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Subject: {ASSM} (Rewritten and Serialised) Butterfly and Falcon (Part 20) By Katzmarek (Hist, rom,Mf,MF)
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Date: Thu, 05 Jan 2006 06:10:01 -0500
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 Part 20

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<1st attachment, "Butterfly and falcon 20.txt" begin>

BUTTERFLY AND FALCON (Part 20)


By KATZMAREK (C)


---------------------------------------

Author's note.


This is a work of fiction based on fact. Opinions and
interpretations of events expressed are my own and as such are
entirely contestable.


This remains my property and may not be used for gain without
my express permission in writing.


--------------------------------------------------


John's rational side of his brain was ceasing to play a
significant role in his actions. There was just he and this
sensuous, sexy, young blond woman he was kissing and fondling.
Beneath the heavy cotton of her shirt she was warm, so warm!


Her arms circled his waist and snaked under his shirt, John
could feel her fingers on his back, stroking and kneading his
flesh, and her thigh sliding insistantly along his hardening
dick.


She'd told him she wanted a 'fuck from him.' The words had
excited him like no other. She was right when she'd told him she
thought he wanted 'a fuck from her' She'd got that right, he
thought.


She peeled back his shirt and her fingers explored the muscles
of his chest and arms. Jana sucked in her breath in appreciation
telling him 'he was big, so big!' The way she said it seemed to
have a double meaning.


John scrabbled at the buttons of her uniform shirt. The khaki
shirt with the gold collar flash and single red star of a
Captain succumbed to the assault and he opened it to her waist.
Beneath it she wore a military issue brown singlet that clung
tight to her body. It betrayed a pretty cleavage above the low
neck line and her braless breasts stretched the fabric taut. She
had a nice pair, John could see, a very nice pair with stiff
nipples pushing through the cotton.


Benin, even with the boost given by Garcia's hungry need,
couldn't compete with Jana's beauties in shape and size. They
were a perfect rack, in company with Jana's Hollywood looks. As
John whistled in appreciation and explored her tentatively, Jana
undid the belt of her baggy military trousers to reveal hips
with a very womanly flair and curve. Her long legs and smooth
thighs caused a pulse between John's legs that became
uncomfortable.


Jana ran her palm over his bulge, grinning sexily, eyes playful.


"What's this, John Greenhaugh?" she asked, "a compliment?"


"You're beautiful," he croaked.


"You maybe just noticed?" she teased, still stroking him. He
shook his head. "So maybe you always feel this way?" He nodded.
"So why you never finish, huh? Why you start something and not
finish?"


"Because," he stumbled a reply, "because... you never gave me
the chance."


"Is always up to woman? I must send you telegram, perhaps?" She
unbuckled his trousers and opened his fly buttons. Her hand
snaked inside and rubbed his hard penis.


"I... I thought you... didn't want to..." John explained,
kneading Jana's breasts and playing with her nipples over her
singlet.


"You maybe think differently," she said, easing his underpants
over his raging bulge. "Oh... I see," she grinned in admiration,
"I see!"


Freed, she thought his hard cock magnificent, rampant. Struck
dumb, she felt John lift her singlet above her breasts. She
backed towards her desk, John following, until her pantied arse
touched the wood. He kept advancing, however, until she was bent
backwards. Her legs came up either side of John's until she was
lying, on her back, amid the squadron manifests, operational
orders and mechanic's reports. John slid her panties off up her
legs and tossed them in a corner. Growling, he fell on her.


John held her by the shoulders as he stroked into her; hard,
deep strokes that knocked the air from her lungs with every
magnificent thrust of his strong thighs. He watched her breasts
jiggle delightfully as he continued to pound into her. Jana took
everything he could give and gave it back with equal ferocity.
Her arms were stretched out in surrender, she looked into his
face and watched him straining. He was so sexy, this male, so
animal in his desire. 


She grabbed the edge of the desk to keep from being punted over
it and onto the floor. She locked her feet behind him for
purchase. John was at the peak of physical fitness with great
upper body strength from wrestling with the Il2. His body
reflected that and the sight of his upper torso rippling,
sweaty, made her erupt with orgasm after orgasm.


She felt him spurt his dangerous seed deep inside her,
completely heedless of precautions. Jana wanted him to keep
fucking, to keep his penis inside her and gripped him with her
feet.


