Ashley Part III The Hotel
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Ashley III, Carry And ChrisChapter 3 free porn video
Carry's Narrative:
The following new characters appear in the next few chapters:
Marge
Agent Trainee, 5'- 6'' tall, 140 pounds, 36C-25-36, 21 years old, brown hair cut short, blue eyes.
Carol
Agent Trainee, 5'- 4'' tall, 130 pounds, 34C-24-34, 20 years old, blond hair, blue eyes
Those of us going to Field Agent training boarded a bus very early on the morning of Monday, the 9th of October following our graduation at the Training Facility on Friday, the 6th. The "we" consisted of less than half of the initial class. Some had been dropped during initial training, and the remainder were on their way to different technical schools. Our eventual destination was Florida, but there were several stops along the way.
Chris and I sat in the front seats of the bus so we could see out the front window. None of our classmates were eager to challenge us for the seats. They had all seen what we had done and how we had behaved during the initial training and knew not to bother us.
All but two of the guys that is, they were pretty good for not having had all of the training that we had growing up, and they weren't hard to look at either. Still, we were more serious about being Agents than in being their girlfriends.
Naturally, the bus didn't make it all of the way to Florida as advertised. We stopped at Fort Benning, Georgia on the way. It seems there was more training in store for us before we reached the swamps of Florida.
Our bus stopped at the entry gate to Fort Benning, and an MP got on the bus. The two Agency Trainers accompanying us showed him their badges and some paperwork and then we were allowed to proceed.
A short time later our bus stopped alongside of a large grass covered field We could see several very high towers, and there were people with parachutes above them being dropped on a line. A large Sergeant got on the bus and smiled at our Trainers. This guy was black, about 6'-3'' tall with very broad shoulders, and was in very good condition. He was wearing a black T-shirt with the word 'Airborne' on the front and a black baseball cap with silver wings on the front. That was all that we could see of him initially.
"Welcome to Fort Benning and the Airborne Training Center," he said to start in a very loud voice but not shouting. "I am Sergeant First Class Johnson, and I will be your instructor for the time that you are here. Airborne Training is a mandatory requirement of your Agency for Field Operatives. Is there anyone here who objects to taking this training?" he demanded in just as loud a voice. No one said anything, and after twenty seconds with no reply he continued.
"When I tell you, you will have thirty seconds to fall out in formation facing me in two ranks," he paused for several seconds to allow this to sink in.
"FALL OUT!" he bellowed in an even louder voice, as he jumped out the door of the bus. Since Chris and I were in the front seats on the passenger side of the bus, we were out the door right behind him, because our Dad had warned us about the tricks that the Army trainers liked to play on new people. The other sixteen students were right on our heels. The two cute guys who wanted us to be their girlfriends were right behind us coming out of the bus, but jumped in front of us to form the first rank. We formed up behind them, figuring to let them take any abuse that this Sergeant had to hand out.
"Not bad. You only took thirty-one seconds to unass that bus. Of course, there was only a half load on the bus," the Sergeant told us when we were all in formation. Our two Agency Trainers strolled off the bus once we were all off. The driver also got off and began opening the baggage compartment under the bus.
"When I tell you to, you will have two minutes to retrieve your personal possessions and fall back in formation," he told us and paused for a short time.
"DO IT, PEOPLE!" he shouted, and we all turned to the open baggage compartment under the bus. Two of the guys started pulling duffel bags out and throwing them on the ground. There was a mass of confusion while everyone tried to find their particular bag. Chris and I had tied red ribbons on the handles of our duffels and they were easy to spot. We quickly grabbed ours when they came off the bus and didn't worry which one we each had. We were quickly back in formation and formed the first rank this time. The Sargent was looking at us and then at the remainder of our group who were still trying to find their own duffels.
"You ladies have done this before," he said with a smile, noting the red ribbon on our bags.
"Our Father traveled a lot and gave us tips on finding our luggage. We didn't figure this to be much different," Chris told him. At the end of two minutes, Sergeant Johnson blew a brass whistle and shouted at those still not in formation.
"Grab a bag and get your asses back over here," he bellowed at those not finished. When they were back in formation, he gave the late comers the evil eye.
"Those of you who were late owe me twenty pushups. Drop and start counting. I want to hear every pushup from each of you and none of those wimpy pushups. DROP!" he finished in a bellow. They dropped and started counting. Our Agency Trainers were smiling big time.
Following that, we were marched with our duffels to a small barracks building away from the others. We stopped outside the building.
"I will return you to the control of your Trainers. Do not leave these premises except for chow. A clerk will be here to issue your meal cards shortly. Your training will begin tomorrow at 0530 hrs. with PT and a run. The uniform will be T-shirt and shorts. Since you haven't been issued combat boots yet, wear regular running shoes. That's all that I have for you at this time. Trainers, take charge of your people," Sergeant Johnson said before departing. The Agent-in-Charge took his place in front of our formation.
"The barracks has been divided into two sections. The large section is for the males. The smaller area with the door is for the females. All of you make sure that you have your own duffel bag. The next time, each of you just grab a duffel, any duffel. You can straighten them out later and you won't need to do any pushups. They like to give pushups here," he told us. "Fall out!" he added after a few seconds. We all broke for the barracks, but most of the guys were in the front as everyone crowded into the barracks. I stopped the other four women as soon as I saw the floor. It had been waxed and buffed to a high shine before all of the guys tromped down it.
"Wait up, ladies," I said.
"What's wrong?" one of the others asked.
