A Courtmartial?

COURT-MARTIAL

 

Just a short little story to comprise my first submission to Literotica. The following caveats apply:

-Very little sex

-More dialogue than action

©2021

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I entered the base through the eastern guard post a little after dawn, and drove leisurely through the humid summer morning, watching the pedestrian traffic of uniformed airmen hurrying toward their duty stations. Driving past the flight line, memories of conflicts past rose at the sight of the fighters parked in the hangar doorways.

By the time that I arrived at my desk at 7:00 AM, my clerk had coffee brewed, and a stack of paperwork on my desk to occupy my day. I dove in and did the grunt work that takes up most of my time as Executive Officer of the 4^th Tactical Fighter Wing.

My name is Robin Trasker and am a newly frocked full Colonel in the USAF. I have been a shit-hot fighter jockey in my career and having been promoted substantially before my contemporaries, I’m on my way to general officer rank. I took over as the exec of the 4^th Tactical Fighter Wing six months ago, and in another ten months, when Fred Carson retires, I’ll take over as commanding officer, the youngest wing commander in the Air Force at the age of forty-three. Ambition is my watchword, and hard work is the key to success; at least that’s what my dad drummed into my head, and to this point, he seems to have been on the money.

As I plowed through the blizzard of paperwork that is the bane of the executive officer of any large organization, I found myself unusually distracted. This afternoon, I was going to be forced to do something that I wasn’t looking forward to. Though there are slightly over 1000 people in the command, I made it my business to know the senior NCOs, and pay attention to their work and careers, and one of them had fucked up big time. Under normal circumstances, this wouldn’t have been a matter that would come to the attention of the Wing Office, but I had chosen to become involved because of the airman in question.

After lunch at the Officers Mess with Fred, I piloted my golf cart back to the office and dug in again. Not long after, at 2:00 PM, my clerk informed me that Master Sergeant Echeverria had arrived for her appointment. I straightened my utility blue ‘cammies’, sat bolt upright in my chair, folded my hands on the desk, and told the clerk to send her in.

I answered the brisk knock with a “come,” and MSgt. Maria Echeverria, strode into the room, stopped, came to attention, reported, and stood waiting for my customary “at ease” order. Instead, I looked at her steadily for nearly a minute, before ordering her to parade rest.

At this point MSgt. Echeverria began looking decidedly uncomfortable, since, normally, I would have invited her, as a senior NCO, to take a seat.

Maria Echeverria was a startlingly good-looking woman. She was six feet tall, athletically sculpted, and her uniform was absolutely immaculate, the very picture of a perfect USAF NCO. Her face in its chiseled and severe beauty told the story of her Mayan heritage, but at the moment, the only thing I could read was the anxiety and curiosity in her eyes as she stared straight ahead.

“Sgt. Echeverria, take a seat, please,” I barked, not looking at her while reading from a stack of papers in front of me.

After being seated, she asked, “you wanted to see me, sir?”

Looking up at her with a cold stare, and dragging it out for another minute, I said, “Echeverria, what in the world were you thinking?”

She cocked her head, and stared at me, seemingly puzzled, and responded, “I’m not sure that I understand, sir.”

After a long sigh, I said, “OK, play it that way if you like. We’ll just take it from there.”

I picked up a sheet of paper from my desk, and, read from it, “MSgt. Maria Echeverria, it is my duty to inform you that you may be subject to being brought before a general court-martial to answer to charges under the terms of Article 134 of the Uniform Code of Military Justice, to wit, adultery, in that: 1.) you did illegally have sexual intercourse with another person, and 2.) at the time, you were aware that person was married to someone other than yourself. The maximum penalty if found guilty is dishonorable discharge and forfeiture of all rank and benefits. Do you understand the notification that I have provided to you?”

Had she been hit in the head with a hammer, the Master Sergeant couldn’t have been more stunned; and she had a right to be. I had just raised the specter of her losing all that she had worked for during her entire Air Force career.

