David Soto Writes

I think I figured out what I want to be when I grow up.

Tag: fiction (page 2 of 3)

Maria’s First Dance Part 2 – Post 18

Knowing that the dance was over at 10:00, Hector arrived at the Kims’s at 10:15. He anticipated that he would have to wait five minutes or so, but after 20 minutes had gone by, he began to worry. By 10:45 he was knocking on the Kims’s door trying to communicate with Mr. Kim about the whereabouts of their daughters, but he had no luck. Mr. Kim spoke neither Spanish nor English. By 10:55 Hector had said “Fuck This” and drove off looking for his daughter.

There was not much to Hector Rodriguez. He was of below average height and below average build, but years of manual labor yielded him above average strength. He was quite the athlete too. He played minor league baseball for one season but gave it all up when Espi became pregnant with their first born. He would have liked to continue playing baseball, but his mother told him his decision to stop having fun and go to work was made as soon as he put his “pito” into Espi.

Hector settled for beer league softball for the rest of his days. His years as a landscaper built and strengthen his legs and lower back. His short stature made it easy for him to get down to the ground. He was a hell of an infielder. Nothing could get past him. He loved playing shortstop or even third base, but because he was the only member of the senior league team who could still squat, the team usually posted him behind the plate.

Hector drove the route he anticipated the girls would take to walk home. There was no sign of them. When he got to the high school, he saw that it was dark and empty, except for one car. From a distance, it seemed that there were some people there hanging out, so he pulled into the parking lot to ask them if they had seen the two girls. When he got closer to the car, he could see that the people hanging out were actually a couple that appeared to be fighting. Oh great, he thought, this is the last thing I need. He thought about just driving off but then he thought what if the woman was in trouble. He thought at least the approach of his car would interrupt the conflict, but it didn’t. The cholo was too high to hear or see the approaching vehicle.

“Son of a bitch!” Hector said aloud when he realized he found his daughter.

Hector reached back behind the front seat looking for anything he could use as a weapon as he got closer and closer to the Caprice Classic. He fumbled through the dirty t-shirts, change of shoes, and empty bottles of Mexican Coca-Cola until his hand felt something familiar, his $200 32oz aluminum Louisville Slugger.

As Hector approached the cholo on foot, he thought a little about how hard to swing. At the moment, murder was not something he wanted to have on his conscious. When he swung, it wasn’t with everything he had, but it was enough. The cholo never knew what hit him.

“Daddy!”

“Did he violate you?”

“Daddy, Kim is in the car!”

“Did he violate you?” Hector stood there panting, both hands at the bottom of the bat’s handle, pointing it at the knocked out cholo. He wasn’t even looking at Maria. At this moment, Hector was no longer a rational man thinking of avoiding a murder charge. He was one word away from bashing in the skull of Flaco.

“No, daddy. He didn’t!”

Maria’s words snapped Hector out of his trance. “Get in the Tahoe, Mija.” He let Flaco be and reached over to open the back door to the Caprice Classic. In it, he found Little Joker having his way with a crying Kim Kim. “Hey!” Hector said. “Get the hell off of her.”

“What the fuck?” the large cholo said as he withdrew from Kim as well as the back seat of the car.

Maria hadn’t listened to her father. While he was distracting Little Whatever, she was on the opposite side of the car helping Kim regain her composure and get to safety. When she got a chance to look over at her father, she couldn’t see him. The cholo was so big that he concealed Hector from her just by standing between the two of them. Maria thought there was no way her father could win in a fight between him and Little Joe.

From the front seat of the Tahoe, Maria could see the big cholo swing his boulder of a fist toward Hector’s head. “Daddy!” she screamed. Maria didn’t have to be concerned very long. Within seconds cholo number two was on the ground, and she saw her dad standing there raising his bat over his head to let it come down across the back of Little Shorty for good measure.

*

When the cholo began his swing, without thinking, Hector dropped into a squat as if he was going to pull weeds or catch a pitch. Little Joker completely missed, and when the coast was clear, Hector stood up with all the force of his cocked legs and caught the cholo right on the chin with the very top of his bat. As bad and tough as he was, the big cholo found out that night that he had a glass jaw.

While digging through Flaco’s back pocket, Hector addressed little Joker or Shorty or whatever the hell his name was. He was down but still conscious. “I’m taking your drivers license. I know who you are and I know where you live. Either of you two fuckers ever touch my daughter again, and I’ll send my son after you, and he is not as nice as I am.”

The big cholo placed his palm on the ground as if he was going to begin to get up, but Hector gave him another whack across the back and then dug out his wallet.

Years later, while telling the story of this very night at a family holiday party, Maria would ask her dad what made him take the cholo’s drivers licenses. “I don’t know,” Hector said, “Saw it in a movie, Fight Club!”

The Introduction of Esperanza Diamanté (Chapter 1)

You wouldn’t think it now, but the women who gathered in front of Esperanza Diamanté’s chocolate shop used to hate her. Not anymore though, now they admire her almost to the point of worship. They bless the day she set foot in their little village. Not just today’s group of women, but all of the women who bought her chocolates. They feel sorry for her too, these ladies. For since the day she’d arrived in Barra, seven years ago, Esperanza Diamanté had yet to take a lover.

It was three minutes till two on Saturday afternoon. The women were waiting for Esperanza to open her shop, as they always did. The store’s massive floor-to-ceiling doors opened at two pm on the nose every day. By two-thirty, the goods were sold out. None of the women waiting were first-time customers. Many had been buying Esperanza’s chocolates from the beginning.

They’d had no reason to hate her when she first arrived. No reason other than what they made up in their heads. She came to town on a Monday. The flood of people that had poured in for the holy week of Semana Santa was receding. The buses arrived nearly empty but left full. For the rest of the year, until the next Semana Santa, the small fishing village of Barra de Navidad would be a ghost town.

As soon as Esperanza stepped off the bus, rumors started spreading. It was her beauty that disturbed the women of the village. A woman this beautiful could have any man she wanted. Of course, each of the women in Barra thought for sure theirs was the man she wanted.

In the short time it took for Esperanza to walk from the bus station to Doña Luz’s old bakery, the whole town became aware of the strange, beautiful, husband-stealing woman who had just arrived. She was so stunning that sections of the village seemed to freeze in time as she walked by. Even after she passed, it took several seconds for people to thaw out and resume their normal activities.

She carried two old leather bags, which contained everything she owned. Her long, black hair draped over her bare shoulders. Her white cotton blouse had elastic at the top and bottom. The top of her blouse was pulled down, exposing her shoulders, and the bottom fit snugly just under her ample bosoms—which bounced with every step she took. The cotton top was so sheer that if she ever got caught in the rain, there would be no mystery as to what she was hiding underneath.

From the bottom of her blouse to the top of her skirt’s waistband was nothing but exposed brown skin. If one got close enough, one could see a light trail of hair, bleached by the sun, that led from her belly button to deep, down into her panties, had she been wearing any. Her skirt was made of the same simple cotton as her blouse, but dyed turquoise. It flowed from her waist all the way down to her feet. She had the exact top and skirt in her luggage, except her second skirt was red. These two skirts and two blouses, a black shawl, and the bathing suit she’d bought the day before were the only clothes she had in her possession, the only clothes she owned.

