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thatbanditqueen · 1 year ago

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Basic Training Ch 6

Summary: Bess spends a Friday evening with Elvis on base, and gets excited for the party he invited her to the next day. We learn a little more about Bess' family as she gets ready to meet Elvis' friends, however, things do not go as planned.

Warnings: Fingering, dry humping, descriptions of the ever elusive female orgasm (not when Elvis is around....), and discussions of mental illness.

WC: 8.4 K i tried and failed to stick to my 5 - 6 k goal

My writing is very much influenced by the other women I write with, my lovely sister wives @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @ellie-24 @powerofelvis @peskybedtime and @shakerattlescroll give me suggestions, answer my research queries and help me find the will to live and write. Also, thanks to @ab4eva and @lookingforrainbows for their enthusiasm because honestly yes I thrive on engagement with other Elvis fans.

Special shout out to @whositmcwhatsit from whom I have stolen her characterization of Elvis learning what an OC likes as he pleasures her in bed, changing his voice when he is alone with an OC vs. in front of others, using his thumbs to rub OCs backs.... basically I subscribe to the belief that all art is deriative and collaborative and I pinch things unwittingly from everyone who I read regularly so thank you, and sorry, no, I won't ask for permission. I am a bandit queen after all. But if you have read @whositmcwhatsit's stuff you might find some of my characterizations of Elvis familiar and you should probably go read some of her stuff instead. She also alpha'd this for me and gave me lots of feedback and dialogue/plot ideas. But no Jade, I am already too jealous of your talents to give you co-author credit so stop begging me (in my head).

You can read the previous chapters of this fic about Elvis at Fort Hood in 1958 here

This is the playlist I made for this chapter. Kewl kids do that.

Chapter 6: Guided Missiles

Friday, April 11, 1958

7:07 p.m. on the grounds of Fort Hood, Killeen, TX

Guided missiles, bound to explode

Destroying my heart is your goal

You have succeeded in making me blue

Now I know the enemy is you

The Cufflinks’ “Guided Missiles” played over the radio as Bess navigated her car along the base road, she had just begun to relax her thigh into Elvis’ leg while enjoying how he crooned along into her hair with the song. Then she felt his hand on her inner thigh and bolted upright with a gasp, trying to wiggle him off as she changed gears.

“You are making it hard for me to drive, Tupelo.”

Elvis snickered under his breath, enjoying the way Bess shivered from the way his hand moved her hem up.

“I’m jus’ being helpful, Moo Moo, this skirt’s so goddamn tight, don’t know how you can change gears.”

Bess shook her head as she pulled into the PX parking lot, sliding his hand out of her legs.

“Well, aren’t you chivalrous?”

“Zat’s me, baby.” Elvis’ lips were nibbling her ear. “I’d open your door any day.” Somehow his hand was back between her legs and she gasped when it feathered over her panties.

“My door,” she pushed him off and put the car in park, “is just fine where it is, soldier.”

He grinned at her, and the way he looked down, biting his lip, was so naughty it made Bess tense with longing. She instantly regretted coming here with him, blushing when his eyes met hers, his fingers now caressing her elbow. Their soft touch did not feel any more innocent on her arm than they had on her thigh and she coughed nervously.

“Um, uh, alright, fork it over.”

He arched an eyebrow at her.

“What?“

“You were the one who wanted candy.”

“Bess, I’m not able to carry my wallet during field exercises, an’ I came to meet’cha straight after.”

Bess rubbed his knee playfully and waggled her lips.

“Hmm, Mr. Chivalrous, indeed. Ok, guess I can spring for some Reese’s -”

“Get a bunch, and a few Pepsi colas?”

Bess couldn’t even summon one sarcastic smart aleck retort, her mind was dulled by the way his cheeks lifted up in a boyish excitement. It made her want to grab his face and cover him with a thousand kisses. Instead, she nodded dumbly and managed to make her way out of the car intact, pulling down her skirt. If she tried focusing really hard she was able to walk upright into the commissary.

Once she was a few feet inside, away from Elvis’ hands, her wits returned and, in a matter of minutes, she was at the soda fountain asking the girl behind the counter to add a few more peanut butter cups to her paper bag.

Walking back out of the shop, Bess folded the top of the bag over itself a few times, enjoying the feel of the sharp crisp edge under her hand. She smiled to herself, thinking of Elvis’ silly grin as he conspiratorially looked around after dinner and whispered in her ear that he was in the mood for something sweet.

Studying Elvis over the last two weeks, Bess found he was not at all what she had expected. He was smart and funny, yet also childlike and sweet and simple. His face greeted her with the same genuine excitement every evening when she met him at the bottom of their dirty, dingy back stairwell. He had asked her to bring the same meal the last three nights in a row, homemade meatloaf on challah bread. And he was content to do the same thing every night: drive around listening to the radio and necking in her car. This trip to PX was the first time they had deviated from their familiar routine and gone anywhere remotely public together.

“So, this is how movie stars indulge in the finer th -”

Bess stopped talking as she sat down and realized Elvis was not in her car. Peering around the parking lot, she saw his side profile a few cars over, sitting between two girls in the back seat of a white Buick. Two giggling girls. Two very pretty, young giggling girls.

Bristling, Bess took a deep breath and calmly placed the candy next to her, then calmly pulled the handle and then calmly but forcefully slammed her door with a bang. She saw one of the girls look over, a blonde, but Elvis remained lost in conversation, laughing at something the brunette had said.

Bess wondered if he was even aware she had returned to the car. Not sure what to do, she settled on acting nonchalant and proceeded to fix her lipstick in the rearview mirror, trying to conceal how hard she was straining to hear what they said.

“Course I do, honey, scout’s honor. Yes, that’s right, 16 cars. Well now, what’s the point of making money if you can’t spend it? Wait a minute, huh, now, actually, it’s 15, I just gave my Messerschmitt to my tailor.”

She couldn’t make out the girls' muffled, breathy voices, just Elvis’, which was, for some reason, deeper and much more pronounced now that he had an audience.

“Oh, well now, most people ain’t heard a it, but it’s a German car, a small ‘un, rides on three wheels and goes real fast, boy, real fast, on account of how light it is. Feel like you’re racing in a bubble.” He whistled a high note. “Whooeee, goes right past all the suckers in their regular cars. But, well, heck, I hardly got to drive it, though, so naw, I don’ miss it. I was away so much, when the guy who makes my suits wouldn’t shut up ‘bout it, I finally told him, I said, ‘Bernie,’ I said, ‘Ya can have my Messer but you have to let me pick out ev’ry thing I want in ya store here. Today’… Yeah, it was a good deal, man, I cleaned him out.”

Bess rolled her eyes and sat there waiting while Elvis chuckled and answered more questions from the girls. Then, ever the chivalrous, attentive gentleman, asked them about themselves, wondering where they went to school, what they did for fun, and whether they had any boyfriends

“Don’ lie now.” She heard his voice get flirty. “I don’t believe it, pretty girls like you? I bet you’re breaking all the guys' hearts here.”

“Do you have a girlfriend?” one asked him, and Elvis laughed.

“Nah, no one special. See, I'm so busy, and I’m always on the move, it wouldn’t be fair to any gal to for me try and settle down now, ‘specially now I’m off to Germany. I’m just playin’ the field. Why, are you asking me out? Honey, ain’t fair to tease me like that.”

Elvis sat and talked with them for ten more minutes or so, but Bess was only half listening. His words about how he didn’t have a special girl played over again in her mind. Bess started eating the peanut cups impatiently as the idea of how insignificant she was to Elvis snowballed in her mind. She was just a girl he met during basic training, one of the many girls whose car he felt he could just walk up to and sit in. One of, what, hundreds he had probably kissed in dark corridors, movie theaters, recording studios, cars, motel rooms? Completely interchangeable with any other girl. Completely interchangeable with these silly, stupid girls he was flirting with while she waited.

