Group Commander's Slut Daughter  

Sunday morning - two AM. I climbed the outside stairs to the third floor and
entered the dormitory. I'd just finished my last swing shift and had a
supposed twenty-four hours off before reporting for my first midnight. It
had been a rough day though . . . there was a full moon out and I don't care
what any anyone says, people get stupid when the full moon is out. There had
been eight domestic disturbance calls, six fights at the base clubs, five
vandalism responses and three airmen busted for drugs - they'd had the shit
sitting in the open on their cars front seat when they tried entering the
base gate. Everyone worked overtime tonight . . . though myself and the
Flight Chief stayed longer than the others. I was the Desk Sergeant and
dispatcher, between the two of us we had to make sure that all reports and
submitted paperwork 'jibbed'. I had been forced to retyped three of the
reports because those turned in by the responding patrolman did not come
close to what was reported in the statements of the witnesses. After talking
to them and our cops, I let them all go and said I would retype the reports
myself . . . less headaches that way.

Anyway, I was tired, pissed off and I wanted a drink - hell, I wanted a lot
of drinks and I had a bottle of Jim Beam in my room that would do the job
wonderfully. Stopping in the laundry room I was shoveling quarters into the
Coke machine, for mixers, when Peters approached me.

"Did you hear what's happening, Sarge?"

"What's happening Peters?"

"The Group Commander's daughter has made some kind of bet that she can fuck
every cop in the dorm in a single weekend. She's just finishing up on the
second floor now . . . I already got mine."

"You did, did you?"

"Yeah. She's not bad either and g-o-o-o-d looking too. She'll do you any way
you want it too. In the cunt, the ass, the mouth . . . she doesn't care.
Hell, she's so strung out on something she's like the fucking Energizer
Bunny, unstoppable."

"I'll bet that went over real good with a few of the WAF's on the first
floor. I'd think Kersey would have busted her on the spot."

"Nah, she's only approaching the guys - not the women. Besides, Sergeant
Kersey moved off-base with Patricks last week and Smitty's gone to Dallas
for the weekend to see her parents. That only leaves Patty Korwin. Korwin is
working Midnights right now and uses sleeping pills. By the time Korwin woke
up yesterday she'd already moved to the second floor so I doubt she even
noticed."

"I hadn't realized things had gotten that far between Kersey and Patricks,
good for them. As for the General's daughter, I'd think she'd be a little
sore and a lot sloppy by now, especially if she's been going all weekend and
has finished the first two floors."

"Not really . . . whatever it is she's on keeps her so high that a lot of it
doesn't really seem to register as it's happening . . . but she's a good
fuck anyway."

"Yeah, she's always been a doper . . . and stupid. Let me give you a piece
of advise though . . . go see Dutton in two-oh-six . . . he's got a big
bottle of Ampicillan . . . get about ten of the pills from him and take all
ten right now."

"You think she might be dirty, Sarge?"

"I don't have any idea, but that girl has always been a slut . . . fucking
anything that moved and waggled at her . . . best not to take chances."

"Thanks Sarge. I'll go see Dutton now. Should I tell the others?"

"No. He doesn't have enough for everyone and it will just cause fights.
Besides, some of the guys might be allergic to pennicillan and it would be
dangerous for them. Just get yours and let the rest take their chances."

"You sound like you know her. How's that? Didn't she just arrive at the base
a month ago?"

"I know when she arrived . . . I was personally notified of it by her
father. She and I have a history of sorts. I met them both before, at
another posting before he put on his General's star. There were . . .
problems . . . but I probably know more about her than anyone else in the
Dorm. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a bottle of bourbon calling me."