On her feet were finely handmade leather thong sandals that had pieces of turquoise with red specks on the strap that went from her ankle to between her toes. The ankle strap had little silver charms that hung down and made a little jingle as she walked. It was as if the sandals were meant to draw the attention away from her figure or her piercing green eyes, but it was useless. Even her feet were arousing. They were flawless, except that her second toe was longer than her big toe. But even this flaw was appealing. As anyone knows, this is a sign of a passionate lover.

This was all in the past now. The women of the village not only loved and respected her, but they trusted her. Most of all, they revered her because of her chocolates. Because of the pleasure they brought. Because of what her chocolates had done to improve their lives and all of the village. They felt in her debt and wanted nothing but the best for her.

It was two p.m. when the ladies heard the metal bolt on the other side of the giant doors unlatch. Both doors simultaneously swung open. There she was, the beautiful Esperanza, with her green eyes, black hair, white cotton blouse, red skirt, and fancy sandals. “Come in, ladies. There are plenty of chocolates for all of you.”


Get the rest of the story on Amazon.

Maria’s First Dance Part 1 – Post 17

In 9th grade, Maria was finally allowed to go to a school dance. It wasn’t a formal one. It was one of those that took place on a school night. Still, Maria was excited to finally go to a dance.

Even though he gave his blessing, Maria’s Father, Hector, was still a little leery. He knew the day would eventually come that he was going to have to let his little girl go out at night unchaperoned, but he thought the event would be filled with clergy and maybe even God himself supervising.

Maria’s longtime friend Kim invited to the dance. Kim’s first name and last name were both Kim. Maria met her in elementary school. Kim Kim wasn’t known as Kim Kim then. Back then, she was Mi Na Kim. Mi Na’s parents had immigrated to the states before Mi Na was born. After years of complaining, the Kims decided to let their kids change their names to something “more American-sounding.” Mi Na’s older brother, Sun, picked the name, John. Mi Na picked, Kim. Assuming she would one day be married and that her last name would change, Kim’s mom didn’t see and issue with it. Of course, it never ocurred to her that Kim could marry another Korean with the last name of Kim.

Kim and Maria were schoolmates from kindergarten until the Kims decided that paying for high school was out of the out of the question. So while Maria got dropped off for her first day of high school at Junípero Serra High School, Kim walked several blocks to her first day of school at Gardena High. This is why Hector had a problem with Maria going to the dance; because it was at the public school.

Statistics aside, Hector assumed that everything about public school was sinful. Public school kids did drugs and had sex. Catholic school kids did too, but Hector was blind to this fact. Never mind that he met his wife, Espi, when she was attending a Catholic high school, and they did drugs and had sex then.

Where Hector did have cause for worry was the violence. Gardena High had its share of gang activity and, as a result, there were at least two on duty Gardena PD posted there during school hours.

The plan was for Hector to drop off Maria at the Kims’s. Maria and Kim would walk the few blocks to the dance and return as soon as it ended at ten o’clock. Maria and Kim would then walk back to Kim’s house where Hector would be waiting to take Maria home.

*

It turns out Kim was having the secret relationship with a junior named, Antony. He went by Tony. There were two reasons why this relationship was kept a secret from Kim’s parents. One, he was older and two, he was black. To the Kims, open minded was allowing Kim to date other Asians, not specifically Koreans. But they were heavily partial to her dating other Koreans.

Maria spent most of the dance sitting alone, while Kim and Tony rubbed their groins together rhythmically on the dance floor.  She couldn’t wait for it to be over. She was grateful when the lights came on, and it was time to leave, but Kim was in no hurry to leave.

Outside of the gym Kim told Maria, “Wait here a minute, ok?” Just before she disappeared into a dark corner with Tony.

“Oh my god, Kim, hurry. My dad is gonna be waiting for me.” Maria,  patiently waited for her friend to finish whatever it was she was doing. She stood there in the cool night air watching the gymnasium empty until finally, the last person walked out. This person kicked up the door stop allowing the door to close, and automatically lock itself when it latched shut.

With the parking lot nearly empty and no foot traffic, the ambient noise level dropped enough that Maria could hear the faint sound of moans coming from the dark corner to where Kim. Maria was still unsure of exactly what was going on over there in the darkness, but in the back of her mind, the sounds were familiar. As if she had heard them before one night in bed when she couldn’t sleep, coming down the hall from her parent’s bedroom.

“Kim, let’s go!” It had been 10 minutes since that the doors of the gym were closed. No response. While pacing around a bit to help the time pass by, she got a glimpse of the parking lot. There were only two cars still parked there. One of them must have been Tony’s, she assumed. Maybe he could give us a ride, she thought.

Five more minutes had passed when she heard a woman’s voice shout, “Antony.” Right away, Maria knew it was not Kim who yelled his name. One- it was not Kim’s voice. Two- Kim called him Tony. And three- It was coming from a dark figure walking up from the parking lot towards Maria. “Antony!”

She was a tall, lanky woman. She wore pajama bottoms, house slippers, an oversized t-shirt, and a scarf wrapped around her head. Her breast visibly swung underneath her t-shirt like a grandfather clock that had two pendulums, if one were to exist. She pronounced his name Ant-nee as if there was not an “o” in it at all. Despite the woman’s youthful face, Maria knew the look of a mother. And this one was Tony’s.

“Hello, young lady,” said Tony’s mother. “Have you seen a tall, skinny, light skinned black boy around here?” Before Maria could respond, Tony’ walked out from the dark corner.

“Mama?”

“Boy, what the hell is wrong with you? Got me waiting in the car like a got damn chauffeur?” She didn’t wait for a response. “Let’s go!”

Right then, Tony’s mom was startled by a little Korean girl who appeared from same dark corner Tony had just come out of, still primping herself as not to look like she had just been violated. Without a word, Tony’s mom’s eyes went from Kim to Tony, her jaw dropping in the process.

The change of his name to Tony, the strut in his walk, the shit talking, the bad ass attitude, everything, everything he had done to establish himself as a thug was rendered null and void as Tony got his ass beat by his mama all the way to the car.

*

“There goes our ride,” Maria said.

“Huh?” inquired Kim.

“I thought that one of the cars down there was his and that he could give us a ride. But apparently, that was his mom’s car.”

“Yeah. That’s kind of disappointing,” Kim said. “But now it makes sense that he wanted to do it behind the gym and not in his car.”

“You guys did it,” Maria asked.

“Uhh yeah. We’re freshmen; we’re supposed to be doing it by now. It just…”

“Just what?” Maria asked hoping for to hear some form of regret from her friend for becoming sexually active so early.

“I thought I was doing it with a guy who drove.”

Maria couldn’t understand how her friend was so nonchalant about sex. The church had her believing that it was strictly for her future husband and that only sinners and harlots, had sex before marriage. Eventually, though, Maria would convince herself that sex with someone you love was equally as virtuous.

“We have to go,” Maria said. “I am going to be in so much trouble. My dad is going to be fuming by the time we get to your house.”

“There is still a car in the parking lot. Maybe it’s someone I know. I have a lot of friends here,” Kim said.

