True Story

My Quest to Become My Commander’s Mistress #1

FOR MATURE AUDIENCES

In 2008, I laid eyes on the most beautiful man I had ever seen. Lt Col Jack Miller was my commanding officer. He was Asian (I’ve always been of the “Asian persuasion”), and he had these luscious pouty lips and this deep, seductive voice. Tall. A bit chubby. Dark hair. He had just returned from Iraq and walked in the front door waiting to meet his new troop.

We shook hands, exchanged pleasantries. The first thought that went through my head the first time we met was “oh, this man is so mine.” And thus began my quest to own him. The longer and bumpier the ride, the more I wanted him.

He was silently seductive. He said everything by not saying anything. He wore a perpetual frown. From that point forward, one of my main goals in life was to turn that frown upside down. I was questionably obsessed and even stalkerish in my endeavors. I’m not sure he will ever really grasp just how obsessed I was, despite having told him many times, somewhat jokingly. I wasn’t joking. I was almost to the point of following him home from work so many times just to know where he lived.

Our relations began with respectful communication between an officer and enlisted. He, along with my Superintendent, had recently created this new but misunderstood and underappreciated position in which I was placed upon assignment within the branch. I was a guinea pig, of sorts. Hmmm, I like experiments.

As I settled in at my little desk in the windowless cubicle in the dank corner of bldg. 166, we had an extended working lunch which consisted of calamari and PowerPoint slides. He fingered the pages as he flipped through them. I watched that finger trace the shapes of pie charts, line graphs, and org charts. I’ve never found metrics so godamn sexy. Mmmm. He would talk about work, and I would watch his mouth move. Often hearing but not listening. His words dripped like honey from that gorgeous mouth. I wanted to taste it.

Personally, I loved my position. I got to be Col Miller’s right-hand operations non-commissioned officer. This put me in a prime position to reach my goal of becoming his mistress. We traveled together. We collaborated with one another. I aimed to please him professionally, with a secret motive from the start. Just the sound of his voice sent shudders through my body. He was still just a conquest to me, and he would be the highest ranking one thus far, so I was in it for the win. I was on a mission.

There was a going-away gathering at a local bar and restaurant for one of the departing team members. Apart from the others, Col Miller and I sat at the bar together, him sipping his whiskey, me with my Crown and diet coke with lime. After a few drinks, my phone number somehow made its way into his phone and by the time I got to my car to leave afterwards, I had a text: “This could be trouble.”

And it was.

More texts followed, progressing then to “innocent” flirting. (Flirting with Col Miller was always “innocent.”) His texts always trailed off with that dot dot dot leaving me hanging on his every word. Was he saying something more or was he “innocently” leaving the door wide open? Let’s just say, I followed the trail.

Shortly thereafter, we began chatting over instant messenger while my husband was working most nights or passed out from exhaustion. Col Miller’s wife was undoubtedly sleeping as well, oblivious to what was transpiring in the next room. I almost got caught me a few times when I was off guard, when my husband was suddenly peaking over my shoulder.

Luckily, Col Miller and I had a contingency plan for such an instance when the other knew not to say anymore until the coast was clear. Over a period of perhaps a couple of months, we continued written communication outside of work while pretending to barely know one another during the day.

The more we discussed sins, the more we sinned. Our “innocent” talks quickly began to include sex; most notably what turned me on most in the bedroom. Me, being straightforward, he following my lead. He kept up. I was enthralled. Captivated. Neither of us are good at sexting nor phone sex. It would be pretty vanilla to many, but it served its purpose. I would sign off for the night all hot and bothered. Hoping he was doing the same.

It was during one of those late-night stimulating discussions, he told me he thought I was amazing. I’m not gonna say that no one ever told me that I was amazing because I’m sure at some point in my life someone surely had told me that. However, coming from Col Miller, that adjective became a foundational aspect of our story. Because I believed that he meant it. And that was worth a lot to me. I put value in things he believed because he was a smart guy. There must have been some logic there, or I really did have him fooled. He said he liked me because I challenged his way of thinking. He admired my lack of inhibitions. Hmmm.

This flirtatious banter went on for a while. Then one night, a group of team members were going out for drinks. I’m not sure who invited whom, but Col Miller and I went along. Parts of that night are a bit fuzzy for both of us but not the end of it. Everyone parted ways but we managed to stay back long enough for him to ask me to meet him at a bar down the road, closer to his home, for another drink. I obliged.