Maria Echeverria, according to her service record, had joined the Air Force from a bad family situation and neighborhood on the south side of Chicago and had found a home in the military. She was sixteen years into her career, and at barely thirty-five years old, was only four years from being able to claim full retirement benefits, and with her background and capability, could likely make Senior Master-Sergeant and stay on for the full thirty years. With an Article 134 conviction, however, the best she could hope for would be a two-grade reduction in rank and no chance of further promotion. It would be a bitter end to a heretofore outstanding career.

After catching her breath, her shoulders slumped defeatedly, she looked me directly in the eye, and said, “I understand completely sir.”

Pausing for a beat, I said, “do you mind if we go off the record for a moment here, Sergeant?”

Shell-shocked, she said, “no sir, whatever you think best.”

Shaking my head, I blurted out, “what in the fuck were you thinking, Maria? A great career like yours, and you take a chance on losing it all for sex? What the hell is that?”

Looking down at the floor embarrassed and ashamed, she murmured, “I know it’s no excuse sir, but I suppose the stupid and painfully honest answer is that I’m in love.”

I just snorted and shook my head in frustration. “Fuck love! See if love pays you a pension! I just hope that you can find someone with some stroke to speak for you because you understand that I can’t do it. You do understand that don’t you?”

She looked at me sadly, and responded, “I know sir, and understand completely. I want you to know how deeply sorry I am for having disappointed you and putting you in this situation. Everyone knows that you’re one of the good guys, a straight-shooter and you go by the book.”

Taking a long breath, I said, “Sometimes I wish that I had it in me to play the angles, but I just can’t do it. I suppose that’s all there is to say. You’re dismissed, Sergeant.”

After she rose from the chair disconsolately and had gone, I spent more time than I should have, regretting the loss to the service if she didn’t manage to pull some good luck out of her ass.

Staying too long at the office was an unfortunate habit of mine, but that evening, I left at 5:30 and headed for our home off-base.

Both my wife and I come from money, so we had never had to live in base housing and had bought homes wherever we were stationed. We always held on to each of them after we were transferred to the next duty station, building a nice rental home portfolio that would pad what I hoped would be a general’s retirement benefits.

My father is listed in the 400 wealthiest Americans in the Forbes ratings and believed in the old British tradition of one son as heir to the family business, one to the military, and one to the ministry. I was the second son, and, with my older brother firmly ensconced in dad’s company in some way or another, I was expected to go military; it turned out to be the best thing in the world for me.

Always a thrill-seeker and risk-taker, I attended the United States Air Force Academy, and it straightened my immature ass out. I achieved a sterling academic and athletic record, and after graduation went into flight training, subsequently becoming an F-15E Strike Eagle pilot, and seeing distinguished action in both Iraq and Afghanistan.

My career also wasn’t hurt by the fact that at the Academy, I came to the attention of Brigadier General Bertram Lawrence, and he became my de facto mentor and ‘air daddy’. I was further endeared to the General by the fact that I married his daughter Jacqueline, a wild, strikingly beautiful redhead, and, a few years later, presented the general with twin granddaughters who were now fifteen-year-old redhaired beauties like their mother. The General and his family came from old money also, and Jacqueline was the fortunate beneficiary of a hefty trust-fund income that helped make a military career much more comfortable than it might have been otherwise.

So, there I was barely 20 years into my career, at least two years ahead of my contemporaries in the race to achieve general officer rank, financially secure, and comfortably married with a picture-perfect family.

I pulled into the gated community, wended my way through the tree-lined streets, turning into the winding drive that led up to the 4000 square foot home where I parked my Porsche 911S in the garage and went looking for Jacqui. I found her in the kitchen, kissed the nape of her neck as she stood at the sink preparing something and went up to take a refreshing shower. As I came back downstairs, the girls were in the family room bickering over something and I used my officer voice and demeanor to warn them to settle down and tell them to put some clothes on, that young “ladies don’t sit around the house in panties and crop-tops.” After a vigorous physical attack in an attempt to kiss and hug the sternness out of me, they just ignored me and started bantering again. I looked at them for a moment and marveled at how much they looked like their mother. They were traffic-stoppers just as she was.