Guy friends? Maria thought.

The parking lot was in the direction they had to walk anyway, so Maria saw no harm in seeing if the driver was someone Kim knew. It wasn’t.

*

Thick plumes of smoke and the music of Brenton Wood rolled out from the cracked window of the Caprice Classic. In it were two Cholos sitting in the from seat getting higher with every inhalation. Though not related, they looked like twins. Same shaved head, same khaki Dickies, same black Nikes. Their only differences were their stature and choice in t-shirts. The taller one with the muscles, who was probably called “Little” something (Joe, Shorty, Joker, whatever), wore a white wife beater. The skinny one, probably called “Flaco,” wore a plain, white, crisply pressed t-shirt. Flaco was behind the wheel, and Little Joe was in the passenger seat.

Technically Flaco was a student at Gardena High though he never went. His truancy was why he was on his second attempt at the 12th grade. Little Shorty had dropped out the year before to work and party. He was Flaco’s guest to the dance. They had hopped on picking up some girls but weren’t having any luck. They left the dance for the parking lot to get high and never went back.

For over 90 minutes Flaco had been rambling on about girls, drugs, cars, and money. Not once did he notice that Little Joker hadn’t said a word. As Maria and Kim approached the car Little Whatever finally spoke, “Oye, güey. Mira la Chinita!”

Kim was, of course, Korean, but to cholos, it was just easier to classify all Asians as Chinese.

When Maria got close enough to the Caprice Classic, she knew that they weren’t getting a ride. She didn’t recognize the car in particular but she recognized the type. Thanks to her older brother, she was well educated in the ways of the cholo. “We’re walking home,” She told Kim. “Trust me. You do not want to get in that car.”

“Let’s go, Homes,” Flaco said to Little Joe as he patted him on the side of his leg with the back of his hand while he opened the driver’s side door. “You can have the Chinita. I’ll take the shorty.”

Although she didn’t want to, it was easy to get Kim into the backseat of the Cholo’s car. Maria was resisting but not too much. Flaco had already grabbed her by the wrist when she stared backing away as he approached her and it hurt. She knew not to get in the car but she also knew she didn’t want to resist to harshly. She was afraid of provoking a violent response from the cholo.

Maria realized that she was in a predicament, unaware of how she was going to get out of it. At least she wasn’t in the situation her long time friend was in. For the second time that night Kim found her skirt raised up over her ass. Little Shorty was working on getting an erection. Though Kim had said no repeatedly, he was not convinced. He mistook Tony’s secretions for Kim’s and thought for sure she wanted him. If he had only known what it was that was on his fingers, his attempt to rape Kim Kim would have ended right then and there.

Flaco was now kissing Maria on her neck. He had gone for her mouth but she turned her head in disgust. Tears silently rolled down Maria’s face. She thought herself helpless as she felt Flaco’s hand begin it’s decent into her panties. She tried to push him away but he had her firmly pinned between the car and himself. His fingers were past her waistband and now working their way through her pubic hair. Maria started pounding on him with the side of her fist on her one free hand but it was useless. Flaco’s fingers were now past her clitoris and poised to enter her forcefully. Maria braced herself and closed her eyes. She prepared to feel something, for the first time in her life, enter her vagina. That’s when she heard the thunk of something metal and hollow. When she opened her eyes, Flaco was out cold on the ground, his hand no longer down her panties, and standing there with an aluminum baseball bat in his hand, was Hector.

I am excited to post this. I worked for over a month on this chapter and its continuation. I can usually write a chapter in one sitting but that was not the case for this one. I hope the reason for telling this story of Maria in high school will be understood later in the book.

Their Courtship Continues – Post 16

Because of Tim’s rank, he eventually got a room to himself. That’s when Maria started spending the night on a regular basis. Every morning she would get up a little earlier than usual and head back to her dorm room to get ready for work. It was just easier to do this since, even though Tim had his own room, he still had to share a bathroom with someone.

Within the next few months, Tim’s housing status changed again. He was allowed to move off-base and started receiving BAH. BAH stands for basic allowance for housing. Tim got a shitty little apartment outside of base in the town of Marysville. It was your typical crappy apartment complex. The units still smelt of the previous occupants, the walls were paper thin, and the assigned covered parking spaces were too small for anything other than a compact car. The steps to the upper floors were so worn that the once square corners of the wooden planks were now round and splintered.

Tim was hoping that these substandard conditions would warrant a lower rent than what the Air Force was paying him, but this was not the case. The property manager of this shithole dealt with the military so much that they knew what the BAH was and charged exactly that amount for rent.

Once he signed the lease, Tim headed off to the closest Goodwill to furnish his apartment. He picked up a bundle of utensils that were taped together with clear plastic packing tape marked $5.99, one pot, two drinking glasses, and two coffee mugs (Though he hadn’t figured how he was going to make coffee). He found a semi used mattress and flat screen TV on Craig’s List and put them both on the floor of the bedroom. Back on base, he loaded his pickup with his dorm room contents, made a stop at the Base Exchange for some bedding, and stopped the chow how for one last free meal.

Tim’s first night in his apartment was also Maria’s first night in his apartment. She became what was known as a ghost. A ghost was someone who kept their dorm room because they were not authorized to move off base yet but lived off base anyway. When it came to dorm room inspections, their bed always looked perfect, as if no one had slept in it, because no one had.

It was on that first night Maria realized that Timothy’s apartment was going to need a “woman’s touch.” Most of the people they associated with called him Rogers. Nobody she knew called him by his first name. To Maria, calling him Rogers just didn’t seem right but neither did Tim. For some reason, she started calling him Timothy when she learned of his full name, Timothy Adam Rogers but mostly she just called him babe.

Unlike Tim, Maria knew that one day she would live on her own and started preparing for it as a teenager. She knew that someday she would have her own kitchen. So, every time her mother upgraded any type of appliance or utensil, Maria saved the old version in boxes she kept in the garage of her childhood home. Her mother upgraded so often that it got to the point the Maria was replacing items she hadn’t even used. By the time Maria joined the Air Force she was already on her second coffee maker, toaster, wooden spoon set, and blender. 

“I’m going to have to go home and get some stuff before too long. We can’t live like this,” Maria told Tim.

“Like what?”

“Oh my God Timothy. I  just had to heat up tomato soup then dump it into bowls so that I can use the same pot to make grilled cheese sandwiches. That’s like what. I can’t have my kitchen like this.”

“Oh, it’s your kitchen, huh?”

“Am I your girl?”

“Hell yeah, you are?”

“Do I cook for you?”

“Hell yeah, you do.”

“Then yeah, it’s my kitchen,” she affirmed. “I’m gonna put in for a couple of days leave. That way I can go during the middle of the week while you’re at work and we don’t miss out on time any time together.”

“I’m not coming with you?”

“Hell no, you’re not coming with me. You think my parents know that I’m shacking up with some dude that I hooked up with at a party?”

“Wow!”

“Listen, it’s not that I don’t want to tell them, but they are very Catholic and very Mexican, you know? They probably still think I’m a virgin. Telling them that I have a boyfriend and that I’m living with him would just cause a bunch of drama I do not want to deal with right now. Not yet.”

