Overwatch

A couple of nights later, as I was leaving the flat, I paused at the door as usual and had a cursory look round for anything suspicious. He was peering from the entry between the shops. I didn't think much of it as he had been there a few times before. I wasn't about to let him frighten the girls, or worse, try to get in when I left, so, as I pulled my gloves on, I walked towards the entry.

He had a baton. Luckily he was no fighter. He raised it over his head so I had an idea what was coming. As he brought it down I sidestepped and, as he followed through, he exposed his back. I crowned him with my helmet. Down he went, like a ton of shit, and lay there. I put my first aid training into use for the first time. He was out cold, so I checked his airway, his breathing, and put him in the recovery position. I was in no hurry when I went back to the girls flat and got them to call an ambulance. Naturally the peelers (police) arrived as well. I explained what happened but they scooped me anyway. They took the baton and my helmet. When I got to the police barracks I explained I was a soldier and I had to call the battalion ops room.

The police nearly crapped themselves when they realised they had put me into a police car and brought me into the station with a gun in my pocket. Bn. sent an officer down to make sure I didn't incriminate myself. Luckily, one of the platoon commanders in the duty company that night was a solicitor. (In fact it wasn't all that lucky, there was every occupation represented in the U.D.R. and in my company we had a lawyer serving as a private soldier. You could find at least one lawyer in almost every company.) Anyway he talked to me, then, he talked to the police. Once they were satisfied they would be able to get hold of me they released me to military custody without taking a statement. They said they would wait to see what the boul' David would say when he woke.

Naturally, David claimed I had been waiting for him and attacked him from behind. He wanted to press assault charges. I had to give my statement so I got Lt. Whittaker to act for me. After they had taken statements from the girls, checked the time they said I left, and the time the ambulance was called, and the baton with David's fingerprints all over it, they suggested to him that I had a better chance bringing a charge against him and they would consider assault with intent to cause grievous bodily harm, because of the baton. He, of course, bottled it, and dropped all charges. I didn't want any more grief so didn't press anything either. The police told him not to go near the girls and we never saw him again.

I was a hero. The next night I saw the girls, they were all over me. Sandra told her brother and he came down from Strabane, where he was stationed, to meet me. We got on really well together and became best of mates. (He even got me a free helmet to replace mine. The police apparently get free samples to try out; his mate was in traffic branch and had a couple lying around.) I was dragged round to Sandra's parents and was treated like the prodigal son. This was most embarrassing, but in a good way.

The best bit though was my reception from Jean. Up until then we had just been courting. Suddenly I was something more. I was someone who was prepared to stand up for her and her friends. I thought it was just behaving like a man should. Don't get me wrong, I wasn't then, and am not now, the sort of person who looks for a fight. I just won't walk away from one if it's forced on me. I have taken the odd beating when I should have backed off, but didn't. But, there again, my opponent always knew he had been in a fight too.

Jean decided it was time our relationship moved to the next level. She had finished her RSAs and had moved up to clerical officer. I had finished my certificate and had started on my diploma. Things started to get serious between us. We started to spend more time alone together in her flat rather than going to the Junior Ranks Club or bars. We discussed what we wanted out of life, how many kids, where we wanted to live, and sex and marriage. We found our desires were "simpatico". Although I was a townie I loved the countryside, and although Jean was a "culchie", she liked the convenience of the city life. Living in Belfast, it was only a fifteen-minute drive and you were in the country. We even had a small urban forest park on the banks of the Lagan about ten minutes from us. So we had everything we wanted on our doorstep.

Now, although I had been to bed with a couple of girls before Jean, it was pretty much, schoolboy fumbling. We had very little information about technique. Apparently they had only invented sex in the previous decade and that was in London. It hadn't reached us in the sticks yet. So, when I started going with Jean, I was still trying to knead breasts as if they were dough, and my fingering would not have got me any prizes at a band competition. In fact, if you had put a sanding block in my hand, I could have rubbed an elephant down to a greyhound in no time. Jean was not going to put up with this mauling. I was made to slow down and learn the gentle arts.

