Patriotic Duty by C.J. Pinard

brown hair behind her ear and put her
hands in her lap. “Ms. Reid, I didn’t know who else to talk to.”
    Oh,
great, gonna have to call the psych or the chaplain, I
thought.
    Inmates often came in just
to talk, which I did not have time for, nor was I paid for, but still I
listened when I could, because most of the time, the problems were petty. There
were times, however, when they weren’t, and if they were serious, I had to
report it. Most of the time, they just wanted to tell on each other. Females
are famous for this. You’ll never catch the male inmates snitching on each
other. Ever.
    “Go on,” I told her.
    She wrung her hands
together. “Well, three of the girls in my room work out on the base, you know, cleanin ’ the Army workers’ offices, and paintin ’
curbs and stuff… well I heard them talkin ’ about how
they were, um, doing stuff to the Army guys under their desks and stuff.” She
then went on to describe details about what her cellmates were talking about,
locations, and a few dirty details I really didn’t need to know.
    I raised a pale eyebrow. “Really now? Care to give me their names?”
    “Which
ones? My roommates or the Army guys?”
    I smiled. “Either. Or both.”
    She shook her head. “I
don’t know the guys’ names. And I’m in a four-man room so you really don’t need
me to give you names, do you?”
    “Ah, I didn’t know you had
one of the coveted four-man rooms. Enough said. Thanks for the info, Anderson.”
    She nodded, stood up, and
let herself out. I sat back in my chair and tapped my pen against the desk,
contemplating the problem. I quickly jotted down inmate Anderson’s full name
and register number and tried to decide how I was going to formulate my memo to
our internal investigators. I also planned on doing my own little probing…
starting with talking to Riley. I bet he knew something.
    Female inmates and young
military men – I mean, that’s just a recipe for disaster. Yet, the need for
cheap labor on the bases outweighs the disastrous mix of female inmates starved
of male attention and horny, young soldiers who are most likely far from home
or just starting out in life and have trouble saying “no.”
    Sex with inmates is a big
no-no for the staff. It’s drilled into us, we’re trained and frightened with
horror stories of those who have gone before us and done it and got caught,
humiliated, fired, and sometimes became inmates themselves. But these military
men don’t get this training. They get a quick, “Stay away from them and keep
your dick in your pants” speech and that’s it.
    Oh yeah, I’ll be talking
to Riley later to get his take on it. I bet he’s seen plenty go on.
    Oh, God I hope he’s not
one of the ones Inmate Anderson was talking about!

 
    ***

 
    “Get in!” Miranda called
from the red Civic. I hopped in and she drove quickly off base, pulling up at a
Chili’s restaurant.
    After we were seated and
placed our drink orders, she handed me a fat envelope. “Happy
Birthday!”
    I smiled and opened it. It
was a cute card depicting friends drinking wine together and talked about how
we’ll reminisce about all our past escapades when we’re old. Inside was a gift
card to Victoria’s Secret.
    “Oh, my God, thanks!” I hugged her.
    She grinned. “You go buy
your hot soldier man some sexy shit. It’s so fun to wear that stuff.”
    I nodded. “Yeah, I bet. I
didn’t really wear it much with the ex.”
    “Girl, one time, when I was
in San Diego,” she said (and most of her stories started off with that
sentence), “my boyfriend, Chris, he stripped me naked and poured champagne on
my body and licked it off. It was so hot!”
    Laughing, I asked, “What
does this have to do with lingerie?”
    “Oh
yeah! Well, I was wearing this little sailor outfit and it
was actually lingerie. Before he poured champagne on me, he said, ‘That needs
to come off.’ It was hot!”
    I shook my head and
laughed. “Yeah, I can only