“It’s because I’m white. Isn’t it.” Tim understood but couldn’t let her off the hook that easy.

“Ay Dios mío!” Maria said this more to mock her mother that to really say it, holding her hands up looking up at the ceiling. She then brought her hands to the sides of Tim’s head and gave him a kiss. She then picked up his bowl and plate, which were paper, and took them to the trash.

There may have been a little of gender roles because of Maria’s upbringing, but she honestly did love to do things for Tim. He never expected it of her but let her serve him as much as she wanted. He loved it and loved her for it. Being taken care of by woman was something he truly missed. Both because he did not get it from his mother and because he got it so much from grandma. Maria could see the appreciation on his face when she put a plate of food down in front of him. It made her warm inside.

Maria put in to take a Wednesday Thursday and Friday off but could not get it approved unless it was two weeks in advance so for now, they did what day could with what they had.

It was during these two weeks that Tim got the call.

I actually spent most of my morning getting another chapter ready but chose to publish this one instead. I felt like the other needed more work. It turned out this one needed a lot too. Still feels like it does but I hit the road so here it is.

The Beginning of Their Courtship – Post 15

Maria’s first night with Tim was a night of firsts. It was her first time at a Civil Engineers dorm party. The first time going home with a guy she just met. The first time she ever had sex on a top bunk while someone was asleep on the bottom. And the first time a man has ever given her an orgasm.

Tim was her third lover. Her Catholic upbringing had her put off sex as long as she could with her longtime high school boyfriend. By the time the senior prom came around, she felt obligated to give it up in the back of a rented limousine. Her boyfriend, however, had been having sex the whole time with a neighbor girl who went to the public school. Maria eventually found out through a friend who went to that same public school and broke if off with him. The experience crushed her.

She met her second lover in college. Well, a failed attempt at college. She dropped out of the nursing program when she realized that bodily fluids made her vomit. The good news was she didn’t want to be a nurse. The plan to go to nursing school was that of her mother. The bad news was her little bit of college qualified her for a job the Air Force was in dire need of, a Medical Technician. The irony is that she worked in the lab and was surrounded by bodily fluids. Luckily, seeing them in plastic cups and glass tubes was a little more tolerable than seeing them actually coming out of a human.

Her second lover was a nice. That’s all. Just nice. They in her Human Anatomy class and paired up as study partners. She liked him but was not enough to date him. She decided to sleep with him out of curiosity’s sake more than anything else. It was bland and uneventful.

Although limited, her experience with sex was discouraging. She decided she was done with it for a while. Maybe even until marriage.

That idea went straight out the window after a few beers and a couple of slow dances with Tim. She felt something just being next to him she hadn’t ever felt before, not just a physical attraction but a connection.

*

Tim was a passionate and affectionate lover. He cared when it came to pleasing a woman. His knowledge of a woman’s body came from reading his mother’s women’s magazines after school as a curious teenager. Being emotionally abused by his mother until she finally stopped talking to him altogether at the age of 17 gave him a subconscious desire seek the approval of the women in his life. All this put him at a significant advantage over other boys his age when it came to making love. As drunk as he was that night he carried Maria to his dorm room, he was still able to make her feel like she had never felt before.

Being in such a hurry and a little ashamed, Maria didn’t leave her number the morning she left his room. Tim took it as a hint that she didn’t want to see him again. He, of course, thought that she wasn’t pleased with his performance.

Tim tried his best to avoid Maria. This would have been a lot easier if they didn’t work in the same building. When Tim swung by the chow hall early on Mondy to pick up some breakfast, he was sure to grab a couple extra boiled eggs for lunch. He stayed in the basement of the hospital all day that day but knew there was a chance he would see her at dinner. Every meal provided at the dining facility was free and most times, not bad. All the Airmen that lived in the dorms ate at the dining facility. So, on Monday night, Tim and Maria ate their meal avoiding eye contact with each other.

They each pretended to be involved in the conversations happening at each of their individual tables, but this was all an act. The truth was, they were more interested in the person eating on the other side of the room. The act continued on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday night. On Friday, Tim didn’t eat at the dining facility. He and a few of his other Civil Engineers decided to hit the lake for the weekend.

*

Friday night on the lake was deemed by the boys as a “sausage party.” It was just them, not a female in sight. They cooked hot dogs over the campfire and got shit-faced drunk off cheap beer. The next morning they decided they “needed some chicks.” Since Stewart had a phobia of taking a shit in public places, the boys tasked him with getting more beer and inviting some girls to come out when he went back to the base to take his morning dump.

“Don’t bring back any of that cheap shit either,” someone shouted as he got into his $300 car. It had a huge hole in the radiator and would over heat if he drove it too long. Usually, it would last long enough for him to get to one location. He could then only drive it again after it had sat long enough to cool off.

Stewart was notoriously cheap and would often only buy the beer that offered a mail in rebate. Though he stole the envelopes from the government, he still lost a good portion of his rebate to the cost of the stamp. The only time Stewart didn’t pinch pennies was when he was gambling. “Bet you twenty bucks I bring some chicks back,” he said to no one in particular as he headed off to the base.

*

After a few hours, someone finally spoke up, “Where the fuck is Stewart? We’re almost out of beer.”

“Who’s knows,” Tim responded. Just then, an SUV and a pickup pulling a boat pulled into their camp sight.

“What the…”

Stewart was the first to get out. “Miss me, fuckers?” He proudly held up two 24 packs of Old Milwaukee’s Best. “Someone owes me twenty bucks!”

*

Stewart’s first stop was the liquor store on base. That’s where he ran into Jay. One of the only Engineers who went by his first name even though he was a Staff Sergeant. And the only one of all of them that had a boat. He was on his way to the lake and was swinging through the base to pick up his girlfriend who lived in the hospital dorm.

“Dude get her to bring her friends. The guys are already out there. I just came back to take a shit,” Stewart told Jay.

“I’ll do my best,” Jay said in his natural voice that everyone insisted sounded just like Matthew McConaughey.

Stewart made the mistake of making two stops, the liquor store and then the dorms. By the time he was done using the toilet, his car was still too hot to drive. He could see Jay’s truck at the hospital dorm. He grabbed his two suitcases of beer and walked over to catch a ride.

Stewart was lucky. Jay should have been long gone by now, but he had successfully gotten his girl to get a group of friends together to join them at the lake. He was waiting on them all the get ready and pack an overnight bag. There were so many of them they had to take two cars.

*

“Holy shit, Rogers. Is that your girl?”

As the girls piled out of the SUV, Tim looked up to see that one of them was Maria.

She was wearing Vans with no socks, jeans, a t-shirt that terminated right above the waistband of her jeans, and an old faded LA Dodgers baseball hat that held her hair up in the back. If it weren’t for the fluorescent pink strings of her bikini tied in a bow popping up from the top of her t-shirt, you would have never known she dressed for a day at the lake.

“Do you have one of those for me?” she asked referring to the beer in Tim’s hand.

“You can have this one. I just opened it.” He handed her the beer and just like that, the awkwardness and tension that had been there for a week was gone.

*

At the sight of Jay’s boat on the water approaching the campsite, someone said, “Who’s going boating?”

“You wanna go?” Tim asked Maria.

