“Okay, Annie,” David said cheerfully. He was typing away on the computer, his head bouncing up and down to some internal song or rhythm, blissfully going on as if she had not said a word. “Have fun. I’ll be on that next shuttle. Bye.”
Annie Dewey never felt as alone as she did when she stepped aboard the almost full Boeing 727 shuttle plane that would take her from Dreamland to Nellis Air Force Base. Another typical night — alone.
The trick had worked like an absolute charm since his days in high school back in Billings, Montana: the best way to meet women is to help your buddy’s girlfriend throw a party. Naturally, she wants to invite all of her girlfriends to the party, so she gives their names, addresses, and phone numbers to you. Voilá! Instant black-book update. During the party, he and his friends would find out more about the girls, then update the black book even more. Did they have a car? Their own place? Did they like the outdoors? Movies? Quiet dinners? Wild parties? Did they have money? Were they looking for a commitment, companionship, or just a good time? Then, whatever was planned for the weekend, they would invite the appropriate women to join them. Most important, they were sure to stay away from the ones that wanted a commitment.
Duane U. “Dev” Deverill, had certainly aged since high school, but in mind, body, and spirit he was still eighteen years old, and loving every minute of it. His entire life had been a study in taking advantage of opportunities as they presented themselves. He had never thought of himself as college material, but seven years after the end of the Vietnam War, the Air Force had been tempting young men and women with full four-year college scholarships to boost enrollment, so Dev had signed up. He’d never thought of himself as a flyer, but he’d accepted a navigator slot. He’d been the top graduate in his class and had had his choice of the best assignments right out of navigator training. He’d chosen the best assignment available: weapons systems officer aboard the then brand-new F-15E Strike Eagle fighter-bomber. As a young captain, he’d been a flight commander during Operation Desert Storm in his F-15E squadron and racked up an impressive mission effectiveness rating and an Air Medal for his outstanding performance in combat.
Despite a meteoric career progression, he’d left the active-duty Air Force and joined the Kansas Air National Guard, flying the B-1B Lancer bomber. When the One-Eleventh Bomb Squadron of the Nevada Air National Guard had started recruiting for experienced crew members to form their new B-1B squadron in Reno, Deverill had joined immediately. He’d become one of the unit’s full-time Guardsmen, helping to turn the fledgling unit into one of the best combat units in the United States Air Force. Dev had remained the same ever since he’d left Montana: supremely confident without being too arrogant, knowledgeable without being tiresome, aggressive without being annoying. He knew he was good, and everyone else knew he was good. If they forgot that fact, he was right there to remind them, but otherwise he was content to stay just a head above everyone else around him without stepping on anyone on his way to the top.
While the One-Eleventh “Aces High” was on temporary duty at the Tonopah Test Range, and a few of their bombers were undergoing modification at Dreamland, Dev shared a two-bedroom apartment with another Air Force officer, a public affairs officer at the Fifty-seventh Wing at Nellis Air Force Base, outside of North Las Vegas. It was a classic “bachelor pad,” and they took full advantage of it every chance they had. The apartment complex had a nice clubhouse available for the tenants to use for parties, along with the required pool, spa, and fitness center. Right now, Dev was in “intelligence collection” mode at a party he was throwing for his roommate’s girlfriend’s birthday. Along with steering guests toward the drinks and food and making introductions, Dev was also gathering information on the women he didn’t recognize. He was a master at making each and every bachelorette feel special and welcome without alienating or favoring any of them.
He was in the middle of yet another introduction when a newcomer caught his eye — and he found his legendary cool suddenly fizzle.
What was it about Annie Dewey that excited him? he wondered. There were plenty of great looking women here, most of them not in the Air Force; many of them had successful entry-level or mid-level managerial careers, and a couple of them were better-looking than Annie. He couldn’t quite identify what it was that attracted him to her.
Annie was trim and athletic, bordering on thin — typical Air Force. Concerned that she would be discriminated against by other Air Force pilots because women did not have as much upper-body strength as men, Annie had changed her exercise regime to include more upper-body strength sports such as rock climbing and volleyball. The difference showed: Dev noticed well-defined shoulders, back, and arms, tapering down to a thin waist, tight butt, and shapely legs. She did not have very big breasts, but the rest of the package more than made up for that.
It was his opinion that other men saw her physique, her many female friends and far fewer male friends, and her profession, and assumed Annie was gay. Truthfully, Dev had thought so, too — or else he had never really thought too much about her at all. But then he’d started noticing her and the HAWC chief of aerospace engineering, Colonel David Luger, together all the time, and he’d noticed that little whatever-it-was about her come alive. That’s what had made whatever attracted him to her ignite.
And, he noticed, Luger wasn’t with her tonight. She was dressed nicely, in a silky form-fitting dress with thin spaghetti straps, sandals, and a little gold ankle bracelet on her right ankle. Her light brown hair was up, as usual, but in a Right suit it made her look a little butch — in that dress, it exposed her thin neck and well-defined shoulders, making her look even more attractive. He looked hard without trying to stare to see if she was wearing a brassiere, and realized with a faint shock that she wasn’t. She was so buff that very little beneath that silky dress jiggled at all.
What was it about her? It wasn’t pure sexuality, although she certainly was sexy. Allure, Dev thought, that’s what it was. Allure. She was alluring. She was obviously looking for something or someone in her life, but she was willing to stay out of the spotlight and wait until she found it. Dev definitely sensed a deep, smoldering passion inside her. Even if she had been gay, she still would’ve had that animal allure about her — now that he realized she probably wasn’t, it made him think even more about the possibilities of unleashing some of that passion in his direction.
He hoped to hell Luger wasn’t her type. To be honest, Dev had no idea whose type Luger could be. He seemed a nice enough guy, just a little detached, distracted, out of place. Annie had some kind of connection with him. Either she saw something in that weird engineer from Texas, or she was throwing a pity party for him. A romantic connection? Luger didn’t seem the type. Maybe he was the gay one.
“Heels!” Dev said, as their eyes met. Most everyone at the squadron knew everyone else by their call sign — it was unusual for someone to use their Christian names in casual conversation. He came over and gave her a quick peck on the cheek, then reached up and squeezed her shoulders in his hands. Good God, he thought, I wish I had shoulders that tight. “Thanks for coming.”
“Thanks for inviting us.”
She used the word “us,” Dev noticed, but she was alone. Her voice told him that she was disappointed at not being an us” at the party. “‘Where’s Colonel Luger?”
“Still out at the lake,” Annie said. They called Elliott Air Force Base, near dry Groom Lake, the “lake” when away from there. “Sorry he can’t make it.”