Lt. Comm. Winchell free porn video

LT. COMMANDER WINCHELL ©by Eugene Webber Ron was surprised to hear a loud beeping from his laptop, the flashing icon indicating he had email. He clicked on 'Open.' "Morning, Ron." it read. "Shower and get dressed, meet me in the dining room. Virginia." He looked at the digital time in the upper right corner. 6:00 a.m.! He found the lights, then went to the bathroom. He dressed casually: chinos, loafers, polo shirt. The chinos were a little loose, requiring the use of a belt. 'Trust the Navy to screw things up,' he groused. Downstairs, Ron noticed for the first time there were two dining rooms. The one where dinner had been served the previous evening was dark. The other one, which he had thought was a prep area, was well lit. He went in, saw Virginia at a far table near the windows, waiting for him. At the other tables were Navy personnel in their Service Uniforms. Virginia looked at her watch as he reached her. "Go get yourself some coffee, nothing else, just coffee," she commanded. He looked around and notice there were coffee urns at the wall separating the dining room from the kitchen. He got himself some coffee, noticing that Navy mugs, heavy ceramic without handles, were used. He returned and sat opposite her. Virginia looked at him. "From time to time, maybe even daily, we'll have coffee together before we have breakfast with the Delanceys, for me to clue you in on things, and maybe even chew your ass out." Ron looked at her. "Is this about last night?" "No. ... You stood up for yourself," she stated. "Most of the young men any of the girls date, including Daphne, are so cowed by the older women of this family, especially Dame Delancey, that your standing up to Denise endears you to the younger set. That means that Daphne might reconsider you as boyfriend material." "Reconsider me?" Ron asked. "Three people here know you're not gay: you, Daphne, and now me. For her own reasons, Daphne wants everyone here to think you're her gay lover. I'm not sure what those reasons are, but I have my suspicions. I don't know what the two of you are doing when you're alone together, whether you two are only pretending or if you're actually screwing her. Since you asked for condoms, I'm assuming that you are screwing her, and, if you're doing a decent job of it ... well, that and your being man enough to stand up to her mother might make her want to keep you ... at least for the time being." Ron frowned. "So, if I'm a wimp ... everyone walks over me, but I can get out of this thing. But if I stand up to a family of British snobs, then their queer son might fall in love with me and want to keep me?" "Not just Daphne," Virginia giggled. "Donna practically creamed her panties last night during your little speech. Even Deborah, though you're much too young for her. ... And you can't get out of this thing, wimp or not. ... Oh yeah, that 'papers to get to' was pretty good. I used it last night after you left. It worked fine the second time, too" "Donna? Damn, ... Daphne made it very clear I'm to stay away from her." Virginia sipped her coffee. "That's sibling rivalry. Donna likes to take Daphne's boyfriends away from her. Likes to see if they're truly gay, or just bisexual. She'll be hitting on you by the end of next week, count on it." Ron was now truly upset. "So what am I supposed to do? Stay with a sissy I can't stand because I'm supposed to be gay, or be with her sister who, I have to say, is quite hot?" "You're here as Daphne's boyfriend," Virginia reminded him. "And as a gentleman, you don't bedhop." "But Daphne's a man ... and Donna is ... well, she is, isn't she?" "Oh yes. I can assure you that Donna is 100% female. And you're right, she is quite hot. Sizzling even." Ron looked at Virginia, disgusted. "You've been with her!" Virginia smiled. "And you were with Lady Delancey yesterday!" Virginia's smile brightened. "You're just as bad as Daphne. I'm almost surprised you haven't been with her!" Virginia's whole face was smiling. "You have. You've been with Daphne, too! Gawd, woman! Is there any member of this family you haven't been with." His voice was beginning to rise. "Get a hold of yourself, King!" Virginia admonished. "I have a special relationship with this family ..." "I'll say you do!" "A special relationship," Virginia finished. "Just continue being Daphne's boyfriend for a few more weeks. If things go the way I think they will, you'll get a chance with Donna," Virginia smiled again. "Take it. She's dynamite in the sack, and after a couple of weeks of fucking an ass, you'll appreciate