Possibly The Eighth Chapter, The One About Men In Uniform, Why I Love Them So, And A Smidgen Of The Very, Very Horrid Story Of My “Humble Beginnings”

by Rajkhet Dirzhud-Rashid
photo by Gage Konner - firemedia.net

I was thinking the other day about a young recruiter who came to my high school when I was about sixteen (maybe seventeen). I ended up back in his hotel room with him. Nothing happened but some innocent making out on his floor. Thus, I’d still have that tense moment when I lost my virginity in the back seat of my brother’s best friend’s car at the age of eighteen. As I remembered this guy, his very pink skin, his buzz cut blond hair and how he seemed appropriate for me (he was about 20 I think), I considered this early memory and how it turned me on even then. That was how I got interested in men in uniform. Then, the other night, another memory eclipsed that one.

This was of two lanky, white HPD officers (Houston Police Department) who responded after my mom called them after I told her my big secret about my dad’s “activities’ with me. I won’t get into the details of that awful, awful story – that’s for when all of these chapters turn into the book that’ll be my autobiography someday – but I have to say, that’s probably my first good memory and what would later make me gravitate toward men in uniform.

Also, the young (again, blond – Texas is famous for a lot of blond guys with very pink skin) officer who patiently took my statement made me feel more safe than I’d ever felt in my life, and I still remember the blush that came to his cheeks and ears as I talked (which I realize now maybe was actually anger about what I was telling him) and his clear blue eyes.

Fast forward years later to me being a soon to be divorced woman of 25 (on the verge of leaving husband number one) and the Latino police officer I went gaga over when I dove head first into doing a freelance story for a local paper on the flap between Black officers and Latino officers. I honestly felt like my skin was on fire every time I was around him and even set up a forum for the reps of both groups to get them talking and settle the conflict. Mostly I did it to get closer to that cute officer and hoped to get into his pants. I didn’t accomplish that, but I did get the unions to sit down and hammer out an agreement to work better on their issues together. Success there, but me and the Mexican officer only kissed a bit before he felt guilt over being married and sent me on my way. Still, that set the tone for what has now become my regular raison d’être, dating soldiers and lusting for cops on the Seattle Police force (especially the blond, tall ones). I guess the feeling that they made me feel safe, that they were in charge of things, and me being the top I’ve become in the S&M world, liking being with other folks who wield power, set the dye as it were. It also helps that the hot, hunky Blond army ranger I met last year outside of a Tacoma bar was such a good kisser and made me feel like jelly when he hugged me in the chill, February air. Or that my soldier boy (who should be home from Iraq pretty soon, I’m hoping) gave me the sense that I was sixteen again, and now with my virginity out of the way, the sky was the limit. Thus now I’ve screwed the entire military (or it seems) in a matter of months and will continue to, loving the uniform, but even more, loving what’s in that uniform. This I shamelessly tell you.