“Totally,” She said and scurried off to get her backpack.

The first thing she did was kick off her Vans. Tim tried not to stare, but there was no way he wasn’t going to watch. He took in every detail of her body as stripped down to her bikini. Maria pretended not to notice him watching her.  Her feet were small and cute with toes painted blue, of all colors. Next, were her jeans. The act of her taking them off was a turn on for Tim but what it revealed was even better. Her hips were wide. Her jeans had seemed to accentuate them. Tight little asses were nice, but there was something about a woman with “child bearing hips” that Tim found more appealing. Next was the baseball cap. As soon as it came off, her hair fell all the way down to the small of her back. He had never seen her hair down, not even the one time he saw her out of uniform. The t-shirt was next. Even though Tim was a fan of obnoxiously large breasts, he found her small perky boobs to be perfect.

Obviously, Tim had been naked with her exactly one week prior, but he was drunk, and it was in the dark. He didn’t really get to lay his eyes on her. He loved everything he saw.

Maria put her cap back on and pulled her hair once again through the hole in the back and slipped her Vans back on. She pulled an insulated cool cup for her beer out of her backpack and then stuffed it with her clothes. Instead of slinging the pack over her shoulder, she held it by the strap in one hand, palm up, looking for a place to put it. She was about to head back to the SUV when Tim spoke up. “Here! You can put it in here. This is my tent.”

*

The rest of the afternoon the two of them never separated from each other’s side. After a while, nothing was holding back their physical attraction to each other. Hands rested on thighs, quick smooches were given, footsie was played, and sunblock was applied. From the looks of it, most people would have guessed they had been a couple for a while, not someone who just screwed last week and hadn’t spoken to each other since.

Maria finished a beer she took it out of the cool cup and threw the floor of the boat with the rest of the dead soldiers. She refused an offer for another.

“You don’t want another beer,” Tim asked.

“No, I want to be sober,” she paused, “for tonight.”

Tim already knew that she was going to sleep with him that night, but he didn’t want her to know that he already knew, so he played it off a little bit. With a nonchalant “suit yourself,” Tim fished out a beer for himself from the cooler.

“Uhh, you’re going to want to be sober too. In fact, if it’s going to happen at all, you will be” The drunk sex they had a week prior was the best sex she had ever had but Maria was ready to see what they could do sober.

Without looking up at her, Tim closed the lid to the cooler and sat back down next to her empty-handed.

*

Being the only two out of the group who weren’t completely drunk the night before, Maria and Tim were the first to wake up that Sunday morning. There had been lots of lovemaking the night before. Some of it even ended with a round of applause. As the walls of Tim’s tent did not do much to block any sounds coming from it.

“Are you hungry?” Tim asked.

“Fucking starving!” Maria said. The boys had not really prepared to feed themselves much less and the entire group of girls that showed up later. Luckily, Jay had brought some extra food, but it still wasn’t enough. Most of the group went to bed drunk and hungry.

“Pancakes?” he asked.

“Pancakes!” she approved.

Tim broke down his tent, packed it up with the rest of his gear, and threw it in the bed of his pickup truck. He peeked his head into the large tent that belonged to one of the other guys, bodies where scatters all over the floor like a scene from a zombie movie. “Hey, one of you ride home with the girls in SUV.” The only response he got was a thumbs up. They’ll figure it out themselves, he thought.

Tim got to an intersection where he was going to make a right towards the base when got an idea. “I know this place in Lincoln that has some sick pancakes. Do you want to go? It’s a lot better than the chow hall, promise.”

“Yeah,” Maria said. “Let’s do it.”

For the first time since they officially met, it was just them. No booze, no dancing, no friends, no sex, just them. For the entire time, the drive to Lincoln, waiting to order, waiting for their food, during their meal and the drive back to base there was not one uncomfortable silence. They talked and laughed and started catching each other up on all the years of their lives each other had missed.

This is the longest chapter I have written so far, 2300 words. I love how I can take details from my life and then mix them with pure imagination to come up with the story I am telling you. I hope you are enjoying reading it as much as I am writing it.

Going Off The Meds – Post 14

After leaving the hospital that first day with 60 days worth of Desyrel, Tim and Maria stopped to pick up some groceries before heading home. When they got home, Tim dropped the groceries on the kitchen counter, took a seat on the couch and turned on the TV. It’s not that he didn’t want to help, but Maria had made it well known that she was in charge of the kitchen. He didn’t want to get in trouble for putting an onion in the refrigerator when it was supposed to go in the wicker basket that was on top of the microwave.

From the living room, he could hear the rustling of the plastic bags and clanging of the pots. He knew his wife was going to be busy in the kitchen for a while and in the end, Maria would serve him one of the best meals he ever had.

“Babe,” Maria yelled from the kitchen.

“Yeah?” Tim yelled back.

“I’m gonna put your pills right here on the kitchen counter next to the paper towel thing.” The paper towel thing was a vertical brushed nickel paper towel holder. It could be put anywhere, but it had it’s proper place, to the right of the kitchen sink. Now it seemed that Tim’s medication also had it’s proper place too, to the right of the paper towel thing. “I’ll set out your dosage for you every day. They’ll be on the counter but today…”

“… today I’ll bring them to you.” As she said this, Maria stepped out of the kitchen and immediately caught the attention of Tim. She had a glass of water in one hand, two pills in the other, and was wearing nothing but a matching bra and panties. While everyone else liked G-strings or thong panties, Tim liked the bikini cut. He remembered picking these particular ones out as a Valentine’s gift last year. They were all black but see-thru enough that Tim could see both her manicured pubic hair and the crack of her ass. Maria didn’t care for them because of the visible panty line, but she knew when and where to wear them. Like under a pair of jeans, which were now on the kitchen floor along with the shoes and sweatshirt, she wore to the hospital.

Upon seeing his wife, blood started flowing to the appropriate body parts, and Tim turned off the TV. While he took his pills and drank his water, Maria undid her bra and slipped her panties down to the floor. She took the glass from Tim and went set it down on the end table but not before giving Tim a get those pants off look. Tim got his pants down to his ankles before he realized that he still had his boots on. But it didn’t matter. Maria had assessed that this was good enough and straddled her still dressed husband.

Maria was enjoying this impromptu lovemaking session as much as she could but in the back of her mind she couldn’t help but replay the Doctor’s words over and over again. “To eliminate the threat.”

After climaxing together, Maria stayed on top of her husband to recover leaving him inside of her. The firmness of Tim’s penis diminished to nothing and slowly left the warmth of his wife. After this, Maria got up, picked up her bra and panties and walked back to the kitchen. Tim watched her bare ass swaying from left to right with just a little jiggle with every step as she walked away.

Tim went pee and then returned to the living room and turned the TV back on. After about a half hour of flipping through the channels, the aroma of pan roasted tomatoes, chili, and garlic from the kitchen had made it’s way to the where he sat. More interested in what was going on in the kitchen than what was on tv, Tim went to check it out. “Smells good in here.” He found his wife breading thin slices of chicken breast. Flour, egg, then breadcrumbs. Her hair was in a messy bun and she has a smudge of flour on her cheek. She had put her sweatshirt back on but instead of her jeans, she had put on shorts. Shorts so short that Tim could see just a slight hint of each ass cheek peeking out the bottom.