I found Jacqui in the kitchen putting the finishing touches on dinner and asked if she’d care for a drink before eating. Receiving a distracted acceptance, I built a shaker of martinis and suggested that we eat alone in the kitchen giving the two hellions a couple of trays to take to the family room.

After having our drinks and getting everyone served and sitting at the table, we began on the prime cut of roast beef that she had prepared, and I began to tell her about my day. I went through the problems we were having with spares for the fighters that were known as “hangar-queens” because they weren’t fit for flight, for budgetary reasons. I complained about some of the group and squadron leaders not pulling what I thought was their full weight, and just generally grumped and harrumphed as put-upon husbands are required to do to justify their supposed stature as the head of the family.

And then, shaking my head, I said, “but the toughest job of the day was telling an outstanding Sergeant like Maria Echeverria that her career is very likely over because she’s most likely going to be court-martialed for adultery.”

I then went on to tell Jacqui about the Sergeant’s sterling record, and what a fucking shame it was that it was all going to be ruined because of such a serious misjudgment on her part.

I looked at Jacqui, and as she was methodically chewing a mouthful of beef, I said, “isn’t that a goddam shame?”

She nodded and simply said, “yes, it is. It’s a real shame.”

I asked about her day, and she quietly gave me a rundown on some community activities that she was involved in and some of the funny things the girls said.

We ate in silence for a moment until I swallowed, downed the last of my martini, glanced at her, and said, “well, aren’t you going to at least speak up for Sergeant Echeverria, or Maria, as you call her?”

Jacqui was looking down at her plate, and without raising her eyes, she said, “why would I do that?”

“Well, shit Jacqui, I’m sure she called you this afternoon. You two have been lovers since a month after we arrived at this duty station and have gotten together for sex at least three times a week ever since. The Sergeant told me in the office today that the reason she committed adultery is for love, without mentioning your name I might add. And the tapes I have of the two of you clearly show you vowing that you love her also. I would at least expect you to stand up for her, to try to convince me to help her in some way or another.”

Jacqui’s head shot up and she was looking at me like a possum just before the tire rolls over it. She was convulsively shaking her head, but I headed her off.

“Don’t bother to deny it. I have tapes, pictures, recordings, everything I need to convince me that your affair isn’t a casual one.”

“Oh, god, Robin, it’s not that way at all,” she said frantically, “it was a mistake, just some experimentation on my part, and I swear it’ll never happen again. Please, we can work through this honey.”

“I dunno, Jacqui”, I said between bites, “it sure seemed on the tapes as if you love Maria, and, by the way, how could you not? She is a stunningly beautiful woman, and the two of you just seem perfect together. Excellent roast beef by the way.”

Her mouth gaped open, and her eyes were wide, as she blurted out, “Robin, we have to work this out; we’ve been married for too long to not, at least, try, and (at this point she got a cagey look in her eye) what would daddy say if you threw me out?”

Pausing for a sip of wine, I responded, “well, as to that, Jacqui my love, I spoke to him this afternoon, and he agrees with me that you’ve gotta go. If you don’t believe me, call him yourself. Your behavior, past and present, has gotten to the point that it’s counterproductive to my career, and at this stage, it makes no difference to the Air Force community whether I’m married or not. My performance speaks for itself, and your presence or absence won’t make any difference to anyone who matters.”

“What do you mean, my behavior past and present,” she said heatedly?

‘Shit woman, are you truly under the delusional impression that I’m not aware of all of your affairs? You’ve been a one-woman ‘fucknado’ everywhere we’ve been stationed. After I took care of the irate husband at our second posting down in San Antonio, you know, the one where you were fucking his newlywed grocery-checker wife, I called your dad and discussed that one, and then later on the many and varied future situations with him. He let me in on the fact that he had to move you from one college to another after your freshman roommate tried to kill herself when you left her for another girl after you’d initiated her into the glories of sapphic love in the first place. I know you like cock Jacqui, I have no doubt of that, but face the facts, girl. You’re not happy unless you have a face-full of pussy and you’ve had plenty at every duty station.”

Her mouth still gaping open like a fish, she was wildly looking around the room as if someone was going to leap out and save her from this uncomfortable and uncontrollable situation.