real pussy." "Damn!" was all Ron could say. "Now, the real reason I wanted to talk to you," Virginia began, seriously. Ron glared at her, before he realized their previous conversation was tangential to why he was there. "While you're here primarily to service Daphne, this is not a vacation. We are officially civilian consultants to the Navy. I am a diplomatic liaison consultant, you are a diplomatic security consultant. After breakfast I'll introduce you to the base commandant?this is a Navy facility, after all. She will introduce you to the base security officer, who knows nothing about me, you, or the Delanceys. The base commandant knows what the Admiral wants her to know, which means about my special relationship with the Delanceys, but not about Daphne and you." Ron sipped his coffee, taking in what he'd just been told. "And just what does a diplomatic security consultant do?" he sneered. Virginia decided to ignore his tone. "You're to familiarize yourself with the base, especially the dock area. I understand the security officer is a real straight-arrow jarhead. You two should get along famously. Your story is that you are to coordinate with diplomatic security for all the swells who'll be attending the social events here. Some of them will be staying over the weekends, so the Admiral scored some presidential-class yachts for their housing ... you know, the type FDR and Kennedy and Reagan used to cruise the Chesapeake and the Potomac. They'll be docked at Captain's Landing, so technically you're responsible for the security of the boats and the guests aboard them. Remember, this is the leatherneck's turf, and you're just here to make sure everything goes smoothly with the diplomatic visitors." Ron, more composed, nodded. "The commandant and I have worked together," Virginia continued, "and she also reports to the Admiral. She has her duties, mainly keeping this base's function secret?that means being discreet, very discreet. She's to make our assignment easy and smooth. We reciprocate where we can. As far as the enlisted personnel are concerned, we're civilian guests of the Delanceys, who are guests of the Navy. Any questions?" By now, Ron understood that when Virginia asked "any questions" what she meant was don't question anything. She stood, "Breakfast with the Delanceys at 0800, sailor." She turned and left Ron with his thoughts. Ron finished his coffee, then looked at the other diners. He realized that he was hungry, but didn't know if he could avail himself of the kitchen. Besides, he had to have breakfast with the Delanceys in an hour and a half. He sighed and finished his coffee. Duty can be a bitch. ### At 7:45 a.m. there was a knock on his door. What does that woman want now? Ron groused to himself. He opened the door expecting to see Virginia, only to see Daphne. They just stared at each other. Daphne spoke first. "Good morning, Ronnie. May I come in?" Ron stepped aside and let her in, then looked down the hallway to see if anyone had seen her. Closing the door, he turned to her. "Aren't you going to say 'Good morning' to your sweetheart?" "Good morning," Ron said perfunctorily. Daphne scowled. "Not very affectionate, darling." She sneered 'darling.' "If that's the best you can do after spending a night away from me, maybe we should spend our nights together." The discomfort on Ron's face was unmistakable. Daphne looked away, spying the box of condoms on the dresser, then turned back to Ron. "You're to escort me to breakfast, in fact to all meals when we're both here. ... And you're always to kiss me?on the lips?whenever you enter a room where I am, or leave me behind, as you did last night. Remember, you're my boyfriend." Ron nodded in resignation. He looked at Daphne, now in full female regalia?face made up, hair falling softly to her shoulders, a summer dress in powder blue?Ron thought the choice of color odd?and sandals revealing her painted toes, matching her long nails. Damn, she makes a really pretty woman. For a moment he doubted his own sexual orientation. He opened the door as she slipped her arm in his and guided him towards the stairs. Breakfast was in the same dining room as last night's dinner. Same table arrangements, except now the kitchen staff had wheeled in three carts with various breakfasts in steam tables. All waited for Ron to assist Daphne to her chair before sitting. The head steward?if that's what he could have been called?approached Lady Delancey first. "Denise," Virginia said before the head steward could speak. "Why don't you try an American style of breakfast?" Denise's face