I was unlocking my door when she arrived on the third floor, coming through
the door from the central stairway and turning in my direction down the
hall. She still looked pretty much as I remembered her, medium height,
blonde, well-formed, trim body and a naturally saucy way of moving. She had
been attractive back then, now she was absolutely stunning. She was wearing
a mini-dress that buttoned up the front, wrinkled and a bit soiled now and
buttoned only by two of the buttons over her breasts. It still tried to hug
her form though, even as it flapped open and closed at the hips with her
movements - playing peek-a-boo games. Somewhere during her weekend she'd
lost her underwear, if she'd ever been wearing any, and I was given small
glimpses of the neatly trimmed thatch surmounting her pussy as she
approached. She may have lost her underwear, but she still had her purse,
over her shoulder and lightly clasped in the fingers of one hand as she
walked. She did seem tired though, the fatigue showed in her face and
shoulders . . . there was also a drugged sheen to her eyes and they seemed
disassociated . . . like she was only vaguely aware of her surroundings as
she approached. She looked at me as she drew near and her eyes seemed to
clear somewhat. There was a momentary questioning look, like she almost
recognized me but couldn't remember for sure. She stopped beside me and
placed her hand on my shoulder.

"I'll be back to you in a bit, big boy. Don't worry, you'll get your turn,"
and then she was moving again, on towards the rooms at the end of the
hallway. A few steps away from the last door she stopped, snapping open her
purse and removing a pill bottle, poured a couple into her hand and popping
them into her mouth. She swallowed them dry as she replaced the bottle in
her purse and snapped it shut.

Pausing where I was I watched as she knocked on the end door and waited for
an answer. Her hands went to the buttons at her breast, undoing them even as
she looked back up the hallway to where I was standing. She flashed me a big
white smile and then the door began opening. Turning back to the door she
opened her dress wide, displaying her attributes to Mike, the room's sole
occupant, and announcing she had a present for him - herself. She entered
the room and Mike leaned out, glancing down the hallway to see who might
have noticed. Our eyes locked for a moment and then we turned away from one
another, entering our respective rooms.



Inside the room I found music booming through the main ventilation vent and
I moved immediately to the phone on my writing desk. Dialing a number I
heard it start ringing and balanced it on my shoulder as I moved between my
locker, the room's small refrigerator and the desk, gathering the material
to make my first drink as it continued ringing unanswered. I waited, letting
it ring until the song ended.

I knew whose stereo I was hearing . . . it belongs to a kid on the first
floor who seemed to think he was doing everyone a favor by always playing
his five-hundred watt stereo at maximum volume. The problem was partly in
the design of the dormitory itself . . . it was a hot July day and the
dormitories were air conditioned with swamp coolers. Huge water cooled
evaporative air conditioners mounted to the roofs of the buildings. The
ducting, through which the cooled air returned to the rooms, were huge
wide-open three foot by three foot vents that ran to every single room in
the place, so what happened in one room, above a certain volume level, could
be heard in every other room.

The current song ended and there was a momentary lull before the next began.
The phone at the other end was picked up. "Banks? . . . This is Fraley on
the third floor. . . . I can't hear myself think up here, or enjoy my own
music . . . Yeah, okay  . . . Well, turn it down about four fucking decibels
or I'm coming down there and cut your fucking power cords again, got it? . .
. You too, just do what I said." The next song had come on while I talked
and I didn't really know if it was louder through the telephone or the room
vent as it really got going, but within seconds of his slamming down his
receiver the volume backed off to a somewhat more acceptable level. At least
I would be able to hear my own music without starting a stereo war. I turned
on my own machine and started the reel-to-reel deck, adjusting the volume
just enough to hear it clearly and letting my ears adapt to filter out the
music from the vent. I took the first sip from my drink and settled into the
old arm chair I'd bought at a yard sale.

I let my mind wander to what was happening down the hall and remembered my
first experiences with her, wondering what would be the result when she
finally knocked on my door and I rejected her offer . . .



Her name was Austin, her first name - not her last, and that may have been
part of her original problems. Her father was the Installation Commander and
her fiancée was bared from the base for dealing drugs. I was fairly new
there at the time and wasn't yet up on who was who and what was what around
the post. Later I was to find that she and her father were always on the
outs and fighting about everything. Much of what she did was just to upset
and embarrass him. She was actively trying, at times, to torpedo his
military career.

