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thatbanditqueen · 9 months

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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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thatbanditqueen · 10 months

Text

Basic Training Chapter 5

Summary: Bess has plans to spend the evening having a picnic dinner with Elvis on post, and tries to juggle her family and keeping her relationship with Elvis a secret as her father presses her about her future.

Warnings: Some very heavy petting, dry humping, female orgasm (gasp), and discussions of mental illness, the Holocaust and Cold War operations. And all the usual typos.

WC: 6K

A (very very late) response to the prompt "Hey, quit splashin' me."

Many thanks to my lovely sister wives @whositmcwhatsit, @be-my-ally @vintageshanny @missmaywemeetagain @from-memphis-with-love @ellie-24 who helped me write this.

If you need to catch up, you can read the previous chapters of this fic about Elvis at Fort Hood in 1958 here

Notes:

This one got more into Bess family life, but it won't always be this top heavy in the future.

Maus and spatz are german terms of endearment. Illsa is a German nickname for Elizabeth.

Schatzeleh, bubeleh, mamaleh, these are all Yiddish terms of endearment. The Yiddish phrase "shayna maidel" means beautiful girl.

Deutsch ist die Muttersprache - German is the mother tongue.

INCOMS - abbreviation for Army Intelligence

The USIA was really a wacky Cold War PR agency for the U.S. government that set up a radio system to blast US music and news into other countries, and promote art and performers and entertainers around the world, along with other stiff. What every fic needs, more Cold War history ;)

Wednesday, April 9, 1958

Schwartz Residence, Killeen TX

6:45 a.m.

Bess hovered over her sister’s shoulder and grabbed a piece of toast off her plate, scooping up some scrambled eggs and chewing as she dodged Kay’s swats to pour a cup of coffee.

“Curlers again? Jeeze, Bess, that’s the third day in a row you’ve worn curlers to sleep.”

Bess hit the back of her sister’s head with her elbow.

Their father’s eyes did not leave his newspaper as Kay yelped and Bess stuck her tongue out.

“Elizabeth, you are not a nomad. Sit and eat.”

“I gotta finish getting ready, Papa.”

“Is there anything special going on today, maus?” Her father raised his eyebrows as Kay giggled.

“Or maybe someone speci - ouch!” Kay got a pinch at her back.

“Oh, no, nothing special, just wanted to look nice, I told Emily we’d go shopping after work today, Papa.”

Papa folded his newspaper, crisping the edges at Bess' expectant eyes.

“Well?”

Kay grinned into her juice.

“I was just wondering if it was ok to take my own car in again, if it’s all the same to you.”

“Ja, fine. Do you anticipate driving separately all week?”

Bess nodded, slowly, swallowing more coffee as her father’s eyes went from one daughter to the other.

“Hmm, sure are getting dolled up to go shopping with Emily OWfff.”

Kay got another swift pinch to her shoulder before Bess washed out her coffee cup and left to fix her hair. Just as she got to the kitchen door, she heard the piano in the living room and looked back at her father.

“Did Mama wake up and go right back to work on the piano?”

“No.” Her Papa’s face went back to the newspaper.

Kay’s eyes met Bess’. “She’s been in there all night.”

“All night?”

Papa calmly set down his paper. “Your mother is fine, you know how she is. Once she starts a project, she becomes very focused. You both would benefit from such discipline. You just need to let her get it out of her system.”

Bess shook her head and ran to the living room to find her mother at the upright piano, hair wild as she wiped sweat from her brow. Mama had been hunched over sorting through a pile of tuning instruments, but her face lit up with excited energy at Bess.

“Oh Bessie, you’re doing your hair fancy again today, huh? Oh my sweet shayna maidel. Brains and beauty.” Mama stroked Bess’ cheek, then went back to hitting a key on the piano. “Ughh, hear that? Can’t get the D flat right.”

Bess tugged on her mothers house dress, the same one she had been wearing yesterday.

“C’mon, Mama, it will be easier if you rest the ole noggin, come back after you get some sleep.”