brightened. She liked the way Americans did everything. "Sir," Virginia addressed the steward, who looked at her, startled at the title. "Just leave the carts." She turned to Denise. "We'll eat buffet style. Each of us will take our plates and serve ourselves. The staff here," she indicated the stewards and the other mess attendants, "can repair to the kitchen or whatever." She looked at them, but spoke to Denise. "I think they've been up several hours already. An hour or so off their feet will probably do them good." The stewards looked at her gratefully. Denise looked at them, then at Virginia, not knowing how to dismiss them. "Why don't you wait for us in the kitchen," Virginia said to them. They all bowed slightly and left, the head steward being the last to leave. He turned just before exiting, looking hard at Virginia. When the head steward closed the door, Virginia turned to Denise. "The less open ears we have around, the more freely we can speak." "Thank you, Ginny. I had not thought of that." Denise said, turning toward Ron. "Since we do have this moment of privacy, young man, I would like to apologize for last night." "Apologize?" Ron inquired. "Yes." Denise assumed an upright posture. "My family comes from Eastern Europe, just before, during and just after the war. ..." Virginia interrupted. "That's World War II, Ron." "Yes, thank you, Ginny," Denise continued. "I was born in Britain, as were all of my sisters, and my cousins. But both my parents and all four of my grandparents were immigrants, though naturalized. My grandfathers helped greatly during the war." She looked at Virginia, "World War II." She then returned her gaze to Ron. "One was even knighted. So there is a Sir Andrej on my side of the family, too." She beamed proudly. "My husband's grandmother, however, does not see me as British, and definitely not English. I should have said to her ... many times ... what you said to me last night: that I am British, but of East European heritage. I can't point to any one country since my grandparents came from four different countries." "They were running from the Jerries," Donna interrupted with added theatrics, indicating she had heard this story too often. "Yes, and the two families met in London in a bomb shelter during the Blitz," added Deborah. "Our grandmother and grandfather, mere children, huddled with their poor parents, barely old enough to be out of their mothers' arms, find each other as death rains down on them," chimed in Daphne. "Enough!" Denise shouted. "Heritage is important! Family is important! History is important! Your country ... and your country's allies are important!" "Now, now, Denise," Virginia interjected. She turned to the daughters, sternly, "your mother was just explaining certain things to Ronald, here." She then turned to Ron. "Lady Delancey's grandparents escaped from what is now Romania and Hungary, along with various members of their families. They were able to reach Britain about the time of the Blitz?that's 1940 and 41." She looked at Denise, "Your parents were only about two or three, right, Denise?" Denise, now more composed, but still seething at her daughters, nod. Virginia continued. "The two families met, shared some experiences, then ended up with the husbands?both university professors in their home countries?working for the British war effort. Their children grew up together, married young, and produced four beautiful daughters, of which Denise is one, right Denise?" Denise nodded again, "Except for the beautiful daughters part. We are nice looking, I admit, but I wouldn't say we were beautiful. At least not me." The daughters all rolled their eyes at their mother's false modesty. "You are a beautiful woman, Lady Delancey," Ron said. Daphne dug her nails into his arm, while Denise placed her hand on his other one. "Thank you, Ronald. That's very sweet of you." She then looked past him to Daphne. "I can see why you were so smitten with this young man. If I was younger ..." she let the thought linger as she squeezed his arm. 