The first time I met her I was on base patrol, driving around looking for
problems, writing traffic tickets and responding to calls for this or that
situation within my patrol area. Responses were sometimes done alone,
sometimes with another unit backing me up . . . depended on the call.
Another part of my duties was building and area security . . . a fancy kind
of description for rattling doors and windows to insure everything was
locked up when they were closed. It was because of this that I had my first
experience with Austin and her beau. I had a habit, when performing building
checks, that most didn't do. It wasn't really condoned by my bosses, but I
did it anyway. When approaching a building to 'check it' I usually turned
off my headlights before I arrived and approached slowly. I used the area
lighting or moonlight to scan the building and surrounding area as I
arrived. This night I was assigned to the Golf Course and Base Stables
areas, it also included a few secluded ammo bunkers, but it was the stables
I was checking when I first encountered Austin.

I'd just completed checking out the golf course, rattling the doors and
driving slowly along the course service drives looking for people 'parking'.
It was a popular place for many of the younger airmen and their girls to go
necking and practice their back-seat olympics. Finding no one, I left my
lights off and, rather than pull back onto the road, pointed the old Ford
truck up a wide riding trail, approaching the stables from the rear. As I
neared I saw the flash of moonlight reflecting from the windshield of a car
parked behind one of the stable barns . . . there should not have been a car
parked there, hadn't been on my first check earlier in the shift.

Stopping where I was I used the vehicle's radio and called the dispatcher,
reporting the vehicle and announcing I was dismounting my vehicle to
approach on foot. She dispatched the Flight Chief to 'back me up' and he
announced his arrival time as eight minutes . . . no one else was closer and
the dispatcher advised me to use caution.

When I got close enough to the other car I heard the sounds of the car's
stereo playing rather loudly and saw it rocking somewhat from side to side.
I rather figured the occupants were busy and not noticing my approach, which
is exactly how it turned out. A few steps closer and I recognized the car as
an older Chevrolet Key Biscayne, a huge old gunboat of a car with lots of
chrome and wide flat bench seats. One of the back doors was standing open.

Working my way around to the open door I reached behind the revolver on my
weapons belt unsnapped and removed my mace dispenser. Holding it loosely in
my right hand even as my left moved to and held night-stick handle on my
other hip. There are too many people out there who are not immediately
affected when sprayed with mace, it paid to be ready.

The moonlight through the rear window illuminated the action in the seat, in
sharp contrasts of brightness and deep shadows, as I approached. I was
looking from behind, up between the legs of two naked people as they fucked.
Her legs were up on his shoulders and she was bent back pretty good, her
butt being held up off the seat as he dug in with his toes on the door jamb
and fucked quickly in and out of her, each thrust sounding like a wet slap
as he pounded into her, driving her against the far door. I could see her
arms around neck, her fingernails claws that dug into the muscles of his
shoulders as he surged in and out of her. Her shoulder, the one I could see,
was bouncing forward and back on the vinyl seat, making an almost farting
sound as it grabbed and released the plastic fabric with each movement. I
could see one mounded breast pointing at an angle from her chest and
bouncing up and back with each movement, it's nipple large and dark in the
moonlight while I watched. Except for the muted sounds from the radio,
playing a popular punk rock song, the sounds of her sweaty shoulder against
the vinyl seat, the wet slapping as their hips met and the creaking of the
vehicles springs as it rocked, their lovemaking was done in complete
silence.

They had no idea I was there until I reached to my flashlight, releasing my
hold on the nightstick, and turned it on, shining it up along their bodies
through the open door. Even then I think he completed another dozen strokes,
his pecker and her crotch now fully illuminated in the glow from the
flashlight I held. He didn't seem to be too well endowed, to my eyes, but he
was fucking her rabbit quick and hard as he tried to wear out that pussy.
His ball sack small and tight against his crotch hid nothing during those
ten or twelve strokes while I waited and wondered if I was going to have to
speak to be noticed.

The hair on his legs was dark and even his buttocks and back were covered
with dark coarse looking hair as I noticed individual beads of sweat sliding
down one leg. Her twat, on the other hand appeared to be completely hairless
as he slammed into it, each slap forward sliding upwards along her crotch,
pulling at and elongating the opening of her cunt as he stretched it
upwards. A small pool of sweat glistened in the pucker of her asshole as it
bobbed and weaved marginally with each movement. Her heals were resting in
the hollows of his shoulders as he jerked and surged against her, trapped
there by the positions of their arms.