Tim looked around and spotted the step stool Maria often needed to reach the higher cabinets in the kitchen. He got and it and brought it to Maria. “Here, you look like you need this.” She didn’t but she knew it was for him, not her and played along.

“Yeah? You think so?” she said. She stepped back and let him place the stool in front of the counter and then stepped up onto it with her bare feet. “Oh, that is better.” She continued with her process.Flour, egg, then breadcrumbs. From behind Tim reached his hands up her sweatshirt and cupped a bare breast in each hand and kissed her on her neck. This immediately made Maria wet, ready to receive him again but she did not let her desires be known. Instead, she continued. Flour, egg, then breadcrumbs.

Tim took a step back and pulled Maria’s shorts and panties down to her feet. “No, Timothy. What are you doing? I’m making dinner.” Maria protested standing there naked from the waist down, hands covered in clumps of egg and breading. Tim unzipped his pants and easily entered Maria from behind. Tim pumped away as if it had been months since the last time he had his wife, not minutes. Maria had continued to protest even though she had bent over slightly and was pushing backward towards Tim, ensuring she felt him as deep in her as possible. She managed all of this while without ever stopping what she was doing. Flour, egg, then breadcrumbs.

The eroticism of the whole scenario brought Tim’s climax quickly. After zipping up, he pulled Maria’s panties and shorts back up, put the step stool back, and went to the living room to collapse on the couch.

Maria brought her feet together and clenched her cheeks hoping to keep what Tim had left inside of her for as long as possible. She tolerated the quickies because she viewed them as foreplay. She knew her husband would more that make up for it later that night. Besides, Tim’s leave was almost up. He would be back at work soon and the anytime — anywhere sex would soon come to and end.

“You’re welcome!” She shouted into the living room. Flour, egg, then breadcrumbs.

*

“You have to go off them,” Maria told Tim.

“I can’t.”

“Timothy, please. We haven’t…” Maria stopped with wipe the tears from her eyes.

“But what if I hurt you again? That’s not an option.”

“The reason you hurt me was because I tried to wake you up. I should have just left you alone. All you were doing was sitting on the bed. It just freaked me out. If I hadn’t of done anything, you probably would have just laid back down and none of this would have happened. If it happens again, I’ll just leave you be. IF it even happens. They might not even come back.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, please,” she said. “We can’t continue like this.”

The nightmares and the sleepwalking stopped the night Tim took the medication for the first time. After their excellent meal and the kitchen was clean, Tim and Maria retired to the bedroom and made love again before eventually falling asleep. That was the last time they had sex. It had been nearly a month.

Nausea, vomiting, and diarrhea were all common side effects, and Tim had been experiencing them all but what impacted him most was one of the not so common side effects: Change in sexual interest/ability.

Once the Desyrel got in his bloodstream, Tim was sleeping peacefully through the night. But he also lost all interest in his wife, sexually. None of the naughty tricks Maria knew Tim liked worked. Even without the interests, Tim would try to have sex for the sake of his wife, but nothing he or Maria could do could get the blood flowing to his flaccid organ.

Maria was happy and grateful that Tim’s nightmares had gone away, but she was devastated that they couldn’t make love. Yes, she loved sex with her husband. Yes, she loved how much he desired her. But more important than either of those, than whether Tim did a little sleepwalking or not, was her getting pregnant again.

Tim went off the meds but kept this bit of information between himself and Maria. He continued to see the doctor and refilling his perception to maintain the ruse but never took another pill.

When he went back to work, it was evident to his superiors that his performance was not the same as it was before his deployment. Eventually, the doctor recommended a medical discharge, and at the age of 26, Tim was a retired Staff Sergeant from the United States Air Force.

I hope you can see why I had to write in a lot of sex. I got to tell you it was quite the erotic journey I went on writing these scences. I tripled this week’s word count which practically means I wrote this chapter this morning. I hope you enjoy this weeks post.

The Attack – Post 13

The one thing you have to deal with on a deployment, no matter what branch of service you are in, is boredom. For soldiers, it’s the time in-between missions outside the wire. For HVAC technicians, it’s the time in between service calls.

When you are good at your job, do all your routine maintenance, and only have a total of 106 air conditioners on base, you don’t get many service calls. And when you do, with four very qualified technicians ready to pounce on it like over compensating bouncers in a bar fight, no air conditioner stays broken very long.

The members of the 447th Civil Engineering Squadron HVAC shop spent most of their day playing dominoes. The thing is they couldn’t do it in the shop unless they were on an official break, like lunch. For them to be able to play all day, they had to get creative.

The center of the front seat of their six pack pick up folded down when there was no need for the middle seat. After a trading frozen bottles of water (Ice was a hot commodity in the desert) for some wood and time in the Carpentry Shop, Tim and his Airmen fabricated a table top to fit perfectly over the folded down seat. A little bit of trim around the perimeter of the table top made it possible to mix the dominoes up and not lose any between and under the seats of the truck. After the completion of their table top, when it came for the crew to go “get lost,” they could park anywhere, set up their table, and bust out the “bones.”

The four of them spent many an hour out behind the fuel bladders of the Power Plant. The power plant was noisy and smelled of diesel fuel, so people tended to avoid it. Except for the Power Production Engineers, of course. There was always at least one person there to monitor everything.

On the day of the incident, there was no work to be done. But the boys needed to get out of the shop. Being seen in the shop meant you weren’t out working in the field. It didn’t matter that there wasn’t any actual work to do in the field. It just mattered that you weren’t in the shop.

The morning of the attack, Tim was about to head out to the power plant with his troops when he got a phone call from his boss, Master Sergeant Mattingly. The Master Sergeant wanted to go over the evaluations Tim wrote on Jones and Ski. The Master Sergeant was a stickler for well-written paperwork.

“Do you want us to wait for you, Sergeant?” Ricketts asked.

“Nah. You guys go ahead and play cutthroat,” Tim said. “The Master Sergeant is pretty anal when it comes to these things. This will take all morning. Just come get me for chow.”

“Roger that, Sergeant,” Ricketts said as he and the rest of the troops headed out to the power plant.

*

Dominoes just works better with four people. There are two teams of two and everyone gets seven dominoes. This leaves no dominoes left over, and with that, it’s easier to count the dominoes, a strategy used by advanced players.  Cutthroat is an everyman for himself version and not as fun. That’s why when Airmen Jones, Ricketts, and Ski got to the power plant, Ricketts went looking for a fourth.

The 12-foot tall jersey barriers that protected the fuel bladders were also what concealed the crew when they were out playing dominoes. The 8-foot long concrete monstrosities surrounded the bladders, but they did not butt up against each other. There had to be enough room for an Airman to be able to connected hoses to the bladders from the refueling trucks.

After parking in their regular spot, Senior Airman Ricketts went out to see who was manning the controls in the power plant, their possible fourth. Taking a short cut, he slid sideways between two jersey barriers. Then, even though it was forbidden, he walked over the fuel bladders, like a little kid in a rented bouncy castle. Once he got across, he squeezed in between two more of the portable concrete walls and walked over to the power plant. He knocked on the door but walked in without waiting for a response.

