Chapter 24
Girls Night Out.

As soon as they arrived in their suite, Harm took Mac in his arms and began running his hands along her body.

"Take it easy, Sailor," she said

Harm frowned. "I thought that the first thing on the agenda was to-"

Mac held up her hand. "My eating those beans at lunch was a case of poor judgment."

Harm nodded. "I read you loud and clear."

"But we can still lay out by the pool."

"You promised to model swimwear for me," Harm said in an eager voice.

"Which would you like to see first? The red one-piece or the blue two piece?"

"The one-piece," Harm blurted out. Diane had worn a red one-piece and Harm was anxious to see Mac wearing the same swimsuit.

"Give me a moment," and Mac went into the dressing area to change.

When Mac returned, Harm was a bit disappointed. Although they looked very much alike, Mac and Diane's body types were different. Diane's long legs looked wonderful in a one piece swimsuit, while Mac's ample curves made the same swimsuit appear something like a corset.

Mac saw Harm scanning her body. "See something you like?"

"It's what I don't see that has me curious."

"Harm, last night you saw everything there is to see, including my tattoo."

"It's the gunshot wound from the poachers. That was a serious wound, and it was badly infected. I'm surprised there is no scar."

Mac took a deep breath. "I had plastic surgery. I suppose you think I'm vain."

Careful Rabb, you could be walking into a trap.

Sarah MacKenzie was a beautiful woman, but she was more than that. Telling Mac that she was an outstanding lawyer and a damned fine Marine would be compliment. Telling her that it would be a crime if her magnificent body was even slightly flawed would make her lash out.

"Mac, getting the most complete medical treatment possible was the best course of action," Harm said diplomatically.

"My father was badly wounded by grenade fragments in both legs. Every month he'd go to the VA and they'd dig out more and more pieces of metal. When he'd come home my dad have me rub his feet to reduce the swelling. This went on for years. The scars on his legs were horrible- I hated looking at them, but he steadfastly refused to have plastic surgery. I began to imagine my own scar looking as bad as his."

Harm interrupted. "Your father made his choice, and you made yours. I respect your decision."

"Thank you." Harm took Mac in his arms and began squeezing her tightly. "Please, don't squeeze me...remember the beans."

Harm broke into laughter. "Okay," and he released her.

"Do you want to see me in the blue two-piece swimsuit?"

"Of course."

When Mac returned there was no arguing that she had a magnificent figure, and the two-piece extenuated it.

"Wear that one," said Harm. "I'll change into my swim trunks and we'll go to the pool."

The resort had several pools, and Mac selected the smaller private pool reserved for guests staying in the suites. Bar service was immediate, and Mac asked for a ginger ale to settle her stomach.

After laying face down on chaise lounge, Mac undid the string on her top. "Will you put some sun screen on my back?" she asked Harm.

"With pleasure," and Harm began rubbing the lotion onto Mac's back.

Harm had large hands and long fingers, which were perfect for handling a basketball. He also had a gentle touch, which was perfect for handling the controls of an F-14...or for any other tasks which Mac might assign to him.

"That feels nice," Mac purred. "What time do we check out tomorrow?"

"Noon, although we can stay on the hotel grounds for as long as we want."

"No, I want to go directly to the hospital to see Frank. He's probably lonely and bored," said Mac.

After finishing their drinks and made small talk, Harm announced, "I'd like to go to the main pool and swim laps."

"You don't need my permission to swim."

"Will you be alright?"

Mac looked at him over the top of her sunglasses. "Yes, Harm. I'll be fine."

Sarah MacKenzie could take care of herself. As Harm headed to the main pool, he knew that she had just made it clear.


After completing Officer Candidate School, most graduates went home or traveled while waiting for a new class to form at the The Marine Corps Basic School in Quantico. The Basic School is 28 week program where newly commissioned Marine second lieutenants complete the Officer Basic Course (OBC) prior to beginning their Military Occupational Specialty (MOS).

The OBC prepares new officers for service in the Corps, and educates them in fundamentals of being a leader of Marines.

"First you learn to fight. Then you learn to lead," is how her Uncle Matt described the Officer Basic Course. "In the Corps, leadership is everything."

