Aliens and CowboysThe Embassy
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Colonel Allen Murphy strode purposefully through the dimly lit halls of the American Embassy. Even in these times, he didn't normally get a summons from the Ambassador in the middle of the night. His eyes were constantly moving, noting every nook and cranny in the shadow-draped halls. He stopped to swipe his card through a card reader that gave him access to the courtyard leading to the residential wing of the Embassy.
Goose-bumps rippled up his arms, and a chill ran down his spine, as he exited the building. Allen slowed perceptibly, his eyes probing for what had caused his senses to go on alert. There was nothing, or at least nothing that he could see.
It was the witching hour. Memories of his Irish Grandmother's tales of things that go bump in the night flashed through his mind. Allen crossed himself as he murmured a quiet prayer, and continued walking. Maybe the chill was only someone walking over his grave!
Colonel Murphy had been on edge all evening, but he didn't know why. He didn't feel endangered any more than he normally did, in this God forsaken country, but he couldn't shake the feeling that something unknown was afoot. He had quietly raised the alert level of his guard posts, based on his gut feeling, increasing the number of on-duty Marines at each primary and secondary post. Receiving a summons to report to the Ambassador's apartment ratcheted his nerves even higher. He shivered again.
Thirty-one years earlier, Colonel Allen Murphy had joined the Marines on his seventeenth birthday. His father, a Sergeant in the Baltimore Police Department, had proudly signed for his son to enlist. His grandmother had cried, but still smiled proudly when Allen was sworn in. His mother had died in child-birth, and his widowed grandmother had moved in to take the place of a mother in young Allen's life. He was raised on tales from Ireland that his grandmother had heard in her youth. Leprechauns and elves were as real to the young Allen Murphy as the cakes and cookies his grandmother hid in his school lunches.
Allen was also steeped in a sense of duty and a fierce pride in his country from his father. Papa Murphy was the epitome of an Irish cop, without the failings emphasized by popular media. He drank, but only socially and never to excess. 'Alcohol is fun, but no excuse for losing control, ' Papa Murphy had often said. His belief in the rule of law was absolute, but subject to interpretation. 'Laws were made by men, boy. It's up to men to interpret them and decide what's right!' was another oft repeated admonition.
The plan had been to spend four years in the Marines, and join the Baltimore police after his discharge. Allen needed to be twenty-one for Baltimore's finest to hire him. He had graduated from high-school when he was seventeen. It didn't make sense to get a job with the clear intention to quit after four years. Continuing his education would be ideal, but he didn't want to pay for college when there were ways to get someone else to pay. In four years, Allen's military service time would give him extra civil service points, raising his score as much as forty points after finishing the police academy. That was good for advancement by at least one pay grade, and possibly two, in the police force. He would be twenty-one at the end of his enlistment. It was a good plan. Allen hadn't planned on finding a home in the Marines.
He'd finished college during his first eight years in the Marines, with a bachelor's degree in law enforcement. Allen was nominated for an officer's program, and became a Second Lieutenant during his tenth year in the Marines. He was a 'Mustang': an officer that has spent time as an enlisted man.
Though he was respected, Allen didn't belong to the right cadre for rapid advancement. He wasn't a graduate of 'the long gray line, ' or Norwich, or Annapolis. His protectiveness of the men under him had been noted in his fitness reports: not negatively, but with cautionary remarks. He would never make General, and under the current rules, it was promotion or retirement.
Colonel Allen Murphy knew this was his last tour of duty in the Marines. He would retire after finishing his three years on State Department duty, assuming he survived. He had one more year to go. He had a feeling that survival over the next twelve months was going to be problematic.
In his opinion, Iraq would make a very good parking lot: the whole damn place. Any religion, or group of people, that thought using little kids as suicide bombers was a good idea, needed to be obliterated, root and branch. A religion that held classes for five year olds, teaching them to hate by chanting death to whoever, needed to be eradicated. He was disgusted by the mindset of both sides of the religious war.
Allen stopped outside the entrance to the residence wing, and slowed again. Someone was watching him. He could feel it, and his attention to that feeling had been honed in combat. He never ignored the warning, but he couldn't find what was causing it.