Her mother brushed off her hand.

“No, Bess, can’t you hear it? It’s all gooey, everything is gooey, when it should be tight. I can’t possible leave the plunkers gooey, it makes the whole room go orange, bubeleh.”

Bess rubbed her mother’s shoulders as she leaned her chin into Mama’s neck.

“You know the bedroom upstairs is all light and yellow, Mama, it will help you center yourself.”

Mama shook her head, and Bess sighed as she returned to the kitchen and mixed some of the thalidomide barbiturates hidden above the spice cabinet into a glass of milk.

Kay paused washing the dishes.

“Papa left.”

“Of course he did. A one star General who strikes fear into the Army Intelligence training officers, but won’t deal with his own wife.”

“That is not fair, Bess, Mama has been better since the treatment. Papa said she was great on the trip, she just needs to get back to routine and get the jitters out of her system.”

“Jitters, jitters is bupkis and you know it. Did you know Aunt Rachel came down to babysit Mama when they were in D.C.?"

Bess sighed and finished stirring the milk, and was finally able to coax Mama upstairs where she undressed her and tucked her into bed with a kiss.

“Oh Bessie, you have a yellow halo around your head schatzeleh, good things await you today, my pretty girl. “

“Thanks mamaleh, get some sleep.”

The black pumps were the last thing Bess slipped on before heading off to work, dropping Kay at school on the way. It was not far to Killeen High School, an easy 10 minute walk for Kay in her saddle shoes, but Bess wanted to talk with her.

“Can you come straight home after school? Keep an eye on Mama, maybe try to get her some sun gardening or going for a walk.

Kay nodded, tightening the scarf around her ponytail, “Sure Bess, she’s ok. I 'm telling you, she just needs rest after goin’ to DC and New York for two weeks.”

“Mmmmhmmm.”

A car of high school boys pulled up next to them, their radio blasted as they made their way to the student parking lot. The boys looked over, whistling and laughing at Bess and Kay.

“Ugh, high school boys.” Kay moaned, fluffing her hair.

“Speaking of which, my dear sister. I thought we had a deal, ixnay on the elvisay or I’ll spill the beans on how often you sneak out with Dickey and tell Papa and Mama you’re spending the night at Gloria’s.”

“Aww, heck, Bess, you know I am not doing anything wrong, not since you scared me half to death about getting pregnant and having to get a back alley abortion.”

“I wasn't trying to scare you, Kay. I just want to make sure you take precautions. And that you understand it, are sure about it, ya know, when you are ready. Sex isn’t bad,it can just have consequences. You know you can always talk to me about that stuff.”

Kay rolled her eyes and hit Bess before getting out of the car.

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

5:15 p.m. Fort Hood Front Office

“She’s cooking brisket, and singing along with the radio.”

Bess held the phone receiver to her ear, she could hear her mother’s voice in the background along with Doris Day's. Guilt had been tugging at her heartstrings all afternoon, telling her what a selfish daughter she was to make plans with Elvis instead of going home to check on her mother. She kept listening to her sister talk as Dori come out of her father’s office and waved the CO on, telling him to bring the car around front.

“You sure everything’s okay?”

“Yes, Bess, jeeze, go already. Have fun with Emily.” Bess grimaced momentarily at Kay’s sarcasm then remembered she was trying to smile back at Dori.

Mabel was typing along, making no sign that she registered any human life in the office. Hanging up the phone, Bess began to cover her type writer.

“So y’all really don’t think I should go walk my lil ole self round about his barracks?”

The clacks from Mabel’s typewriter paused as she exhaled a deep huff of smoke, meeting Bess’s eyes for a split second before returning to her paperwork.

“Uh, no, Dori, you don’t want to be another girl chasing after Elvis Presley.”

Bess mused that quite a few members of Fort Hood’s female workforce seemed to have business near the 37th’s barracks lately. She avoided Mabel’s stoic, knowing stare as she explained that she had not seen Elvis since the night of the dance.

