Cate quickly turned her back to Jon, looking downrange at his target. She closed her eyes for a moment. Oh, God…he could tell… She forced her eyes back open and focused on the silhouette as it glided toward her on the track.
Suddenly she felt Jon invade her space, as he moved up close behind her. Cate felt weak as she he heard him draw in a long breath. He was smelling her hair. Nooo…not here…
Cate took another faltering step forward, away from Jon, and reached a trembling hand for the target as it clicked to a stop at the end of the track. She grabbed the edge of the paper and pulled it from the clip, then held it up so light shone through the holes in the target.
Jon had done a reasonably good job; all of the rounds had hit the target, and most were within the center body mass ring. Obviously he wasn’t having problems concentrating.
“Nice job.” Cate said hoarsely. Somehow her voice was having problems working; her mouth had gone dry. “I think you passed.”
“Thanks.” Jon answered quietly. He gazed at Cate, though she wouldn’t look at him. Her discomfort was evident; hell, the heat was practically radiating off her in waves. Damn, if only Danny and George weren’t around we could DO something about this… Jon couldn’t help smiling a little self-satisfied smirk. It appears I AM Super Girl’s kryptonite…
“Umm… uh…” Cate stammered. Her mind was blank, her senses overwhelming her ability to think. “Uh, next we will…” She took a deep breath. THINK, Damnit! “We’ll do the … PPC. Yeah, that’s it. “You’ll need four magazines; two on your belt, two in your pants… I mean pocket…” Shit! I gotta get away from him for a minute…
Cate turned away and stepped back over to her position on the firing line. She knelt beside her bag, pretending to look for something inside as she gulped in several deep breaths. As she felt her control return she shot a sideways glance at Jon. He had picked up four full clips of ammo, as instructed, and was sliding two of them into the front left pocket of his jeans.
He was standing slightly turned away from her, so Cate could see his profile. She saw the corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk, and felt a slight stir of annoyance. How could he think this is funny? He can obviously tell what’s going on… he’s PROUD of himself for making me act all goofy?!?
Cate felt her anger starting to rise again, as it had this afternoon. She took another deep breath and willed herself to be calm. Then she stood, squared her shoulders, and turned to face Jon. Okay, back to business…
Cate directed Jon to stand at the firing line, then explained the PPC course of fire to him. Since he had seen the instructors fire it the previous night, he followed along easily.
Cate avoided looking into Jon’s face, instead focusing on the target, the barrier, the floor, the ceiling, anything but Jon. After finishing her lecture, Cate stepped back over to her position and signaled Danny to start the course. As before, she fired each combination, then watched Jon as he repeated the drill.
The PPC was significantly more difficult, requiring the shooter to first perform five combinations of a “double tap” to the torso then a single head shot in quick succession. Then in a simulation of shooting while injured, the trainee had to fire ten rounds with the strong hand and reload one-handed, then repeat the action with the weak hand. Finally, the shooter had to fire two sets of five rounds in quick succession in a “Z” pattern, landing one round on each shoulder, one in the chest, and one on each hip.
Luckily, Cate was so proficient at this course of fire that she was able to score almost perfectly despite her discomfort. Jon, on the other hand, was finding the PPC a challenge. Though he still had good technique, he had difficulty placing the shots at different locations on the target in such quick succession. As he moved the muzzle of the gun across the target he jerked the trigger, causing the rounds to fly wide.
Cate immediately recognized Jon’s problem; it was common among trainees. Waiting for him to finish the combination, Cate holstered her own Glock and stepped over beside him.
She explained to Jon how to even out his trigger pull and improve his accuracy by first looking at the point on the target where he wanted to shoot, then moving the gun to line up the sights with his eyeline while slowly squeezing the “give” out of the trigger. She watched Jon try what she suggested, firing a few shots, but still not correcting the problem.
Instinctively, Cate reached up and put her left hand over Jon’s on the grip of the Glock, preventing him from moving the weapon. As she extended her arm, Cate stepped toward Jon, her left foot crossing in front of his. Her chest pressed lightly against Jon’s side as she molded herself to him so she could control his arm movement. She had to place her right hand lightly on the small of Jon’s back to balance herself.
Cate’s cheek rested against Jon’s shoulder as she looked down his left arm, toward the sight at the end of the Glock’s barrel. Holding his hands still so he couldn’t move the gun, she spoke into his ear, directing him again to look at the point on the target where he wanted the bullet to impact.
Then she slowly let him guide the gun until he aligned the sights along his eyeline, and told him to squeeze the trigger. He did, and she felt the recoil ripple up his arm to his shoulder, against her cheek. She kept steady pressure on his hand so that he couldn’t move the gun suddenly, and made him repeat the movement four more times until he had completed one Z-pattern.