Mac had no money to travel, and no home to speak of. She was TDY to Defense Language Institute, Foreign Language Center, located on the Presidio in Monterey CA where she would test for the Defense Language Aptitude Battery. The DLAB was designed to test individuals in specific foreign languages needed by the US military. Mac would test in Farsi (Persian) and Russian.

At that time, female Marines were not allowed to serve in combat billets, so Mac was hoping to be assigned MOS 8244 Foreign Area Officer. A FAO (Fay-oh) serves overseas tours as a defense attaché, a security assistance officer, a political-military planner in a service's headquarters, or as the representative of the Secretary of Defense in the country of assignment.

The DLIFLC was a "joint-service" school run by the Army, and you could not ask for a nicer duty station than the Presidio. As a commissioned officer, Mac had a small but comfortable private room with a view of the Pacific Ocean. Officers paid for their own meals whether they ate them on base or not, so penny-pinching Mac was always at the head of the chow line.

Despite the Presidio's stunning scenery, Mac's days were busy, leaving her with little or no free time beyond her early morning run along the fog shrouded coastline.

At the conclusion of the five day testing period, Mac scored a 3+, the highest possible score in Category III languages, which included Persian. Thanks to her two years of living in the dorm in the University of Minnesota with a Jewish-Russian Émigré, Mac managed a better than qualifying score of 1+ in the Russian language.

After testing was complete, Mac had two weeks before a new class would form at The Basic School.

The Corps would pick up the tab for transportation between the Presidio and Quantico, but side trips would be paid for out of Mac's own pocket. A vacation was out of the question. Mac already owed her Uncle Matt thousands of dollars for expenses incurred during her four years at the University of Minnesota.

Matt O'Hara didn't want his niece's money, but Mac intended to pay back every cent.

When Mac arrived at TBS at Camp Barrett, she was automatically designated MAT (Marine Awaiting Training) and assigned to Company M- Mike Company.

The facilities at Camp Barrett were not plush like those at the Presidio, but this was the Marine Corps. Doing more with less would be ingrained in the mind every Marine Corps junior officer.

Mac shared a room with 2ndLt Amanda Jones, a short, red-faced girl with blonde hair worn in a pixie-cut. Jones was not an attractive woman; her prominent front teeth reminding Mac of Rocky The Flying Squirrel.

"Call me Jonesy. It's the name my dad had in the Corps."

"in that case, call me Mac."

Jones' eyes lit up. "Your dad was a Marine? What battalion?"

"Staff Sergeant Joe MacKenzie. 3rd Platoon, Bravo Company, 3rd Battalion, 3rd Marines. Your dad?"

Jonesy's homely face broke into a wide grin. "It's a small world. Second Lieutenant Larry Jones. 1st Platoon, Echo Company, 2nd Battalion, 3rd Marines. Was your dad in the Hill Fights?"

"He saw some of the worst of it. He's 100% disabled from grenade fragments in both legs. Did your dad get through okay?"

"The middle finger on his right hand was shot off. My dad claims that losing a middle finger is the worst thing that can happen to a Marine!"

Mac laughed. "I can't argue his point."

"My dad was a mustang up from the ranks. I wanted to enlist and come up the hard way, just like he did, but my dad insisted that I go to college. My dad supports me in everything I do. I'm sure that your dad does the same for you."

Mac was anxious to change the subject. "What's your first choice for MOS?"

"0402 Logistics Officer."

Mac frowned. A Logistics Officer was assigned to battalion headquarters and charged with the management and planning for manpower, motor transport, equipment maintenance, and supply services. The LO would be in direct contact with the battalion commander, who was a normally Lieutenant Colonel.

"What if you get stuck somewhere like Camp Courtney in Okinawa and assigned to a hard ass battalion CO?" Mac asked.

"I want to fit into the Corps the best way that I can. Admin and Logistics are the top billets for women. What's your first choice for MOS?"

"8244, Foreign Area Officer."

Jonesy broke into laughter.

"What's so funny?" Mac asked indignantly.

"Foreign travel, easy duty at an embassy or in a consulate, and your evenings and weekends free, unless you're going to an official function or dinner party. Mac, only Academy graduates stand a chance of getting get that billet. You're setting yourself up for disappointment."

During the weeks prior to their class forming, the girls had only routine duties and 'make work" assignments, giving Mac had ample time to spend in the gym as well as training on the infamous obstacle course.