Inside the plant Ricketts found Martinez sitting in a chair with his head nodding, fighting to stay awake. Martinez was a grey-haired, overweight Technical Sergeant from the Arizona Air National Guard. He was way older than most Tech Sergeants, something common among the Guard guys. He was in the army when he was younger and missed being in uniform. He joined the Air Guard after a couple of co-workers convinced him.

“We don’t do shit but play cards and drink coffee,” they said. That sounded good to Martinez. He enlisted at the age of 38 he and was probably one of the oldest Senior Airmen in the country. For the next several years he drank coffee and played cards one weekend a month, two weeks a year, then 9-11 happened. He was now on his second deployment. He would have gotten out after his first, spending time away from his beloved wife and three daughters was hard on him, but two words caused him to reenlist once again, “Retirement Check.”

“Hey, Sergeant! Just checking on you AC,” Ricketts lied. “How is it working?”

Ricketts knew as soon as he saw Martinez that they were going to have to play cutthroat. The crew had nothing in common with a middle-aged Guard guy from Tucson, AZ. Inviting him in the confines of their six pack to play dominoes was like inviting a priest to a party. Yeah, he’ll go and even drink, but you’d have to be on your best behavior while he’s there.

Mattingly ended up postponing the meeting with Tim by notifying him that he had, “more pressing shit to handle.” Having sent the boys off to get lost, Tim had some free time and decided to head to the morale tent. It was early back home, but there was still a chance Maria would be up. She had been waking up at odd times since she got pregnant.

During the day the morale tent was nearly empty. He didn’t even have to wait for a computer. He logged in right away and checked if she was online. She wasn’t on Facebook as far as he could tell, so he sent her a message.

“Babe, I got some free time. Are you up? I would love to see your face.”

Tim clicked away at random shit while he waited for a response.

“I’m up. Let me pee and then I’ll Skype you.”

“Yesss,” Tim said as he gave a fist pump. He clicked over to and updated his status to “about to get online with my baby!”

*

While Tim was Skyping with Maria and Ricketts was feeding a line of bullshit to Martinez, a piece of ice at the bottom of a mortar tube reached its breaking point. It had melted from a small block to a thin sheet, and the weight of the mortar round caused it to crack allowing the mortar to drop onto the firing pin, sending it off towards the direction of the base.

Mortars fired towards the base rarely did severe damage. Iraqi civilians, who were paid by insurgents, randomly set the stovepipes in place. They were aimed with no accuracy or care and set with the makeshift time day, ice. They sometimes flew over the base and sometimes hit just short of it. When they did make it into the base, they usually hit something noncritical like and empty hanger or a dirt field. One time some shrapnel ripped through a Cadillac shitter severing a water line, rendering the bathroom unusable for a few hours. That was the worst of it, though.

So when this mortar hit dead center of the jersey barriers that surrounded the fuel bladders, it was a one in a million shot. It was also a one in a million shot that Ricketts was on his way back to tell the boys that they had to play cutthroat. And, even though it was forbidden, Ricketts was happily bouncing on the fuel bladders like a little kid in a rented bouncy castle when the mortar hit.

We are now to the stuff I started working on when I decided to create this website. This material is now a couple months old instead of six months or more. I had a hell of a time getting this one ready. Let me know what you think or if my dimensions of those jersey barriers are off.

Tim Goes To The Doctor – Post 12

The next morning Maria told Tim what happened as she dabbed the corners of her eyes with the cuffs of her oversized sweatshirt preventing Tim from actually seeing any tears.

“Take me to the hospital!” Tim insisted, even though he had no recollection of what happened. “Right now!” Tim was very protective of his petite wife. He proved that in that night in Sacramento. He wouldn’t let anyone do physical harm to her, including himself. If this meant the lock him up in s straight jacket then so be it.

“Okay,” Maria said, no longer able to prevent the tears from rolling down her face.

*

They spent the entire day at the base hospital waiting room hoping for an opportunity to see a doctor. It was quite the sight there among the rows of interconnecting black vinyl and chrome metal chairs, similar to what you would find at an airport. There were two kinds of people one would typically find in a base hospital waiting room. There are the retirees who did their 20 years. Some more that 40 years ago. And there are the homely dependent wives who won the medical coverage lottery by landing themselves a just as homely Airman. They greedily wait with their sick, snotty nosed kids for medical attention as if it was actual food or money.

Tim and Maria both were relieved when they heard the name “SSgt Rogers” announced, anxious to get the hell out of that waiting room. They were both escorted to the Psychiatrist office by a female Airman who’s hair color made them question if it was “natural in appearance” as the regulation required.

The doctor asked a series of questions as he typed on the computer. The screen of the computer was positioned as such that they couldn’t tell if the doctor was taking notes or chatting with his mistress. When the doctor finished asking what seemed like a standard set of questions, he diagnosed Tim with a mild case of somnambulism also known as sleepwalking and wrote a prescription for Desyrel. The doctor eluded to a possibility of PTSD and suggested he see a psychologist and get involved in counseling, right away.

As they both walked out of the doctor’s office, the doctor waited a few seconds and then peeked his head out the door and shouted, “Mrs. Rogers, Did you fill out this form?”

“Yes,” Maria responded. “I did.”

“Could you come here for a second and help me with your handwriting please,” the doctor asked.

“Go ahead to the pharmacy, babe. I’ll be right there,” Maria told Tim.

When she got back to the doctor’s office, she found him sitting at his desk with her husband’s file closed. She was aware of his ruse. “Mrs. Rogers, I wanted to let you know two things without your husband around.” He was no longer the droid of a person who asked the questions without any emotion earlier. He showed genuine concern as he continued, “One, please let us know if these dreams continue or get worse. We will have to have him come in for sleep observation if it does. And two, this one is important. If there is any sign of violence, ANY sign, please report it to Security Forces.” Maria and Tim had agreed ahead of time to leave out the part about the wrist lock he had put her on her. They both knew it would lead to all kinds of trouble if they did.

“Base cops, why them?” she asked.

“To eliminate the threat,” He answered.

Maria knew what that meant and knew there was no way in hell she was going to call Security Forces on her husband. The thought of him sleeping in a tiny room with cameras on him and wires attached to his body came to mind. No way, she thought.

“Yes, sir!” she responded to the Lieutenant Colonel doctor, having forgotten that she was no longer obligated to address him as sir, and went off to meet here husband.

While last week’s post was practically a complete rewrite, this week’s required that I fill in the blanks. I ended up doubling the word count again. I don’t know if this will stand on its own as a chapter or be added to the end of the previous one.

The Nightmares Continue – Post 11

On their second night together after Tim’s homecoming from Iraq, Maria was awoken again by Tim’s frantic breathing. Not as scared as she was the previous night, she turned on her side to face him, propped herself up on her right elbow and placed her left hand on his chest, giving him a quick shake with hopes of waking him. Remembering how this had no impact the night before, she didn’t even bother to call his name. She realized that she couldn’t wake him and that she was just going to have to ride it out.