“He is a world famous entertainer, Doreen, adjusting to the first phase of basic training, the hardest phase. Women are probably the last thing on his mind.”

This elicited an eyebrow raise from Mabel behind Dori’s back, as the blonde conceded with a sigh that Bess was probably right and skulked out of the Command’s Front Office, flinging her handbag around in disappointment.

“The most eligible Southern bachelor in the world is at my base, even takes me on a date, but has to live in a shack with forty other men and no phone while doing drills all day.” She stomped her foot. “Jus’ isn’t fair.”

Bess stopped watching Dori walk down the hallway and pulled out her compact, giving her lipstick one last check.

“I am just glad the Executive Officer has three male children.”

“Mabel, I don’t know what you mean.”

“Like hell you don’t, that boy is gonna start world war three at this command, getting involved with two generals’ daughters. And, by the way, you need to come up with a better cover, one that doesn’t involve anyone on post.”

Flicking her cigarette, Mabel looked Bess directly in the eyes.

“General Schwartz was asking me about Emily in the switchboard office while you were at lunch.”

Bess swallowed, putting her compact away and rolling her feet back into her heels.

“Huh. Maybe I don’t give the old man enough credit?”

Mabel’s eyes were back on her typewriter. “You should go, before your father returns from his meeting and finds what is waiting for you at the bottom of the stairwell.”

Bess hesitated before she left. “I, um, I mean it, thanks, you know, for -”

“Git already, before I beat you down there and steal him for myself.”

Bess smiled as she tried very very hard to walk with calm composure down the hall and into the back stairs. Just the thought of Elvis’ touch made her tingle and Bess had to use her hands to try and keep her dress from blowing up as she danced down the stairs, heels clicking like Ginger Rogers. Heart in her throat, she nearly did a two-step on the landing mid-flight when she caught sight of a light green cap below. The cap tilted slightly, revealing lips, lips that curled into a welcome reprieve as Bess bounded down to meet him. The beat of her heart matched the sound of her breath as she launched herself onto Elvis’ mouth. He was a cushion and Bess threw herself into him unabashedly, feeling her body lift off the ground as Elvis twirled her around. It was exhilarating.

His light chuckle tickled her forehead and hands pulled her forward. “Happy to see me?”

“I guess.” Bess murmured into his clavicle. “You think too highly of yourself, Tupelo, just happy to be done with work, mostly. I actually forgot you were meeting me.”

He pulled her chin up and Bess heard her voice falter as his eyes melted her nervous system into a giddy mess.

“That why you are runnin' down these stairs like ya got a burr in ya saddle? Maybe I should check.”

His voice became slower as his hands moved from her waist to her bottom, pulling on her skirt as if to inspect it.

“Leave my saddle be, dirty boy.”

Bess cheeks flushed red swatting off Elvis’ hands and he grinned, fingers returning to their deliberate pace at her waist. Just their slow movement heated her belly, a sensation intensified by the warm air from Elvis nostrils as he nudged her eyelid. Bess was happy to see him, happy to have his arms around her, happy to have his fingers pushing the fabric of her dress back and forth over her skin. Those insistent, needy thumbs took her away from all her turmoil and into the comfort of his arms.

“So you aren't excited to see me? Go on then, tell me, tell me why you got ya hair all done up and ya lips all painted up, huh? Meeting someone else?”

Bess traced the top of his lip with her index finger, she was so close to him she could smell the faint hints of cologne, sweat and gun powder on his neck.

“I’m not meeting anyone else.” She looked up, not sure how she was summoning the strength to form words. “I just want to be here. With you.”

“Me too baby, me too.” He ran his finger over her nose. “Got lucky, boy, did I get lucky, that night I caught you stealing - ”

“ - reallocating Army resources.”

“Imma reallocate some Army resources.” He kissed her forehead, right between her eyebrows. “Right here.” She closed her eyes at the way his arms tightened around her. “Right now. For important morale operations.”