"Oh John!" she cried, "Ohh." Her cries of pleasure threatened
to bring the groundcrew running but she didn't care. She was
peaking and peaking and didn't want it to stop.


But they had to stop sometime. Even when John lay on her spent,
she kept him locked in, daring for him to try and withdraw from
her. Jana put her arms around his back and held him fast to her
body. She didn't want to let go of this man, ever. But,
eventually, there was a knock on the door to break them free and
pull them back to the real World.


"What is it?" she called, breathlessly.


"Telephone call from General Yurylenko, madam Major."


"Tell the General... ah... I'm indisposed and I'll... ah...
call him back."


John looked at her in surprise. Russian Majors *never* tell
Russian Generals that 'they'd call them back.'


"Y'sure?" he asked her.


"What, you want me to run over to the operations office like
this?" she smiled.


"That *would* get the men's attention!" he laughed.


"I only want one man's attention," she told him, seriously,
"and you *must* obey my orders!"


"Jana, I have a child and a wife."


"That is your concern, John, and *you* are mine. Whatever you
do about them is your own affair."


"But, I can't just leave them. I owe Benin too much!"


"Did I say you must leave them? I only said they were your
concern. You love this woman?"


"Yes," he said without hesitation, "I do."


"And you love me? This I know, so no bullshit, John!"


"Yes."


"Then you have two women who you love and who love you. Most
men would kill for such a situation."


"Yes, but Benin would kill me if she ever found out."


"So? Don't tell her! You *need* to make trouble for yourself?"


"It *can't* be that simple!"


"It's as simple as you like to make it. Now, get that beautiful
body off me so I can get dressed. You might not think so but I
have a reputation to protect."


"Is that an order?" he grinned.


"Is an order and you will stuff that thing back in your
trousers!" she grinned back, "then you will wait for further
orders!" 


"Yes, Major!" John sprang to mock attention and saluted.


"A salute!" she said, "I thought you'd saluted me already!" she
laughed while retrieving her uniform.


--------------------------------------


On October the 14th Red Army forces took over parts of Latvia
and Estonia after negotiating 'mutual defence treaties.' Libau,
the former Tsarist Naval base from which the Baltic Fleet had
set out to face the Japanese in 1904, was occupied and the tiny
Latvian Navy absorbed into the Red Fleet. Two islands at the
head of the Gulf of Finland were garrisoned by Soviet troops and
fortified. 


But Finland held out against Russian diplomatic pressure. The
Soviet Navy needed Hango point, which forms the Northern head of
the Gulf, to properly control it. Moscow demanded a
'reallignment' of the border, which Finland was willing to
entertain, but Helsinki was determined she would not have Soviet
troops garrisoned on her territory.


Little of anything of this appeared in the newspapers in Russia.


For 'Oz' this was the 'Phoney war.' While Germany smashed the
Polish armies and entered Warsaw, France, who had ample
opportunity to invade German soil, did little. She was content
to wait behind the Maginot line for Germany's pleasure. Germany
had but four panzer divisions at that time and all of them were
deployed against Poland.


France had called for the establishment of four Armoured
Divisions also. But only two were at any state of readiness and
only one, that led by a Colonel Charles de Gaulle, had all its
tanks.


The 2nd BEF's first advanced guard of regular troops began
sailing to France to reinforce the French. The recruitment
offices were being flooded with enthusiastic young men, as was
the whole of the Commonwealth's.


Some German patrol and mine-laying flying boats appeared off
the British coast and dropped some magnetic mines. Otherwise the
Duxford squadrons practiced for the day they were going to meet
the crack Luftwaffe fighters and Radar installations went up
along the South coast.


And Flight Lieutenant 'Oz' Callaghan was introduced to the
Supermarine Spitfire.


-------------------------------------


'Oz' knew he had a thoroughbred on his hands when he first saw
a Spitfire. It was a beautiful aircraft, with fine, narrow lines
and a long snout. Its eliptical wings reminded 'Oz' of a
Heinkel, but were more pronounced. It was true dogfighter, an
'air superiority fighter,' fast and maneuverable. After he first
flew the 'spit' he was sure it would turn inside the
Messerschmitt. He was certain they'd found an answer to the
Luftwaffe's menace. 


But that test would have to wait until May the 10th 1940 and
the opening phase of the Battle of France.