He touched his M9, the 9mm Beretta on his belt, and then touched the 1911A1 45 ACP Colt in his shoulder holster. The M9 was his service issued weapon, but it didn't have the stopping power of the Colt. Jihadists didn't always stop when hit with 9mm bullets. If he tagged one with the 45, he went down. If the tag was anyplace other than the hand, he stayed down.
Allen swiped his card again to gain access to the residence wing, his eyes never still. He paid particular attention to his peripheral vision. Often, enemies invisible when looked at directly, could be seen with peripheral vision. Allen assumed the skill was a survival trait humans had evolved from their hunter-gatherer days that said, 'Hey dummy! Pay attention!' A shadow on his left moved, or seemed to move. He moved his head slightly trying to get a fix on what had changed. Finally, he looked directly at the spot where he thought he had seen movement.
There was nothing. A bare wall. Not even ornamentation to hide something. There was a shadow cast by the quarter moon.
A previous security commander had tried leaving all interior Embassy lights on, for security, so no one could sneak around inside the Embassy. Snipers on both sides of the crazy religious war appreciated the light for firing at night, and the Embassy had lost eight employees before the security commander was hit. That was why Allen was assigned to this post. His first order was to turn off the damn lights at night. Only lights along the walls would remain on, leaving the interior of the Embassy in darkness.
Allen slowly relaxed, his eyes darting around. He pushed the door open, and stepped inside. The door closed, and he stiffened again. He could still feel eyes on him!
The Ambassador stepped from the conference room door, several doors farther down the hall. Allen's grip tightened on the Colt. He didn't even remember reaching for it.
"There you are, Colonel," the Ambassador called with a smile. "Come on down to the conference room, please."
"Mr. Ambassador, are you alone, Sir?" Colonel Murphy asked tensely, not moving.
Ambassador Lee's smile turned into a very wide grin when he said, "Actually, no. That was one of the things I wanted to talk to you about." He chuckled before saying, "There is no danger to you, me, or the Embassy, Colonel. Come in and have a seat, please," before turning and reentering the conference room.
Allen quickly looked around, before sliding down one wall to get to the conference room. He could see a reflection in a window of the Ambassador and another man, seated at the conference table. He took a quick look in both directions in the hall, but still could see nothing that would cause his senses to jump like they were.
'Maybe it's time to get out of the Marines, ' he thought to himself grimly. 'I'm getting as jumpy as a damn boot Private!'
He stepped into the conference room, keeping a wary eye on the stranger. He sat at the far end of the table.
The stranger looked at him in bemusement.
The Ambassador was grinning at him, before he asked, "Colonel, do you think someone can get through your security?"
"Anything is possible, Mr. Ambassador," Allen said cautiously, his eyes flicking to the stranger and back.
"Okay, how about ten? Is that possible?" James asked.
"Once again, anything is possible, but I would say it is highly unlikely," Allen said tightly. "Mr. Ambassador, what's going on here?"
James held up his hand in a 'just a moment' gesture, and said, "You would probably get more upset if I asked you about forty men, including a couple of wounded and a body bag, getting in, so let's drop that for now. Colonel, I would like you to meet Major Caleb Connor. Major, this is Colonel Allen Murphy. Colonel, the Major is not, nor will he ever be, in your chain of command. I would like the two of you to meet as civilians, and gentlemen."
Allen's eyebrows tried to climb his forehead, as he exclaimed, "What?"
"Shake hands, Allen. That is the way civilian gentlemen greet each other. Believe me. You really want to meet this man," Ambassador Lee said with a smile.
Caleb stood, and walked to the other end of the table, his hand outstretched. His other hand was held away from his side.
"It is good to meet you, Sir," Caleb said in greeting.
Allen didn't answer, but he did shake Caleb's hand, with his left hand on his M9.
Caleb smiled, nodded to the Ambassador, and returned to his seat.
"Colonel, you are very good," Caleb began. "I don't think one man in a thousand could spot my men. You did, after a fashion."
Allen flinched, remembering his feelings in the court-yard, and in the hall way.
"In the court-yard, or in the hallway?" Allen asked carefully.
"Both, actually," Caleb replied with a grin.