Bess’ nodded her forehead sideways into his nose and let her hands roll up his shoulders, the heat between them buzzed up her body. She sucked her bottom lip and the sound of air clicking from her mouth seemed louder in the still concrete stairwell. Bess kissed him gently at first and then with her entire being, grinding up as he thrust back into her and his hands moved to cup her face while his hips becoming sharper and more desperate. A moan escaped her mouth and Elvis stepped back, chuckling as he wiped the lipstick from his mouth.

“Let’s get out of here, huh?” Bess murmured, grasping at his waist to steady herself.

Bess tripped into him as they walked to her car, her head rotating from side-to-side, wondering if any one saw them and could tell how intimately Elvis gripped her hand. He didn’t seem to care, popping open her car door and sliding across the leather as if it were his own. His fingers were instantly over her shoulder, always pursuing physical contact, and he whistled at basket of food on the back seat.

“Watcha cook up for me, lil girl?”

“Um, just, ya, uh know, meatloaf sandwiches, potato salad, some pop.”

“Mmhmm, sounds real good, yessir boberino, real good.” Elvis growled and nibbled into Bess’ shoulder and she suddenly found driving very challenging.

Her struggle to hold the steering wheel only got worse as Elvis mumbled into her cheek while his fingers smoothed the small of her back. She tried, unsuccessfully, to elbow him away as he smirked at her breathy response. It was very clear to Bess that Elvis knew exactly what his fingers did to her as she drove them to a park at the back of Fort Hood’s residential area. Elvis lips trailed up and down her cheek in a way that made Bess not want to get out of the car, made her forget that she was hungry, made her forget her own name. Grinning, he pulled back and pinched her side.

“Les eat, I’m so hooonnngry I could eat the north bound end of a south bound polecat.”

Elvis carried the basket of food with one hand, the other in Bess’ as she led them to a picnic table near a very small man made pond. She clucked at him to help even out the table cloth, and he grinned at the way Bess set out plates, cups and food methodically. Elvis caught her wrist as she moved to sit across from him, and guided her on to his lap.

“Where you goin’ baby? Don’t want you to get any splinters in that fine caboose.”

“Ha, ha, ha. How chivalrous.”

Bess pushed a spoon of potato salad into his mouth to shut him up as she set out the sandwiches for them, and opened the red cream soda with a bottle opener. Elvis took his pop, sucking it down.

“Just for future reference darlin, I like Pepsi.”

Bess grabbed the drink out of his hand with a playful sniff.

“This is the best cream soda this side of Little Rock, you can use it to make punch, jello, dye dresses red and clean your carburetor. And if you don’t like it, you can get your own drinks.”

Elvis pulled it back, stuffing meatloaf sandwich in his mouth before talking through his chews and taking another swig.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it, now, no need to get sore.” He slapped her bottom, making her bounce up as she chewed some sandwich. “Jus’ sayin’ I like Pepsi best. ‘Sides, Dori said you were from New York, how come -” He paused to take another gulp, “How come you like this local fizz so much?”

Bess took the bottle of Big Red from him, letting her mouth linger down and back up over the top as she sipped it, enjoying the way he raised his eyebrows while he chewed.

“Well, Private, I was born in New York. But I have lived in Killeen, Texas on and off since I was five years old. Papa was trained here before the war, and then we went back to Brooklyn while he was in London and then Germany - did your daddy fight?”

Elvis shook his head but offered no explanation, and Bess thought she saw a flicker of disdain or anger in his eyes for a split second, but it was gone. Then he pulled her closer with his right hand, holding up a sandwich to her mouth, lips apart in apt concentration as he guided the food into Bess' mouth and she giggled, swallowing it. He picked up the second bottle of pop and offered it to her as she wiped her mouth.

“Well, anyway, at first we went back and forth when Papa was overseas. We were in New York, and D.C., then he was given orders back here and they bought the house. Mama, Kay and I have stayed here whenever he got orders to go somewhere else: Heidelberg, Fort Hood, Berlin, then, you guessed it, Fort Hood, then DC, then back here. It’s been better for us to stay and go to school here.”