-------------------------------------


For Benin and John, however, things were going from bad to
worse. Benin felt John had withdrawn from her completely. Even
their son didn't restore the emotional bond they's enjoyed in
the past. John was distant, remote and uncommunicative. And,
Benin was convinced, he was seeing Jana Ivanova.


She couldn't put a finger on it if anyone asked her. There were
no letters, he was not making strange phonecalls at night when
he thought she was asleep. But then, he didn't need to for she'd
access to John 8 hours a day. She couldn't smell her scent on
his clothes, but then, what Russian Military Officer, man or
woman, would wear scent? Benin knew, however, woman have a way
of telling.


Benin had found knew friends who she found shared many
interests. John, she decided, can do what he likes but her life
had to go on. She wasn't going to set her watch by him.


Garcia was cute, like all babies, and she'd no trouble finding
baby sitters to look after him so she could go to the Ballet or
a play. The University seemed to have an army of 'Babushkas'
just dying to take him, and to give him back afterwards. Soviet
children were often raised in creches and daycare centres and
they cost virtually nothing.


By the end of the year, Benin saw little point in living with
John. She enquired about faculty accomodation and was found an
apartment at the University.


John had been upset when Benin told him but didn't try to stop
her. Benin suspected that he knew in his heart that things were
at an end. He fetched a military car and drove her to her new
home, lingered awhile trying to explain his feelings, then left.
Benin felt that a great weight had been lifted from her
shoulders.


There was little chance of Benin and Garcia being allowed to
leave Russia in the forseeable future, so she accepted the offer
of Soviet citzenship for her as well as Garcia. John had already
accepted citizenship when he was made an officer in the air
force. Benin doubted he knew that.


But life could be worse for her in the Soviet Union. She had a
good job with all the benefits that went with it. There were
restrictions on personal freedom, however, that she hadn't even
encountered in the worst days in Spain. There, she could always
complain and make trouble, talk about whatever she wanted
without fear. She could go where she wanted to without needing
permission and she could listen to jazz music. In Novgorod the
city authorities had not permitted jazz music and none was
played on the radio.


But there were compensations and life for her was good
providing she accepted the rules. Novgorod was a beautiful city
and she liked living there.


Despite what was believed in the West, people's homes were
'sanctum sanctorum.' Informal groups of people collected at each
other's homes and talked about things that were otherwise not
permitted. Providing all was discrete, Benin hadn't heard of
anyone being molested by the Police. That discretion meant that
nothing was ever written down or distributed. Every Soviet
intellectual knew what they could or couldn't do in a society
that valued uniformity and acceptance.


All universities had some kind of contact with each other. In
Russia they became the ex-officio grapevine for international
news that was not printed in Soviet Newspapers. Through these
'grapevines' Benin learned that Finland was being bullied by the
Soviet Union into handing over 'strategic territory.' Protests
had already occurred in London against that and Russia's
'invasion' of Poland. Much liberal opinion in the West painted
Russia as an international pariah in league with Nazi Germany.
It scarcely seemed possible to Benin and the others that their
great mutual enemy was now being described as Russia's friend.


"If that's true," Benin said, "then why was Russia arming
itself to the teeth?"


"Because it's not true," said Professor Shapashnikov, head of
languages at Novgorod University, "Russia was just 'playing for
time'."


"And how much time, Professor, are they going to play with?"
she asked.


"You Spanish," he chuckled, "are always in a hurry. Russia, may
take its sweet time about things but it's inexorable. When the
bear gets moving nothing will stop her marching to the
Atlantic." 


"But Professor," asked Benin, "how are you going to control so
much territory?"


"Ah!" he said, "you've identified the problem!"


She liked the Professor. He was learned, spoke seven languages
fluently, and was gentle. He had none of the chauvinistic
blather of some of the faculty. His patriotism was quiet,
reflective, yet ran as deep as any true Russian. He acknowledged
the flaws in the Soviet system. He regarded Stalin as a brute
and said that Lenin himself had not wanted him as Party General
Secretary. That view could lose him his position at the
University if shared indiscretely, but the Professor was always
discrete, and he trusted Benin.


"Everyone needs someone with whom they can share," he would
tell her.


-------------------------------------


The sheets in Benin and John's apartment had barely cooled
before they were warmed again by Jana Ivanova. She had taken
little persuading to spend the night with him. Despite the
invitation, however, Jana refused to take Benin's place. She
told him it was against regulations. John wasn't so sure but
didn't press the matter.