"The Army had this place all shined up, and the guys have already tracked it up. Chris, go to the other end of the building and see if there is another entrance to the women's area there," I directed. Chris left her duffel with me and went to check. She was soon back.
"There is another entrance. It was open and I looked in. The floor there is waxed and buffed also," she reported.
"Let's use that entrance, and everyone take off your shoes before going inside. It will save a lot of work," I told them.
"Have you been in the Army?" a young woman named Marge asked, as we moved around the building.
"No, but our dad was in Recon for three years and told us about a lot of stuff," Chris told her.
"Yeah, my Da was in the Army, too, and told me about buffing floors and inspections. Was your Da Airborne?" she asked.
"No, he joined the Agency from the Army and told us that he only made one operational parachute jump, and that had been enough for him," I told her as we reached the other end of the building.
"Only stocking feet, and don't drag your duffel. That floor will need to look just like it does now when we leave in the morning," I reminded the other two women.
"How can we do that?" one asked.
"There is a buffer somewhere, and we need to get a hold of it before the guys do, because they will hog it if they get it first," I told them.
"I'll check the area for the buffer, if you two will get the others straightened out," Marge told us.
"Sounds like a plan," Chris told her.
"Don't walk down the center aisle. Use the area along the walls and behind the bunks. Put your stuff on the bunk not the floor," I told the others, as we began to loosen up our shoes prior to removing them to enter our part of the barracks.
There were six bunks in our area and each one had a wall locker behind it against the wall and between the windows. There was an entryway to a small latrine at the middle of the building across from an area with two tables and some chairs. The door to the other end of the building was in the wall there. Chris made sure that the door was locked while I picked two adjacent bunks for us. Marge took the third bunk on our side of the barracks.
"Get your clothes set up in the wall locker just like at the training center. It's already late afternoon, and they will be serving chow shortly," I reminded the others. We were just finishing putting our clothes away when a female Spec 4 showed up. She came in our front door, but I managed to stop her before she was more than a step or two into the building.
"Hold it right there, Specialist," I warned her to a surprised look. "We'll join you in a second." We all walked over to her in our stocking feet to see what she wanted.
"You ladies are pretty sharp," she said on seeing all of us with our shoes off.
"Some of our dads were in the Army," Marge told her.
"I brought your meal cards. You'll need to show them these and sign the visitors' roster to eat at the mess hall," she told us.
"Just where is the mess hall?" Chris asked, and the Specialist gave us directions.
"You girls are a lot smarter than the guys on the other end of the building are. They have walked all over the floor in their area, and it's a mess already," she told us with a grin before leaving. I turned to Marge with a questioning look.
"Yes, I found the buffer in a closet. I'll move it over by my bunk before we go to chow," she told me.
"Is there a way to lock this place up?" one of the other women asked.
"We'll find one," I told her. It turned out that the key to the door between our part of the barracks and the guys' part fit the entry door also. We used it to lock up our end of the barracks before going to chow, but we waited until after Retreat and to the Colors were played before leaving.
As soon as we stepped out of the barracks, we saw one of our Agency Trainers there waiting for us. He was now dressed in camouflage pants and combat boots with a black T-shirt. The front read 'AIRBORNE', and we soon saw that the back only read 'AGENT' with no rank or name. It was typical of the Agency and their mania for secrecy.
"There is a formation out on the street," he told us before turning and starting in that direction. We could now also hear the men coming out of their end of the barracks. We fell in at attention on the end of the formation when we reached the street. All of us still had on the clothing that we had arrived in.
"While you are here, there will be a number of formations each day, and you will be marched to each of the locations where there are classes and to the mess hall," the Senior Trainer informed us before calling us back to attention and then marching us to the mess hall. There were a number of whistles and cat calls from the soldiers that we passed.
We soon learned that the mess hall was a large building that contained a consolidated mess for nearly a thousand soldiers. Once inside, we showed the person at the checkpoint our meal cards and signed the appropriate roster so the Agency could be billed for our meals.
On observing those on the serving line, we just knew that this would not be a gourmet dining experience. Boy! Were we ever right. The food wasn't that good, but there was a lot of it. Still, that didn't make up for the lack of quality. Chris and I got a table with Marge, while the other two women picked a table with two of the Agency guys who were with our group.
"Our Mother would never serve anything this bad, she would throw it out first," Chris commented after a few mouthfulls.
"Get used to it," Marge told her. "This is actually pretty good for Army chow. It can be worse – a lot worse," she finished. We were soon finished and turned in our trays to the civilian KPs, but waited for the other two women. There was no one waiting outside to march us back to our barracks, but that didn't mean there weren't people outside waiting for us.
"Hey cutie, what are you doing tonight?" one of the obnoxious young trainees asked when we came out of the mess hall. There were seven or eight of his friends there with him.
"Ah shit!" Marge whispered, but we were all interrupted then by a very large Sergeant who came out of the building right behind us. He was dressed just like Sergeant Johnson had been, and the trainees quickly snapped to attention.
"What are you men doing here screwing-off?" he demanded in a deep gravelly voice.
"Nothing, Sergeant Airborne!" they all screamed in return.
"Drop and give me twenty-five," he demanded. They all hit the ground and began pumping out pushups as they counted them off.
"You ladies get out of here before you owe me twenty-five also," he growled at us. We hastily departed and hurried back to our barracks.
That evening, we all worked on the floor before going to bed early. It was a good thing too, because it was five o'clock the next morning when we were all rudely awakened from a sound sleep by a bugle playing reveille over a speaker in the corner of the room.
"Reveille! Reveille!" a voice shouted following that. "PT in thirty minutes. Reveille!"
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