“So, uh, what, your daddy goes all ‘round teaching German?”

“Uh, well, yeah, mostly. Training Army officers to speak German has been a big part of his career.”

Elvis tilted his head for Bess to feed him more potato salad, his fingers otherwise occupied at her hips.

“How’d he get so interested in that?”

Bess licked the spoon they were sharing after feeding Elvis, looking across at the pond as twilight settled over the park.

“He, um, well, he actually grew up in Berlin. His parents sent him to New York in 1931 to live with his aunt and uncle.” She hesitated, scratching his collar, wondering how Elvis Presley felt about making out with Jewish girls. “You see, that was when his family’s synagogue was burned down, and they, um, started to, you know, worry.”

Elvis nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing. “Ah, gotcha.” His hands tightened at her waist. “Ya know, this explains why Dori looked at me funny when I told her I met you outside the base Chapel.”

“Ha! Yeah, well, I could have been there picking up dates.”

“You do that often, Moo Moo?”

“Oh, yeah, good little Christian boys are my favorite.”

He bounced her on his lap and tickled her sides.

“Huh, that right? I don’t know if I like the sound a that.”

“Yeah, well, apparently I’m no good at meeting good Christian boys. Only bad ones.”

“Oh baby, you have know idea what a good boy I can be.” He drew her close for a soft kiss on her neck, and the warmth of his lips made her shiver as he talked into her nape. “I’ve been told I’m very, very, very good at bein’ a boy.”

“Ha!” She shook her head, hands clutching the back of his hair as she looked into his attentive, gleaming bright blue eyes. They made her weak. Everywhere. “Hey, you haven’t even told me how your day was, Tupelo.”

“Oh man, honey, today was a goddamn circus, and I was the lead clown, I tell ya.”

“What happened?” She played with the soft part of his ear lobe as Elvis wiped his forehead and sighed.

“Well, we had target practice for three hours today.”

“That sounds normal, it takes three hours to kill all the paper men.”

“You have idea, baby, no idea.” He looked over his shoulder, as if to make sure no one could hear him. “Well, go on ta find out I forgot to load my gun this mornin’, I was so goddamn flustered getting ready for inspection. Looked like a grade A idiot, man, standing out there front a every one.”

Bess soothed the top of Elvis’ shoulders, all the teasing lilt from a moment ago was gone from her voice as she massaged the stiff, anxiousness there.

“Boy, got me so keyed up, had ma hands in fists all day, bout nearly bust out of my uniform I as so mad at ma self.”

Bess soothed his cheek, running her hand through his hair.

“No one will remember tomorrow, I promise.”

“Huh, I bet you million dollars they all back in their barracks, writin’ home bout how they had a good laugh at Elvis Presley, the Elmer Fudd of the army.”

“I promise, if those soldiers have anyone to write home to, and that’s betting they know how to write, they aren’t wastin’ their time tellin’ their girls about the most handsome stud in America.”

Elvis looked up.

“Most handsome, what was that, baby, stud?”

“Ugh, stop, I was just tryin’ to cheer you up.”

Bess jumped up, and started packing up the picnic, and Elvis was instantly behind her, arms tugging at her was as she popped the last spoon of potato salad greedily in her mouth. He gave her a big, sloppy kiss, then let go, distracted by the water, he wondering down to the edge of the pond where he began skipping stones. She finished folding the table cloth and followed him down to the water, squatting beside him as she selected another rock and handed it to him.

“Sorry excuse for a lake, isn’t it.” Bess said, watching as Elvis aimed the flat stone across the small body of water.

“You better take that back, Moo Moo, you’re hurtin’ this poor lil baby pond’s feelins’” Elvis bent down and threw some water at Bess’ face.

“Hey,” Bess pushed him lightly, then stood up, backing away at the mischievous look in his eyes. “Quit splashin' me! You, you rock n’ roll hoodlum!”

Elvis grinned and cupped his hand full of water, throwing it at her as she backed away.

