Story 1883
Corpus Christi, Texas January 26, 1943
Josh sighed. Today had been a good day. His hands moved slightly. His fingers stroked his wife’s hair. From somewhere deep in her, she responded to his gentle touch with welcome and need. He lost himself stroking her long hair and feeling her move against his hip. His lover and his wife was hip to his hip, knee to his knee, shoulder to his shoulder. Her gravid belly was firm in his other hand and her round hips were rolling against him.
He smiled. They had been loud and enthusiastic and wet and messy a few minutes ago. Their toddler daughter was at a sleep-over with one of Margaret’s co-workers. Their little girl was best friends with Edna.
He had been flying almost the entire day. The squadron was starting to come together. The mighty new Corsairs were a different beast than the rugged Wildcats that had been his warhorse in which he had scored ten kills. It had more power and more punch. The Navy boys were still terrified of landing on a carrier with the big fighter; they were more than happy to stay in the new Grummans just being delivered but the Marines were loving their first rate machine. Today he had won seven dogfights and drew three more. His wingman, a new pilot with a deep Georgian drawl, had saved his ass at least once. Blackburn had done his job well, stayed tight and kept his eyes open while the element lead led the fight. That 4v2 had ended in a draw as Jaroschek and Blackburn were able to escape without damage.
And once Josh had opened the door to the kitchen, he was overwhelmed. His wife had one of his shirts on and little else beyond a saucy smile. She had finally started to eat well again and her hormones were kicking in to the most enjoyable part of the pregnancy. They rejoiced in their intimacy even as she told him how to please her in a way that would have shocked most sergeants.
Now he rested with his wife in his arms and his daughter sleeping peacefully a few doors down. Life was good for Josh Jaroschek.