever had, and all of her clothes were still on. She half chuckled as she steadied herself, meeting Elvis triumphant, satisfied eyes.

“Wow.”

“You ok, honey? Make me think you ain’t never tussled with a boy before.”

“Not like that.”

His mouth curled into a big crooked grin, and she laughed up into the ceiling.

“Huh, well, that’s true, Bess, and you won’t never find someone like me again, neither. I got moves you ain't never seen, honey." He smirked. "Stick with me, I told you, I’m a very good boy.”

“Good at being bad.”

Laughing, she shifted and noticed his erection still lingered in his pants and so she moved her hand to rub over it but he stilled her.

“Don’t you want me to take care of you, Tupelo?” She kissed his cheek, lips moving down his neck. “ Make you feel good? I  - I can, you know -”

Elvis patted her hand back into her lap and kissed the words out of her mouth.

“You were perfect tonight, Bess, perfect. But I jus as soon keep a lid on it. You don’t make it easy, though, baby, been makin’ me crazy all night, just walking round and sittin’ on me with all that equipment in your undercarriage.”

“Guess I know one pistol you have no trouble loading.”

Elvis tilted his neck back, laughing as he squeezed her waist as they made their goodbyes over a push and pull of kisses for the next fifteen minutes.

****************************************************************

Schwartz Residence, Killeen TX

9:30 p.m.

The moon followed Bess in the clear night sky as she left post, still feeling Elvis’ hands all over her, hearing his laughter in her ears. She was giddy from the blissful release she had found on his lap, it had washed away all the tension she' 'd had carrying with her through the day. Hurrying up the stairs to her house, Bess stumbled upon her mother in the kitchen making camomile tea.The creases at the corners of Mama’s large brown eyes pinched together in a big smile.

“Oh Bessie Bess, my baby, you’re home late. Want some sleepy time tea, my shayna maidel?”

Bess strode over and put her arms around her mother’s back, leaning on her shoulder as her mother poured the kettle into the teapot, her chest filled with affection.

“Sure Mamaleh, I’d love some.”

Papa’s voice rang out from his office, so she kissed her mother’s cheek and promised to be right back.

“Aw, Elizabeth, how was your day shopping with, who, Emily, was it?”

Bess leaned against the doorway of his office, glad her father was at least making the pretense of settling down for the night in his dressing gown and pajamas. A pipe was in his hand as he read over some paperwork.

“Good, Papa, thanks for asking.”

“Gut, gut, ja.” He pushed his glasses up, and looked over his desk at his daughter, taking in her slightly disheveled hair, rumpled dress and newly applied lipstick below flushed cheeks. “You know, I thought your mother made two meatloaves for supper last night.”

“Oh, well, I took some for lunch today, Papa. I didn’t know you wanted it.”

“No, ja, I was just looking for a snack earlier, but no bother, no bother.” He put his papers down. “Are you still thinking of law school, because I saw General Brandon when we were in D.C.”

“I don’t want to go do propaganda for the U.S. government, Papa.”

“Yes, well, it’s not propaganda, spatz, it’s goodwill initiatives. This war is more about minds than mines, ja? Brandon’s information program is just making sure other countries have the opportunity to experience American art and culture. Someone with your background and expertise in foreign affairs, you’d be a good fit for a post open this fall. And they want women, smart, focused, attractive women like you. You would be perfect for this job.”

Bess tapped her fingers over her belt, she had not been thinking about her research project at all, or her law school applications for that matter. No, her head had been elsewhere, and she felt pangs of shame and guilt as she considered what her father was bringing up. Her future. Specifically, he was back at it trying to convince her to work for one of the newer programs in D.C. that his colleague in Army Intelligence had founded: the United States Information Agency. Its mission was officially “public diplomacy” overseas, but Bess knew it was essentially a PR agency for the United States.

“Is it in the Berlin office?”

“Ack, Illsa, Berlin is a coveted office, you have to work your way up to it. No. Helsinki.”