What the fuck was she doing with her life? Baking bread and meatloaf and packing a picnic dinner to schlep on base every night? Curling her hair before bed and waking up early so she could take extra care to look nice? While he treated her like a pathetic doormat he could send off to buy him candy and then keep waiting for what now, twenty minutes? Bess had half a mind to drive off, and the only thing that stopped her was her pride. She would not let him know that he had upset her, she was not going to have a tantrum like a child.

The peanut butter and chocolate had hardly begun to melt when Bess threw another candy in her mouth and told herself she was being silly. Those girls had probably called him over, everyone in Killeen was on Elvis alert, and he was probably just being polite and humoring them. She ate some more of the candy and felt a little better, telling herself it was harmless. And what, she expected him to spill his guts about his love life with two kids? And so what if it was true? She knew he had other girlfriends, she’d seen pictures of him out around town with stars like Natalie Wood, Yvonne Lime, and Anita Wood in the movie magazines. Elvis' playboy lifestyle hadn’t seemed to matter this morning, because she knew they were just having fun. She was having fun, she reminded herself again, and she shouldn’t get worked up.

But it was ten more minutes before Elvis said his goodbyes, and Bess’ ire rose again as he lingered over their car window, making them promise to meet him at the base movie theater next week.

“What about you, Moo Moo, you like Danny Kaye?”

Bess looked at him coolly as he got into her car, then back at the windshield as she shifted the car into reverse.

“Sounds like you’ve already secured companions, one for each side.” She elbowed him off as he leaned to put his arm around her.

“I reckon you’re right.” He attempted to put his hand where it had been before, lightly trailing his fingers over the back of her neck. “Guess I’ll just have to put you on my lap,” he hummed in her ear, grabbing the bag of candy as Bess navigated the car out of the parking lot.

She could tell he was joking around with her, but she scooted away from him nonetheless, sitting up straight and rigid as she drove, the bitter taste of his indifference still fresh on her tongue despite the half dozen chocolates she’d eaten in the last ten minutes.

“What happened to the Reese’s?” Elvis’ voice trailed off as he popped the last one in his mouth, and he took a longer look at Bess’ stiff stance.

“Oh, I didn’t think you were interested in them anymore.”

Elvis sucked on the candy and grabbed a bottle of Pepsi from the six pack below his feet, opening the cap with a pop.

“You cheesed off ‘bout them girls back there?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, it’s a free world, you can go around speaking to whomever you like.”

Elvis sipped his Pepsi, looking sideways at Bess.

“Huh, so you hugging that steering wheel like you tryin’ to marry it for no reason, then, huh?”

Bess glanced over, her terse expression breaking. “Well, it doesn’t feel particularly good to be left twiddling my thumbs for thirty minutes.”

Taking another swig of his Pepsi, Elvis began to message the base of Bess’ neck.

“Aw, hell, honey, I didn’t even realize I was over there that long.” His fingers massaged the base of her neck. “Time got away from me, now that’s the god’s honest truth.”

Bess grunted as Elvis' thumb rubbed slowly over her shoulder blade, moving to her waist to pull her towards him.

“Hey now.” He kissed the top of her head, and Bess could feel her anger dissipating. “Scoot in here, let me show you how I feel ‘bout you, Moo Moo. Those girls don’ mean nothing.” He squeezed her waist.

“Seemed like something,” Bess whined, hating herself the minute the words left her mouth, she sounded needy and pitiful.

“Aw, Moo Moo, don’t be like that. I spend my days driving ‘round in tanks with forty other men. When those lil gals called me over, almost felt like my old life again. I love my fans, honey, but that’s all they are. Ain’t special to me like you are.”

“Hmmmm.” She could feel herself giving in as his thumb worked its slow, rhythmic magic in circles at her waist. His thumb's movements made all her blood rush to her core, and a throbbing need mingled with the anger in her chest. He sensed her mood shifting and kissed her neck as she drove.

“Always so jealous, Bessie baby, might start to think you like me.”

Bess sighed out as he pulled her towards him tighter.

“You’re wrong, Elvis Presley,” she murmured halfheartedly. “I am just bored, passing time ‘til I get out of this hell hole. You could go off with a car full of girls and it wouldn’t bother me.”

His hand was at the side of her head, pulling her into his shoulder, stroking her hair.

“You’re so pretty when you get all riled up, Moo Moo, your cheeks get so red. It’s how I imagine you’d be -“ He paused, his voice was tender and babyish now, even as he spoke with an impish smirk, giggling at his own innuendo. “ - after chasing me down in that car fulla girls.”

Bess sat up, slapping his hand off her, no longer really mad about the girls, just his teasing. Elvis' arms were around her again in a flash, and he kissed her cheek.

“I’m jus’ teasin’, honey. Now come on, be a good lil girl and find us a nice place to park.”

He turned the radio on, tapping once he found a station playing a song he liked, and waggling his eyebrows at Bess as he began to sing with The Clovers to “Blue Velvet.”

Bess shook her head to herself, enjoying how the night air cooled her warm, red cheeks. She had sworn that once he got back in the car, she would drop him off and not let Elvis charm her into spending the rest of the night with him. But here, now, she knew she was a goner. Her body betrayed her and the need to feel his lips on hers, as soon as possible, overrode any sense of pride or logic. She drove her blue Ford into the first dark alley she found among the armory buildings.

Awkwardly smoothing down her blouse, Bess tried not to seem excited or in a hurry as she sighed nervously and watched Elvis tilt his head toward the back seat. They wordlessly got out, and she stumbled into her open door. It was pitch black, the air was thick with anticipation, and Bess trembled as she edged along the leather. After two weeks, she still got nervous alone in the car with Elvis.

His lip hung down as he moved over and he caught her knee, lightly trailing over it before pulling her legs onto his lap. His eyes followed his fingers as they moved up her leg, sucking in his breath. Each night, without fail, his face would fill with awe when they began to fool around. He always looked like he had never touched a girl before, like she was the first woman he had ever met. Just the slightest caress seemed to light a fire in his eyes, and he slowly, reverently removed her shoes, one by one, swirling his fingers over each ankle.

They had left the radio playing, it was a doo wop program and the slow beat of a bass guitar thrummed in Bess’ ears as Elvis’ index finger begin to roll back and forth at the edge of her skirt. His eyes met hers, looking her up and down as he sighed.

“Hey there, lil Moo Moo.” A goofy smile spread under his half-lidded eyes, and he bit his lip, looking as though he had just unearthed a secret. His hand was now on her knee, and a charged tremor flared up the back of her calves. “I’m crazy ‘bout you, honey. I need you to know it.”

The longing in his voice made Bess want to wrap her legs around Elvis’ waist and pull him on top of her. Draw him as close as possible, flip over and crush him into the leather seat, getting as close as she possibly could until the car shook with the sounds of their love making. Instead, Bess took a deep breath and tried to embody an appealing, modest restraint.

“I’m sorry, Elvis, sorry for giving you a hard time. And for eating all the chocolates.”

He leaned over her, and his warm breath hit her ear as he whispered.

“I know baby, s’ok. I forgive you. You gonna be a good lil girl from now on?”

“Mmmhmmm.” She answered in her own babying voice, not questioning where that affect came from or why she suddenly seemed to find their childish repartee so enticing.

Elvis’ lips brushed over her neck, followed by a succession of kisses that started out soft and slow and then gradually became deeper. Bess fell down onto the white leather seat, her breaths loud and shallow as she unbuttoned his work coat, lifting her bottom to help Elvis as he pulled her nylons off. She laughed when they got tangled and he had to turn and look at what he was doing, swearing as he threw them to the ground.

“Damn mosquito netting. Where were we?”

Bess cupped his cheek, bringing him back to her lips.

