Deenie Krieger, ex-army sergeant and mechanic

Deenie Krieger (Hottie) - Variant Rules: Female PC

Hard +1, Hot +1, Cool +2, Control -1

(Hottie, +1 Hard, Naughty Bitch, and Cool as Fuck).

Deenie is connected to Mary Forbes' storyline, also in Variant Rules: Female PC.

I had a guy tell me that my love language was 'more!'.

You and Mom loved each other -- love each other still -- but until you had some time away, you always felt under her thumb. You picked up some good things from her, cooking and taking care and doing the whole job, not half-assing it -- and some not so good things. Cigarettes. Mom managed to quit while you were away, and you're working on it. Sort of.

You never knew your real dad. Mom hooked up for a while with a trucker, Brian Forbes, but a god-drunk floozy waitress at Mom's work managed to peel him off and marry him, so your best chance at a stepdad, even part-time because of his long hauls, got stolen away. Mostly. Mom still hooked up with Brian on the sly but it was Mr. Brian Forbes and Mrs. Mary Forbes and pretty soon baby Shasta and Sarah. You were their babysitter. Shasta was a lot of fun, but you had to actually watch her. Sarah was kind of a drip, but she never gave you any trouble. And since it was Mary actually paying you, you got over any grudge against her stealing your would-be stepdad.

Brian taught you to drive, and the junker car he had back then, it needed a lot of fixing so you'd end up holding tools or the oil funnel, and you'd ask him about the car and how it was broken this time and he'd show you and explain. He took some heat off you when Mom wanted you to do something but he told Mom that you'd promised to help with the car, and that shut her right up. It got you to like that roaring beast of an old lemon, but finally Mary couldn't stand it and made him sell it.

But mostly it was just you and Mom at home, so that meant that it was just you and Mom hashing things out without someone to talk her down, or someone to talk you down, and by the end of high school you were so over fighting, so when the recruiter told you that you'd need her signature, you were quick to ask, and Mom was quick to give it.

"The Army won't teach you to be a lady, but at least they'll teach you to be something!" Mom had said.

Which was funny coming from Mom, whose lady-ness was thinner than a coat of Pop-Tart frosting. Mom was a cook, Mom got things done, but Mom was really a girly girl at heart, and kept you in dresses and hairbows as long as she could **** the issue.

So you said goodbye to your friends and just like an old movie, you were on the bus out of town to report for induction.

You'd mil-spec'd as a mechanic, bless Brian for twisting their arms at high school to let you take Gas Engines three times, until you stopped dicking around and got serious. You ended up as a motor pool sergeant, a motor pool full of gay boys who treated you like one of them, just like them, another soldier hot for dick -- though your nickname was Sergeant Dickless, because of course. And your term was over, you were bigger and stronger and you could take orders and give orders and shoot a rifle and march and make camp and strike camp, and fix cars and trucks and loaders and excavators. And fill out forms. Lots of forms.

And you'd had a lot of dick, and more than a little pussy, because you seemed to pull 'em in, boys and girls. But nobody had your heart, that was all yours, still, and would be until you were properly set up to take care of yourself. Fixing cars, probably.

So here you were back home with Mom trying to decide what to do next. Brian had been laid up with a broken leg, but he was good now, and he and Mary were going to drive an RV that Brian's buddy was selling, making a little vacation of delivering it to its new owner a couple of states over, or so you understood. And they'd invited you to be their housesitter.

"Mandy, I'm calling because we're planning to be away on a trip," Mary had told your mom, her voice leaking out from the handset of the kitchen phone. "Can Deenie watch our house?"

You had nodded at Mom.

"She'd be pleased to help out," Mom had told Mary.

"Hundred percent!" you'd said.

You and Mom got along better, truly, since you'd joined the service, but not well, since she was always looking at you like you were her dress-up doll, even still.

Oh, and now you had a solution to where you were gonna pick up the sex toys you were planning to mail-order. Send them to Brian and Mary's place, not to the Quickie Print and Mailbox store downtown.

It was a little bit of a pain that their place was up on a hillside out on the county road, not in town, but at least it would be quiet. Should be an easy job, pick up the mail, take care of the house, keep an eye out. You already knew where Brian and Mary kept their shotgun.