It was she who noticed the light. She began beating against his shoulders
with her hands and pulling at his hair as she cried for him to stop. He
turned his head around during that last final surge or two and stared back
into the light from the flashlight. His face was narrow and had a dark
swarthy kind of look to it, making me think he was of South European
extraction even as I finally spoke, announcing . . . "Sergeant Fraley,
Security Police! What do you think you are doing here!?!"

He went limp from one stroke to the next at my words, even as he was trying
to stop. I wanted to laugh as I saw him plow into her, pulling and
stretching her tunnel as he had been doing on one stroke, then watching his
small pecker shrink and soften immediately on the backstroke and slap noodle
soft against her closing pussy lips on the very next.

In a sudden movement he jerked around in the seat and was facing me, his
hands clasped over his crotch and his ankles crossed as he tried to hunker
down into semi-fetal position and hide himself. For her part, Austin had
unfolded herself, rather nonchalantly, from where he had been pounding into
her. Her head neck and shoulders had been scrunched up into the corner
between the other door's armrest and the seat back. She casually swung her
feet to the floor as she sat up and leaned a little forward, trying to see
me past the flashlight.

It was then that I made my mistake in that first meeting . . . when I looked
at the two of them and said, "Get your clothes on and let me see some
Identification please." She immediately reached for her clothing and began
dressing, reaching into the back pocket of her jeans and passing me her
military dependant's I.D. card. I had to repeat myself before he began
reaching for his boxer shorts and, eventually, passed me a civilian driver's
license. 
As they pulled their clothing on I reached
to the portable radio on my belt and turned up the volume . . . I had muted
it so in wouldn't make a sudden noise and announce my presence before I was
ready. Bringing the microphone to my mouth I contacted the dispatcher and
advised her of what I had found - stating they had been 'parking' and giving
the names from the ID's in my hand - also giving the name of her father as
it was listed on the ID card. It was then that the dispatcher identified her
as the Installation Commander's daughter and that the man was on the
bared-from-base listing.

I was advising them of the off-limits status of the stables, when they were
not open for business, when the flight chief arrived. They were transported
to the dispatcher's office and I stood by until the vehicle was towed to the
holding yard . . . it could be reclaimed and released only to her father
during normal duty hours, if it was hers . . . if it belonged to the
civilian, it would be turned over to the local police and he would have to
reclaim it from their impound yard once they received and processed it - or
that was how it was supposed to work.

Once back at the office I turned in my verbal report and quickly completed a
written statement for the Desk Sergeant to make a formal report from. The
guy was in a holding cell, while the Austin, her father, and the Flight
Chief were in the Flight Chief's office - talking. I had just finished the
statement, sworn my oath that it was true and correct and signed it when
they came out. My boss took my statement and passed it to the Colonel, her
father, who stood there and read it. Austin was standing quietly beside him,
staring arrows at me and smiling the whole time.

After reading the statement the Colonel looked at me and said, "You wrote
this?"

"I did, sir."

"It's a very well written statement sergeant, however my daughter claims
that you made most of it up because she refused to have sex with you. Since
they were clothed when Sgt Sullivan arrived, it is simply your word against
hers." Looking directly into my eyes he calmly tore my statement in half and
dropped it into a trash can next to his foot. "I thank you for returning my
daughter to me safely though." and they walked out of the building.

The guy was driven to the Main Gate and released with instructions to never
try and set foot on the post again. His vehicle was towed to the visitor's
parking lot, outside of the gate and left there. He was advised he had
twenty-four hours to remove it or it would be impounded as abandoned by the
civilian cops . . . he couldn't remove it then because Austin had the keys
in her pocket.

I raised holy hell . . . fighting with my boss and ultimately our Unit
Commander before finally being forced to accept a muzzle where the incident
was concerned.



There was a knock on my door. Rising and opening it I found Airman Waters
standing there. "What can I do for you Waters?"