Unlike OCS where male and female candidates were placed in segregated platoons, male and female officers trained together at The Basic School. Peer reviews among the females at OCS had been brutal, and Mac expected worse at TBS.

Despite the "gun club" mentality of the male Marines, Mac intended to be a leader, and not just among the females. Mac was in the best shape of her life, and ready to go toe to toe with the male candidates.

"You don't have to be the fastest, or the strongest, or even the best shot, but NEVER quit. No one respects quitters," her Uncle Matt hold told her.

Sarah MacKenzie didn't intend to quit. She planned to win the respect of the men and women in her company.

Mac continued working out every day (sometimes twice a day). It was going to be a winter class and that meant rain and snow in northern Virginia. Mac hated the cold, but after spending four years at the University of Minnesota she could tolerate it.

On the Saturday evening before their class formed, Jonesy announced, "Let's drive into Fredericksburg and hit a club."

"I don't drink," said Mac.

"Great. I can get plastered and you can drive us back. Should I give you my car keys right now?"

"I'm on a tight budget. I don't have money for evenings out," Mac admitted.

"I have money. It will be my treat."

"I really shouldn't go."

"Please, Sarah. When the course begins on Monday we'll be stuck here for 28 weeks."

That was an exaggeration. When their training did begin they'd continue to have weekend liberty, but the girls would be too tired to bother.

Mac had to admit that she wouldn't mind getting out of the camp and going into town. "Okay. Let me see what I have to wear," and she began looking through her locker and her bags.

Jonesy broke into a toothy grin. "We'll have a great time. I promise."

Mac went into the room's small head to prep and emerged wearing a short black coat, black halter top, a short black skirt and tall black boots.

"Wow, Sarah. You look hot," said Jonesy who had already changed into a shapeless navy blue cocoon dress with modest 3/4 kimono sleeves and simple black pumps.

The girls began their odyssey at the Ale House on Caroline Drive. Mac quickly grew tired of being hit-on in the bar, while Jonesy was completely ignored.

After Jonesy had primed herself with a couple of pints, the pair headed into a seeder part of town to The Alley Club, a large venue catering mostly to the metal/punk crowd where Aborted Angels; a death metal group from Richmond, was performing.

The band was on the verge of breaking out and making it big so the club was crowded, but thanks to the way that Mac was dressed, the girls managed to get good seats.

"Aborted Angels is an awesome band," said Jonesy, who was already on her second beer.

"You actually listen to this stuff?

"Not when I'm at home. My father would never allow it. He only listens to Elvis Presley."

Death metal vocals were mostly growls, hoarse roars and snarls, but the beat was driving and Mac was surprised to find that she was enjoying herself.

MacKenzie, you missed out on a lot of good times by always being drunk.

After the band's final set, the crowd broke up and left for other clubs, but the girls decided to go into the bar and relax.

Jonesy ordered another draft beer. "I'm really enjoying myself. You're a lot of fun, Sarah."

Mac rolled her eyes. "Not many people have ever said that about me."

"Well, you're a little slow getting up to speed, but you're good company."

Mac smiled. "Thanks, Amanda. I appreciate the invite, and you picking up the tab. I'll square it with you when we get paid."

Jonesy waved her hand. "Don't worry about it. I charge whatever I please, and my dad takes care of all of my bills."

The girls were still sipping their drinks when a tall man with short curly blond hair entered the club and headed for the bar. He looked to be in his late twenties, and he had the build of a former high school or junior college athlete who had added some extra pounds since leaving school. He was bit soft around the middle so he tried to compensate by dressing in designer clothes, which only made him appear awkward and uncomfortable.

"That guy's cute," Jonesy whispered.

Mac shrugged. She liked big guys, but when she saw him ordering an umbrella drink at the bar, hope was fading fast.

The man already had a few drinks under his belt and when he spotted the girls he walked towards the booth.

"Look, he's coming this way," Jonesy said in an excited voice and she slid over to make room for him.

The man ignored Jonesy and squeezed in next to Mac. "Hi, I'm Brett."

Mac was not thrilled at how he simply sat down uninvited, and she noticed right away that he was wearing too much cheap cologne. "I'm Sarah and this is Amanda," she said in a disinterested voice.