“Ohh baby, thems fighting words, better watch out!”

Bess shrieked and ran back up to the picnic table, circling around it as Elvis chased her, matching as she changed directions. Their laughter and panting filled the air until he caught her, running his dirty pond fingers through her hair with gusto as she made a face while he slapped her on the butt. Elvis quelled her protests with a kiss and brought her into his side and grabbed the food basket with his other hand. They walked back to the car sweaty and out of breath like two giddy teenagers.

“Any lakes round here?”

Bess settled back into the car and smoothed her dress down while Elvis’ hands did their best to ruffle it back up, starting with the area over her right knee.

“There’s a reservoir, Lake Belton, bout 30 minutes away. You can go swimming, boating, horseback riding. Why?”

“This weekend phase 1 is over and I can start going off post on the weekend. Planning to see my friend Lamar, maybe some more of my guys, and I wanna take them somewhere fun Sunday. Somewheres maybe like this Lake.”

Bess tried to contain her disappointment that Elvis’ first thought wasn’t to spend the time with her. But she reminded herself that they weren’t serious, they were having a fling and besides, he saw her everyday. He sensed her mood change anyway as she sat up stiff and straight to start the car, and his hand became more attentive to her knee.

“I want you there, Bess, you’re coming out with me this weekend. Right after drills end at 1700 hours Saturday.”

“When does your friend get to town?”

“He’s already here. Lamar, he grumbles and fusses, but he is loyal and true. From Texas, too.”

“Where’s he staying?”

“At the Star Motel.” Elvis looked over at Bess, then down at where his long, thin fingers were on the inside of her knee, then back up to her eyes. “He, uh, he went and got a few a rooms so we can have a party Saturday night.” His voice became softer as he murmured. “Reckon it would be nice to have some time, just to be alone with with you, Bessie baby. Somewhere that ain’t a picnic bench. Or a car. Somewhere we could be alone and just talk.”

Bess parked behind the armory buildings near Elvis' barracks and turned to him, blushing.

“Um, yes, I guess I would like that too. To be able to just be somewhere, just talk.”

A wave of shyness suddenly overwhelmed Bess as she thought about being alone in a motel room with Elvis. What she thought he might really be asking her. She wasn’t sure how far she wanted to go with him this soon, though she could feel desire pulsing up through her rib cage and knew that if Elvis even looked at her sideways she would throw all abandon out of the window. But she had the impression, from just the few weeks she had known him, that Elvis was more old fashioned then she would have thought. She wasn’t sure where his boundary was, as far as respecting girls who went to bed with him. But his invitation definitely seemed like a proposition and the prospect of sleeping with him was at once exciting and terrifying.

Bess began to fiddle with her hands where they lay in her lap and Elvis picked up her left hand, bringing it to his cheek and kissing her palm delicately.

“Hey there, lil Moo Moo, you’re so pretty. How’d I catch the prettiest lil moo cow in the field, hmmm?”

The words rumbled out of Elvis mouth in a low babyish voice and his eyelids drooped down in time with his bottom lip. Bess’ chest tightened, and it felt like the world tilted sides when she pulled him in and he kissed her down into the leather seat. They pawed at each other there, exploring how their noses fit together as their tongues played tug of war for control. It sent a jolt straight to Bess’ core when she felt his excitement stiffen against her thigh and she smiled into his goofy bedroom eyes.

“Hey, wait, are you calling me a cow, Elvis Presley?”

Elvis shook his head, his face focused on where his right fingers brushed over her breast, savoring Bess’ shiver, as his knuckles trailed back down over the hills and valleys of her skirt. Her blood rushed between her legs and she took a deep breath.

His fingers were back at her bosom, setting her skin on aflame with the way his finger tips trailed back and forth circling her breast.

“Mmmmhmm, not jus any cow, baby, you the prettiest little milk cow, bet you have the sweetest.” He bite his lip as he circled the cloth around her nipple again. “Cream.”

Bess exhaled out with a gasp, curling her left fingers at his wrist as he spoke.