She watched her husband inhale and exhale short quick breaths like a woman in labor. The little bit of nighttime light that made its way into the bedroom through the window reflected off the beads of sweat forming on Tim’s forehead. When she looked closer, she could see a tear roll out of Tim’s eye and down his cheek.  Crying herself, she wiped his tear away and reached over to the side of his face she couldn’t see and wipe just in case there was one there too.  She laid there next to her husband with her hand on his chest, feeling it rise up and then down rapidly until Tim gave out one final big exaltation and his breathing returned to normal.

The next day Maria, very casually, brought the dream up to Tim, again he had no recollection.

The dreams continued every night. They progressively got a little worse or lasted a little longer. Maria rode out each event from beginning to end. Wiping both her husband’s and her own tears until Tim’s big exhalation, which seemed to be the signal that the event was over and he would return to regular sleep.

One night, Maria didn’t awake to Tim’s heavy breathing but to find him sitting up on the edge of the bed with his feet on the floor as if he was about to get up to do something. “Timothy, what’s wrong?” No answer. “Timothy?” Again, no answer. “Timothy, what are you doing?” Frustrated that her husband was ignoring her, she got out of bed and stood naked in front of him. Their heights were on such different ends of the spectrum that with Tim in the sitting position, she was looking at him eye to eye. She waved her hand in front of his open blue eyes. He did not acknowledge the moment. Could he be…? She put her right hand on his left shoulder and started to shake. Without hesitation, Tim reached across the front of his body with his right hand and grabbed Maria’s palm between his thumb and fingers. He applied force to the back of her hand with his thumb, causing it to bend at the wrist and then rotated her hand clockwise 180 degrees.

Maria immediately screamed in pain. The pressure on her wrist forced her to bend over at the waist to prevent her arm from breaking. “Timothy, you’re hurting me.” Tim didn’t respond. “Timothy, wake up!” As soon as she said this, she realized two things. One, he was asleep and two, she wasn’t going to be able to wake him.

Helpless, Maria wondered if she was gong to be able to ride this one out. Her very large and very strong husband was hurting her. She was, for the first time since they met, afraid of him. Regardless of all this, she blamed herself. She should have known he was sleeping. She shouldn’t have tried to wake him. Still bent over, crying in pain, not knowing what to do, she heard Tim give a big exhale and let her go. He laid back down in bed and didn’t move until the morning.

As soon as Tim let go of her hand, Maria fell to the ground holding her arm and sobbing. She was in the wrist lock for only a few seconds, but it felt like hours. She was amazed at how many things went through her mind in that short about of time. She spent the rest of that night on the couch, but she didn’t sleep.

Wow! I pretty much completely rewrote this chapter. I must have written it in March of this year when I was thinking this was going to be a short story. Also, I am a better writer now than I was a week ago let alone six months ago.

Please leave comments and feedback below. Thanks!

Tim In Iraq – Post 10

Tim showered every night before bed. The showers were too crowded in the morning. He had the privilege of using “Cadillac” showers, which were in a trailer, not the bare bones tent showers the men who deployed years before him had to use. These showers provided a bit more privacy and men could take care of their “built up frustrations” with a little less fear of getting caught. Tim would return to the showers again in the morning but only to brush his teeth and shave. This bought him plenty of time to get some breakfast before he walked to his shop.

Tim took pride in his uniform. Where most men were a little laid back about it because of where they were, Tim made sure to adhere to the standards. Having recently sewn on his Staff Sergeant stripe, he made sure those under him did too. He kept extra razors in his desk in case anyone forgot to shave and once sent one of his troops back to their tent because he had, in a hurry to not be late, forgotten his belt.

“C’mon Sergeant Rogers. I’ll keep my blouse on all day. No one will ever know.”

“I’ll know, Airman Jones,” Tim replied, “and more importantly, so will you. Go get it and double time your ass back here so we can get to work. Me and the boys will be playing dominoes till you get back.”

Not wanting to disappoint their Staff Sergeant, the other Airmen frantically grabbed chairs and the dominoes and prepared to play. “You heard the Staff Sergeant,” declared Airman Ricketts, who outranked Jones by age and experience but not by a number of stripes he wore on his sleeve. “We’ll be waiting on you,” he said as he flipped over the dominoes that weren’t already face down over.

Back in the States, Staff Sergeants were a dime a dozen but on a deployment, everyone usually ended up with the job of someone who held one or more ranks above them. This put Tim in charge of the heating and air shop. He had three troops under him. Senior Airman Ricketts, Tim’s second in command, Senior Airman Jones, and Airman Ski— whose name was a lot longer than “ski” but it ended with “ski” so that was good enough for everyone.

As the Shop Chief, Tim attended all the morning staff meetings. Being in charge gave Tim a great sense of pride but after he briefed his troops on the outcome of the meeting, which was usually nothing more than the duress word and sign/countersign, he usually hopped in the truck with them to go out into the field to do maintenance and repairs. Shop Chief or not, he felt most at home out in the field working on the equipment.

If he did ever have some pressing “Staff Sergeant shit” to do, he would send the troops out with the work orders and tell them, “Come get me for chow.” Regardless of his authority over them, he felt like these three Airmen were his brothers. The closest thing he had to family in the desert and he took every opportunity he could to bond with them.

Occasionally, Tim would invite his troops over to his tent to get shitfaced off his homemade grape wine. It took him a month of bringing a can or two a day of grape juice back to his tent from the chow hall to get enough to start a batch. It took another month for the brewer’s yeast to secretly do its job in Tim’s locker. To everyone’s disbelief, one 1-pint water bottle that was refilled with wine, once its original contents were drunk or even just poured out, was enough to get someone drunk. They had a hell of a little party that first night the wine was ready. Somewhere in the drunken haze of that first night, Tim mentioned that he was going to make the next batch out of apple juice. The next evening when Tim got in from work, there was a case of apple juice in his cot.

He did manage to brag to one of the Special Ops guys one night in the recreational area after having already downed one of his stout pints. As much as he hated to admit it, he admired those guys. He would have liked to think they were assholes but couldn’t ever really find a reason to think so. They were all kind of nice. And all badasses whose job required they carry a gun, not a wrench. Tim was chumming it up with a guy who introduced himself as Koa. Koa was a tall, lean island boy with dark skin and dark curly hair. As soon as Koa mentioned he would like to try Tim’s hooch, Tim hurried off to his tent to grab a bottle. When he brought back the bottle, Koa told Tim thanks and then kind of dismissed him. “Thanks for the hooch, man. Listen, I’ll talk to you later, alright?” Koa walked back to join the rest of the Special Ops guys who had formed a circle around a couple of the hottest female Airmen on the base. Koa had to put himself in the running of who was going to get fuck these girls that night. Assholes!

Being highly illegal, Tim kept his wine a secret. With the exception of the Special Ops guy, the only people that knew about it were his troops, the others who shared his tent, his boss Master Sergeant Mattingly, and the Major, Master Sergeant Mattingly’s boss.

 

I literally just wrote the last three paragraphs before posting this. I wrote this weeks ago but as my story develops, I realize that there are things that need to be said beforehand. The ideas are really flowing now. I am even having thoughts about the second book in this project. I feel I owe it all the the fact that I am reading, at least, a novel a week. Please let me know what think below.

Continue to next chapter.

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