The long legged brunette looked at him from the photo with an impish, inviting smile as she leaned against the door of a familiar, ’62 Chevy Bel Air. One hand held a set of keys against her freckled cheek while the other seemed to toy with the almost, but not quite, unfastened snap of impossibly skimpy cut-offs. In between, an unbuttoned olive-drab, US Army fatigue shirt was spread just wide enough to give a teasing glimpse of the swell of her firm young breasts.
The soldier holding the photo smiled. He’d taken the picture. It was his shirt, his car and, most importantly, his girl.
Not for the first time, it occurred to Mack Floyd that there were better places to be and things to do than play soldier here in Vietnam. His first choice being the back seat of his car, making love with the girl in the photo, Donna Lynn Riser.
He was tired of death; tired of trying to kill unknown men who kept trying to kill him. He wanted life, and peace, and Donna Lynn.
As he stared at the picture, Memories of the last time they had used the car’s big backseat flooded Mack’s mind.
Seconds after reaching their favorite parking spot, they were both nude. Mack stood beside the open back door, looking in at Donna Lynn’s slim, petite body stretched out on the big backseat, her skin glowing in the car’s soft dome light …waiting for him.
“You know,” he said, “don’t believe I’ve ever made love to an engaged woman before.”
Donna Lynn’s face broke into a big smile as she glanced at the diamond ring he had given her that afternoon. “Well, don’t tell my fiancé. He’s a big, strong soldier and gets very jealous.”
“He’s also very damn lucky,” said Mack, responding to a beckoning gesture from Donna Lynn by moving in beside her.
With an electrifying jolt of sexual energy, their nude bodies came into contact. Slowly, almost tentatively, he pressed his lips against hers. Soon, his fingers were roaming over the contours of her body, massaging her breasts, caressing her hips, and then stroking her silken inner thighs. Finally, his fingers slid up and took possession of her most intimate flesh. Her body arched up to meet his gentle touch. The feel of Donna Lynn’s skin, the taste of her lips, the sight of her blatant need, the intoxicating aroma of her aroused body, it almost overwhelmed him.
After a last kiss, he began working his lips over her trembling body, feasting on her creamy flesh like a starving man gorging at a table filled with gourmet delicacies. He dined contentedly on her milky breasts and swollen nipples. Then he kissed his way down past the erotic expanse of her flat belly and the curve of her slim hips. Moments later, his tongue was tasting the moist delights of her innermost regions.
Still, he wanted more. Not just wanted, but needed, to totally possess this woman he loved so much.
They’d made love continuously since he’d come home on leave. But tomorrow, he’d be gone and it would be twelve months until they would once again be together. For the rest of the night, he wanted to make memories for them both.
Mack felt Donna Lynn shudder under one of her odd, preliminary orgasms, sort of like the tremors prior to an earthquake.
"Now, Mack," she gasped in a low, husky whisper. "I need you now."
Mack looked up and studied her face. Wordlessly, he nodded in agreement and moved up into position. After one last intoxicating kiss, they surged towards one another until their two bodies once again melded into a single being.
For them, no world existed but this backseat, no time other than this incredible moment. Most of all, for Mack there was no woman other than this one, the one he loved, the one he already missed.
Within seconds, they were completely tuned into one another. Desire, need, lust, longing, plus a totally unrestrained love pounded through every fiber of their heaving, writhing forms. They wanted nothing more than to keep making love for the rest of the night and then for the rest of their lives.
A rising tide of passion swept them along until Donna Lynn erupted in a long, awesome, shuddering, orgasm. Warm juices flooded over Mack’s balls even as her hips instinctively continued moving in rhythm to his movements.
While she still reeled from the force of her orgasm, Mack began building toward his own release, slamming into her with savage thrusts, savoring the feel of her hot slick flesh clutching at his hard cock as she urged him on TO, to…
Someone yelled, “Get your squad saddled up, Mack. Time to earn our big paychecks,” And his mind snapped back into gear.
Another case of gross daydreamus interruptus by the Army, thought Mack, as he clambered to his feet. Once again he vowed that the day he got back to Donna Lynn, they’d finish all those interrupted dreams.
###
Today’s plan called for his recon platoon to leave their current shelter in a jungle-like wood line and cross a large expanse of dry rice paddies to a village. The word was it might be a staging area for the Viet Cong or the North Vietnamese Army, maybe both. If everything went right, the infantry company and the troop of armored personnel carriers left back in the wood line would then move out and join them.
For the officer in charge of the operation, the plan had the advantage of protecting the men in his own company while risking a handful of troops. Vietnam was a numbers war. Should recon get shot up, the casualties wouldn’t be figured against his unit’s body count.
It was a scheme Mack and the other men of recon knew all too well. They were the eyes and ears of the battalion, experts at operating alone on intelligence gathering operations. Ambushes, snatches, tracking, manning listening posts at night and observation posts during the day were all considered good missions.
No one thought today's assignment, serving as scouts for a regular infantry company, was a good mission. They were now under the direct control of another unit's commanding officer. Whenever that happened, they became expendable.
Halfway to the village, things started going wrong. A high-pitched shriek from somewhere ended in a sickening explosion followed by a geyser of dirt, smoke, and death. Unable to tell where the fire was coming from, twenty-four men dove for the only available cover. After that, it was a matter of praying they’d guessed right and put rice paddy dikes between themselves and a body bag.
The platoon began checking in. "What the hell was that? Where's the son-of-bitch? Is everybody all right?"
"Hardcore" Harding, the unit's platoon sergeant, yelled over from a nearby rice paddy.