“Here.” She swallowed into his smug expression while his right hand moved up her thigh, teasing her over her panties before he smiled wider at the way she rolled her hips to welcome his touch. He dragged his knuckles delicately over her center and Bess felt a bulge growing against her knee when Elvis looked down where his hand was.

“Man oh man.”

He raised his eyebrow as his fingers slipped inside her and she responded with an upward thrust, turning her face into his left arm at the sensation. Elvis kissed her check, gliding his fingers further into her, slowly probing her delicately and lingering over her bundle of nerves, repeating the movements that provoked a response.

Bess tried to remember the last time a man had touched her. This was no impatient swiping on the way to quick sex. Ben had made the effort to please her, though he had always seemed preoccupied, like he was making a grocery list while he muddled along with his fingers. She had had to do a lot of work twisting and turning to get the angle right. Elvis was right there, absorbing every twitch, every gasp, every clench as she pivoted his fingers toward what she liked. No one had ever touched her like this and it felt so satisfying that Bess couldn’t stop herself from grabbing him as she moaned out. Her hands were on his back, through his hair, in his mouth while he watched with concentration, his lips opening and closing with a gasp as she moved her knee back and forth over his groin.

“You are so soft, Moo Moo.” He brought his fingers out momentarily and Bess’ jaw dropped as she watched him suck on his index and forefinger, covering them in his saliva and grinning as he brought his hand back to slide easily inside her. “Sweet, too, baby, sweetest girl I ever met.”

Bess blushed, deeper, harder, redder than ever, and buried her head into Elvis' forearm. It was almost too much, to feel Elvis’ finger rolling over her slick nub, slow and steady, like he was canoeing them intently down a lazy river, strumming her like a banjo. Each stroke brought her closer to home, and a warm tingling sensation hummed up to her throat and made her moan out a guttural melody just for him. His eyes never left hers, and his chest pushed harder and harder into her with each exhale. It was the most intimate, vulnerable and intense experience Bess had ever had. She felt him grind harder against her knee, breaking their eye contact to drop his forehead on to hers with a loud groan.

Their bodies shifted back and forth together and the car swelled with the sound of their savage breathing. The smell of aftershave, Chanel No. 5 talcum powder, tank grease and sweat filled Bess’ nostrils, and heightened the aching, sparking heat in her chest. She pulled Elvis to her, meeting his lips as he stroked her until the bow broke and waves of electricity vibrated through her body. She cried to heaven above and hell below, drowning out the sound of the music playing on the radio, the sound of the car seat heaving up and down, the sound of Elvis’ chuckles as he held her, looking down at her with wide puppy dog eyes full of satisfaction and appreciation. As if she had been the one pleasing him.

Bess realized how much she had satisfied him when she noticed a wet, gooey stain on his pants as she lay in Elvis’ arms, nuzzling her forehead against his chest. She palmed her hand over it, smiling up at him.

“Maybe I should keep an extra uniform in my car for you?”

He played with her hair, grinning into her eyes.

“Nah, it’ll dry. Sides, it’s dark, no one will know what we been up to.” He took a deep breath, another chortle escaped his lips. “S’nice a you to offer, though. Guess I know what I have to do to get you to be a nice lil girl for me.”

“Hush.” Bess hit him, but she couldn’t help but sigh affectionately. “Though, gee whiz, Elvis. I never felt like that before.”

“Aw, there she is, there’s a good lil Moo Moo.” He kissed her head. “Why, she’s the sweetest lil Moo cow in the whole wide world. Gotta take care a my Moo Moo, cuz she takes such good care me.”

All Bess could do was sink into him further, allowing his babyish voice to lull her into a calm, relaxed state. She started playing with the lining of his undershirt, asking him about their plans to be together over the weekend.

In her more reserved moments, Bess stopped herself from prodding Elvis for future plans because she did not want to seem needy or anxious or too invested. She left it to him. She didn’t want to give him the power of knowing how much she liked him. This tryst was temporary, she knew how this worked: he would go on leave back to Memphis, and then, before she knew it he’d be off to Germany.

But when she was with him, in his embrace, all of her worries seemed to dissolve. Bess didn’t think about her mother’s troubles, her father’s expectations, how Ben had broken her heart or anything upsetting. Here, in the cozy afterglow of loving making, she felt completely at ease and her subconscious snuck out, seeking opportunities to be with him as much as possible. Her hand smoothed over his shirt as she looked up at him with a breezy, carefree grin.

“Want me to pick you up tomorrow?”

“Nah, honey, my friend has my new white Caddy, so I’ll be coming’ round to pick you up from now on.”

“What time d’you think you’ll come by?”

“Don know, ‘zactly, but I’ll call you. Reckon it’ll be after 5, most likely.”

“I should write down my number.” She started to sit up, but Elvis held her tight and kissed her nose.

“Nah, Moo Moo, jus’ tell me, I’ll ‘member it.”

Bess squinted up incredulously, but soon he was repeating it back to her, tickling her and telling her to be a good girl and trust him.

“I got it, locked down up here, baby.” He pointed to his head, and Bess shrugged, sitting up and swaying to the sounds of the song “Devil or Angel.”

“Aw, I love this song.”

Elvis followed suit, joining her upright on the bench seat and grinning as he tucked in his shirt and straightened his tie as he sang along. Bess smiled inwardly at his silly, melodramatic expression, he was clearly trying to impress her. She grinned wider when she realized that they were on opposite sides of the seat from when they had first moved back there, and she smooshed into him with a light kiss. He returned it, and they started to paw at each other again, tongues meeting and gently exploring each other until Bess pushed off, trying to be sensible and move them out of the car.

“You better go, Tupelo.”

Elvis followed her, kissing the knuckles over her hand as they said their goodnights against her car, hips pushing up against hips.

“Always takin’ such good care a me, Moo Moo. I jus’ know. God sent you to take care of me. Wish I could just stay with you always. I hate to leave.” He murmured, pouting. “I don know how I’m gonna make it through the night without you, baby. Gonna be dreamin’ ‘bout you.” His lip curled up at the left side. “And how sweet ya taste.”

Elvis dodged her had as she tried to hit his arm. “Tomorrow can’t come soon enough, Moo Moo. Mmhhmmm, better have that sweet lil honey pot all dressed up and ready for a party. Wanna show you off to my friends.”

Bess blushed and waved him away, though she couldn’t stop herself from rocking back and forth on the balls of her feet from excitement. This last week she had felt like a phoenix, rising from the ashes of last summer’s devastating heartbreak and all the self destructive behavior that had followed.

Being with Elvis was a restorative tonic, and she couldn’t wait to spend the night with him Saturday. It meant something that he invited her to meet his friends; it was an acknowledgment, a validation, a way of telling her that he didn’t just see her as someone to fool around with in a dark car. It meant that he really liked her. That she really was special to him.

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

Saturday, April 12, 1958

9:47 a.m. The Schwartz Residence

The house smelled like spiced ginger. It was one of those days when Mama had risen at dawn and baked enough food to feed the entire base. There were loaves of ginger bread, banana bread, rugelach, oatmeal cookies and some sort of roast was slowly cooking in the oven. Their kitchen had always been the heart of Bess’ family, not only was it where she learned to cook at her mother’s apron strings, but it is also where Mama taught her to draw, read and knit. Papa had taught her and Kay German by only speaking German to them in the house until they were fluent. However, it was at the kitchen table with Mama where Bess perfected her German. This was where Mama had helped her with her German homework and essays. With all of her work, with all of her problems.

Mama’s parents were second generation German Jews, and before she met Papa, Mama had played piano in Zayde’s Brooklyn vaudeville theatre, where all six kids in Mama’s family had eventually gone to work. Papa enjoyed regaling his daughters with the story of how he had met a dark, beautiful woman on the Coney Island midway who had captured his heart when she helped him buy tickets after no one understand his broken English. She had spoken to him in German, and it was the first time he’d felt welcomed and safe in America. Two weeks later he had asked her to marry him. Mama had thrown herself into domestic life after the wedding, and then into factory life during the war, always somehow managing to keep things taped together through military moves back and forth across the country.

