Contains my story, A Problem with Authority.
The 13th collection of the year’s best short, erotic fiction from the world’s leading writers of erotica, here are 45 stories of sexual encounters from every corner of the world.
Private Jesse Bagnall glowered and muttered to himself all the way to the mess. He’d just been bawled out by Corporal Roxanne Grey—yet again—and he was getting seriously fed up of it. He knew he wasn’t perfect in the drill exercises, but then nor were any of the other guys. It was like she was singling him out and aiming all her abuse in his direction. Being shouted at was to be expected in the army—it was almost part of the job description—but Corporal Grey’s attitude was bordering on discriminatory, and he didn’t know what to do about it. Especially without looking like a total pussy.
Spotting some of his closest friends at a table towards the back of the mess, he caught the eye of one of them—Matt Kay—raised a hand in greeting, then got in line for his food.
Several minutes later he loaded his cup of tea onto his tray along with everything else and headed over to where he’d seen Matt and the boys. Hopefully they’d take his mind off the Queen Bitch. They were always game for a laugh.
“All right, lads?” he said, sliding his tray onto the table and taking a seat.
There were mumbles of assent.
“Yeah,” replied Ed Patterson. “You?”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
Ed raised an eyebrow, and the other men turned their attention to Jesse, too. “Well,” Ed said, “that wasn’t very convincing. What’s up, mate?”
Jesse sighed, ran a hand through his hair. “It’s the drill instructor.”
His friends exchanged confused looks. “Care to elaborate?” Matt said.
Not wanting to look a wimp in front of his mates, Jesse changed his tone. But once he had, the anger took over him. “She’s a fucking bitch, that’s what!”
The confused expressions turned to surprised ones.
“I’m fed up her treating me like a twat. I know it’s her job to bawl us out, but she takes it too far. I do my fucking best, work my arse off, and it’s still not good enough for her.”
He barely noticed the gazes of his friends shifting slightly, carried on regardless. “She definitely picks on me more than everyone else. As though I’ve seen sitting on my arse when everyone else is killing themselves to get it right. She’s just being a complete and utter bitch. Bitch face fucking Grey!”
Matt cleared his throat, to no avail.
“You know what her problem is? She needs a fucking good shag, she does. That might cheer the miserable cow up. Mind you, Christ knows what man would be brave enough to go there. She’d probably bite your cock off as soon as suck it.”
As the red mist of his anger dissipated, Jesse finally clocked the reactions of the other men around his table. They weren’t at all what he’d expect. Ed and Matt looked mighty chagrined, staring at a point over his left shoulder. Private Graham Pilgrim had actually put his head down and begun to bang it on the table.
A cold trickle of dread ran down his back, and he turned, wondering which of his superiors had heard his rant.
Fuck. It was none other than the target of his diatribe. Corporal Roxanne Grey stood, her arms crossed, one high-heeled foot tapping on the floor. Her facial expression was as far from impressed as it was possible to be.
Coolly, she said, “Guard room, now.”
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