Rehabbing the Colonel: Girls on Top

one

Staff Sergeant Karcin Adams

I shouldn’t enjoy driving through the gates of the base and into civilian land as much as I do. I am a soldier, for crying out loud, but in truth, it is becoming old and weighing on me. It doesn’t fill me up like it used to. I have been left empty lately, and that is something that will not do.

I grew up the daughter of a soldier who raised me as a single dad once my mom passed away when I was thirteen from breast cancer. My teenage years were spent following my dad from one base to another as he rose through the ranks, promotion after promotion. When I was eighteen, I decided to join up myself. It seemed like the best choice at the time. The only way I knew to bridge the gap between my father and myself. He was proud when I signed the papers and told him my plan to become a physical therapist for wounded soldiers.

So, here I have been since coming back from basic, going to school, and serving my country for the last seven years. But lately, something is missing. I feel incomplete. Like I am missing a piece of the puzzle, and as much as I fight it, everything in me says it because I am no longer satisfied just to be the daughter of the general and a soldier. I need something more, and unfortunately, it cannot be found behind the gates of the base. Although I love helping soldiers and other people. That will not change. Today, I am being sent to our off-base clinic to help out since the woman that was running that one fell in love with a civilian and decided to retire honorably. Lucky her. Getting out of the car, I take a deep breath and get back into the headspace. I need to be productive.

Looking at the clock, I see I have one more hour and one more client. According to the file, he is a decorated soldier who was recently injured in the field. He has been convalescing at the treatment facility. Now it is time for him to begin PT. Turning to make sure I have the needed equipment handy; I hear the chime above the door, and I turn to greet Lieutenant Colonel Delgado and damn near fall off my stool. This man is sexy as hell. His scruffy face and haggard appearance from months spent in the hospital doesn’t take away the potent strength of a well-kept body and the command in his stance. Sure, he is leaning on a crutch, and so his stance is skewed, but I can see the dominant leadership behind him and how effective he could be if not injured.

Realizing I am staring, I clear my throat and stand, extending my hand. “Lieutenant Colonel Delgado?” His hand touches mine, and I swear a zap goes through me. Holy hell.

“Yes. You are…?”

“Oh, yes, Staff Sergeant Adams. I believe your orders say you would be rehabbing with Sergeant First Class Glennis, but she has since retired,” I say, trying to steer my mind away from the path it is going.

“Lucky me.” My head jerks up to meet his, and I swear he smirks at me. Oh crap. This man is going to be dangerous.

two

Lieutenant Colonel Manny Delgado

This isn't my first gunshot wound. After thirty-two years, countless awards, medals, and commendations, it is the first one that has taken me out of the game for longer than a week. All I can think about is rehabbing my leg and getting back to work. In this case, I was just doing my job, no commendation necessary but they wouldn’t take it back. Saving your crew is the job if the job calls for it. I already get paid, there’s no need for special treatment, but they wouldn’t hear of it.

I have to clear my throat the second her eyes pop up to meet mine, my heart about bursts out of my chest. For a split second, I wonder what a gorgeous woman like that would want with an old, crippled bastard like me. Then she smiles at me and there’s no doubt in my mind how this will end up. With her under me, taking my cock for the rest our lives.

“Should we begin, Lieutenant Colonel Delgado?” she says, gesturing to the table in front of us. “On your belly, please.”

“Please call me Manny, Lieutenant Colonel Delgado is quite the mouth full isn’t?” I say, lying flat on the table. Now, I’m imagining her with her pretty mouth full and laying on my stomach has become a problem.

“Alright, Manny,” she says grinning. Oh, fuck, she knows exactly what I’m thinking and what it’s doing to me. “Let’s lift that leg, just to my hand,” she says. I easily lift the leg to where her hand is touching my calf. She lifts it off after a few seconds. “Back down. Good. “Again,” she says, and we repeat this about fifteen times. “Excellent. Let’s move along. Do you like music or would you prefer to talk?”