Usual Disclaimer
I don't own the characters of Bodie and Doyle, or any others from the TV series. They belong to Mark One Productions and Brian Clemens.
I borrow them to write fiction for my own (and hopefully your) pleasure, with no financial gain to myself or anyone else.
'Sun Goes Down (Livin' It Up) Level 42
I saw a soldier standing in a bar . . .
Looked so tired, he'd come so far . . .
He said "I need to love someone . . . before they drop the atom bomb"
TOO LONG FOR A SOLDIER
I saw a soldier standing in a bar . . .
As soon as I saw him I knew he would fit the bill. Tall and well built, but with such a detached air about him, I knew he'd seen more than was good for him. His uniform was neatly pressed, combat boots buffed to a hard shine. His green beret was set to one side, and while he was surrounded by other soldiers he was both at one and apart from them.
His colleagues were grouped around the bar. Although they were quiet, and talking amongst themselves, they were given a wide berth by the other patrons. The regulars tended to order from the opposite end of the bar, and any glances towards the soldiers were covert. Any glance met was quickly avoided.
I looked at my companion.
"What do you think Macklin? The young man right at the end?"
The man eyed up the soldier dispassionately before replying.
"He seems very fit. They're quality, this bunch. Highly trained and taught to think before they act, but in a split second. Mind you," Macklin said, "I'd like to know what's going on in his head. He's different to the others. Coiled, ready to strike. I wouldn't want to be on the other side when he's working!"
I toyed with my drink. I'd read the file on the soldier, although I hadn't told Macklin that. I wanted an opinion untainted by any prior knowledge. I value Macklin's comments; the man had been a good agent until the shooting in Hong Kong. Now I employ him to make sure my men are trained and fit and can avoid what had happened to him.
"I wonder what Dr Ross'll say. She's not keen on soldiers. Says they have too much mental baggage with them . . . and not enough initiative for the job."
"And you Macklin? What do you think."
The big man sat quietly for a moment.
"I think he can handle himself in a fight. He looks intelligent, and he looks like he'd fight dirty. Something like that is hard to train in a man, but sadly needed in our line of work. Ross doesn't understand that aspect of CI5 at all, and she never will."
I nodded in agreement.
"She's worried we'll get another Tommy Mackay though isn't she?"
Macklin pursed his lips.
"Tommy's OK. Just lives in a different world to the rest of us. Does worry me he won't make old bones though."
Privately I agreed with Macklin. Tommy was unpredictable, but he had told me he'd no reason to live. That nugget of information was kept between him and myself.
Macklin nodded towards my glass.
"Another scotch Major Cowley?"
"Yes please. Then we can talk about what we're going to do about Sergeant William Andrew Phillip Bodie."
Looked so tired, he'd come so far . . .
The soldiers were enjoying their downtime. They'd recently returned from Northern Ireland, where their regiment had suffered some loss of personnel. They wanted to forget - to play as hard as they fought.
A few of them had seen far too much action over recent years. Bodie, now firmly ensconced in the SAS, had seen more than most. Well practised at presenting a calm exterior, he knew that inside he was coming apart. Tired to his very centre, and no longer caring about his career, he knew he had to move on. Africa again, he thought, at least it's hot.
Matthews, a small mealy mouthed man, was busy regaling the group with details of his latest conquest.
" . . . legs up to 'er armpits and tits you wouldn't believe. She was all over me. Could see I was better than what else was on offer. She was a goer too. Mind you, after that last stint in Ireland, I was fuckin' ready for it. Five times in couple of hours . . . five times . . . beat your record Bodie."
Bodie let a small smile cross his features. He looked bone tired and clearly didn't want to engage with his comrades.
"Yeah Matthews, of course you did. Guess she had her guide dog with her as well."
The soldiers burst out laughing, some slapping the hapless Matthews on his back, while others looked at Bodie and shook their heads knowingly.
"Bastard!"
Matthews was annoyed at being the butt of Bodie's comment. He'd also had far too much to drink.
"You think you're better 'n us don't you Bodie? Supercilious ponce! I've 'eard about you in Angola. Fuck anythin' movin' - didn't care if it were man, woman or goat! You prefer the men though, don't you, you northern git! Honest boys, I could tell you stuff about Bodie . . . "
He didn't get to say any more. Bodie whispered something in his ear, and Matthews stopped in mid rant. He stared at his feet and muttered to himself. Bodie patted him on the shoulder, downed his drink and walked towards the door.
George Cowley watched the pantomime with interest. He tapped Macklin and gestured towards the young man.
"See he is in my office at nine o clock sharp please. Oh, and don't take no for an answer."
He said "I need to love someone . . . before they drop the atom bomb"
The cool night air provided a welcome relief from the smoky atmosphere of the bar. Bodie hurried out and away from the crowd. He'd had enough; the SAS, Ireland, drifting from war to war. He was adept at walking away when he'd had enough, whether it be from a woman or a fight. There was something others saw inside him which put them off from getting to close to him. Bodie knew it, and despised it in himself.