Bess often wondered when Papa realized how different Mama was from other women, because most of the time, her mental condition was fairly obtuse and could be understood as harmless whimsy. For Bess, it was a mainstay of her childhood.

Mama had always spoken so casually of the hidden meanings she saw in the world, the faeries and demons that spoke to her, that when Bess was little, she had assumed something was wrong with her and waited impatiently for her own visions. It was not until she was twelve, after Mama had dug up the whole back yard one night and chopped off all their electrical wires to stop the demons from tormenting her, that Papa took her and Kay aside and explained that Mama had to go live at a health farm for the summer and Aunt Rachel would be coming from New York to take care of them.

Thus began a long series of stays at different experimental sanitariums and institutions over the last ten years. The most recent had been in November, a month-long stay at a small resort in Eureka Springs Arkansas, and Mama had returned fatter, calmer and filled with zeal about the wonders of natural hot spring bathing. But Mama was still Mama, and the battle for good and evil was still playing out in front of her eyes through the words and whispers and visions that she alone experienced. Bess was grateful that, for whatever reason, the demons had been staying mostly at bay. The faeries, on the other hand, had been quite vocal.

Mama turned as Bess entered the kitchen, and brought her daughter some coffee while she caressed Bess’ cheek with her hand.

“Oh Bessie, you’ve been looking radiant lately. The faeries have been murmuring.” She trailed her fingers over the large curlers in Bess’ hair. “They tell me you have a new beau.”

Bess blushed, responding sheepishly. “No mama, I’m - I’m - just going out tonight. With friends. Where’s Papa?”

“Oh he went fishing with some of the German studies instructors, they took three barrels of beer and a tent, so they might stay at the lake. “

Mama kissed Bess’ forehead and then sipped her own coffee.

“It is going to be a full moon tonight, Bessie. You are positively glowing, my girl. I think the moon goddess wants to have her way with you, you have to be careful. She is a tricky one, she plays with us mere mortals for amusement.”

Bess blushed, thinking of Elvis and her own hopes and desires for the night. A shiver of anticipation went through her body and she giggled, nervously.

“Hmmm, well, we’ll see, Mama, maybe I can outsmart her.”

Mama stood, following as Bess took her coffee and bread to the secretary’s desk in the hall, and winking at her daughter.

“No one can outsmart the mistress of the moon, Bess, she controls the oceans and with it, the waves within us. The water that drums in our ears and thrashes us forward. The current that pulls at our heart. And her power is strongest at the full moon, beware her riptide.”

Bess watched as her mother turned into the living room with a flourish and then filled the house with Rachmaninoff’s loud, romantic piano music.

Bess couldn’t help going into her evaluative mindset and pondering whether Mama was having a good day, baking and playing the piano, or whether she was hurtling towards a manic episode. She looked at the clock, and decided she would have to wait and see, but she prepared herself to cancel the whole night if need be. Right now, she would go ahead as planned, and called her friend James to beg him for help finalizing her outfit.

“I need a man’s opinion, that’s why.”

“Bess, trust me, whatever dress you wear, Elvis’ only thought is going to be how quickly he can get it off."

“Jameson!” Bess spoke in a hushed murmur as she rocked her chair back against the wall. “I don’t even know what is going to happen, he is an odd duck when it comes to fooling around.” James was silent. “Great, so you’ll be here at 5?”

“Bess, I love you but I am not getting involved. Didn’t you say he’s picking you up at 5?”

“He said he would call after 5, and I’ve been thinking, you should pick me up and drop me off, then I’ll get a cab home or something. I don’t want my folks to know about Elvis -”

“Bess, the General probably already -”

“Just be here at 5, James. I’m going to get my nails done and pick up a few things. Wait, better make it 4:30, just in case - ok? Please? You know I never ask for anything.”

Bess looked at the nails on her right hand, turning them over, trying to banish James’ suggestion that her father probably already knew that she was spending time with Elvis Presley. Yes, he trained officers to gather intelligence, but Papa could be quite blind about their home life. She rocked back and forth on the chair, noticing that her mother’s piano serenade in the living room had moved from Russia to Brooklyn. She was playing Gershwin now.

This is good sign, Bess thought, happy, lighthearted Gershwin was one of Mama’s favorites. Then Bess realized after a few bars that it was “The Man I Love,” and she pursed her lips at her mother’s teasing.

“But you always ask. For everything. ‘James, take me to the dance, James, let’s go out dancing in Austin, James deliver me to Elvis Presley’s motel room - ’ ”

“Stop, you know you love it. Otherwise you’d be bored out of your mind, as you refuse to have a love life of your own.”

“That’s what you think, Schwartz. I have a vast, secret love life that I keep from you.”

Bess grinned. “Good, you can tell me all about it when I see you at 4:30. Make that 4. And if you don’t show, I’ll inform the General that you stood me up!”

Smiling wider at her friend’s groans, Bess hopped up with purpose, thinking that it was time to wash off her facial mask and make a list of all the things she needed to do to get ready by four.

“It’s settled then. James, you’re a dream, see you at 4.”

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

Saturday, April 12, 1958

3:58 p.m. The Schwartz Residence

It was Kay who opened the door when James arrived, smart and debonair in his officer’s uniform with his hair coiffed and parted perfectly. Bess bounced down the stairs, beaming wide at James’ high whistle as she twirled around for him.

“Gee Schwartz, I think you might need to drive tonight. That dress just kicked me in the head.”

Bess did a two step in her cocktail dress, trying not to notice the way her sister rolled her eyes as she shut the front door.

“You don’t have to be nice, Captain, you can tell her she needs to wear something more colorful, more over the top, more like what Elvis wears in civilian life. I’ve been telling her all afternoon.”

James tilted his head towards Kay, “So I’m guessing the kid knows.”

Bess shrugged, “Yeah, oy. But thank god Papa took Colonel Zimmermann and some of the new teachers fishing. Mama’s out back painting, she’s been on one today. Baked up a storm, if you want something sweet.”

James shook his head, letting Bess lead the way upstairs. “Your mom is too smart, Bess. So is your pop. I’m happy to be your beard, but if they don’t already know you are dating Elvis Presley, they are gonna get wise sooner or later.”

Kay laughed, “Mama already knows something is up, Bess has been putting way more attention into her appearance this week and coming home late every night. Just today, she curled her hair, then decided to go to the salon and have her hair set anyway. And she tried on about 100 dresses, just so everything’s perfect.” Kay said, in a sing-song voice.

“I’m not dating Elvis, you guys. I’m just spending time with him. And, Kay, I think you are exaggerating. I was having my nails done at the beauty parlor anyway.”

Bess held out her hands for James’ inspection. She felt a deep sense of satisfaction at the dark burgundy color, and she had liked it so much she matched her lipstick to it. There was something about a fresh nail lacquer that always made Bess feel more adult, more confident.

“Let me show you the whole get-up with these low heeled pumps on, though I have some other shoe options.” She slipped on her heels, and twirled around again, as James went to sit on her bed next to Kay. “There, now, James, as a man, what do you really think? Too simple? He said to dress up.”

James looked Bess up and down as Kay snickered, prompting a quick kick to her shin.

“No, it’s perfect Bess. With that neckline? And the way it crisscrosses in the middle, and your hair? You look like Ava Gardner. It’s not too simple, it’s sexy. Sexy as hell. But you need a necklace.”

James stood, and went to Bess’ vanity, pulling out her pearl necklace from her jewelry box, and beckoning her over. He fastened it around her neck from behind, then put in the matching earrings, carefully, before stepping back with a whistle to let Bess look at herself in the mirror.

“There now. You're a goddess. I dare him not to whisk you away and ravage you the moment he sees you. It’s wholesome and it’s sexy all at once.”