“I don’t even speak Finnish, or Swedish, and -”

“It is right there at the lion’s mouth, Ilsa, there’s a lot of action in Helsinki. All the spies from Moscow are coming through it. And the goodwill tours behind the Iron Curtain go off from there. It would be, what, two years? A stepping stone to Berlin maybe?  Besides, Deutsch ist die Muttersprache, you’d pick up Swedish and Finnish like that.” Papa snapped his fingers.

“Mmmhmm. Well, you got my attention. But what about Mama?” Bess fingers clenched in a fist. “She seems like she is backsliding.”

“She doesn’t do well when her routine is disrupted, you know that. She will be fine, give her a few days to settle.” Papa sucked on his pipe, and the sweet smell of tobacco reached Bess’ nose. “And, well, you know I expect orders to INCOMS headquarters any day. That will be my last post before retirement, and I promised Mama New York after that. In the meantime, your Aunt Rachel wants to come and live with us in D.C.”

“What about Kay? I thought she wanted to go to Baylor.”

Papa’s elbow banged down on his desk, as he rearranged his paperweights, then he kept talking as he got up and put a jazz record on.

“Katharina applied to Georgetown, Radcliffe, Smith and many, many other colleges, she will be fine. She would also be fine at Baylor if she is determined to follow her silly friends there.”

Bess nodded, thinking of the girls in Kay’s high school class whose mothers had been in Baylor’s sororities, and how they had been giggling about life together next year. She thought of her own decision to stay in Texas for college, at the time she had wanted to follow her friends to a big school in a big city like Austin. She turned on her heel to head back to the kitchen and Mama’s camomile tea, muttering into the hallway in from to her. “Helsinki, huh?”

Her father’s voice followed her, his eyes narrowed at the smudges of lipstick Elvis had kissed into the back of Bess’ neck.

“Just think about, ja? You have so much potential, maus. I hate to see you loose sight of your goals.”

**************************************************************

Click here to read Chapter Six: Guided Missiles

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[zwiezraczek]

Lambada [Request]

Tumbr said no to show up my writing in the tags and now I’m not pleased :’) Og post link

~~~

“Love, the only Brazilian thing I know is the Lambada, I'm not ready to meet your family,” Ben whined, as you straightened his black t-shirt on his chest with both your hands, looking at him closely.

“It's already enough, we'll add some dancing moves and they'll think you're Brazilian too,” you joked, your hands on his chest and grinned.

“It's not funny, y/n,” he complained, putting his hands on yours. “I'm a mess, I'm not ready to meet them at all!”

“You're not meeting the Queen of England!”

“Would have been easier,” he sighed as you smacked his lightly and from his lips an “ay” escaped.

“See? Already having the good reflexes,” you stated, “besides, you're meeting my mom, dad and brother.”

“Oh my God, I'm meeting your brother,” he whispered looking down at his shoes.

Months of preparation. Months of telling him that he is perfect. Months of telling your mom that yes, your boyfriend existed but was too afraid to show up in your house. Months leading to right here, right now, Ben ready to chicken out as you were almost ready to go out and meet your family, the ones you loved the most.

And Ben had to meet them, there was no excuse. Now he stopped working for his movies, the hollow part of the year, or something like that, it was the right time to meet your family, right after Christmas and all the ecstatic movement around this. And as much as Ben looked confident in any situation, you knew he wasn't and this situation was the peak of the things he couldn't handle. A week before the d day, he began to tell you how sick he began to feel and that you should reschedule probably, but you insisted on taking care of him so he wouldn't end up totally sick, he also told you that probably his mom would call him and... And then you knew that the problem wasn't coming from the outside, but from the inside. As if you didn't notice. You took his hands in yours, smiling and kissing them, reassuring him that your family would love him as much as you love him. And you succeeded. Until now.

“My brother won't eat you alive Ben,” you said, a bit exhausted by all of this. “We'll be late if you don't speed up a bit, and my mom doesn't,” you had to stop mid sentence as you saw horror in his eyes. Your mom didn't like people being late, and he seemed to remember it, just right now.

“Oh bloody hell, I'm getting my car keys and we're going,” he urged you, storming out the room, “grab your purse and we're going!”

You smiled. How much you loved this man was insane.