Allen flinched again, quickly running the images through his mind. He shook his head, saying, "They would have to be ghosts."
"That's the name of our unit," Caleb answered. "We are under orders, Top Secret Presidential. Even our existence is considered Top Secret. Your position as honcho of Embassy security means you have a 'need to know'; and please, take your hand off your weapon. I would like to prevent accidents."
Allen slowly released the pistol, and put both hands, palms down, on the conference table.
"My unit is doing a little guerrilla work in Iraq. We need to rest up for a few days, and drop off a body bag. We lost a man," Caleb said solemnly.
"What kind of guerrilla work?" Allen asked.
"Those ISIS set-backs at Baqubah and Migdadivah are some of our work," Caleb replied.
"American forces weren't involved with either action," Allen protested.
"Yep. That's right," Caleb said with a smile. "That mish-mash of camel jockeys beat some of Saddam's best officers, in two consecutive battles."
Silence reigned in the room, as Caleb let that thought sink in.
"Smart," Allen said after a moment, nodding thoughtfully. "Make them, and the whole world, think the Iraqis defeated ISIS."
"They can't point fingers at the US for their defeats," Caleb agreed. "They can't use the defeats as a recruiting tool."
"How do your men hide so well?" Allen asked, still not completely buying this story.
"I'm going to tell you a tale, in just a moment," Caleb began, frowning slightly. Before I do, I need to ensure I have your undivided attention, and complete belief in what I have to say."
Allen opened his mouth to say something, but Caleb held up his hand, saying, "Don't worry about it. You're supposed to be skeptical. It's part of your billet description. Let's start with something simple. How many people are in this room?"
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Ashok was bored sitting in bed and reading magazine all day. He thought “Yawn.. Villages are so boring. There’s nothing to do here! Savita is still out with Uncleji helping with marriage preparations.” The clock showed 9 PM and he thought “Savita helping convince Ayush to marry has really impressed Uncleji. He insists on taking only her with him to help out. I wonder what important work is keeping the sasur- bahu pair out so late.” Meanwhile, Savita and Kunal were in the backseat of an...
Hello dear friends. I am back. My name is Ali as you might have remembered me from my previous story forbidden fruit. And I belong to Islamabad capital of Pakistan. This is story of a moment that I and my sister share. The one we promised ourselves to never speak of again. This is the second part of my story, the continuation, so if you haven’t read first part of my story please read it first and then you should continue reading. Plus I want to thank all ISS reader for their emails and...
IncestI was going to my friends house one day on the weekend to see if he wanted to hangout. we are good friends so when i got to his house i walked in the garage door which was open. when i went in no one was there but i could here a faint buzzing and moaning from upstairs. as curious as i was i went to got see what it was. i made my way upstairs to my friends sister room which was where the noises were coming from. his sister, Kenzie, is 18 and she is one of the hottest girls i have ever seen with...
EroticI had no time to think, not even to react, which may have been all the better for me. As she glided towards me, she let slip the towel, revealing her full, firm breasts, with large, deep red nipples that had stiffened in the shower. I could see as well that she was a natural blond, though she had trimmed her patch into a tasteful landing strip. And then she was on me and through me. The heat of her passion crashed into me, burning my crotch even through the layers of the suit I wore still. The...
It was another long miserable wait in the airport followed by a short miserable flight. On the flight out I was sandwiched between an overweight and sweaty businessman and a grandmother who spent the entire time showing me pictures of her grandchildren and telling me about them. The flight home was similar, only I was next to a Spanish-speaking grandmother and an overweight and sweaty businesswoman. At least this time I was spared the crying baby behind me. I called Mom from the terminal, and...
Amanda had no idea why her dreadful brother Harold and even her own parents called her “A Silly Goose” right to her face. She certainly didn’t think she was in the least like a silly goose even though she was not quite sure what a silly goose did. She would be the first to admit that she often got into hot water because she was a bit impulsive and did things without thinking them through to the end but she had always been like that from as far back as she could remember and she didn’t think...
Hi, my name is Mark. This incident took place a couple of months before my nineteenth birthday. Ever since I had started masturbating, there were four women who have been fuelling my fantasies. All were the epitome of the word MILF and to top that they were my neighbors. It was a Saturday and my parents had gone on a trip, and with several of the neighborhood MILFs out in their respective yards, it was the perfect opportunity to check them out. Normally I wouldn't even be awake at 7:00 AM on...