Bess smiled and took her friend’s hand, whispering a shy, blushing thank you. They sat up there, listening to records as Bess modeled a few other shoe options and asked whether she should wear gloves. Ultimately, all parties involved agreed gloves were too formal for a motel party.

It was 5:15 when they went back downstairs and settled in the kitchen, sampling some of the rugelach as they waited for Elvis’ call.

By 6:15, they had moved to the living room and Papa’s bar, where Bess made Tom Collins for everyone, which now included Mama and Dickey, who had come by to take Kay out to a drive-in movie.

At 7, Mama began to ask if James and Bess wanted dinner, she was slow cooking a roast for Sunday, but could fry up some cold meatloaf sandwiches.

“No thanks, Mama, we’re just waiting to hear from the friends we’re meeting.” Bess stumbled through a sorry excuse for a story about two friends from high school who had to work later than expected. James gave Bess a supportive look, and after her mother left the living room, reassured her that a number of things could have happened with the drill sergeant overseeing Elvis’ dismissal.

“He could be stuck on KP duty, maybe he got held back because the others played a prank on him. You know how unpredictable those battalion sergeants can be. Let’s relax and turn on the boob tube.”

Bess nodded, made another round of Tom Collins, and settled in to watch Art Linkletter's amateur comedy show, trying very hard not to think about how it was almost 8 p.m.

At 9 James began his campaign to convince Bess something must have kept Elvis on base, and that they should get out of the house. Get burgers at Millie’s Diner or go for a drive out to the Waco Wet Dog.

At 9:30, Bess caved, and ran upstairs to take off her pearls and change into a more casual, purple swing dress. While changing, she began to mull over a secondary plan that was forming in her head, and she carried the entire display case of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups she’d bought with her to James’ car.

“What’s with the candy?” James looked over his shoulder as he careened his car around towards downtown Killeen.

“It’s sort of a joke, I um, I ate all his peanut butter cups the other night. I- I thought it would be a gas if I showed up with an entire case.”

James looked over at Bess, and rubbed her shoulder. “And what, you think we should eat them instead?”

“Well, what if he couldn’t get to a phone? Or got too caught up with his friends or whatever? He was pretty insistent that he wanted to see me tonight. I was thinking...” Bess looked down with a sigh, then back up at James, her eyes dark with determination. “What about just driving by the Star Motel on the way home. What do you think, as a man, how would you feel if I just showed up?”

James could see Bess’ confidence waver, but he couldn’t bear to talk her down, not after everything he had watched he go through over the last year. So he banished his own misgivings and squeezed her hand. “Honey, any man upset to see you walk in would be crazy. But let’s get some grub first, ok?”

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

Saturday, April 12, 1958

11:05 p.m. The Star Motel, on the outskirts of Killeen TX towards Waco

The air was cool now, and Bess’ mother had been right, it was a full moon that shone over them, illuminating the farms off in the distance on the road to Waco. The Star Motel was a two-storey building with rooms along the inside and outside that wrapped around a large pool.

Bess sat in the car, stomach churning, suddenly unsure if this was a good idea. They had definitely spotted a new, white Cadillac packed in the back lot with a temporary license plate. Which was both promising and unsettling, because it meant Elvis was probably there but hadn't called her. Bess suddenly wished she hadn't found it, but she was also unable to just slide back and tell James to take her home now that she knew Elvis was probably here.

Adrenaline was coursing through her veins and the cocktails had dulled her inhibitions.There was a giddy, bubbly feeling at the top of her head that egged her on and told her that he had invited her, had been adamant about wanting to see her, “show her off,” telling her she was special to him, that he was crazy about her.

Maybe it was the full moon after all. Whatever it was, every cell in Bess’ body compelled her curiosity and her desire. She had to know, and she needed to feel his touch once more; that voice and that face and those hands that took her away from her difficult, tiresome existence.

Taking a deep breath, she felt almost like a force behind herself was propelling her out of the car, and she only hesitated at the sound of James’ voice.

“Bess, come out and let me know, ok? This place is always crawling with creeps, so if you don’t come out here and give me the old heave ho in the next 15 minutes, I’m going to come find you. I won’t care about locked doors.”

Bess nodded back into the car with a bright, broad smile, and then strode over the grass and into the side corridor of the motel, avoiding the office.

Walking past the first set of rooms, she came to a breezeway and paused, leaning against the decorative, concrete screen in the middle to calm and prepare what she would say to Elvis. She was certain they were a few doors down, she could hear a group of male voices jamming and she perked up, clutching her box of chocolates closer to her bosom at the sound of Elvis’ low voice singing no more than twenty feet away.

That was when she heard heels clicking down the breezeway, and turned to find a small, petite blonde in a pink dress walking towards her with an exaggerated flounce in her hips and an ice bucket resting at her waist. Bess' chest tightened when she recognized Anita Wood from the movie magazine photos. Magazine photos of Anita Wood out on dates around Memphis with her boyfriend Elvis Presley.

Anita flashed Bess a dazzling grin that displayed the whitest, straightest teeth Bess had ever seen. “I swear, I walked all over creation looking for that dag gum ice machine, and you know where it is? Where these rocket scientists thought to themselves, why this is the best place to put it? Up behind the cigarette machine, on the back of it. Completely outta sight. Can you believe that?”

“Um yeah, I mean no, ugh. Idiots, I bet it was cheaper to wire it back there, or something.”

Bess wiped the sides of her eyes, willing herself not to cry, not to linger on how this proved that she was just another girl to Elvis, and definitely not preferable to the gorgeous beauty queen in front of her. Anita’s face fell as she looked up at Bess.

“Oh honey, are you ok? Why, you know you’d just feel better if you just let it all out.” Anita pulled a pink handkerchief with lace trim from her bust, replete with a monogrammed A.W. “Here, now, you can cry with me here, ain’t no one but us chickens.”

“Is it that obvious I'm upset?” Bess tried to chuckle, watching Anita’s face change to a confused frown as she noticed the box of Reese’s.

“Hey - what’s with the candy? Are you meeting someone here?”

Bess shifted, working against those cocktails to think on her feet and also play dumb about the suspicion she saw in Anita’s eyes. “Oh, ha, no. These are for me. I, um, I live here in town with my folks, and I just checked in here because, well, I needed to get away for the night and drown my sorrows in chocolate, if you know what I mean. Just learned my fiancee married another girl he met in Germany. Men, huh? What are they good for?”

Anita stepped forward and rubbed Bess’ shoulder as more tears fell down her cheeks.

“Well, God made men for a reason, sometimes I think it was to test our womanly resolve. Oh honey, I cannot imagine what that would feel like, to have a man wrong you so. Ain’t no dirtier dog than a man who breaks that sacred promise. But I tell you what.” She took the box of Reese’s from Bess' arm. “You cannot sacrifice your figure over a man. Nu huh. No way, Jose. Why, that won’t do nothing to get back at him, it’ll only hurt you and your future prospects. My heart is telling me that I cannot stand by and let you go eat all this candy and feel sorry for yourself, honey. That is the devil whispering in your ear.”

Anita trotted over to the trash can and Bess groaned inwardly as she watched a woman dispose of Elvis’ chocolates for the second time that week. Though she conceded that Anita was right, she didn’t really want to go home and eat them all. Well, she did. But she knew she would regret it.

What could she do, offer them knowingly to Anita to take to her boyfriend? The thought made her smile, which Anita, of course, assumed was a reaction to her kind, Christian gesture. Still holding her ice bucket, Anita patted Bess on her shoulder.

“See, I can tell you’re feeling better already now that the temptation has been removed. We women have to stick together. You should take a nice long bath, it will do wonders, much more healing than candy. Whenever I get upset, I have a good cry, get it all out, then take a nice hot shower.” She winked at Bess, and Bess wondered if Anita did the same things in the shower that Bess did to make herself feel better. Maybe that was why God made showers?