'What the hell's going on here,' Ron wondered as he looked from Denise to Virginia, expecting to see his boss raging with jealousy and anger. Instead, Virginia was reclining in her chair, a very wide smirk on her face. "Ron's right, Denise. You still are a beautiful woman," Virginia complimented her. "Do you and the girls have any particular plans today?" Denise looked at her daughters, then back to Virginia. "I don't think so. Why?" "Ron and I have to pay our respects to the local commander and her staff. We might be gone all day. Is there anything you or the girls need I can get for you before we leave?" "Yes!" Deborah spoke up. "You can stop referring to us as 'the girls.' " Her outburst caught everyone by surprise. As the eldest natural daughter and middle child, she was usually demure and compliant. "We're all young women, even Daphne," she continued, her voice a little shrill. "We all have been to university. We all would have careers ... and lives ... and young men if not for Great-grandma-ma! So while we're here ... for what reason I don't know ... I, for one, would like to be referred to as a young woman. Not a young lady, for I am tired of being one, but a young woman!" Donna clapped. Daphne smiled at her. "Thank you, sister dear. For everything that you said." Donna turned to her mother. "Mummy, why are we here?" "Your father ..." Denise began. "No," Donna interrupted. "Not why is Daddy here. Or you. Or even Great-grandma-ma. Why do Deborah and I have to be here, in America?" Denise looked around the table. "Donna, darling. Your father is on a special assignment that involves this entire family. That is why we are all here. I don't know exactly what it is, except that your Great- grandma-ma's health is involved." She looked at Virginia. "Ginny, do you know anything you can tell us?" "No, Denise," Virginia replied. "I do know it had something to do with Daphne's Asian lovers. That's one of the reasons Dame Delancey thinks she's in love with Ronald." Daphne sat up. "Joseph and Nicholas?" "I'm not sure what their names are." Virginia replied. "Joseph and Nicholas may be anglicized names. They are both Chinese nationals. There were two others, right?" "Yeah, Kevin and Norman. I suppose those weren't their real names either," Daphne pouted. "Probably not." Virginia said. "No matter. Your great-grandmother had those affairs squashed and you went off the deep end. ..." "Will you people ever stop saying that!" Daphne screeched. "I find people who accept me as I am, who don't see me as some type of freak or pervert, and my controlling great-grandmother, whom I've seen a total of seven times in the last fifteen years, has them deported! Deported!" She turned to Virginia, "I'm surprised you're still with us, seeing how accepting you are of me." 'Well,' Virginia thought, 'I wouldn't here if Dame Delancey knew I was a man living as a woman, that I had shagged her gay great-grandson and her great-granddaughters, and that I have threeways with her grandson and his wife.' Ron was totally confused. Dame Delancey was obviously not the most welcome member of this family, yet she controlled the Delancey clan. And evidently more. She could get people deported? What was this about Asian lovers? And how did an African American lieutenant in the American Navy get such influence over this family? His mental questioning was disrupted by Virginia's voice speaking to Lady Delancey. "Dame Delancey may seem omniscient, omnipotent, and omnipresent, but God she is not. Close, but no." Denise smiled. "And your Admiral?" Virginia returned the smile. "Mention her name never, and her title only in hallowed tones, Lady Delancey. This is one of her shrines, and the walls have both ears and eyes." ### On their way to see the base commandant, Ron asked, "What was all that about? At breakfast?' Virginia continued driving, watching the unfamiliar road as she answered. "Which part, the apology, the history lesson, or the whining, bratty, bitchy girls?" Ron sighed. "What have I gotten myself into? All of it, what was all of it ... or any of it ... about?" Virginia was now laughing. "Dame Delancey does not think much of anyone whose ancestors arrived in the British Isles after the Restoration ... that's the mid-1600s ... so you can imagine what she thinks about Denise's family. Like they just arrived yesterday ... in steerage. Denise is very sensitive about that, due in part to the snobbishness of her sister-in-law Beryl, who you heard mentioned last night, and you'll meet this weekend, and to Sir Harold not being able to stand up to his grandmother as often as he should. He does stand up to her, just not all that often, and not always where Denise or their children are concerned. "The girls have been subjected to family history discourses from their parents, their aunt, and their great-grandmother all their lives. As you heard, some of it has become rote. The girls don't really appreciate what great leeway the Delancey name has given them, only the restrictions and limitations it sometimes carries." Ron absorbed all this. Family was very important to him too, especially grandparents. He looked at