Now, here was where I surprised myself. One day, in her flat, as I was lying beside her and just stroking, I moved gently along her thigh and ran my hand under her skirt. For the first time she didn't stop me. I gently rubbed her pubis and her legs parted. Suddenly, the brash soldier, who was phased by nothing, was wracked with anxiety. I had reached my goal of the Promised Land and I realised that this was somehow different to all previous girlfriends.

I was panicky. This goal, somehow, had to be extra special. It was special. She was special. I gently withdrew my hand and hugged her tight. She sighed and it seemed she had mixed feelings about that. So we talked the talk. We decided that this was something we wanted to last. We didn't want to destroy what might be, by rushing. We moved from getting to know one another as boyfriend and girlfriend into romance. Fuck me! I had surrendered! I was in that strange new world where I was actually thinking of spending my life with her! Holy fuck! I was in love! I fell like Nelson! More fucking singing birds! Jean took me to bed.

This was major. I didn't know if Jean was a virgin, I knew I wasn't all that experienced. I had learnt that there was more to making love than just sticking your dick in and pumping away. Trouble was, I didn't know the tricks. My first time had been anti-climactic. It was little more than using the poor girl's body to wank me off. I know she was pretty unimpressed with my technique and I was left wondering if I had missed something. Don't get me wrong, it was good, it was special, it just seemed to lack something. I had improved my staying power but I still didn't know what to do or how to really share it. To make it what a woman expected.

Overwatch Ch 3

I wanted our first time together to be extra special. If I was her first, I wanted this to be right, to be something she would never forget, or, more importantly, regret. So, the swaggering, buccaneering, arrogant, cynical, toe-rag went to bed with this special person for the first time, and just talked. I told her how monumental this was to me, how I wanted it to be the foundation of our life together, how I wanted to make sure she would never want anyone else, how...fuck, I never thought I had this in me!

I just couldn't put into words exactly how big an impact this had on me. It was the biggest step I would ever take with any woman. I knew that once Jean and I made love it was irrevocable for me. I wanted her for the rest of my life and I could never tolerate sharing her with anyone else. I stuttered and stumbled as only a man can when he is trying to express emotion. I had never envisioned talking to anyone about this and just didn't have the vocabulary. Jean took charge. She knew empathetically just what I was trying to put into words. She took a frightened boy in her arms and we slept together for the first time. I do mean slept. We didn't make love. Somehow my rambling efforts to explain myself chimed exactly with how she felt about me. I just could not believe how I had found the only woman for me.

The next day was Sunday. I went home and got the van. We went to Oxford Island on Lough Neagh. Together we walked along the lakeside and talked. We spent the day learning more about each-other's hopes and dreams and just knew we were right for each other. On the way home we stopped at Aghalee and visited Jeans parents, John and Margaret. We had Sunday dinner with them and while Jean and her mum were doing the dishes I sat in the living room with her father and squirmed. Eventually he told me to stop fidgeting and come out with whatever was bothering me. I looked at him and he had one eyebrow raised, a definite twinkle in his eye, and an amused look. I paled and swallowed hard even though my mouth was as dry.

"I'd...er..., I, well...."

He interrupted. "Yes, Yes, I know. You want to marry Jean and you want to ask my permission. Is that about it?" He let me off the hook.

"Er...Yes," was as much as I could get out.

"Does she know?"

"That I'm asking you?"

"That, and the fact that you want to marry her?"

"Well... she knows that I...er..., that I think she's someone special and that she's someone I could see myself...er...settling down with but I haven't said anything to her and I...er...I hadn't really thought about asking you but it seemed.....er." Suddenly I seemed to get a grip on myself. "No I haven't asked her yet and she doesn't know I'm doing this. I just felt that this was my opportunity to speak to you so I took it."