Anita smiled wider as Bess wiped her eyes, and mustered a feeble grin, which encouraged her to continue dispensing advice.

“Yessirree, you’ll feel better once you wash that man right out of your hair and start over again. Pretty girl like you, why, if you lost five pounds, you’d have your pick of the litter.” Bess flinched when Anita pinched her waist playfully, and was lost for words as her heart jumped into her throat with embarrassment at how much thicker she was than the petite blonde. Insecurity clouded her head and she was almost unable to hear the rest of what Anita said.

“Just stay away from big boxes of candy, and other temptations Satan might throw at you. Then, I bet you dollars to doughnuts, that boy will regret his decision. The best revenge is to find someone better and shove it in his face. Make sure to take out a big ole wedding announcement in the paper That'll make you feel much better.”

Anita left Bess with a wink and a parting squeeze to her arm, as Bess murmured a low thank you. She wiped her eyes and gathered her wits, then, when she was sure Anita was gone, she dug the box of chocolate out of the trashcan and tucked the rescued candy under her arm.

Straightening her dress as she sat down in James' car, Bess popped a Reese’s in her mouth and decided on how she would respond to her friend's questions.

“I ran into one of his girlfriends in the hallway.”

“Oh Bess, no, he didn’t! I’ve half a mind to go back and beat that hillbilly senseless.”

Bess shook her head, extending her arm out of the window and dropping Anita’s pink, embroidered handkerchief into a puddle of mud on the side of the road as they drove back to her house.

“Don’t, Elvis did me a favor. He reminded me why I don’t date soldiers.”

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

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sjsmith56 · 1 year ago

Text

The Shopgirl and the Sergeant - Part 3, From There to Here - Bucky Barnes One Shots

Summary - A shopgirl in Sparta, Wisconsin helps Sergeant Bucky Barnes pick out a birthday gift for his mother. They develop a good friendship while he is at Camp McCoy.

Length - 4.7K

Characters - Sergeant Bucky Barnes, named female original character, original female child character, Dum Dum Dugan, Gabe Jones, store manager, soldier and girlfriend.

Warnings - rude behaviour and comments regarding shopgirl’s height, use of term “Negro.”

Author notes - In several sources Dum Dum Dugan and Gabriel Jones trained with other units that were captured at the same time as Bucky Barnes, yet in deleted scenes from Captain America The First Avenger they knew Bucky by his first name during the battle of Azzano. For the purposes of this one-shot they are part of the 107th from boot camp and became friends with Bucky then. Military units during World War II were segregated and African American soldiers had their own, the 92nd Infantry Division. Racism was still rampant even in the northern states and I wanted to touch on issues Gabe Jones might have experienced being assigned to a Caucasian unit due to a clerical error. I like to think Bucky and Dum Dum would be supportive of him in small town Wisconsin, having had more exposure to black neighbours or friends. Most African Americans living in Wisconsin at that time were living in Milwaukee so it made sense that Eleanor's first actual encounter with a black man would also show Bucky the type of person she was. I use the term "Negro" as it would have been used in 1942.

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

<<Part 2

Franklin's Department Store, Sparta, Wisconsin, November, 1942

"Hey Beanpole!"

I stiffened when I heard those words. It was bad enough I was tall for a girl. To be reminded of it as often as I was hurt every single time. Counting to three I plastered a fake smile on my face and turned around to greet the customer.

"How can I help you, sir?" I answered, addressing a soldier with a giggling girlfriend, named Evelyn, that I recognized from my old high school standing next to him.

"My girl wants a new hat but the one she wants is on that display up there." He pointed up to a hat stand on top of a shelf. "You tall enough to grab it for her?"

"Not quite but I'll get a step stool," I replied politely.

I went into the back room and came out with the step stool that would give me another foot of height to reach the display. As I stepped up onto it I could hear Evelyn whispering into her soldier's ear and him breaking out laughing. Ignoring what I assumed to be an insult whispered about me I picked the hat off of the stand and brought it down to them, offering it to her. She took it in her hand, put it on and looked into the display mirror. Evelyn made a face, took it off and placed it on the counter.

"No, I don't like how it looks on me. Sweetie, why don't we go get a donut and coffee instead."

"Anything for you, sugar," said the soldier, lightly touching her nose with his index finger.

It was enough to make me feel ill but with the manager watching I had to try and rescue the sale.

"Would you like to try on another hat?" I asked. "We have other styles and colours available."

The soldier looked up at the selection then at Evelyn but she shook her head and turned around. Ignoring me she put her hand in the crook of his arm and pulled him away towards the lunch counter. I heard a sigh behind me and turned to see the manager, Mr. Deakins.

"Miss Warren, you really need to try harder to complete those sales. With all the soldiers we have at Camp McCoy there's no reason you shouldn't be able to sell at least one hat every day. They all have a girlfriend, money to burn, and we have a good selection."

"Yes sir," I replied. "I did try to interest him in another hat."

"Perhaps you should bring that hat stand down and place it on the counter or on the display over there," he suggested, pointing towards a display of scarves and gloves for the discriminating lady.

"Mr. Franklin told me to put it up there, sir. But if you think it will be better down on the counter ...."

"No, if Mr. Franklin wants it up there then I guess that's where it's supposed to be," he answered. "Carry on."

Mr. Franklin, the owner of the department store, had waltzed through the day before ordering staff to put things on display in certain ways and places. Like the manager I thought the hats would do better on the counter or the scarf display but I really had no say in it. I stepped back onto the step stool returning the hat to its place then returned the step stool to the back room. Since I was low on stock I pulled out some ladies handkerchiefs to add to the selection I already had. As I came out of the back room I was bumped into by another soldier and the handkerchiefs were scattered on the floor. Immediately I kneeled down to pick them up and was joined by the man who bumped into me. The brim of his hat obscured his face but when he stood up to hand me what he had gathered I almost gasped. He was only one of the most handsome men I had ever seen with thick dark hair, bright blue eyes, strong cheekbones, and a chin dimple that I couldn't keep my eyes off of.

"Here, doll, sorry about that," he said with a Brooklyn accent. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

"Thank you for helping pick them up," I replied. "Is there anything I can help you with sir?"

A smile revealed beautiful straight white teeth. "I'm a Sergeant, not an officer. Just Sarge is fine. I'm looking for something for my mother. It's her birthday soon and I won't get leave to go home and see her. These handkerchiefs are okay but I was thinking of something nicer."

"We have these scarves and matching gloves." I gestured towards the display. "They would be good for wearing to Sunday service or to a social gathering."

"Yeah, they're nice," he agreed. He looked at me as if he just realized I was almost as tall as him. "Could I see how they look on you before I decide which one I want?"

I picked up one of the scarves but before I could put it around my neck he took it from my hand and draped it around my shoulders, gently using his hands to smooth it. It was close to taking a personal liberty and I'm sure if Mr. Deakins was there he would have raised his eyebrows. Personally, I didn't mind. I watched him as he looked at the scarf resting on my shoulders and upper chest.

"Could you put the gloves on that match this?" he asked, looking pointedly at my left hand as he did so.

I put them on and posed them next to the scarf. He smiled and said he would take them. As I removed them he picked up two of the handkerchiefs and put them on the counter.

"Will that be all for you, Sarge?"

"I wouldn't mind your name and phone number," he said casually.

"I could get fired for giving you that information," I replied truthfully.

"That is a problem." He leaned on the counter and tilted his cap back slightly. "When do you get off?"

He ran his tongue along the edge of his teeth when he asked but I wasn't sure if it was intentional or if it was just a habit of his. I smiled then looked away and saw Mr. Deakins nearby.

"I'll write your sales slip up, sir," I said as loudly as I could. "Would you like these wrapped up for the post? It will be an extra 25 cents."

"Will I be able to write an address label for it?" he asked, noticing Mr. Deakins watching me.