After taking explicit driving directions (because I get lost in a paper bag) I made it. He was sitting at the bar when I walked in. It was last call. I was both nervous and excited. There was a lot of built-up sexual tension by this time. I even remember what I was wearing that night.

I had my usual Crown and diet Coke with lime and he had one of his chosen whiskeys at the bar. Straight. One cube of ice. After watching each other all night and not being able to talk openly, it was nice to finally have some alone time with him.

I don’t really remember talking about anything though. Hmmm. But I will never forget the first time my mouth met his. I must have tasted like cigarettes. He tasted of whiskey. His pouty bottom lip was soaked with it. We were sitting at the bar and time stood still for me. I never imagined he would actually go through with it but he eagerly returned my kiss and soon enough we were grinding each other like teenagers outside the bar.

I kept hoping he would direct me to his truck which was parked almost directly in front of us, and I would have done him right there in front of the bar but later he admitted he hadn’t even thought about it. Geesh. Such a nerd.

We each parted each other hot and heavy that night. We each went home to our sleeping spouses in our beds.

“Wish I could write my true feelings here. Isn’t that what a diary is for? Does it need a lock and key? Since I’ve moved here, I have slept with four other men. The only one I want to be with again is XYZ. Of course, I don’t call him XYZ. He is my big boss. He is part Japanese and he is an atheist. He says I am amazing. He likes my lack of inhibitions.

He has become my obsession. Seeing him every day and wanting him inside me. Not just sexually. I want him in my veins, pulsing through me. It’s been a long time since I felt that way about anyone and it’s not love, it’s something else…

We met at a bar the other night and I wanted him so bad. The first time we kissed was in front of last-call strangers at a bar with the sweet taste of whiskey on his pouty mouth. I sucked his lips and his tongue, intoxicated by his desire for me… for his knowledge that his own wife slept down the road while he, as a 42-year-old man, writhed all over me at a strip mall like horny teenagers. I was so wet, and I still remember the way I felt with his hands all over me, crushing me against him, grinding himself on me… I felt like I’d come just from his mouth on my nipples.

Now, we go back to daily operations, separating work from desire. The electricity between us at meetings or when I have to go see him to ask him something or sign something… I can feel him undressing me in his mind. He stares at my mouth with thoughts of what it can do. It’s exhilarating.”

I worked late frequently. This was partly because my husband wouldn’t be home when I got there anyway and because Col Miller usually worked late too. So, it gave me more reason to pop into his office for a chat which I had on more than one occasion. I was having a hard time understanding the organization of something at work that I needed to be able to fully grasp before I would be capable of training others on it. In our defense, we did sincerely spend countless hours going over it. I truly was lost.

It was at the end of 2008, after months of these late-night chats, daytime glances, innuendos, that I took my chance, went against my better judgment (which was truly in question by this time), and I propositioned him. Most people were gone for the day. The building was quiet. My car and his truck virtually the only vehicles parked in the front lot. I sat across from his desk and carefully described, in extensive detail, how I wanted to rub his Harvard diploma alllll over my naked body.

It had gotten incredibly hot in his office by that time. I then leaned across his desk, closer to him and said clearly, “I dare you.” I did not break my gaze, nor did he. He contemplated my proposition for a moment, my heart beating hard in my chest. Hoping I had succeeded in getting some blood flow going to some particular parts of his own body.

To my surprise, he stood up and walked to the door. And he locked it. He then turned around to face me. He bent over and pulled me to the small red couch in the corner of his office. I wasn’t even totally undressed. I kept expecting him to stop, that he was just teasing me, but we were both breathing hard and he was hard.

He pulled me on top of him so that I was straddling him on this small couch with one boot off and one leg naked. He quickly pushed my panties aside and then he was in me. We didn’t move.

We looked at each other for a brief moment. “Do we really want to do this?” The answer was obvious, and I moved on him and whispered “God yes” into his ear and he moaned and asked if he could come inside me. I desperately nodded my head yes and for that short moment in time he was all mine. I owned him.

It was over rather quickly. Clothes quickly went back on, and it seemed almost as though he felt guilty and/or ashamed? I wasn’t sure how to interpret the lack of emotion on his already emotionless face. He poked his head out the door, made sure no one else was outside and I slipped out.

As I mentioned, he was merely a conquest to me. A challenge that I intended to conquer. Nothing more. While I thought he was hot, with his luscious lips, his sexy voice, his cool and calm demeanor, etc., I wanted him for nothing more than the sex and the rank to know that I had him wrapped around my finger. That’s what he was to me. From that point forward, it was on.

He had sealed his fate…

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