"Umm, You know what's going on in the barracks right now?"

"I know."

"I understand from Gary that you know the girl, or knew her?"

"Yes, no, not really." I paused for a moment and thought before continuing,
keeping my words, my tone, soft. "I've had contact and run ins with her
before, at another base. Her Father was a Colonel then. I only met her
twice, for very brief periods and don't have any idea what kind of person
she is today. Back then she was a whore and a slut, addicted to drugs, and a
total bitch with a capital 'B'. She hated her father, her family, and would
do anything to embarrass them. There was even a rumor that she once fucked
one of the horses at the Base Stables . . . I don't know how true it was,
nor did I care. That's all I know about her. Anything else you want to
know?"

"Uh, I guess not. I just wondered if you knew why she's doing this . . .
wondering what you thought I should do."

"I have no idea 'why' she's doing this. She used to hate us cops and I'm
only wondering what type of fucked up idea she's working at now. As for my
advice, make up your own mind what to do with or about her. Personally, if
she comes to my door I plan to close it in her face. Beyond that I won't be
involved."

"Uh, Thanks Sarge. I'll see you at work tonight."

"I'll be there."  Closing the door I found my drink was empty so I made
another and reached for a science-fiction book I was reading. I tried to get
into the story and relax, but my thoughts returned to Austin once again and
I remembered the second time we met . . . what had happened then.



About three weeks after the first incident involving Austin and her fiancée,
someone broke into the base stables and stole close to twenty-five thousand
dollars worth of riding tack and equipment. The Air Force Office of Special
Investigations (AFOSI) was called in and determined that the items were
removed through a normally secured nearby perimeter gate, but little else.
They had no suspects.

At the time of the incident, not having direct access to the AFOSI
investigators and not wanting to 'jump command' by contacting them directly,
I approached the Unit Commander. I reminded him of the incident at the
stables, of who was involved and why. The guy especially, might be someone
to consider as a suspect - considering his reported lack of employment, drug
dealing and use. Basically I was told flat out that it was completely
unrelated and I should mind my own business.


A few weeks after the theft I was again patrolling the same area, in the
same Ford Pick-up. This time Airman Addams, a newly assigned WAF Cop I was
giving base and duty familiarization to, was riding with me. Visibility was
somewhat limited, due to low clouds, but I was still doing my building and
area checks the same as always . . . lights out and Donna had already
wondered aloud a few times how I managed to see through the gloom. We had
just finished rousting a couple of teens we'd found necking on the golf
course. We read them the riot act about what they were doing and where they
were doing it, scared the hell out of them and then let them go without
busting them , , , didn't see the need. I just wanted to make sure they
wouldn't be doing it 'there' again.

We were pulling into the stables, by the back way again, when I saw it in
the dim lighting from a rather distant street light. The same dark Chevy as
the last time, between two of the barns where it was hidden from street view
but not from the angle we approached from.

"Aw, Fuck!" I said when I recognized the car. Donna hadn't even seen it and
I pointed it out to her as I let the truck roll to a stop and turned off the
motor. Stopping Donna as she reached for her door handle I simply sat and
looked around for a few moments. It was a little cool out and we had been
riding with the windows closed. I rolled mine down and listened, easily
hearing the music across the thirty yards separating us from the car. I
watched the vehicle closely as I asked if she had been briefed on the recent
theft in the stables area. I then briefed her on it quickly as I saw the
vehicle rocking gently in the gloom, knowing what was happening in the back
seat.

Deciding how I wanted to handle it I stopped Donna again as she reached for
the radio to 'call it in'.  She would approach the vehicle from one side
while I approached from the other. I asked her to remain a step back on her
side until after I had announced myself. This time I drew my revolver on
approach, not my mace canister, as we were dealing with the site of a recent
crime. I had also learned since the first 'bust' that he, if she was there
with the same guy - likely considering it had been his car - had a history
of violence and usually carried a weapon.