"Of course, that's covered in the extra cost. I have a small complimentary card as well if you wish to write a note to your mother."

He agreed to the extra cost and I provided the card and the address label. I waited while he wrote on the card then pulled out a box big enough to hold the items. I removed the tags then took the items with me to the back room. There was a roll of brown paper there and I pulled out enough to cover the box. Wrapping it around I folded the extra paper and sealed it with transparent tape. Mr. Deakins was still watching when I got back to the counter. I wrote up the items on the sales slip and paused before I began writing in the customer name box.

"Your name, sir?"

"Sergeant James Barnes," he replied. "I would give you a phone number but I'm at the base and only have access to the pay phone."

"Of course, sir. Your barracks number is sufficient."

"Hut E19," he replied, smiling at Mr. Deakins. "Do you need any more information, miss?"

"No, if you take the slip over to the cash register the lady there will ring it through. I'll finish glueing the address label on. We do have the post office next door if you wish to post it right away."

"Thank you, miss," said Barnes, politely. "You've been very helpful. I hope your manager realizes what a good employee you are."

"That's kind of you, sir," I replied, keeping it professional.

Barnes took the sales slip over to the cashier and pulled his wallet out to pay. He kept looking back at Mr. Deakins, still smiling politely at him. He then asked the cashier for a slip of paper and a pen, wrote himself a note, folded it and put it in his pocket. By the time he returned Mr. Deakins had moved on to observing another employee. He was still visible to the Sergeant so the younger man put his hand inside his pocket and pulled out the slip of paper, sliding it across the counter top to me. Taking his package and tipping his hat he sauntered out of the store. I slipped the paper into my pocket, not reading it while I was still on the sales floor. About 15 minutes later another clerk came to relieve me for my break and I hurried to the ladies room. Inside the stall I pulled it out and read what he wrote.

Meet me outside the Oldham Theatre at 6:30.

We'll grab a bite to eat and go see a movie.

Please don't stand me up.

Bucky

I had a date with a handsome soldier. Feeling giddy inside I put the note back into my pocket and left the stall to wash my hands. After having my coffee in the staff room I returned to my station and worked the remainder of my shift. When 5 o'clock came I slipped my time card in the punch clock and placed it in the Out slot. Quickly I walked home so I had time to change and make it back to the Oldham Theatre for 6:30. As I unlocked the door I was shocked to see my eight year old niece Stella sitting on the armchair reading a book with no sign of my sister.

"Where's your Mother?" I asked, surprised that my sister Willa left her daughter on her own.

I lived with her and her daughter while her husband was fighting in North Africa. Willa worked at the dairy on the production line.

"She went back to work," said Stella. "She left you a note in the kitchen."

On the kitchen table was a note from my sister.

Eleanor,

Sorry to spring this on you. The dairy was short handed for the evening shift so they offered me double pay to stay and work. They gave me time to get Stella from school and bring her home. I'll make it up to you, I promise.

Willa

I rubbed my forehead. Of all the days to work a double shift. I sighed as it looked like I was going to stand up the handsome Sergeant Barnes. I looked at the clock. At least I could take Stella with me and tell him in person. Then he would know I wasn't standing him up for no reason.

"How do you feel about dinner in the café?" I asked Stella. "My treat."

"Honest?" My niece seemed excited at the prospect.

"Honest," I replied. "I was supposed to go on a date but I'll have to meet the fellow first and ask him for a rain check. Since we'll be out we might as well treat ourselves."

With a smile Stella stood up and got her coat and gloves on. I turned on the outside light for the front door and locked it. Grasping her hand we hurried towards the Oldham. Twenty minutes later we arrived and I could see him standing there. He turned, saw me, and smiled that gorgeous smile of his then frowned when he saw I had Stella with me.

"I'm so sorry," I explained. "This is my niece, Stella. I live with her and her mother, my sister. She got called in for an extra shift at the dairy. I didn't want you to think I was standing you up. If you could maybe give me a rain check for another date I'd appreciate it."

He pushed his cap back slightly on his head and looked down at Stella then at me. Then he kneeled down to Stella's level and looked her square in the eyes.

"I don't even know your Aunt's name yet," he said gently. "Do you think she would mind if I took two beautiful ladies out for dinner?"

Stella's eyes sparkled. "Her name is Eleanor and I don't think she would mind at all," she replied with a grin. "Do you really think I'm beautiful?"

"Definitely," he stated firmly. "I'm sure you've broken lots of hearts already and if you haven't, you will. My name is Bucky and it's a pleasure to meet you Stella." He shook her hand, stood up again and smiled at me. "I have a younger sister. She's almost thirteen. Stella reminds me of her. I do appreciate you coming out in person to break our date."

He offered me his arm and walked us both to the café where we sat in a booth, with Stella and I on one side, and him on the other. Bucky took his cap off and placed it on the coat hook beside his seat. Stella and I did the same with our coats on our side of the booth. The waitress came with a coffee pot and filled our cups with coffee while Stella asked if she could have a strawberry milkshake. With the menus in our hands we made our choices and ordered the food. Bucky took a pack of cigarettes out and offered me one, then lit it for me before lighting his own.

"So, Eleanor," he began. "How long have you worked at the store?"

"Two years, since I graduated from high school," I said. "My parents have a farm about a hundred miles from here. Willa, my sister, married a fellow that worked at the dairy until he got drafted. He's in North Africa right now. I came here hoping to make some money for college. I haven't seen you around before. Have you always been at Camp McCoy?"

"I was here for boot camp then displayed some aptitude for marksmanship," said Bucky. "All those rigged shooting games at Coney Island helped, I guess. I was sent to a special camp to become a sniper and received a promotion to Sergeant. Now I'm back and have been assigned to a unit. We'll be here another five months at least before we're shipped off to England."

"I thought I detected a Brooklyn accent," I noted. "Can I ask why you call yourself Bucky when your first name is James?"

"Nickname from my middle name, Buchanan," said Bucky. "Not even my mother calls me James. Don't know why they named me that but ..."

He shrugged with a grin. His easygoing manner was as attractive as his looks. When other café patrons came in and noticed we were together I was aware of some whispered conversations over why such a good looking man was with one of the tallest women in town. He must have heard some of the words being thrown out and he leaned forwards.

"Don't pay them attention," he said. "You caught my eye as soon as I walked in the store. I can tell you that in Brooklyn you would have a long line of suitors at your door, not all of them tall either. Never did understand why some men had an issue with women who were taller."

"Aunt Eleanor is one of the tallest in town," said Stella, proudly. "She played basketball in high school and Mama said she was the best player, boy or girl."

"Well, I played basketball as well," smiled Bucky, "but I was one of the shorter players. We had several that were over 6 foot 6 inches. What position did you play?"

"Center," I shrugged. "You?"

"Point guard. We got to the city championship but lost in the final."

"We weren't good enough to get that far." I couldn't take my eyes off those blue eyes as I spoke. "Not that we were bad, just didn't have a lot of depth on the bench. When we played against the town team it showed. They wore us down. I enjoyed it though. Was hoping to get a scholarship but the only college that showed interest would only give me a partial one. It wasn't enough. Now that the war is on it seems most women's sports programs have been shelved or underfunded to the point they might as well fold."

"Yeah, there's a lot of that going around," agreed Bucky. "Do you dance?"

"Not very well, as most of my partners were my girlfriends," I replied, looking down at my hands. "I usually led, being taller."

"You come out with me to the next dance," said Bucky. "I'll make up for all of those guys who wouldn't ask you onto the dance floor."

Something inside me bubbled up. He was already talking about a second date, as if this counted as our first. Our food came and I could see he had good manners, as he kept his elbows off the table and didn't eat with his mouth full. He did tell us a story about him and his best friend in Brooklyn, a guy named Steve, who was a small sickly man that he befriended when they were boys. Apparently, Steve was bullied a lot because of his size, but also because he stood up for himself and didn't know when to stay down.

