As soon as I walked in, I could feel the aura of QL. I guess it's hard to explain, but all these questions about my ex-favorite show came pouring back causing major confusion. The place looks a little like the bar in the first episode of QL, where Sam, the leapee's buddies and wives/girlfriend go. Wasn't there another bar? There was that night club on "Who Killed Grimley and Adams (or was it Allan)?", and the comedy club which I think co-stared what's-his-name from that show with Uncle Jesse and the Michelle twins (oh, yeah, FULL HOUSE, the show, not the episode.) Was there another Officer's Club? And, wasn't Sam a pilot in another episode? Oh, yeah! The Bermuda triangle one, and I think that's it for Sam's adventures with anything to do with air or flying (if you exclude the circus). Aw, forget it! Who care's about QL? Knowledge about Sam's leaps has no bearing on my freaky life.
90210 was standing near the jukebox and a woman with long blond hair and wearing a sexy white dress. I couldn't see who was seducing whom, but still I was disappointed and grinded my teeth in slight anger. He flirted with me at the PX, and now he's flirting with someone else.
It's about time to make my presence known. I unbuttoned the top of the blue gingham sundress I had on, until the tops of my enormous breasts were peeking out of the top. I sashayed over to the jukebox, my hips rocking from side to side. I rested my hands behind me, and twisted my body toward him.
Guess what? Not only did he look at me, but he looked at me since I walked into the Officer's Club.
"So, what's your answer?" the woman asked.
I dipped my upper torso sexily, and slowly licked my smooth lips. My eyes were motioning to a small out-of-the-way table, which was unoccupied. His eyes went directly to the top of my mounds of white flesh, probably wondering what existed below what he saw. (Figures! All military men are the same, no matter if it's Tailhook or QL.) But that was the reaction I wanted. When one is using fire, another must use fire to fight back.
He slipped his muscular arm behind me and clasp his hand on my middle. "Bye, Marci," he said before we walked away. "Thanks for coming, Leia."
"Why didn't you give her an answer? What did she want anyway?"
"Who?" he played clueless. "Mrs. Riker?"
There was that name again, and we're definitely not on the S.S. Enterprise bolding 'going where no one has gone before.' I found when and where we were this morning: Pensacola Naval Air Base, Saturday, June something, 1957. Back to the subject, my step-dad called the whole Riker family, who lived on the base, "White trash."
"Excuse me?" he said, taking offense at what I said.
"Sorry, I think."
"Don't worry about it." I could tell he didn't want me to know what got him upset. "I'd rather not say why, ok?"
"Sure. Whatever."
We finally reached the table, and sat down. "Wanta talk?" he asked.
"What about?"
"Anything," he said. "What do you do on the base?"
"Nothing. My step-dad's an Admiral, but I also found out this morning he's also a real jerk."
"Yeah. Learned my first year at Annapolis that all the higher-ups are real hard-headed nozzles."
I felt at that moment the same way that I feel when I burp and puke comes up which I'm forced to swallow. 'Nozzle!' Warning! Warning! QL word! "Never say that again!"
"Sorry to insult your stepfather." That's not it, but thanks anyway. "Just in my experience anybody above the rank of lieutenant is a horse's ass."
I smiled quietly. It sure did sound better than using that word; however, what he said did sound somewhat familiar and somehow still turned my stomach, even though I didn't know why.
"What did you find out?" I asked.
"He said that I can't be a good journalist because I'm a woman."
"Is that what you want to do?"
"No," I said. "I want to be either a criminal or divorce lawyer. I'm leaning more toward the later."
"You'd probably be good for it. You sure did have a lot of spunk dealing with Chip at the PX."
"Chip?"
"Ensign Furgeson. Oh, sorry! Just call me Bingo."
Please let Bingo be a common nickname!
"I mean I still have a year left in college, but I think I can do it."
"Well, people said I couldn't make it through Annapolis or even a year in the military based on my background, and look at me now, the top 20% of my graduating class (could have made top 5%, if I didn't goof off as much) and I've been in the military, counting Annapolis, since I was 18 and I'm 23 now."
"How come?"
"I'm from the city."
"So, what?" I asked, not understanding what he was hinting at. "I'm from Manhattan."
"Really?" 90210, Bingo, said. "Me too!"
"Wow! But how come?"
"Want to dance?" he said, avoiding my question, rising from the chair. I could tell it was rough for him to answer, and I just flew over a no-fly-zone.
He took my hand and lead me to the dance floor. A slow do-op song came on. I placed my arms around his neck, and he placed his around my waist. He pulled me so tight into him that I could feel the heat of his body, making my heart race faster. He started blowing in my ear as his hands moved lower to my small, firm buttocks. Then when I turned to look into his dark velvet eyes, he kissed me fully on my soft pink lips. Our lips parted as our tongues met, then danced in a cave of ecstasy.
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