The doors were all closed this time, but every window in the car was rolled
down and I smelled the distinctive odor of marijuana as I stepped up to the
vehicle on my side. Because of the overcast and the vehicle being parked in
the deeper shadows between two buildings, I couldn't really see the action
taking place in the rear seat, just a lesser large shadow against the deeper
darkness inside of the car moving with the rocking of the car. Revolver in
hand I turned on my flashlight with my free hand and shined it into the
vehicle.

He was on his back this time, Austin on her knees and forearms crouched over
him, rocking back and forth as she fucked him. Their heads were towards me
this time and as the light came on she jerked upwards, her firm round tits
bouncing this way and that with the sudden movement as she tried to peer
through the light shining into her eyes. I saw his hand trying to move
towards their clothing on the floor and quickly looked in that direction
even as I moved my revolver into the light and cocked it, "Give me a reason,
Fuck Face." He froze in place, but I had already see what he was trying to
do, for there on top of the clothing was a large bag of what must have been
grass. There was also an open pill bottle and a small baggy with a tiny
measuring spoon laying next to it. He had been trying to conceal things.

Austin looked through the light then and smiled as she said, "I'll take you
next, if you'll let us go. I promise I'll rock your world for you."

Donna chose that moment to announce herself by stepping up to the other
window and asking "And just what are you going to do for my world, Sweetie?"
I received a great amount of satisfaction as I stood there and watched
Austin's face suddenly fall at the realization that I wasn't alone. That it
wasn't only males she was dealing with. Opening the door of the vehicle I
ordered them out, stopping Austin as she tried to reach for her clothing,
demanding that she touch nothing as she dismounted the vehicle. She tried to
argue, saying she needed her ID card so I could identify her. Turning my
flashlight, so my face was illuminated in the gloom without blinding myself,
I announced that I already knew who both of them were. On seeing my face,
she seemed to completely collapse in on herself as she slid forward and
complied with my instructions . . . he followed and Donna came around the
vehicle to join us. As on the previous occasion, he seemed more interested
in covering himself than anything else. They began complaining loudly when I
pulled his arms behind him and handcuffed him - naked and unclothed. I
repeated the procedure with Austin, using Donna's cuffs and walked them both
to the truck, forcing them into the back and seating them.

Donna complained about my keeping them uncovered and I directed her to look
in the vehicles rear seat without touching anything. "We can't touch their
clothing without disturbing potential evidence." But I relented . . . partly
. . . reaching behind the seat of the truck I removed two emergency rain
ponchos and pulled them over each of their heads as they sat in the truck.
With Donna watching them I returned to the vehicle and opened each of the
doors. Rolling up the windows and locking each door as I went, trying to
touch as little in the vehicles as I could. My last action, before locking
the final door was to remove the keys from the ignition and insure that one
of them would actually unlock the doors.

Scene secured - mostly - I climbed into the back of the vehicle with the two
of them and instructed Donna to drive to the Desk. I used the portable radio
at my hip to call it in as we moved, requesting that the Flight Chief meet
us at the desk and stating 'who' I had in custody. I also asked that the
Unit Commander and the Installation commander also be contacted (woken up)
and briefed. I told him that there were suspected drugs in plain view in the
vehicle and asked that the Investigations unit be notified. Saying that the
vehicle was locked up and I had the keys with me I lastly requested that the
AFOSI be contacted because of the location involved and the recent theft
which had occurred there.

I think we all arrived at the office within a few minutes of one another -
though 'our' investigations section took almost an hour to show up, but by
then the AFOSI official had said their office would handle it all.

We had only just arrived at the office and the Desk Sergeant's mouth was
still hanging open as he realized they were both naked under the ponchos,
when my boss arrived. When he realized their 'condition' he began reading me
the riot act without hardly allowing me a word edgewise. Donna tried to say
something and he told her to shut up before turning back to me once again.
She caught my eyes and I gave her a slight shake of my head, looking
pointedly at a chair to one side for a moment. She sat down and remained
quiet.

Austin, hearing my chewing out seemed emboldened for a moment until she met
my eyes, then her hopes seemed to dim.