“But, Robin, don’t you love me, don’t you want to fight for our marriage?”

“Sure, I love you babe, and I always will. But I’ve worked too long and too hard to let you fuck up my career. I’ve ignored your affairs and always enjoyed the tapes that I watched of you and the endless rotation of sweet meat you cultivate, but you’ve gotten complacent; you’ve been getting more reckless, and this time, you fucked someone in my chain of command. That’s a bridge too far Jacqui.”

Her face went from stunned to angry, and she blurted out, “I’m not going any fucking where Robin. I’ve followed you around for nearly twenty-one goddam years, and I’m not going to be tossed aside like a used kleenex. If you force this, I’ll ruin your precious reputation, and you’ll have gained nothing. You’d better rethink this shit, Robin!”

I just sighed and said, “honey, I know you don’t mean that and you’re just being dramatic. I’ve already talked to your dad about this, and here’s what he said: If you go quietly, sign the divorce papers, and make no claims on me or our property, he’ll make sure that your income from your granny’s trust fund is increased to $600K per year so that you’ll live in the manner you’re accustomed to, and everyone, including your whole family, will ignore the specifics of the divorce. We’ll all be friends and have some holidays together around the fire and sing carols together. Further, any action against Sgt. Echeverria will be forgotten, she’ll be transferred to another stateside base, where you will join her and live happily together, along with the girls in a house that he’ll buy for you. Your parents and family will accept her as your significant other, or spouse if you decide to marry, and she’ll get to remain in the Air Force for as long as she wants.”

“C’mon Jacqui, admit it! You’re in love with the woman, and you owe it to her to save her career. I’ve seen the tapes and you’re not that good an actress that you were bullshitting her for sex, you love her! And on top of that, I’ve known for years that you’re no longer in love with me. Don’t get me wrong, I know you love me, but you’re not IN love with me, at least not the way you are with Maria. Just take a deep breath and admit to yourself that this is the best thing for everyone.”

Raising her eyes to mine, hers now brimming with tears, “But what about the girls, Robin, what will I tell them, and how will you get to see them?”

“Jeez woman, you’re apparently completely oblivious. Just by casually listening, observing, and doing some judicious eavesdropping I Know that Connie is as gay as Christmas, that Cathy is at least going to be a switch-hitter and they won’t give a shit if you have a girlfriend. It must be genetic. But you know what, I don’t care who they love, as long as they love me as much as I love them. And when will I see them (?), shit they’ll be in college in two years so neither of us will see much of them after that anyway.”

“C’mon Jacqui, man up here and do the right thing for everyone.”

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

After whimpering around for a day or two and trying to make me believe that she was so deeply sorry, blah, blah, blah, she finally accepted that the jig was up and that everything I offered was best for everyone. She tried to make the conversation in which she told me that she agreed to the divorce a somber one, but by then she knew it was time to hit the road and she had started to think about her future.

One week later, Maria Echeverria was on her way to a new duty station. Before she left, she tried to apologize, and thank me, but I just told her that I didn’t understand what she was talking about. I guess I’ll see her at Thanksgiving or Christmas, and she can talk to me then if she still wants to. I really like her and appreciate her taste in women, so maybe we can share stories of how great her girlfriend’s pussy is.

Two weeks later, Jacqui and the girls moved to Las Vegas to be near Maria’s new assignment at Nellis Air Force Base and rented a luxury apartment until her dad could buy her a house. The girls, as I expected, whimpered around for a few hours about how much they would miss me, but they’re military brats and used to moving every few years. And after their mom showed them some pictures of her now acknowledged girlfriend, their eyes lit up, and I could see the possibility that one or the other of them would make a run at Maria sometime in the future.

I’d like to say that I miss them, but if I’m honest I actually don’t. I’m married to my career, and it’s a demanding wife. I don’t fly that much these days, but every once in a while, I throw my weight around and do some maintenance test flights because once I leave her, jet-jockeying is over for me. I’m sure that my next assignment will be at the Pentagon to bone up on the political aspects of senior management, or maybe a military aide posting at the White House, but that’s just a political box to check while chasing general’s stars.