“Makin' me want dessert.”

Elvis’ hand stayed at her side where she held it, his fingers brushing against her dress, but it was his eyes that knocked the wind from her lungs as they moved downward to settle on the apex between her legs. Elvis bit his lips and Bess felt a desperate flame tingle out from her core. No one had ever done what he was hinting at, and it scared her. Suddenly she didn’t consider herself as experienced as she had before. She had slept with what, twenty men? And no one had ever kissed her there. That was something she needed to prepare for, perhaps double the talcum powder she applied. Coughing, Bess slide out from him to sit upright and straighten her dress. Elvis’ hands were back on her hips, pulling her over to straddle his lap.

“You know, Moo Moo, I’d never do nothin’ you don wanna.”

Elvis kissed her neck as she nodded.

“I bet you taste sweet, though.”

Bess swatted him playfully, then gripped his shoulder as he nibbled her ear. Playtime was over. A feverish yearning took over and she met his hips as they rocked up into her. Bess’ heart was racing, Elvis slow and deliberate movements made him different from any man she had ever been with. He halted mid thrust to savor the moment, and his eyes looked deep into hers with a longing and and an eagerness to please. They were an invitation and a command that he followed with his fingers, trailing them softly over the curve of her breasts. She could feel his cock twitch when he noticed her shudder, or felt her nipples harden, and she knew what made Elvis different. Her pleasure turned him on.

So she chased it, moving in tandem to the rhythm of his thighs while she pushed her lips on top of his, feeling his tongue meet hers once more. She felt his bulge and sought the friction of it between her legs. His movements became more urgent, and Bess’ grasped for anything she could find to hold on to as the car filled with sound of heaving, gulping, loud moans. Her orgasm erupted suddenly with a litany of “oh Gods,” and Elvis thumbs stroked her cheeks as he shushed the fear and hesitancy from her.

“I gotcha, I gotcha, sshhhhh baby, don worry. Jus ride it out. That’s a good lil girl.”

Bess’ chest heaved up as she remembered how to breathe. This was the most intimate experience she had ever had, and all of her clothes were still on. She half chuckled as she steadied herself, meeting Elvis triumphant, satisfied eyes.

“Wow.”

“You ok, honey? Make me think you ain’t never tussled with a boy before.”

“Not like that.”

His mouth curled into a big crooked grin, and she laughed up into the ceiling.

“Huh, well, that’s true, Bess, and you won’t never find someone like me again, neither. I got moves you ain't never seen, honey." He smirked. "Stick with me, I told you, I’m a very good boy.”

“Good at being bad.”

Laughing, she shifted and noticed his erection still lingered in his pants and so she moved her hand to rub over it but he stilled her.

“Don’t you want me to take care of you, Tupelo?” She kissed his cheek, lips moving down his neck. “ Make you feel good? I - I can, you know -”

Elvis patted her hand back into her lap and kissed the words out of her mouth.

“You were perfect tonight, Bess, perfect. But I jus as soon keep a lid on it. You don’t make it easy, though, baby, been makin’ me crazy all night, just walking round and sittin’ on me with all that equipment in your undercarriage.”

“Guess I know one pistol you have no trouble loading.”

Elvis tilted his neck back, laughing as he squeezed her waist as they made their goodbyes over a push and pull of kisses for the next fifteen minutes.

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

Schwartz Residence, Killeen TX

9:30 p.m.

The moon followed Bess in the clear night sky as she left post, still feeling Elvis’ hands all over her, hearing his laughter in her ears. She was giddy from the blissful release she had found on his lap, it had washed away all the tension she' 'd had carrying with her through the day. Hurrying up the stairs to her house, Bess stumbled upon her mother in the kitchen making camomile tea.The creases at the corners of Mama’s large brown eyes pinched together in a big smile.

“Oh Bessie Bess, my baby, you’re home late. Want some sleepy time tea, my shayna maidel?”