I stood my ground, standing at a loose parade rest as I waited for things to
run down a bit, I would have my chance to speak when the boss finished. I
knew that so I waited. He was finally beginning to run out of steam,
starting to ask a couple of questions rather than simply preach at me when
the Major and the Colonel walked in. It was the Major's turn then and he
came at me so quickly, stepping so close as he began screaming about
indecency and basic rights, that I actually took a step back and prepared
for a potential physical assault - though he did stop short of that. Still,
he verbally chewed on me for a good five minutes, going up one side and down
the other without ever asking either a question or for an explanation. He
knew of the previous experience, of course, as did all of those present . .
. except Donna and the little guy in civilian clothing who entered during
the ass-chewing I was receiving. Through it all I noticed that the Colonel
seemed somewhat amused by the manner of his daughter's dress and he
practically smiled at me twice.

Finally, I had an opportunity to speak, but before I did so I indicated the
man just inside the doorway who had been listening quietly to the
proceedings, asking If we should be talking in front of him. He identified
himself as a Warrant-Officer with the AFOSI, responding to another reported
incident in the base stables.

"Who called you?" asked the Major.

"I requested that he be called, Sir." I said. "The standing order from your
office is that anything involving the stables be immediately relayed to
their office because of the recent theft. I was following orders, Sir." How
I kept from smirking at that moment I still don't know.

I briefed them on the incident then, about seeing the car and approaching
it, the occupants condition, their activity and the odor in the air when I
stepped up to the car. I told of having seen suspected drugs mixed with
their clothing on the floor and my decision not to allow them to dress for
fear of disturbing evidence. I spoke of handcuffing them, of locking the car
and removing the keys, of putting them in the back of the truck and covering
them with the ponchos - for decency - and finally of her attempting to use
sexual favors in an effort to let me release them.

"I did not! He's making that up!"

"Yes you did," chimed in Donna. "Don't forget, I was there too and I heard
and saw it all. It happened just as Sgt. Fraley said it did."

"You still could have removed their clothing, leaving the evidence behind,
and allowing them to get dressed, Sergeant," said the Major.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I really don't believe I could. Not considering the
last time I caught them there, Sir."

"Wait a minute," said the AFOSI agent. "What last time? I've reviewed all of
the case files for the last year and saw nothing relating to finding someone
in the stables area after hours, having sex or not." Both the Major's and
the Colonel's faces fell then.

I briefed the man on the earlier incident and it's outcome then and all
three, the Colonel, the Major and my boss backed up my words when I was
finished. They didn't have a choice really, though no one ever spoke of it,
it was one of those cover-ups that everyone knew about, whether they were
involved or not.


The final outcome: Austin was released, temporarily, to her father's care
after being advised that she could not leave her residence for any reason
and what would happen if she were so much as caught outside in the yard -
immediate incarceration in a civilian jail. Her fiancée was turned over to
civil authorities, held on a federal warrant, without bail, pending
completion of the AFOSI investigation. A search of the vehicle did indeed
result in the finding of drugs. An unregistered pistol was found under the
front seat. An inspection of the trunk turned up residue, small bits of
leather and other bits and pieces from riding tack and saddles.

Austin turned 'States Evidence' leading the investigators to the pawn shops
where the tack and gear had been sold. She identified her fiancee's drug
connections, testifying against him personally for the theft, claiming it
was all his plan and doing, and for dealing drugs in her presence, both on
and off base. She got probation, but was bared from all military
installations for the duration of her probation and that particular
installation indefinitely. She had to move in with some civilian relatives
at the other end of the country. He received twenty years for larceny and
another twelve for drug dealing and possession charges. Of course, she also
threatened to get even with me at some unspecified time, in some way, in the
future.

Me, I received an official "Letter of Reprimand" for the perceived
'vindictive nature' of my handling of the suspects and nothing else - good
or bad. Except from Donna . . . she moved in with me, in my apartment
downtown, staying with me for the remaining eight months of that assignment.