Virginia. "And where do you fit in all this?" "Why Massa Ron," Virginia said in Hollywood's version of southern Black dialect, "I'se de trusted house darky." She then burst into gales of nearly uncontrollable laughter, nearly driving off a road an ancient ancestor, unknown to her, had once trod in chains. Virginia took Ron to a building near the dock, circa 1944: a three- story concrete cube with rows of windows at each floor. No elevator, they had to walk up three flights to the base commander's office. She was waiting for them in the reception area. Of medium height, she was dressed in her Navy Service Uniform, with a skirt rather than trousers, black leather pumps with 2-5/8" stiletto heels. The thought occurred to Ron that women have more choices in apparel then men, even in their uniforms. Winchell's hair was styled so that its dark locks framed her head like a dark halo graying at the roots, with streaks of gray throughout. Not much, but enough to indicate her maturity, and that she'd never dyed or tinted it. Wire-rim glasses nearly hid made up eyes: eye shadow, mascara, lashes. Applied to accent the natural beauty of her eyes. No blush, lipstick just a touch of red. "Virginia, long time since we shared deployments," she smiled, extending a well-manicured hand. Virginia took it firmly, holding it a little too long after shaking it. "Yes, a long time, Lilly." She turned to Ron. "Ron, this is Lt. Commander Lillian Winchell. Lt. Commander, Ronald King." The two shook hands. Virginia asked, "So what do you have for us?" "Let's go into my office," Winchell said, turning to her enlisted secretary. "No interruptions, seaman. And I mean NO Interruptions." "Yes, ma'am," the secretary replied in a voice indicating she knew the consequences if there were any. Winchell closed the door after the two quasi-civilians entered. She indicated chairs in front of her desk, her office remarkably resembling the Admiral's, only smaller. "So, Virginia, what can you tell me?" "Depends, Lil, what do you know?" "I know I don't like being called Lil any more than you like being called Ginny." "Yeah, tell me 'bout it." Winchell laughed. "Couldn't help eavesdropping last night. Had to check the Big House to see that everything was going ok. Got there at dinner time. Ginny, Ginny, Ginny. How long have you known these Brits?" "About three years. They were the assignment I had in Sardinia." "Oh! They're ... those Brits!!" "Yep, so that tells you about everything you need to know." "Not quite, but it goes a long way. The Admiral told me to prepare for social gatherings for the next four weekends. A bunch of titled poshes from the diplomatic corps and their liaisons from the State Department and the Pentagon. One of the Brits is a knight, with his own yacht. High security. Not Al Queda or anything like that, but VIP security, with an emphasis on the V. Anything else." "Not at this time," Virginia replied. "The Admiral's playing this close to her chest. This is the first I've heard of more than one party. Information gets out on a need to know basis. Loose lips sinks ships, that sort of thing. Make sure your people are aware of that. See nothing, hear nothing, say nothing. What happens at Captain's Landing stays at Captain's Landing." "Aye, aye, lieutenant." "Oh yeah, no rank for Ron or me. We're civilian consultants, with privileges. The Admiral scored some presidential-class yachts to be used as guest quarters. Ron will need to check the docking facilities." "Gotcha, Ginny." Virginia gave her a look. "You're a civilian whom everyone calls Ginny, right?" "For that I'll have to make sure you're invited to the parties," Virginia smiled devilishly. "In your official capacity as base commandant, of course." Winchell grabbed her hat. "Well, Ginny, Ron, in my official capacity, let me give you a tour of Captain's Landing." As they entered the reception area Winchell said to her secretary. "Contact Capt. Quinn, have him meet us at the dock." As the trio descended the stairs, Virginia walking beside Winchell, Ron, walking behind them, noted that they walked in step, their hips swinging in harmony like Rockettes in a dance step. "By the way, Lilly," Virginia said. "Don't be too impressed about British knighthood. You'll be running into Sir this and Sir that for the next month. The Brits hand those titles out like music awards here. Remember, both Paul McCartney and Laurence Olivier were knights and lords. A Beatle is Lord Paul!" Outside, a Navy sedan was waiting, with another seaman as driver. He was slouched against the hood as the trio exited the building. He