"I kinda liked the guy for that," said Bucky. "He would get back up from where he was bleeding, cock his fists, look at the guy and say "I could do this all day." They would hit him down again over and over."

There was a fond look on his face as he told us. "What unit is he in?" asked Stella.

"He was declared 4F," said Bucky. "But he keeps trying. He'll get arrested one of these days when they find out he's tried to enlist under false names. He just won't take no for an answer, crazy kid."

"Sounds like you miss him very much," I said. "You must have a very good friendship."

"Yeah, we are good friends. But I do have some friends in Camp McCoy. A guy named Dum Dum Dugan. His given name is Tim but he picked up the nickname Dum Dum when he worked as a circus strongman. He's married with two kids. Salt of the earth, except he cheers for the Red Sox but he's from Boston originally so I'll let him have it. There's another guy who I'm friends with, Gabe Jones. He's in our unit due to a clerical error, and the Army, in its infinite wisdom, won't reassign him to where he's supposed to be so Dum Dum and I watch out for him. Speak of the devil."

He looked out the window and smiled at the biggest man I had ever seen and a Negro man, of which I hadn't seen any being in a small town in Wisconsin. Bucky chuckled at the look on my face.

"Yeah, they put a black man in a white unit," he said. "Someone made a mistake on his enlistment form and marked him as white. It's even on his dog tags. He's a good man. Smart, college educated, speaks German and French."

The two men came in, removing their caps and stood beside the table.

"Sarge, we were looking for you," said the bigger man, who I assumed was Dum Dum. "Didn't know you had a date."

"Gentlemen, this is Miss Eleanor Warren and her niece Stella ...?" he looked at me.

"Stella Howe," I said, offering my hand to both of them. "Bucky was just telling us about you and then suddenly you were outside the window. You must be Mr. Dugan and you must be Mr. Jones."

"Corporal and Private actually," said Dugan, politely.

I could see the waitress in the café talking to the manager. They both had worried looks on their faces and were looking at the faces of the other diners.

"Would you like to join us?" I asked. "That's alright, isn't it Bucky?"

He looked towards the manager as well and stood up to sit next to me as Stella and I moved over.

"Sure, slide in there boys," he said. "We've already ordered. Miss? Could you please bring some coffee and menus for Corporal Dugan and Private Jones? I can vouch for their character."

The waitress looked at the manager and he shrugged then nodded his approval. She brought a couple of menus, and coffee mugs, pouring them some of the hot dark liquid. They both read the menu and Dugan looked up at her, ordering two blue plate specials. Jones ordered a cheeseburger and fries, making sure he said please and thank you. He was nervous and I caught his attention.

"Bucky said you speak French and German," I said. "We didn't have any foreign language classes at my high school."

"Yes, Miss Warren," he said, showing a nice smile. "I studied German in college but switched to French because it sounds nicer to the ear. They plan to use me to translate once our unit gets overseas, although odds are we'll be fighting the Italians first. We have a few second generation Italian Americans in the unit so I guess they'll use them once we land in Italy."

Our food arrived and both Dugan and Jones urged us to go ahead and eat. Their food came shortly after. Both men were very interesting, especially Dugan, with some of his circus stories which he kept clean for the benefit of Stella. Even the waitress came within earshot to overhear some of them, going back to the kitchen with a grin on her face. I could see why Bucky enjoyed their company as despite their different backgrounds they all had something in common; a desire to do right by others. Their core of basic decency was evident. When the bill came it was delivered by the manager who stood there a moment before addressing all three soldiers.

"Gentleman, please consider this an invitation to dine with us again, anytime," he said. "You are all a credit to the uniform you wear and our country is better because of good decent men like yourselves."

Bucky put his hand on my knee and squeezed it when the manager said the word decent. I almost laughed out loud but managed to suppress it with a cough. After paying the bill we all stepped out into the cool night air. It was too late to go to the movies and I needed to get Stella home soon as she had school the following day. As I looked at the three soldiers Dugan and Jones gave each other a knowing look.

"Well, I think we're going to head back to base," said Dugan, with Jones nodding. "It was awfully nice to meet you Miss Warren, and you too, Stella. You've been pleasant company. Sarge, we'll see you later."

They both shook hands with me and put their caps on, heading off into the night. It had started snowing and Stella lifted her face to the sky, opening her mouth to catch the falling flakes. A smile crossed Bucky's face when he saw her do that and he also lifted his face to the sky, trying to do the same. She giggled at his efforts and he smiled fondly at her.

"Come on, I'll walk you home," he said after a few moments, offering me his arm.

We took our time, not talking, just enjoying the wintry ambience. When we got to the house I unlocked the door and told Stella to take her boots and jacket off then to get ready for bed. She hugged Bucky and thanked him for the date. He rewarded her with a brilliant smile, and she headed inside, definitely in love.

"I would ask you in but Stella isn't the most discreet 8 year old girl," I said. "I'm sorry your plans got turned sideways."

"I still had a good time," he replied. "You are good company and you were friendly to Dum Dum and Gabe. That means a lot."

"They're good men," I said, then I looked away briefly. "Will I see you again?"

"Well, I meant what I said about the next dance," he replied, smiling in a way that almost melted me inside. "I would really like to take you out and give you the kind of date you deserve."

"I'd like that. You know where I work and where I live. We don't have a telephone that isn't a party line."

"I know where to find you."

He stepped closer and put his hands around my waist, drawing me in closer. When his lips touched mine he opened them and gently pressed his tongue against my lips. As mine opened I couldn't believe how soft his kiss was. His hands went around my back enclosing me in his embrace. It was the best kiss I ever had.

In the remaining months he was there until the 107th got their final orders we went out many times. He was a good dancer and made me a better one as well. We went to dinner, the movies, a few sleigh rides, and had a memorable weekend in Milwaukee before he left where he taught me about being with a man. After that first time together he told me about being a ladies man and admitted he initially saw me as his next conquest. I guess when I showed up with my niece and he had the good manners to adapt to the situation that he saw something more in me. Maybe not something long lasting but something satisfying all the same and I like to think we parted as friends. After he returned to Brooklyn for a week's leave then shipped out to England we did write each other, and I'm sure he laughed out loud over my description of Mr. Deakins and Mr. Franklin having a fist fight on the sales floor about how to dress the July 4th window display.

When his letters suddenly stopped in October, 1943 I was dismayed to see his name on the list of suspected POWs. Then I was ecstatic when I received a Christmas letter with a picture of him and his rescuer Captain America, who turned out to be his boyhood friend Steve Rogers, no longer a small, sickly man. It was Steve himself who wrote me about Bucky's death on a mission, early in 1945. He described how much my friendship meant to Bucky and promised to come and see me when the war was over. It never happened because he went missing a month later.

I never did go to college but I did move to Milwaukee and found work as a clerk in a lawyer's office there. One of the younger partners, Thomas Endicott, returned from his war experience a couple of months after VE Day. At 6 foot 5 inches he was taller than me, but I was taller than any of the women in the office and he must have liked that because he asked me out on a date within a couple of weeks of his return. I told him about Bucky and he told me about the realization that he could never hunt again after seeing all the death in Europe. He liked going to the movies, and dancing, and we cut quite the figure on our dates. We were married in August of 1946 and were happy. But I still remember James Buchanan Barnes, the first man who "noticed" me and who was my first real love even though I wasn't the only woman he dated. For those months we saw and wrote each other Bucky was the best thing that ever happened to me. I hoped that when he died he wasn't alone but I'll never know because even though Dum Dum wrote me he said Bucky's death happened on a secret mission that they couldn't talk about. He was the best of men and that's how I remember him.

Part 4>>

Series Masterlist

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes fanfiction #buckybarnes original female character #soft bucky #ww2 bucky #camp McCoy #basic training #tall girls

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