MatureBECKY’S NEW GIRLFRIENDIt’s been a long time. New story.My wife Becky and I have been busy with life in general. We’ve moved to a new city. It’s in a new neighbor hood with a lot of younger people in it. This neighbor hood has a community pool in it and Becky love to go there in the afternoons when I’m at work. She has met some the neighbors. Most of them are the wife’s or girl friends of the people who live there. One day she met on of the neighbors that a very nice looking black woman....
Pixie's Master was in a bad mood. There was a reason, however Pixie knew it wasn’t her place to ask. Her place was for her Master's use. She existed only for his pleasure and amusement, but she also was a way for him to calm down. She was happy she could give him that release. “Go to the dungeon slave” her Master commanded, “ chain yourself, on your back, legs spread, ankles and wrists!” “Please excuse this worthless slave's question Master, but do you wish her to be...
Who ever said that size doesn't matter ?! "Damn!" thought Brit. She'd got too wrapped up in her assignment and had lost track of time while working in the quietness of the computer lab at Uni. The last late-night bus had just left and whereas normally she'd just call her boyfriend to pick her up, a stabbing feeling in her gut reminded her that he'd broken up with her two weeks ago. "It's not you, it's me", was his lame excuse.She still couldn't fathom why he'd left; he hadn't given any better...
StraightMonday! Monday! Monday!Another rainy weekend results in miserable traffic. Shhhheesh a little rain in Miami and people forget how to drive.The traffic report stated “826 West has been closed from 27th Ave to 47th, its a parking lot now all the way from 57th to 103rd.”I wasn't in a hurry I just hate sitting in traffic, having borrowed Tom's truck this weekend, I was on my way to return it.Tom wasn't in a hurry either along his license was suspended DUI, and he recently broke his leg when he fell...
Wife LoversWakey-wakey, today’s the day you die. The door of the Nissen hut banged open and a voice called, “Mission today.” I slid gingerly out of my cot and scuttled over to stoke the remains of last night’s fire. Once I got some heat going, I called across to my co-pilot Bobby, “Roll out, we’re on.” Bobby’s job was to rouse the rest, Eldon our, navigator and Whizzer Wiznooski our bombardier. The four of us lived in a gloomy, half-cylindrical corrugated-steel home, with two other 432nd crews. The...
Introduction: Please comment and rate and tell me if I should write more, what to focus on, what to improve, what to not include etc… Thank you. Jeniffer woke up in her room by a doctor. It was time for her quick physical. She was about 58 with her blonde hair straight. She was wearing a white hospital gown and her breasts coming out of them a little. Alright take off your gown. the doctor said and Jennifer immediately obeyed. She handed the doctor the gown who put it on the table. She had...
It'd been about three months since Dennis Hunter could say that he didn't believe in the supernatural. He'd grown up in a fairly progressive household, and even then, the more laid back Christian teachings from his parents had never seemed to stick. Luckily for him, he'd avoided having any kind of edgy atheist phase during his high school years but he could remember clearly when he was 5-years-old telling the guy playing Santa Claus whom his mom had taken him to see for pictures that he knew he...
BisexualChapter 8 of Wife’s StoryIt’s Saturday morning and its almost time to head home for JC and Mike. JC wanted to get a quick run in at the hotel’s exercise room before they leave. Slipping into her sports bra, running shorts and shoes, she heads to the exercise room just off the main lobby. Entering the exercise area, there’s a black gentleman sitting on the weight bench doing curls with some heavy dumb bells. “Good morning,” JC says, but he must have been in the zone, and he just keeps working...
Once Rocky was satisfied , he shoved his fist up mommy's cunt , as always Sheila was embarrassingly wet and it didn't take long for the middle aged wench to achieve her first orgasm , the taboo couple were now french kissing as Rocky kept fist fucking Sheila . She reached a second climax .So Rocky stopped , mom he thought had to go to the club and she had to be alert for dads business partners he smirked. Chapter 1 It was 9pm mom had just left , he had his fun with her , and he would...