The heat was tropical. She was a singer. Weren’t all women once? She had the calling of the Siren, a Lorelei, destroyer of men. Circe, sorceress, wi...ch. A voice so steeped in magical chant and ecstatic, holy praise that God Himself would have seduced her just to listen as she reached her climax. In lilting jazzy riffs of moans and little pattering breaths; in low, agonized releases, in snarling, animal howls she was a singer. Awaiting a man to sing to. Thinking of the man she awaited, often in. Almost everything I got issued that first week was World War Two surplus and I think the Army even went out to raid the Army Navy stores to stock up the stuff they had given away just a few years ago thinking they would not need it again so quickly.My sister dated my drill sergeant for a couple of years and I had to listen to him mooning about how beautiful she was and that she made him feel so good inside. It was so bad it almost made me run to the latrine and throw up it was that sickening.My. More

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