"Hi, Brett," Amanda spoke up in a cheerful voice.

Brett tossed a scowl at Amanda, making it plain he felt she was no better than a piece of used furniture. "It's nice to meet you, Sarah."

"We're about to leave," Mac announced. She was not interested in Brett's approach, or his being rude to Amanda.

"Let me buy you a drink before you go," Brett suggested.

"No thanks. We're having a girl's night out and we'd like to be left alone."

"Well then, why don't you and I get out of here so that your friend can be left alone."

Mac snarled. "Look, pal, I don't know how to break it to you any other way. I've given you the cold shoulder, refused your drinks, and now I'd like you to get up and leave me the hell alone."

"If it's because of your friend, I know that you just hang with her to make her feel good. I suppose that someone has to drag her out in public once and a while."

Jonesy dropped her head. It hurt, and because Mac was with her, it was worse.

Mac was incensed. "That is the most inconsiderate thing I've ever heard. You're an asshole."

Brett gave a sly smile. "Aren't those are the kinds of guys you go for, Sarah?"

"That's it! You can try again another time, and with another woman, but right now it's over. This is your chance to walk away with a little dignity, and without your balls being bruised."

"There's no reason to get bent out of shape." Brett reached down and put his hand on Mac's thigh.

"Don't touch me, you creep," Mac protested and she used both of her hands to push Brett away.

"Don't push me, bitch."

Brett gave Mac a hard shove, which got Jonesy out of the booth and screaming for security.

Brett was looking to leave in a hurry, but he was a big guy and having already had a too many drinks, he was having trouble getting out from around the table.

Once Brett was out of the booth, Jonesy was blocking his way and Brett shoved Jonesy aside.

Mac was on him in a heartbeat.

All of the lessons in hand to hand combat from OCS, as well as her Uncle Matt's instruction in karate, came automatically. Mac's left fist sank deep into Brett's soft stomach, and when he doubled-over in pain, Mac brought up her right foot and kicked him squarely in the head.

It was a solid shot to the right temple and Brett dropped to the floor...out cold.

This was the first time that Mac had ever used her hand to hand combat skills, and it gave her an amazing rush. "Get on your feet," Mac shouted over the prostrate body. "Come on, asshole. Get up!" Mac chided, but Brett wasn't going anywhere.

Jonesy was amazed. She knew that Mac was strong; she had seen her working out in the gym many times, but Brett was a big man and Mac had beaten him unconscious.

This girl was bad ass!

Ralph Whitmer, the head of security arrived, and he asked if the two girls were alright?

"We're fine, no thanks to you." Mac pointed to Brett, who was lying crumpled on the floor. "If this is an example of the kinds of men that you let into this place, I'm going to spread the word that this club isn't safe for women."

Ralph knew that a comments like that could quickly damage the club's reputation. "I'm very sorry this happened. Let me get the manager so that he can speak with you." Ralph pointed to Brett. "In the meantime, we'll take care of this."

Two bouncers arrived: a burly black man and a college age man who was built like a defensive back. "Take him into the security room, and keep him there until I can talk to him," Ralph instructed the bouncers who dragged the still unconscious Brett roughly across the floor.

In the meantime, a well groomed man in a nicely tailored dark blue suit arrived and introduced himself as Byron Thomas, the club's manager.

"Ladies, I want to offer my sincere apologies for what just happened. After the band's final set, we allowed our security measures to go lax." He looked directly at Ralph. "This was totally unacceptable."

Ralph lowered his eyes. "No excuses. I dropped the ball."

Mac was impressed with the man's honesty. "We came here to listen to the band and then we went into the bar to relax and have a drink. That was when that jerk insulted my girlfriend and started shoving us around. I don't feel safe here and I plan to let everyone know it."

"There is no need to be hasty," said Byron, who looked Mac over closely.

A beautiful young woman, well dressed and with a big rack, was exactly the type of girl he'd like to see more of in the club. Her bucktooth girlfriend he could do without, but a mix of ladies, no matter what they looked like, never hurt any club's bottom line.

Byron picked the girl's check off of the table and put it in his pocket. "Our kitchen is open, and our food is as good as anywhere in Fredericksburg. Allow me to me treat you both to dinner... and more drinks."

"Steaks?" Mac asked.

