A Few Good Men by Cat Johnson

where I am, that is a good thing. I would rather not have the baddies learning any new tricks on my watch.
    I can tell you I will not be giving Jazzy a kiss for you, but I will tell him you said hello. He has been bored and sneaking out of bed a lot lately, so I think he is feeling himself again.
    I will give Morales and Gonzo your regards.
    Have a great rest of your day,
    John
    He couldn’t believe that what had begun as a serious correspondence between them had degenerated to discussions of sex, even if it was fictional sci-fi sex, and that he enjoyed it so much. He should probably feel guilty about that, but he didn’t. Instead, John just really liked chatting with Summer. A lot.
    John sent the email and did a quick calculation. It was still early afternoon in New York. Whenever he emailed Summer at this time of day, she usually emailed immediately back. Glancing around the MWR, John saw that word had gotten out and there was now a soldier on each computer and one waiting. Damn.
    John had let himself loosen up and even get a little bit flirty with her, as rusty as he was at this stuff. Now he felt nervous anticipating her response. What would Summer think? What would she reply? And what the hell was he getting himself into?
    After logging off, he rose and relinquished his machine to the next man waiting. He wandered over to the coffee machine. If he hung around and killed a bit of time, maybe he could get online again and read Summer’s response before going to bed.
    Cup of crappy coffee in hand—it just wasn’t in his nature to ask Summer to send more—John headed for the lone bookshelf that comprised the MWR library. The next best thing to reading Summer’s emails before going back to bed would be reading her sex book in bed. Mmm. Damn. Just the thought gave him another instant hard-on.
    He began to read the titles on the shelves in earnest now. Suddenly he wanted that book and he wanted it here and now. Miraculously, it was there. Summer’s book was right on the shelf in front of him.
    Looking around like a thief in the night to make sure no one was watching him, he grabbed the paperback. He shoved it beneath one arm and brought it directly to his room where it would stay. He was not a selfish man, but he wasn’t sharing this now that he had found it.

Chapter Ten
    John lay in his bunk, the light bulb in the room’s single lamp angled to hit the pages of the battered paperback novel he already planned to keep hidden beneath his pillow during the day and secretly devour each night. No way was he putting his closest connection to Summer back on the shelf for someone else to pick up.
    He’d already sat up for hours to read it. It was slow going since he’d gone over the good parts two times. Jazzy had been right. The book was way better than porn to fuel the imagination, but it was the woman herself that had John insane.
    John found himself picturing Summer looking like the heroine in her novel—a petite, curvy brunette with brilliant green eyes and a sharp wit. He knew the sharp wit was there in Summer just from reading her emails. Now, he had become obsessed with discovering if she looked like the heroine also. A double-edged sword, that. What if when he finally did see her, he found her unattractive? What then? Was it better to continue to fantasize in the dark, literally under the covers of his rack, or learn the truth sooner rather than later?
    He wanted more than just his imagination. But how the hell did he get a photo of her? Should he ask? John remembered Morales saying his girl had sent him pictures of herself in a bikini. Hmm. Had he asked her to send those or did she send them on her own? And what did the fact that Summer posted no photo anywhere on her website mean?
    What if she was hideous?
    No, that wasn’t possible. He somehow knew she would be exactly as he imagined her, and he found that image extremely attractive.
    Then there was another thing that bothered him. Through their emails he had