Rehabbing the Colonel: Girls on Top

“I’m free Friday.”

“Friday it is,” I say smiling at her. She gives me her phone number and address.

“I’ll pick you up at seven.”

“I can’t wait,” she says and I’m hopeful for the first time that by Saturday morning, she’ll be mine.

five

Karcin

“What about him?” I sip my amaretto sour and look at the guy my friend Lorin is pointing to. Some guy in the corner, smirking as he stares into the room. My other friend Stephanie smiles and gives him a thumbs-up, but I can’t stop my nose from scrunching. I laugh to myself, listening to them banter back and forth about the type of guy I need. As much as I hate when they try to play matchmaker, I love my friends.

I met them during a Yoga class I was taking. We instantly bonded over how awkward all of us were. Me because I am self-conscious. If you ask me, Lorin is beautiful, sassy, and thick in all the right places, but she is not flexible. And Steph, well, she simply has no coordination. So, we all tumbled into each other trying to do downward dog, and to say we were ushered out for failure to stop giggling is being generous. We went out to lunch instead, and a bond was formed. They are the only people in my life who don’t treat me like a soldier.

“No. He is totally full of himself.” I say, grabbing my cherry from my drink. I cannot stand guys who think so much of themselves without a reason.

“Well yeah, but honey, you just need to get laid. You know, pop your cherry instead of just eating them. Honestly, I don’t know what you are waiting for,” Steph says, shaking her head and signaling for the waiter.

“I have always wanted love to go with the act, you know.” I don’t tell her that lately, my dreams and fantasies have involved a sexy Hispanic Colonel on crutches. It has been five days since he walked into my clinic, and every night my pussy soaks through my panties and sheets as I dream about his weight on top of me, thrusting inside of me while his mouth says dirty things to me.

“Girl, are you okay? Your face is as red as a beet. Are you feeling sick?” Crap.

“No, I am fine.” my eyes don’t meet hers, and I sip my drink once more. My mind drifts to the date I am going on with him on Friday. I can’t help wondering what he has planned. How is it going to end? Is he going to be a gentleman and say goodnight at the door, or will he take what he wants?

“You have been somewhere else all night. What gives?”

“Sorry, guys. I just… been distracted lately.” It’s true. Manny has my head all fucked up. More like Manny fucking me has my head fucked up.

“Well, tonight is lame anyway. Let’s call it a night. I have a long day tomorrow.” Lorin signals for the waiter to bring our check. I feel guilty about spoiling the night, but my mind is not in it, and my body is even more distracted. Just two more days. How am I going to make it?

I am such an idiot. I should have told my friends about this date so they could have helped me pick something to wear, but no, of course, by the way, I was raised to be private and keep things to myself has to kick in, and now here I am on the hundredth outfit, freaking the hell out and a glance at the clock says that I have about two minutes before…

Bzzz.

My heart jumps through my throat as the doorbell sounds. Shit. Staring in the mirror, I can't help but feel sad that I have always felt so isolated and alone, not having a mom or sisters. Meeting the girls, I felt like maybe I would finally have the relationships I had longed for, but just like now, I find myself holding stuff back and inside. I finally realized that living with a military father, everything you do is judged and criticized. Every decision, question, and action I made was put under a microscope and either deemed worthy or not good enough. I think it was easier for me to choose to go into the service for this reason. It wasn’t something I had to adjust to. It was a part of all I knew. Maybe that is why I didn't tell the girls about Manny and our date. I was secretly nervous they wouldn’t get it. I mean to be fair; he is twenty-five years older than me, and to some, it looks…wrong. Hell, I have been the girl judging the young lady with the older man. My mind has been the one psycho-analyzing her wondering what her ‘daddy issues’ are. Now here I am, falling head over heels for someone my father's age, and I feel… self-conscious.