Summer in England, 1945.


I paused to take it all in and let peacetime wash over me. At last, it felt real. An American bomber named Enola Gay had ended it all after six years of madness and slaughter.

I lit a cigarette, watching the train huff and puff slowly out of the station. Looking out over the station car park, everything was green. Peaceful, too.

Picking up my case, I meandered into the street. I was a fifteen-minute walk from home and there would be no Stukas with their insane, banshee screams, and no ME109s strafing civilians. Above all, no shooting whatsoever.

One or two people looked curiously at me. Scar tissue on my face seemed to both attract their attention and repel them.

Across the road, the Red Lion pub was opening doors for a trickle of daytime trade and I realized how badly I needed a pint.

"Morning."

I nodded in reply to the landlord's friendly greeting. "A pint of your best bitter please, George."

Now he looked at me and stared. Then, "Good God, it's Dave Stevens isn't it?"

"As ever, George." I smiled.

"We heard you were dead." He pushed the pint over to me and watched while I took a deep, satisfying draught.

"A nasty rumour, George."

I pulled cash for the drink but he waved it away. "Not after what you've done."

"Everything I did, George, I did to survive. But thanks."

"Is that it then? Are you out?"

"Don't know yet. They’ve offered me a job, but I'm taking a few days leave to mull it over. Anyway, I need more surgery on my face."

“Yeah,” he said, nodding, “you're not very pretty."

I grinned at him and finished my drink.

"Good to see you George, I'll probably be down later."

"Do that.” He held out his hand and shook mine warmly.

"I'm glad you made it mate."

“Thanks," I said and walked out into the rest of my life.

~~~

The house was by itself on the edge of a small plantation of trees and bushes and I stood looking for a minute at the neatly tended garden. Then the door opened and she was there: my wife, the girl whose face had visited me in my dreams every night.

"David?"

A smile broke out as I nodded, unable to speak. Then she was in my arms, blonde hair in my mouth, lips on my face and neck.

“David…" her tears fell on my face to be joined by my own as I held her tightly, "I thought I'd lost you."

"Shush," I said gently. "You didn't lose me. I'm here, Penny."

"Tell me it's over, David. Please tell me you're not going back."

"I don't know yet. You can help me decide."

More tears fell and I could only stand there, holding her, until they finally stopped and we went into the house, arm-in-arm.

"How's the face?" she asked quietly, "Does it hurt much?"

"Only when I laugh."

She reached out and touched the scarring.

"They told me it was bad."

"It wasn't a barrel of laughs, that's for sure."

Picking up my case, I sat it on my knee and flicked it open. Penny’s eyes widened when she saw the slim packages holding silk stockings, the long packs of duty-free cigarettes, and the packets of tea and coffee.

"Courtesy of our American allies," I said, laying everything on the table. "They were first into the camp after the R.A.F. had flattened it. And they took me straight to one of their field hospitals."

"I've not seen coffee for about four years.” Penny grinned. "I could only ever dream about non-service issue stockings"

“Yeah, tell me about your job. Driving wasn't it?"

“Yes. I was a General's driver,” she said proudly. "I got demobbed last week, but I've been busy in the house, since your parents di—,” her voice cracked and I reached for her.

“You need to show me where they're buried."

I'd been in a Nazi prison under sentence of death when my parents were killed in an air raid on London. The commandant, a kindly man who hated the Nazis, had received word via the BBC World Service. My dad was an important diplomat involved in top secret negotiations with dissident Nazis to end the war.

"They're in the cemetery.” Penny held my arm and walked with me.

"They died thinking I was dead, didn't they?"

"Yes," she nodded. "I've only known for just over a month that you weren't dead."

"Amazing isn't it? I survived all that time without injury and then the bloody R.A.F. did this to me?"

“Are you bitter?"

“Hell, no.” I shook my head. “I was due to be shot the next morning. The commandant had delayed it for as long as he could."

"Did he make it?"

“Well, the Yanks arrested him, and I'll speak for him if he's put on trial. He detested the Nazis but his family connections kept him pretty safe. I hope he's all right.” I inhaled deeply and released the breath like a sigh. “The Gestapo wanted me shot the moment I was captured and it's thanks to him that I'm still alive."

At the cemetery, we knelt beside the graves of my parents. They were well kept, a posy of fresh flowers on each. I stayed, deep in thought, until my wife stood and took my hand.

"Come on, David, don't let's be sad. They went quickly.” She looked into my face as we walked. “Shall I do us some dinner?"

"That'd be nice." I realised I'd not eaten since breakfast, some five hours earlier. "How are you for food? I've got my ration books if you need them.”

"I was a General's driver, remember?"

“Officer's perks, eh?"

"We closed down a major black market operation two weeks ago. We’ve got lots of food."

She showed me a big cupboard-style thing in the kitchen and explained the Americans had given it to her, rather than ship it back when they left. "It's called a fridge," she said proudly. "It keeps food fresh for ages."

"Wow." I'd heard of this invention but it was the first I'd seen. I was hugely impressed, especially when she produced two T-bone steaks and four eggs!

"How long have you had these?" I asked and looked doubtful when she told me her old boss had sent them three days ago.

"Are you sure they're all right?"

I picked up a steak and sniffed it suspiciously, much to her amusement. The meat smelled fine, and she put them in a pan over a low light and surprised the hell out of me by producing a bottle of whisky.

"Is there anything you've not got?"

"I thought there was," she said, almost whispering, "but then it turned up this morning."

She turned her back to me and I knew she was crying.

"It's a bit damaged though,” I said and kissed the nape of her neck.

She turned and slipped her arms around me.

"Even Buckingham Palace?" I asked, smiling.

“Yes, of course… eh, what?”

I'd confused her.

“The King's giving me a medal the day after tomorrow."

She shrieked and kissed me again. "You're meeting the King?"

"No, we’re meeting the King. I want you with me."

"But I've got nothing to wear,” she protested as I knew she would.

Then I surprised her, asking, "Why haven't you mentioned that you were in France after the invasion?"

She stared at me and quickly said,”It's not important."

"Not important?" I snorted. "The General's car was strafed by a lone ME109, he was hit in the shoulder and you carried him into a house and then commandeered a car to get help.” I paused for breath. “Then you took a wrong turn and got stopped by a German patrol. You shot and killed all three Germans, carried on until you reached our lines… and you don't think it's important?"

"How on earth do you know all this?" she asked, turning back to the steaks.

"I was eventually transferred to the same hospital as your General. He got to wondering about my name and asked me if I had a wife named Penelope."

"So he told you?"

"Why wouldn't he? You saved his life.”

"I was just lucky."

"That's not what the General said. Anyway, whether you like it or not, you're getting a gong, too, so your uniform will be ideal. Besides,” I winked, "I've never seen you in uniform."

"I think it suited me," she said. "I have rather missed it.”