~~~

“You think it's too late for me to run away,” he whispered into your ear after you rang the bell and your turned to look at him, with big, scary eyes, “joking. Joking. I won't run away. Don't look at me like that.”

“Don't be silly,” you whispered back, squeezing his hand quickly before you could hear anybody coming from behind the door. “They'll love you.”

“Minha filha,” you heard as the door opened, and your mother took you into her arms, hugging you really hard. “Missed you so much.”

“Missed you too, mama,” you replied, your voice muffled into her shoulder. “This is Ben, my boyfriend,” you presented him as he awkwardly smiled and reached for your mother's hand but instead she hugged him.

“Nice to meet you Ben,” she then said, pulling off and smiling. “Come on, come on! We're waiting with dinner for both of you, your brother is already cursing you for being late!”

“We're not even late,” you protested.

“Filha, you know for your brother's stomach it's always too late,” she laughed as she watched both of you enter the house.

“Heard it,” your brother yelled from the living room before showing up to greet you with a smile. “But you're forgiven, mama made some delicious food because you and your boyfriend would show up so, you're forgiven. Hey, I'm [brother's name], nice to meet you Ben,” he said to greet Ben and offered him his hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Ben smiled, you could see how uncomfortable he felt with your brother's hand in his, anticipating any move he would make.

“I'm not going to eat you alive,” he teased Ben as you looked at him, sighing, “might just cut you in half and grill you.”

“You, shoo to the living room,” your mother urged your brother to move as he winked at Ben with a smile and disappeared behind a curtain.

“Nice to know I'll be the dinner,” Ben said, making your mother and yourself chuckle.

“Wait until you know who'll be the desert,” your mother added looking at you.

“Mooom,” you whined, looking at her as she disappeared into the living room. “So? Still scared to death,” you asked Ben, putting up your sleeves a bit.

“We'll see if they really eat me or not,” he joked which made you roll your eyes and smile.

“Come and meet my dad!”

And that was the moment when Ben lost it all. You took him by the hand and he, mechanically, followed you, a hundred and one scenarios playing in his head about your father and how he should present himself politely.

And your dad sat on the couch, in the living room, your brother helping your mother to set the table for all of you. His palm began to sweat, but you were so genuinely happy to see your dad again that you somehow ignored it. But Ben didn't. Ben felt absolutely lost, and afraid, more frightened than afraid.

“Papa,” you said, as he looked at you fondly.

“y/n,” he said, standing up and hugging you; and then he looked at Ben.

“It's Ben, my boyfriend.”

“It's a pleasure Sir,” Ben solemnly said, holding his hand towards your father with a very shy smile. “Your daughter is an absolute treasure.”

“Oh yes she is,” your dad replied, taking his hand and shaking it before grabbing it with his two hands, “and I hope you are a treasure to her too.”

“Papa,” you complained, again, “why are you all doing this to me? Trying to get me all flustered?”

“Because we love you, stupid,” your brother yelled from the kitchen, “and because thanks to you mom made delicious food. Hope Ben will like it, otherwise I'm eating all that he leaves on his plate!”

“You stomach on two legs,” you complained, “Ben will eat his plate, don't you touch it you glutton!”

“Glutton yourself,” he said back, appearing in the living room with a plate of farofa in his hands, “as if some farofa wouldn't...”

“Ben, you'll love this,” you cut your brother off, taking your boyfriend by his hands as he just looked more and more confused. “My mom makes the best farofa in the world I swear!”

“Filha, that's nothing, it's nothing great,” your mother humbly replied as she showed you the table to sit. “Let's eat before it becomes cold and our new member of the family runs away before we can actually eat him properly,” she joked and Ben felt less and less tense.

He probably found his lambada, sun and sea, his lover and a new family gathering him with love, and acceptance. And he would be lying if he said that your brother didn't make him laugh as they spoke about football, that your mother didn't make him feel like home, that your father didn't impress him by his calm attitude and acceptance, that you didn't make this day so much better than he imagined and feared. The lambada of his dreams.