quickly snapped to attention and saluted, wondering why his boss was wearing heels. Winchell returned the salute as the driver opened the door to the rear seats on the driver's side. Virginia looked at Lilly. "Haven't learned to drive in heels yet, uh, Lilly?" Lilly threw her a daggers' look. Virginia looked at the driver. "Driver, I think the commander won't be needing your services just now," she said. The driver looked at Winchell, confused. "It's okay, Harvey," Winchell said, easing pass him into the driver's seat. "Just go inside and wait 'til we come back." Virginia went around the car to the passenger side, riding shotgun. By now, Ron was in the back seat, centered, like an admiral being chauffeured around. Winchell started the car and pulled it onto the road. "How long are you going to be here, Ginny?" She emphasized that last word. "Long enough for us to catch up on old times, Lil. Is that long enough?" Winchell grunted while Virginia giggled. Ron looked at the back of their heads and thought for the umpteenth time: what's this all about? Is the Lieutenant Commander a dyke too? ### Capt. Sean Quinn, U S. Marines, was waiting at the dock gate as Winchell pulled the car into the parking area next to the sentry booth. Two people in the front seat, one in the back, base commander at the wheel. The guy in the back must be some big shot. He saluted as Winchell got out, his eyes narrowed to keep from bugging out. Lt. Commander Winchell in a skirt! And heels! Winchell returned his salute and waited for Virginia to come around to the driver side. Meanwhile Ron got out the back. Who is this guy? Quinn wondered. Looks like some shave-tail. Quinn returned his gaze to Winchell, who was now walking toward him, Virginia at her side. Is the Commander wearing make-up? Something strange is going on here. "Captain, this is Virginia Skeffler and Ronald King," Winchell introduced the pair. Virginia shook Quinn's hand just as Ron came up, completing the formalities. Quinn looked at him very hard. This guy's got shave-tail written all over him. Quinn looked at Virginia closely; really nice looking woman, he observed. Then he looked at Winchell. So this is what she looks like dolled up. Not bad. Not bad at all. "Ms. Skeffler and Mr. King are guests of the Delanceys." Winchell informed the Marine. "They are also civilian consultants with the Navy. Mr. King has a secret security clearance, and he will provide liaison between you and the security details for the various diplomats and other foreign nationals who will be visiting our little base for the next four weekends. I expect you to extend him every courtesy." Quinn looked at King. King knew the look. "Captain," he began, "I have no intention of interfering with your job. I'm just here to smooth things out, run interference with the Brits and others if there is a security problem. Mainly, they complain to me, not you, if there's a problem on their end, and you complain to me if there's a problem on yours. If things can't be worked out, it's my ass in the sling, not yours, not Lt. Commander Winchell's. If that's okay with you." Before he could answer, Winchell replied. "That's exactly the way we want it, Mr. King. Right, Captain?" "Yes, ma'am. Wouldn't have it any other way, ma'am," Quinn lied. "I understand you have a dock or wharf that can handle pretty large ships?" Virginia asked. "Yes, Ms. Skeffler," Lilly replied, a little too formally for all concerned. She and Virginia were having a hard time keeping straight faces. "Why don't you take Mr. King down there and explain the setup, Capt. Quinn," Virginia suggested. Turning to Ron, she spoke for Quinn's benefit. "Mr. King, the Admiral will be using two presidential-class yachts to bring and house some of the guests each weekend, and Sir Arthur Ridgeleigh will be arriving with his own. See if the facilities are adequate. Lt. Commander Winchell and I will be back at her office." She then turned to Quinn. "You wouldn't mind dropping Mr. King off at the Manor House when you've completed your inspection, Captain?" She turned to Lilly, "That is, if it's alright with you, Commander Winchell?" Lilly gave her a look, then turned to Quinn, "Just drop Mr. King off, Captain, okay?" Quinn said nothing, just saluted. Winchell returned the salute, turned and walked briskly to the car, not waiting to see if Virginia was following. Virginia smiled a goodbye at the men, then slowly followed Lilly to the car. ### Lilly pulled onto the road. Halfway back to her office she looked at Virginia, still shocked at how feminine ... and pretty ... her one-time