~~~

The steaks were cooked to perfection and I savoured every mouthful before sitting back and smiling at her. “Beautiful," I said.

She smiled back at me. "Thank you, it felt good to be cooking for my man again. Shall we go for a walk?"

"Fancy a drink?"

"Good idea. Yes, I'd love one."

It felt unreal to be walking with my wife's arm through mine. In fact, simply strolling in the warm evening air felt surreal. A couple of Spitfires, flying low en route to the nearby airfield, startled me but Penny's hand in mine reassured me and I grinned ruefully, "Sorry."

"Don't be, it'll take time, David.”

People stopped us to say hello and how pleased they were to see me again.

"Glad you made it, Dave."

"Just as handsome as ever, David."

“Hey, the village cricket team missed you, Dave."

"By Christ, but you're ugly." I turned and embraced my best friend from school. We hugged and patted each other's back. "You're not so pretty yourself mate.” I indicated the jagged scar down one cheek.

“Yeah, nicked meself shaving."

We made a date to meet the following day before Penny and I continued on our way. It was a small community, made smaller by the war, and everybody had a tale to tell.

The greetings continued in the pub. People wanted to buy drinks or just say hello. Someone began knocking out a tune on an old upright piano that had stood unused for six years and it was two tipsy people who staggered home well after midnight.

As the door closed behind me, Penny grabbed me and pulled me into her embrace. "I've waited all day for this,” she said huskily and drew my mouth to hers as we sank to the floor. Gone was the shy, somewhat demure girl I'd left behind to go to war. This was no girl, she was a beautiful, demanding woman. I tasted alcohol on her breath as we kissed hungrily. I pulled at her dress and felt her scrabbling at my belt. When her fingers found me, she gasped into my mouth. "Do it, David.. do it, it's been too long."

We were both beyond reason. I ripped her silky panties aside and thrust. She screamed as I entered her but she thrust urgently back at me. I gripped her buttocks and she scratched my back. I wanted to ram hard into her but I managed to control myself and savour the tight, wet warmth of her sex around my cock.

“Beautiful, Penny,” I said and she moaned into my mouth.

"I've waited years for this, David. I've dreamt about it every night."

"I thought you'd find someone else."

"Never," she almost spat at me. "You're the only man I want in my bed."

"That's what I wanted to hear." I smiled and kissed a swollen nipple. "Let's go to bed, Penny; I want you naked under me."

She'd lost little of her teenage beauty during my long absence. Her breasts were fuller, firmer even than I remembered, her hips slightly narrower and she'd trimmed the hair at the cleft between her legs. She squealed when I pushed her onto the bed, and she moaned with delight as I put my head between her legs and my mouth on her very core.

"Oh, oh God, David." I felt her body trembling as I wormed my tongue between her labia and licked at the plentiful wetness. She arched her back off the bed and pushed her groin into my face.

"David," she yelled, gripping my hair, "David, I’m cumming."

Juices gushed into my mouth and, swallowing eagerly, I pushed her back down and moved above her. Penny was still leaking when I slid my hard cock easily inside her and she squealed again when I drove all the way up her.

"Yes," she hissed, "fuck yes, David. Shag me hard… do it, David. Shag me, fuck me… oh fuck, David, I'm cumming again." She gasped, her hips jerked, and her eyes rolled back. She grimaced and I felt her fingernails digging into my buttocks.

“Penny, darling," I grunted, "I'm cumming, too."

I’m sure it started in my toes, quickly spreading up my calves and thighs. When I came, Penny was nibbling and biting my neck in the throes of her orgasm.

I came so much, it felt like I was peeing. Explosions and rockets went off in my brain, lights flashed in the room, and I was vaguely aware of my wife whimpering beneath me as I came and came and came...

I was home from the war.

***

My thanks go to JWren for editing this story