As the last round left the barrel of the Glock, Cate suddenly became very aware that she was practically embracing Jon. Her nostrils flared slightly at the musky aroma of his sweat, mixed with the smoky smell of cordite and hot brass. Her nipples stiffened.
She realized that her touch was affecting Jon almost as much as he was distressing her. She could feel his chest heaving as he breathed, and she could see the tension in his neck and feel it in his back, under her sweaty palm. Cate swiftly dropped her hand from Jon’s and stepped away from him.
Jon lowered the Glock, keeping it pointed downrange, and blew out a long breath. Cate watched as he shook his head slightly, then raised the gun and attempted another Z-pattern. Despite the instruction Cate had just given him, Jon again over-aimed and jerked the trigger as he fired, causing his rounds to fly astray of the target. Cate shook her head.
“Cease fire!” Cate commanded. “Okay, stop.” Jon lowered his weapon and looked to his left at Cate. His smirk was gone, and his lips were pressed together in a frustrated line.
He followed Cate’s direction to clear and holster his weapon, then stared unhappily at his target as it reeled toward him on the track. There were holes all over the place, inside and outside the silhouette, but there weren’t as many as there should have been. That meant he missed the target altogether with a number of rounds.
Jon watched as Cate scored the target – 28 of 45, not great -- and listened silently as she again explained to him the problems she had seen with his technique. Being a compulsive perfectionist, Jon didn’t like to fail. And he felt like he was failing at the PPC.
But he had an excuse – Cate had so rattled him when she pressed up against him and took control of his hands that he couldn’t seem to understand what she was telling him. Had he not seen the hungry look in her eyes earlier, the close contact probably wouldn’t have bothered him so much. He would have likely enjoyed it, but he would have been able to keep his concentration and hence, shoot better.
Danny had observed Cate’s interaction with Jon from the range control booth for nearly an hour. He could see things were getting tense between them – hot and tense. Time for a break, before Cate does something stupid, he thought. Sometimes she doesn’t know when to keep her mouth shut for her own sake.
Danny opened the mic and called for a break, using the excuse that he needed a smoke. He descended the stairs from the control booth and approached Jon and Cate. Neither was looking at the other, but the electricity between them was obvious.
Danny told Jon to help himself to a bottle of water from the fridge in the range office, then waited until Jon walked toward the door to grab Cate’s arm and pull her outside with him.
Once they were through the door and around the corner of the building, Danny raised his eyebrows at Cate. “Wanna tell me what’s up?” he asked.
“What are you talking about?” Cate retorted grumpily. She didn’t look at Danny’s face. She knew he could read her mind with just one glance at her eyes.
“You know what I’m talking about. You and Jon. You’re practically about to jump each other.” Danny gave a little smirk.
“Oh, bullshit!” Cate exclaimed. “We are not – I am not. I am trying to maintain a professional demeanor and teach him how to handle a firearm…” Cate paused. “…so he doesn’t look like a Dumbass in his movie.” She added that last bit sarcastically.
“Oh really?” Danny pulled a pack of cigarettes and lighter from the pocket of his cargo pants. He paused while he lit the cancer stick and took a drag, then gave Cate a direct stare. “No attraction, huh? Then what’s with the nips, Slick? It’s not cold in there.” Danny gestured to Cate’s chest.
“Jesus, Danny!” Cate hissed. “Stop looking at my tits!” She colored slightly. Damn him! I can’t ever get anything past him…
Danny chuckled. “Sorry, Darlin’, can’t help it. They’re kinda hard to miss.” He saw Cate give a small smile at his pun, despite herself. “Listen, all I’m saying is that there’s obviously something up with you. I know you’re not telling me something. And it’s cool – just don’t get all wrapped up in your paranoid little world where you think you have to be Miss Ball-Buster all the time.”
Danny took another drag on his cigarette and looked Cate directly in the eye. “Trust me. Don’t do something stupid and blow your chance with Rock Star in there.”
Cate sighed. “Danny, I don’t have any kind of ‘chance’ with Jon. He’s who he is, I’m who I am, and we both have jobs to do.” She gave Danny a serious look. “And all I can do is do my job the best I can.”
Danny sighed and shook his head, flicking his ashes to the ground. “ ’Kay, Slick. Just think before you shoot your mouth off, huh?”
“Whatever.” Cate responded. “Now, can we go back in there so we can do the M-16 and get the hell out of here at a reasonable hour?”
Danny nodded and stubbed out his cigarette in the butt can by the door, then followed her back inside.