Bess strode over and put her arms around her mother’s back, leaning on her shoulder as her mother poured the kettle into the teapot, her chest filled with affection.

“Sure Mamaleh, I’d love some.”

Papa’s voice rang out from his office, so she kissed her mother’s cheek and promised to be right back.

“Aw, Elizabeth, how was your day shopping with, who, Emily, was it?”

Bess leaned against the doorway of his office, glad her father was at least making the pretense of settling down for the night in his dressing gown and pajamas. A pipe was in his hand as he read over some paperwork.

“Good, Papa, thanks for asking.”

“Gut, gut, ja.” He pushed his glasses up, and looked over his desk at his daughter, taking in her slightly disheveled hair, rumpled dress and newly applied lipstick below flushed cheeks. “You know, I thought your mother made two meatloaves for supper last night.”

“Oh, well, I took some for lunch today, Papa. I didn’t know you wanted it.”

“No, ja, I was just looking for a snack earlier, but no bother, no bother.” He put his papers down. “Are you still thinking of law school, because I saw General Brandon when we were in D.C.”

“I don’t want to go do propaganda for the U.S. government, Papa.”

“Yes, well, it’s not propaganda, spatz, it’s goodwill initiatives. This war is more about minds than mines, ja? Brandon’s information program is just making sure other countries have the opportunity to experience American art and culture. Someone with your background and expertise in foreign affairs, you’d be a good fit for a post open this fall. And they want women, smart, focused, attractive women like you. You would be perfect for this job.”

Bess tapped her fingers over her belt, she had not been thinking about her research project at all, or her law school applications for that matter. No, her head had been elsewhere, and she felt pangs of shame and guilt as she considered what her father was bringing up. Her future. Specifically, he was back at it trying to convince her to work for one of the newer programs in D.C. that his colleague in Army Intelligence had founded: the United States Information Agency. Its mission was officially “public diplomacy” overseas, but Bess knew it was essentially a PR agency for the United States.

“Is it in the Berlin office?”

“Ack, Illsa, Berlin is a coveted office, you have to work your way up to it. No. Helsinki.”

“I don’t even speak Finnish, or Swedish, and -”

“It is right there at the lion’s mouth, Ilsa, there’s a lot of action in Helsinki. All the spies from Moscow are coming through it. And the goodwill tours behind the Iron Curtain go off from there. It would be, what, two years? A stepping stone to Berlin maybe? Besides, Deutsch ist die Muttersprache, you’d pick up Swedish and Finnish like that.” Papa snapped his fingers.

“Mmmhmm. Well, you got my attention. But what about Mama?” Bess fingers clenched in a fist. “She seems like she is backsliding.”

“She doesn’t do well when her routine is disrupted, you know that. She will be fine, give her a few days to settle.” Papa sucked on his pipe, and the sweet smell of tobacco reached Bess’ nose. “And, well, you know I expect orders to INCOMS headquarters any day. That will be my last post before retirement, and I promised Mama New York after that. In the meantime, your Aunt Rachel wants to come and live with us in D.C.”

“What about Kay? I thought she wanted to go to Baylor.”

Papa’s elbow banged down on his desk, as he rearranged his paperweights, then he kept talking as he got up and put a jazz record on.

“Katharina applied to Georgetown, Radcliffe, Smith and many, many other colleges, she will be fine. She would also be fine at Baylor if she is determined to follow her silly friends there.”

Bess nodded, thinking of the girls in Kay’s high school class whose mothers had been in Baylor’s sororities, and how they had been giggling about life together next year. She thought of her own decision to stay in Texas for college, at the time she had wanted to follow her friends to a big school in a big city like Austin. She turned on her heel to head back to the kitchen and Mama’s camomile tea, muttering into the hallway in from to her. “Helsinki, huh?”

Her father’s voice followed her, his eyes narrowed at the smudges of lipstick Elvis had kissed into the back of Bess’ neck.

“Just think about, ja? You have so much potential, maus. I hate to see you loose sight of your goals.”

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

Click here to read Chapter Six: Guided Missiles

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