About the fourth drink I was finally able to relax. Calming myself after the
rough day at work, after seeing Austin and hearing of her activities in the
dormitory. I had convinced myself that I was doing the right thing this time
by simply 'staying the fuck out of it'.  I was well into the next story in
my book, a reprint of one of the Elric of Melnibone books, part of Michael
Moorcock's Eternal Champion Saga, when there was a another light knocking at
my door. Looking up at my clock I saw that little over two hours had passed
since I'd returned to the dorm. If that was Austin, she was either running
through the guys quickly, or some of them weren't home or had rejected her.
There were nine rooms lining the hall between mine and the one she had
stepped into earlier. When I opened the door it was her though."

"I have a present for you, Big Guy, Me!" she said, holding open her dress
and displaying her body for my inspection. Looking at her I saw that her
body seemed  more gaunt, thinner and more angular than I remembered it from
four years ago. Her breasts were still firm and well rounded, though I now
saw evidence of many love bites and forming hickies on them, on her
shoulders and the sides of her neck . . . she was going to be well marked
when this was over. There was also both a dried and a slick looking sheen to
the inside of her thighs and as I stood there looking a slender dollop of
fluid seemed to drop from her pussy and onto the hallway carpet at her feet.

She tried to step past me and into the room but my arm across the door her
stopped her. "What's the matter? Don't you like women?"

"I like women just fine, Austin. I just don't particularly like or trust
you."

She looked at me then, really looked, her eyes clearing and her brow
furrowing. I could tell the moment when she finally recognized me. "You!"

"Yep, Me! . . . And I'm not interested in what you are offering." I closed
the door in her face and returned to my seat, lifting and silently raising
my glass to the closed door before taking a long sip.



That, however, proved not to be the end of the matter . . . nor of my having
to deal with little Miss Austin either.

It seems she tried to bring rape and kidnapping charges against everyone
living in the Security Police Dormitory. Austin was claiming she had been
bound and forcibly raped, passed from room to room for the entire weekend.
But there was no evidence about her person of having been bound at any time.
When the blood toxicallity screening came back - matching the pills
remaining in the bottle found in her purse - her claims that dormitory
residents had forcibly drugged her was also cast in doubt.

Personally, I was called into the Wing Commander's office and questioned by
both he and one of our Unit Investigator's. I hadn't known it, until then,
but she had named me specifically in the complaint as the instigator and
mastermind of her incarceration and rape. She claimed we had met
accidentally outside the base movie theater Friday night - and on
recognizing her I had both attacked her physically and began her weekend of
hell . . . the problem with her story was that I had been on duty at the
time she claimed I attacked her - locked in the Dispatchers Office. After
the interview and my telling what little I knew of the weekend's occurrences
the complaint was torn up and nothing happened to anyone in the dormitories
. . . until about a year later.

She had a baby. She Claimed it was a result of her weekend in the
dormitory - which she once again tried to refer to as a rape in court. After
a consultation with the lawyers and her father, the judge ordered that all
reference to rape be removed from the proceedings. She was trying to sue the
military and the individual occupants of the dormitory at the time for
paternity. Thanks to military records, only those individuals with a similar
blood type to the baby's were tested for potential fatherhood. Six of the
then one-hundred-eighteen occupants of the dormitory were found to be close
enough in blood type to be potential fathers. These six were ordered by the
Judge to each pay twenty-five dollars a month in support payments . . . the
child was removed from Austin's care however and her mother and father found
themselves with another child.



I know all of this because of a letter I received from the General last
week. In it he told me of the court case, saying that I had once again been
personally named by his daughter. My blood type had cleared me immediately
however. He was writing to apologize in advance should I ever hear of the
proceedings from another source. To say that he really did understand that
none of the grief caused to his family by their daughter was in any way my
fault. He hoped that I, he and his family never met again in the future. He
told me that he and his wife now had another child to raise, then ended the
letter with the following line, just above his signature:

Thanks a Fucking lot!!



Honestly, my hopes are the same as his regarding future meetings . . . But
I'm still military and so is he . . . so who knows.



One of the objectives of this celebration is to remind those who can to make
a donation to ASSTR. Remember ASSTR relies on your donations to keep doing
it's great work. So if you, dear readers, can then please make a donation.
You can find details on how to donate at:

http://www.asstr.org/donations.html .

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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