Suddenly she felt Jon invade her space, as he moved up close behind her. Cate felt weak as she he heard him draw in a long breath. He was smelling her hair. Nooo…not here…
Cate took another faltering step forward, away from Jon, and reached a trembling hand for the target as it clicked to a stop at the end of the track. She grabbed the edge of the paper and pulled it from the clip, then held it up so light shone through the holes in the target.
Jon had done a reasonably good job; all of the rounds had hit the target, and most were within the center body mass ring. Obviously he wasn’t having problems concentrating.
“Nice job.” Cate said hoarsely. Somehow her voice was having problems working; her mouth had gone dry. “I think you passed.”
“Thanks.” Jon answered quietly. He gazed at Cate, though she wouldn’t look at him. Her discomfort was evident; hell, the heat was practically radiating off her in waves. Damn, if only Danny and George weren’t around we could DO something about this… Jon couldn’t help smiling a little self-satisfied smirk. It appears I AM Super Girl’s kryptonite…
“Umm… uh…” Cate stammered. Her mind was blank, her senses overwhelming her ability to think. “Uh, next we will…” She took a deep breath. THINK, Damnit! “We’ll do the … PPC. Yeah, that’s it. “You’ll need four magazines; two on your belt, two in your pants… I mean pocket…” Shit! I gotta get away from him for a minute…
Cate turned away and stepped back over to her position on the firing line. She knelt beside her bag, pretending to look for something inside as she gulped in several deep breaths. As she felt her control return she shot a sideways glance at Jon. He had picked up four full clips of ammo, as instructed, and was sliding two of them into the front left pocket of his jeans.
He was standing slightly turned away from her, so Cate could see his profile. She saw the corner of his mouth turned up in a smirk, and felt a slight stir of annoyance. How could he think this is funny? He can obviously tell what’s going on… he’s PROUD of himself for making me act all goofy?!?
Cate felt her anger starting to rise again, as it had this afternoon. She took another deep breath and willed herself to be calm. Then she stood, squared her shoulders, and turned to face Jon. Okay, back to business…
Cate directed Jon to stand at the firing line, then explained the PPC course of fire to him. Since he had seen the instructors fire it the previous night, he followed along easily.
Cate avoided looking into Jon’s face, instead focusing on the target, the barrier, the floor, the ceiling, anything but Jon. After finishing her lecture, Cate stepped back over to her position and signaled Danny to start the course. As before, she fired each combination, then watched Jon as he repeated the drill.
The PPC was significantly more difficult, requiring the shooter to first perform five combinations of a “double tap” to the torso then a single head shot in quick succession. Then in a simulation of shooting while injured, the trainee had to fire ten rounds with the strong hand and reload one-handed, then repeat the action with the weak hand. Finally, the shooter had to fire two sets of five rounds in quick succession in a “Z” pattern, landing one round on each shoulder, one in the chest, and one on each hip.
Luckily, Cate was so proficient at this course of fire that she was able to score almost perfectly despite her discomfort. Jon, on the other hand, was finding the PPC a challenge. Though he still had good technique, he had difficulty placing the shots at different locations on the target in such quick succession. As he moved the muzzle of the gun across the target he jerked the trigger, causing the rounds to fly wide.
Cate immediately recognized Jon’s problem; it was common among trainees. Waiting for him to finish the combination, Cate holstered her own Glock and stepped over beside him.
She explained to Jon how to even out his trigger pull and improve his accuracy by first looking at the point on the target where he wanted to shoot, then moving the gun to line up the sights with his eyeline while slowly squeezing the “give” out of the trigger. She watched Jon try what she suggested, firing a few shots, but still not correcting the problem.
Instinctively, Cate reached up and put her left hand over Jon’s on the grip of the Glock, preventing him from moving the weapon. As she extended her arm, Cate stepped toward Jon, her left foot crossing in front of his. Her chest pressed lightly against Jon’s side as she molded herself to him so she could control his arm movement. She had to place her right hand lightly on the small of Jon’s back to balance herself.
Cate’s cheek rested against Jon’s shoulder as she looked down his left arm, toward the sight at the end of the Glock’s barrel. Holding his hands still so he couldn’t move the gun, she spoke into his ear, directing him again to look at the point on the target where he wanted the bullet to impact.
Then she slowly let him guide the gun until he aligned the sights along his eyeline, and told him to squeeze the trigger. He did, and she felt the recoil ripple up his arm to his shoulder, against her cheek. She kept steady pressure on his hand so that he couldn’t move the gun suddenly, and made him repeat the movement four more times until he had completed one Z-pattern.