He simply nodded, sagely. "Hmm. Strike while the iron's hot, eh? Good man, yer da. Not wasting time, eh? Well, I'll have to talk to her mother first, you know. This isn't the sort of thing she'll let me decide on me own, you know." It was a statement, not a question and at that he stood up and went, solemnly, into the kitchen.

I sat and sweated forever. At least it seemed like that, but actually, he returned immediately, with his wife and Jean both looking expectantly puzzled, or should that be puzzledly expectant? Jean and her mum sat down and John took centre stage. "Margaret, this young man has just asked if he can marry our daughter." Jean squealed. Her mum clapped her hands together in front of her face and her eyes shone as she half-smiled. Jean grabbed me round the neck.

"Well, young man, looks like the answer's yes," said John.

Naturally the women took charge and long laid plans were dusted off for updating. John and I were relegated to supporting players and ignored. Or, rather, not so much ignored, as talked at. Anyway, eventually I pointed out that since it seemed to be a done deal, it was only fair that we let my parents know as well.

Mum and Dad were overjoyed. Dad took me to the side and suggested I get my finger out, complete my exams, get a decent paying job, and get the hell out of the army. Not necessarily in that precise order. I saw his point. I was 23; Jean was 22. She was working full time; I was still at college.

I dropped Jean off at her flat and arranged to pick her up after work the next day so that we could make our own plans. Ultimately we decided it would be best to wait until I had finished my diploma. That meant an engagement of about 18 months. I clocked as many duties as I could and we saved like fury. Jean and I were determined to pay as much of the wedding costs ourselves. Jean and Margaret recruited my Mum into the planning and in between times I taught Jean to drive. When she got near her test, she took some professional driving lessons, just to iron out any bad habits I had introduced. She passed first time, so I couldn't have done too badly.

I got extra duties by getting onto some of the company sports teams. I played football (soccer) and I boxed for the company. I was selected for the battalion football team but was usually a reserve. I didn't get many games but I went on the tours and got paid. I also fought for the battalion when the first choice welter weight broke his hand. I put up a fairly good performance holding the Parachute Regiment fighter to a points decision (he won).

I also managed to get a couple of courses in the army that gave me some extra pay. I had already done my promotion course so I did my Team Medics course. It's an advanced first aid course to stabilise blast and gunshot casualties but we also covered things like how to deal with casualties under the influence of drink or drugs, heart attacks, asthma, diabetes, epilepsy, and Road Traffic Accidents. We came across more casualties caused by RTAs than anything else. One of the girls instructing had kick-started three real heart attack victims.

The Mess Stewards course was really handy 'cos it meant I could pick up extra duties serving at the Sergeants or Officers Mess dinners. Lots of guys wouldn't do these since they thought it was demeaning, but, we got paid, we got the same meal as the sergeants or officers got, there was always wine and port left over, our own company personnel usually bought us drink, and we got transport home. It was magic.

But not as magic as our love life became. Jean and I were spending more time in her flat to save money and we started to learn about each other's body. Jean taught me how and where to touch her and gradually I learned how to vary my touch. It was like playing the fife or guitar. You could vary the notes by varying the fingering, just like on an instrument. I came to understand how to give my woman what she wanted.

Then one night in a surge of passion she implored, "I want you to kiss my hole," and I did. So together we learned about oral sex. Did I mention I played the tin whistle? To play you can use a technique called 'tonguing'. When I did it to Jean she nearly crushed my skull or broke my neck with her thighs and the wails of her convinced people for miles around that the Banshee had come for them.

She tried to reciprocate but her style was vigorous, to say the least. As a result we had to take a break for a while, when I developed a rash. Her teeth broke the surface of my glans and a yeast infection set in. The cream solved it within a week. She left of giving me head for a while because she was embarrassed having hurt me. That was nothing compared to the banter I got from my mates. They called it 'athlete's foot of the dick'. I think they meant I was the dick.

Sandra meanwhile changed departments in the civil service. This meant that she would be moving to Coleraine about 50 miles away. We were going to miss her but it was a promotion. Jean and I decided that I would take on her share of the tenancy and move in after we got married. The wedding was planned for July after my last exams.