"Thick sirloins, cooked any way you like them."

Byron motioned to a waitress, a pretty redhead, and told her the girls could order whatever they wished.

"Of course, Mister Thomas. This way ladies," said their server who lead the girls to a clean booth.

After taking their dinner orders, the waitress told Mac, "I saw the way that you kicked that guys ass. Wow!" She looked at Jonesy and added, "You're lucky to have a girlfriend who can look out for you."

"I'll never go anywhere without her," said Jonesy, who ordered a beer and a shot.


Inside the club's security office, a blast of ammonia brought Brett around.

"Where am I? What happened?" he moaned.

"You're in a world of shit," Ralph deadpanned. "As for what happened, you got your ass handed to you by a chick who didn't like you pushing her and her girlfriend around."

"She pushed me first."

Ralph believed none of it. "Okay, big man. Let's run the surveillance video," and he inserted a cassette into the player.

The grainy video showed Brett moving close to Mac, his hand disappearing below the table, and her pushing him away. What followed was Brett giving Mac a hard shove and then his pushing aside Jonesy, which lead to the confrontation.

"Looks cut and dry to me," Ralph said.

Brett hadn't enjoyed watching how easily Mac had knocked him out. "The brunette with the big tits blindsided me," he explained.

"Now listen, dickhead," Ralph said in an angry tone. "Because of you, my ass is in a sling with my boss. I've got no use for tough guys who shove women around. As far as I'm concerned, you're lower than whale shit."

"Let me go or I'll call the police," Brett demanded.

"You've got to be shitting me. When I show the cops the tape of you shoving two girls around, you'll be charged with assault and battery."

"I'm the one who got beat up! I'm the victim," Brett insisted.

"I'll look forward to you testifying in court that a girl kicked your ass," said Ralph, who wondered if Mac might be available to work as a bouncer? "I'm actually surprised that she hit you. She should have bitch-slapped you."

"I know the law. You have no legal right to keep me here," Brett protested

Ralph punched the intercom button. "Rosy, Tommy. I need both of you," and the two men quickly entered the room.

"What's up, boss?" asked Rosy. He was the black man and the larger of the pair.

"Our friend is ready to leave, but before he goes, give him the VIP tour of our facilities. Be sure to show him the trash dumpsters. I want him to see firsthand what we do with garbage."

Rosy smiled as he pulled Brett to his feet. "It's too bad about your fancy threads."

"You can't do this!" Brett shouted as he was being dragged him out of the office.

Ralph took Tommy aside. "When that asshole climbs out of the dumpster, I want you to rough him up. No broken bones...and don't leave any marks."

"No problem," said the former junior college defensive back who slipped on a pair of thin leather gloves.


When the girls finishing their excellent steaks, Jonesy ordered another beer and a shot.

"This was one hell of an evening," said Mac.

Jonesy gave a toothy grin. "My daddy always said that the best way to cap off a liberty was with dinner and a fight. I guess we're real Marines now, just like our dads." Jonesy knocked down the whisky and then hoisted her beer. "To the Third Marine Division."

Mac raised her glass of iced tea. "To the Fighting Third. Fidelity, Valor, Honor," which the motto of the Third Division.

Mac set down her glass and signaled to their waitress. "What do you have for dessert?"

"What would you like?"

"Anything, as long as it's chocolate!"


Back at the pool, Harm returned from his swim.

"Did you miss me?" he asked Mac, who was laying face down on the chaise lounge and with her legs tightly clenched.

"More than you know." Mac had been running through the confrontation with Brett over and over again in her mind. She eyed Harm hungrily. "Lets head back to the room."

"So soon? Is your stomach still bothering you?" Harm asked.

"It's not my stomach." Mac's bikini bottoms were wet, and a space had opened inside of her that Harm was about to fill; whether he realized it or not

"Then what's the matter?" Harm asked.

"I want you...right now."

Harm looked confused. "What about the beans?"

"To hell with the beans." Mac tied her bikini top, got up from the chaise lounge, and lead Harm to their suite.


[A/N] I want to thank csincisfan01 for dressing Mac for the club. A big thanks to Rebecca, my subject matter expert on women in the Marine Corps. The bar fight was presented essentially unchanged, save for the characters. Becca, the man messing around with you got exactly what he deserved!