Page 26 of Down and Dirty

“And he tried to jump your bones?” Terri asked.

“Nay, he ne’er tried to hurt me.”

Terri shook her head as if Britta were unbelievable. “Did he try to make love with you?”

“Yea, Zack-hairy did try to lure me to his bed furs. To no avail.”

“Why, for heaven’s sake? Are you… were you… married?”

“Nay.”

“Engaged?”

“Dost mean betrothed? Nay.”

“Are ya gay, darlin’?”

“Betimes. But what has my gaiety to do with anything?”

Marie giggled and said, “I don’t think she understands. Gay means a lesbian, a woman who loves women, not men.”

At first, Britta frowned. Then she understood. She had heard of such women but never met any. “Nay.”

“Don’t you think he’s good-looking?”

“Hah! He is so good-looking he makes my bones ache.”

“Holding out for love?”

“Of course not. At my advanced age, I am long past dreaming of those softer sentiments.” Well, that was not quite true. Betimes Britta ached deep in her shuttered soul, but she had learned to ignore the pain.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty and seven.”

“Good Lord! And you think that’s old?”

She shrugged. “I concede, I am not yet in my dotage. Still… ”

“Is it like a religious thing? No sex before marriage?”

She shook her head. “’Tis not that, precisely. What bothers me most about Zack-hairy… Lewd-tenant Floyd… is that he waves his manpart hither and yon. I suspect he has swived an army of women. Just like my father and brothers. They tup anything in a gunna that walks by with no care for the many by-blows they produce.”

They all nodded their understanding.

As they bedded down, dark now, conversation evolved to other subjects, mostly involving the grueling days ahead in WEALS. Cushioned by these newfound friends, Britta resolved to make this, WEALS, her new life path. And as for the soul-ache, she had survived worse.

I like your sugar, cookie…

“I don’t know but I been told,” the women running on the beach sang out lyrics in what Britta had come to recognize as grody jody calls. What an odd military they had in this country that sang as they performed battle exercises.

“Navy men are mighty bold,” Terri, her swim partner, called out the cadence.

“Navy men are mighty bold.” The rest of them repeated the refrain.

The five SEAL instructors who were leading the WEAL program wanted them to sing traditional Navy running songs, but the women had their own ideas.

The men, damn their hides, barely broke a sweat on these long runs. In truth, she suspected they slowed themselves down so the women could keep up. The whole time the women ran their hearts out, the instructors trotted amongst them, making both encouraging and harassing remarks.