Things hotted up on the wedding front and suddenly it seemed like there wasn't enough time left to get everything done. Our mothers, unsurprisingly, managed it, and we had a wonderful day. Sandra was bridesmaid. Our honeymoon was on the Costa Bravo. This was pretty exotic at the time, and our first foray to continental Europe. We returned almost as pale as we left, since we didn't get out much.

I moved into the flat when we came home and started job hunting. The big companies weren't recruiting much at the time and all I could pick up was some short contracts with smaller engineering concerns. It gave me plenty of experience in different disciplines though, and between contracts, I could always fill in on the dole patrols to help keep us solvent.

Jean was well thought of in her department and had a lot of contact with various members of the different political parties. The government was trying to get local politics revitalised and was priming the pump by financing lots of initiatives and projects to make the local politicians work together. The parties found they needed staff. The civil service allowed some of their personnel to take sabbaticals to help set up party structures.

These were supposed to allow the politicians to understand the workings of the civil service and government. Some of the parties thought that these people were government spies and wouldn't accept them. Some saw it as a cheap way to get their own staff trained. Jean was offered a position with one of the multitude of Unionist parties. The job meant extra pay and she could return to the civil service without loss of seniority.

We talked about it and thought it would broaden her expertise and look good on a C.V. She accepted and went to work for a Councillor Millar who was expected to stand for Parliament at the next election. He was the usual big fish in a small pond. When he discovered Jean could drive he wangled a car out of party funds and had Jean act as his driver as well. This meant that she was with him all the time to keep a record of all his meetings for him. He was the sort who likes to socialise and often couldn't remember much about them.

Jean complained about the hours she was spending with him but the Government was interested in keeping him onside so she was offered a pay rise and guaranteed promotion when she came back to the Civil Service. Jean and I talked about it, or rather I listened to her talk, a skill I learned as a hospital porter, which had paid off in the army and with women. The extra pay and promotion was very attractive, as I wanted to get out of the army and move on with our life. Since I was only picking up temporary contracts it would give us a bit of roughness to get us up and out. I didn't say any of this as I figured it was Jean's decision. I would back her either way.

She decided to go with it for a while, especially as she got to use the car. She would drop Windy Millar off after his 'work' and had it to pick him up in the mornings. It was Jean who called him Windy. Everybody thought it was something to do with windmills, but actually, after his 'meetings', when he got into the car, he would ease his waistband, doze over, and fart like a trooper. Apparently, when he got tipsy at these meetings, he thought he was God's gift to women, and could be a bit overbearing, so Jean preferred it when he fell asleep in the back. So did I.

Jean would often be late home because of this and I was on duty as many nights as I could, to build up our savings. We became ships that pass in the night, never seeing each other. Even weekends were erratic. Jean may be off work but I would be training or on duty or picking up an extra working the Officers and Sergeants Messes. This naturally mucked up our love life. I was often just too tired to perform when I got home. Jean was very tolerant and understanding but one Saturday afternoon she sat me down and gave me the rounds of the house.

She was, of course, right. I had got a bit complacent. The company offered me all the extras going because they knew I would say yes. The money was good and easy to pick up. Even my platoon sergeant had said I should pay more attention to my wife. Jean had picked her time well. I hadn't been on duty since the previous Wednesday, so I'd had two good nights sleep. We'd lain late that morning and I had reacquainted myself with her body.

Breakfast was more of a brunch and we were sitting quietly over a cup of tea when she started. It wasn't a row, but she was very good at summing up where we were, and how far off our dreams we both were. Basically she told me to get my act together or we would drift apart. Being a man, I took it as criticism of me and stormed off.

I was going to go to the pub but for some reason got on the bike. Having done that, I realised a drinking session was out of the question. Being too proud to admit my mistake I wasn't about to go home and leave the bike off. You can't dramatically storm off, slink back, and storm off a second time. I have my pride, not much else, but I do have that.