They had barely got in the door before they were kissing
frantically. Their clothes were in a tangle about them as they
struggled to the bedroom. When Jana spread her legs for him, she
still had a pants leg dangling from her foot.


Her pussy was already moist when she recieved him. She was a
natural blond and her pubic fluff was a reddish colour. They
wrestled on the bed, Jana insisting she was the 'superior.' John
told her he was mutinying and pinned her down on her back. In
the end, Jana capitulated as they always knew she would.


Later on that night, she hopped on him saying she was 'mounting
a coup.' This time John succumbed to her demands and laid back
fascinated as she rose and fell on his dick.


Their lovemaking was frantic and exhausting. Jana told him he'd
wear her out, John made the same claim. Meanwhile they couldn't
get enough of each other.


Such a torrid affair couldn't remain a secret in such a close
knit society as a military unit. Despite their discretion,
people noticed that they would spend rather longer at their
daily 'meetings' than was strictly necessary. They noticed
intimate exchanges between the two, such as smiles or mouthed
endearments. And some noticed their dishevelment when they
emerged from her office.


It *was* a breach of discipline to have sexual relations
between officers of the same unit. But Lieutenant-Colonel
Chernagovka owed his rapid promotion to both of them and he now
led the Air Regiment. He advised the two to 'tone it down' and
not frighten the horses. He said he didn't give a shit what the
couple did in their spare time so long as it didn't blow up in
his face. He'd winked at John and told him he was the luckiest
bastard in the squadron and not to expect a fucking medal as
well.


Such indulgence and disregard for standing orders was rare in
the Soviet armed forces at that time. Stalin, by his purges of
the military the year before, had made it so. The couple were
unaware, however, that Chernagovka served two masters, the Red
Air Force and the GPU.


As deputy leader of the squadron, John led the second flight,
Jana the first. A dozen fighters is a difficult formation to
manage in combat. Standard Soviet practice was for close
formations, mutually supportive. But that was restrictive, and
shown to be, in fighting high performance aircraft like the
Messerschmitt Bf 109. John suggested loose formations based on a
man and his wingman, such as he'd seen the Germans do in Spain.
A wingman covered the tail of his leader as he went into the
attack. Jana bowed to his experience and ordered the squadron to
practice  the new formation. Open order was the name of the game
and Chernagovka left them to it, and watched.


-------------------------------------


In early December 'Oz' Callaghan gained his first kill, one
that didn't give him a lot of satisfaction. Word had been
received from Fighter Command that German flying boats painted
with the red cross had been seen dropping mines near the Solent.
RAF and Luftwaffe search and rescue machines had been left
pretty much alone to do their work, but now, in view of their
suspicians, this situation couldn't continue.


Consequently, the Duxford wing was ordered to investigate a
Dornier seen off the South coast near Dover. 'Oz' led his flight
and soon found the flying boat, painted white with large red
crosses painted on each wing. He told his squadron mates that it
was his job, that if they had been ordered to fire on the red
cross then he couldn't expect anyone to do it but himself.


He made one pass at the German to have a look. It appeared
completely innocent, the German crew even waved as he flew past.
'Oz' saw no sign of a gun, in accordance with convention.
Nevertheless, he'd been ordered to shoot it down.


'Oz' circled and lined up the German from behind. It was flying
straight on, oblivious to the danger, when 'Oz' opened fire on
the wing and its three engines. The Dornier turned towards
France trailing smoke and debris from its wrecked engines,
slowly losing height. 'Oz' bore in again, fired, and the wing
burst into flames as the Dornier's fuel tanks went up. 1, 2
parachutes then appeared and that was all. The flying boat then
plunged straight down into the English Channel.


'Oz' circled to look for any more survivors but he couldn't see
any. His heart felt heavy as he had to return to the airfield,
his fuel low.


There was gaety back at Duxford when they heard of 311's first
kill. 'Oz' didn't feel like celebrating, but he had to accept
the congratulations for the sake of morale.


He shared his feelings with Catalina afterwards, but she was
less than sympathetic towards the German's fate. She reminded
him of the towns, the schools full of schoolchildren and the
hospitals the Condor Legion had bombed in Spain. She said it was
all they deserved and they merited no tears.


But 'Oz' said he'd felt like a butcher and they, of all people,
should be setting the standard for humanity.


--------------------------------------------


KATZMAREK (C)
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