As the last round left the barrel of the Glock, Cate suddenly became very aware that she was practically embracing Jon. Her nostrils flared slightly at the musky aroma of his sweat, mixed with the smoky smell of cordite and hot brass. Her nipples stiffened.
She realized that her touch was affecting Jon almost as much as he was distressing her. She could feel his chest heaving as he breathed, and she could see the tension in his neck and feel it in his back, under her sweaty palm. Cate swiftly dropped her hand from Jon’s and stepped away from him.
Jon lowered the Glock, keeping it pointed downrange, and blew out a long breath. Cate watched as he shook his head slightly, then raised the gun and attempted another Z-pattern. Despite the instruction Cate had just given him, Jon again over-aimed and jerked the trigger as he fired, causing his rounds to fly astray of the target. Cate shook her head.
“Cease fire!” Cate commanded. “Okay, stop.” Jon lowered his weapon and looked to his left at Cate. His smirk was gone, and his lips were pressed together in a frustrated line.
He followed Cate’s direction to clear and holster his weapon, then stared unhappily at his target as it reeled toward him on the track. There were holes all over the place, inside and outside the silhouette, but there weren’t as many as there should have been. That meant he missed the target altogether with a number of rounds.
Jon watched as Cate scored the target – 28 of 45, not great -- and listened silently as she again explained to him the problems she had seen with his technique. Being a compulsive perfectionist, Jon didn’t like to fail. And he felt like he was failing at the PPC.
But he had an excuse – Cate had so rattled him when she pressed up against him and took control of his hands that he couldn’t seem to understand what she was telling him. Had he not seen the hungry look in her eyes earlier, the close contact probably wouldn’t have bothered him so much. He would have likely enjoyed it, but he would have been able to keep his concentration and hence, shoot better.
Danny had observed Cate’s interaction with Jon from the range control booth for nearly an hour. He could see things were getting tense between them – hot and tense. Time for a break, before Cate does something stupid, he thought. Sometimes she doesn’t know when to keep her mouth shut for her own sake.
Danny opened the mic and called for a break, using the excuse that he needed a smoke. He descended the stairs from the control booth and approached Jon and Cate. Neither was looking at the other, but the electricity between them was obvious.
Danny told Jon to help himself to a bottle of water from the fridge in the range office, then waited until Jon walked toward the door to grab Cate’s arm and pull her outside with him.
Once they were through the door and around the corner of the building, Danny raised his eyebrows at Cate. “Wanna tell me what’s up?” he asked.
“What are you talking about?” Cate retorted grumpily. She didn’t look at Danny’s face. She knew he could read her mind with just one glance at her eyes.
“You know what I’m talking about. You and Jon. You’re practically about to jump each other.” Danny gave a little smirk.
“Oh, bullshit!” Cate exclaimed. “We are not – I am not. I am trying to maintain a professional demeanor and teach him how to handle a firearm…” Cate paused. “…so he doesn’t look like a Dumbass in his movie.” She added that last bit sarcastically.
“Oh really?” Danny pulled a pack of cigarettes and lighter from the pocket of his cargo pants. He paused while he lit the cancer stick and took a drag, then gave Cate a direct stare. “No attraction, huh? Then what’s with the nips, Slick? It’s not cold in there.” Danny gestured to Cate’s chest.
“Jesus, Danny!” Cate hissed. “Stop looking at my tits!” She colored slightly. Damn him! I can’t ever get anything past him…
Danny chuckled. “Sorry, Darlin’, can’t help it. They’re kinda hard to miss.” He saw Cate give a small smile at his pun, despite herself. “Listen, all I’m saying is that there’s obviously something up with you. I know you’re not telling me something. And it’s cool – just don’t get all wrapped up in your paranoid little world where you think you have to be Miss Ball-Buster all the time.”
Danny took another drag on his cigarette and looked Cate directly in the eye. “Trust me. Don’t do something stupid and blow your chance with Rock Star in there.”
Cate sighed. “Danny, I don’t have any kind of ‘chance’ with Jon. He’s who he is, I’m who I am, and we both have jobs to do.” She gave Danny a serious look. “And all I can do is do my job the best I can.”
Danny sighed and shook his head, flicking his ashes to the ground. “ ’Kay, Slick. Just think before you shoot your mouth off, huh?”
“Whatever.” Cate responded. “Now, can we go back in there so we can do the M-16 and get the hell out of here at a reasonable hour?”
Danny nodded and stubbed out his cigarette in the butt can by the door, then followed her back inside.
How can a woman be so stubborn? lol Something needs to happen otherwise they both explode.
ReplyDeleteAre you sure this story isn't called "Sexual Tension?" Wow...
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