Bodie closed his eyes and leant against the wall outside the bar. All he wanted was a warm bed and to be left to sleep.
A group of young women standing outside the bar openly eyed him up. Bodie looked at them and dismissed them abruptly. Should be looking for lads their own age, he thought.
An older woman, over made-up and dressed a decade too young for her age, walked over to him.
"You alright love?" she asked.
Bodie opened his eyes and looked steadily at her.
"Yeah. I'm fine thanks."
The woman's eyes travelled up and down, noting his muscled forearms and firm jaw. She sensed a hunger within him; the way he held her gaze, the way his bottom lip very slightly pouted, and the fact his blue eyes gave nothing away. Unable to stop herself, she ran a finger along his jaw line.
Bodie smiled wolfishly. He beckoned the woman towards him.
"Wanna take me to bed?" he asked quietly. He regretted the words as soon as he'd uttered them. All he wanted was to sleep a dreamless sleep, not service what was obviously the local good time had by all.
She drew back somewhat startled, before a venal smile settled on her features.
"Oh yes love. I do!"
Bodie steered her away from the other girls. Better get it over quickly.
"Do you live far?" he asked.
The woman laughed quietly.
"Cor! You're eager," she replied, getting Bodie's motives completely wrong. "I've got a room over the pub. Landlord turns a blind eye," she finished.
They were just about to enter a side door, when two policemen walked up to her.
"Joanne, you up to your old tricks again?" asked one. "Does this member of Her Majesty's forces know he needs to keep his hand on his wallet?"
Joanne's mouth curled into and angry leer.
"Shut up Doyle. Just 'cos you think you're too good for me . . . anyway, no money's changed hands so you can't do me"
PC Doyle smiled at her.
"Jo, I've no intention of taking up my valuable time writing you up when you'll be back 'ere tomorrow doing exactly the same thing again. Just so this young man knows what he's up against."
Joanne pushed open the door and went in.
Doyle turned his attention to Bodie.
"Can't stop you making a mistake mate, but take a word of advice. Our Jo's got a big heart, if you know what I mean. You might wanna protect yerself. Save a trip to the clinic later." He put his hand in his pocket and drew out a card.
"If you do find you're missing anything, watch, money, give me a call. I'm at Limehouse . . . number's on the card."
Bodie stood there speechless. Joanne gave him a prod and spoke, loudly enough for PC Doyle to hear.
"Wot you staring at him like that for? The real fun's with me, lover." She stuck two fingers up at Doyle.
He smiled and wandered off, waving to the other girls outside the bar.
Joanne grabbed Bodie's arm, and pulled him inside. As they climbed the stairs, she let fly with her feelings about PC Doyle.
"Thinks he's some sort of social do gooder," she muttered.
Bodie found himself in a small cosy bedroom, seemingly at odds with Joanne's persona.
She wasted no time, pushing Bodie onto the queen size bed which dominated the pretty room. She pulled off his boots, and quickly straddled him, undoing his uniform shirt. Bodie sat up and pushed her to one side. Quickly he divested himself of the rest of his clothes, folding them neatly as he disrobed. His wallet went into his back pocket and his boots on top of them.
He turned round to see Joanne already under the covers. He pushed them down and lay beside her. Almost immediately she was on top of him, touching, stroking, and kneading. Her mouth settled over his cock, while her hands stroked his balls. Bodie lay there, letting her administer to him. While his body dutifully obeyed her ministrations, his mind was detached, coolly appraising the quickest way out of this situation. Abruptly making his mind up, he stroked her hair and gently pulled her face out of his groin.
He kissed her perfunctorily while running his hands over her tight breasts. He guessed from the noises she was making he was doing ok. Without further ado, he settled between her thighs and swiftly entered her. She gasped and bucked beneath him, clawing at his shoulders. He continued thrusting in to her, willing himself to climax so he could leave. Shortly afterwards, he came, followed by Joanne, dramatically screaming and sobbing and arching her back.
Even while she was still writhing around and calling him the best fuck ever, Bodie was up and dressing. Only when he bent down to lace his boots did she realised what was going on.
"Hey aren't you staying? We've got all night. I'll only charge for the first shag."
Bodie wheeled around, his face stern. He threw a ten pound note on the bedside table
"No thanks love. I only wanted a quick one. Y'know, just something to stop me balls aching."
Her scream of disgust followed him down the stairs. He let himself out of the flat and began to walk back to the barracks.
Halfway to the bus stop he caught sight of PC Doyle, standing under a street lamp, writing something in his notebook. Whip thin, and long legged, he was leaning against the wall, one leg crooked with his foot resting at an angle. He was balancing the notebook on his bent knee. The dim light shadowed his face, highlighting a damaged cheekbone, and an errant curl escaping from his cap.
He looked up and saw Bodie watching him.
"That was quick. Still got your wallet?" The young policeman smiled.
At that precise moment Bodie knew what it was to love.