lover looked as a woman. "Got to admit, you make a damn good looking woman." "That's why you're wearing those shoes?" "What's wrong with my shoes?" "Nothing. ... If I was wearing them. Stilettoes? With your uniform?" "Okay, so they're barely regulation." "And when was the last time you wore a skirt? Or hosiery?" "I don't recall you having a problem with my wardrobe before?" "And I don't now. You're an attractive woman. In skirts and heels, or pants and flats, which I assume you normally wear. I just didn't think you are so insecure that you feel you have to compete with me." "I see you got being a bitch down good. How many people here know about you?" the Commander asked, as she pulled the car in front of her office building. The driver was waiting on a bench just outside the door. "Here. The Delanceys and you. Except for Dame Delancey, the family matriarch." "Why not her?" Lilly asked. "She is not aware of a lot concerning her progeny, including my relationships with them." "And exactly what is that relationship?" Lilly inquired. Virginia sensed Lilly's question was not just a need-to-know question. "The younger generation can talk to me where they cannot?or will not?talk to their parents. And they avoid their great-grandmother as if she was Typhoid Mary. So I'm the go-between, the bridge." Lilly looked past Virginia as she spoke. "That could have been my family when I was their age." Virginia nodded. "It could be a lot of families, in a lot of countries. Dame Delancey knows I have an influence over her grandson Guy, which kept him from committing suicide about eight months ago. She doesn't know what that influence is, but she does not want to lose him. So we let her know Guy is no longer suicidal, but not the nature of my keeping him among the living." Lilly turned her head when she heard the door being opened. Harvey was standing just in back of the open door, ramrod straight, right arm in salute, left hand on the door handle. Although protocol did require it, Harvey and Lilly seldom exchanged salutes. Lilly realized that he had been taken aback by the whole morning sequence: her in a skirt and heels, with make-up, driving the car, having what was a personal conversation with an old friend. The two officers exited the car. Lilly returned Harvey's salute. "Thank you, Harvey." She looked at the car. "She runs beautifully. I might do this more often." By now Virginia had cleared the front of the car. The two went inside together, Harvey wondering who was this colored woman who could make his commanding officer act so out of character. Not his base commander. No sir ... or ma'am ... not her at all! It wasn't until they were safely behind the closed door of Winchell's office that she continued the conversation. "You didn't answer me, Ginny." "That's something I'm not at liberty to divulge, Lilly. Sorry." Somewhat miffed, Winchell pressed on. "What about this King?" "Ensign, Navy Reserve. Knows nothing about me, about anything." Virginia replied. "I think he inadvertently got mixed up with the Delanceys and don't know how to untangle himself. What about your jarhead?" "God!! Why can't they have their own service!!" Winchell said. "Throwback ... straight out of World War II. Father was Marines, served in 'Nam. Grandfathers, both of them, Marine sergeants, caught the tale end of WWII and Korea. I think he wishes he'd served under them. Seen service in Iraq. Probably a good man to have in a fight, but not much chance of that here, I hope. Pretty strac on his assignments, and with his men. I've had to let him know he's a Marine, not a Navy officer, and the seamen are not in his chain of command?and that I am, as his superior. He didn't like that. Not the lack of authority over the sailors?most Marines don't think much of us anyway?but that I could and did read him the riot act." "Was it because you were Navy or a woman?" "Little of both, probably. Like you said, I normally dress like a man?the service uniform was not designed for a woman, that's for sure. Not that I'm gay. You know better. But I admit I do give that aura. Being thought to be a lesbian has its advantages as well as its disadvantages. The Marines respect me more as an officer thinking I'm a dyke, yet disrespect me as a woman. If I was more feminine, they wouldn't respect me either as an officer or a woman." "How about me helping you out with that lesbian aura." Winchell quizzed her with a look again. "Let's have dinner at your place Wednesday. I can bring my toothbrush and leave Thursday morning with a smile," Virginia explained. "We better both be smiling." -000-