Drowning Tucson by Aaron Morales Read Free Book Online Page A

the flashy wings on their bomber jackets. He knew most of them didn’t understand that even during peacetime a good soldier tries to move up in rank. As he had done. With rank comes respect—and women, if that’s the only reason these jokers wear the uniform. A couple flyovers in Honduras, a few classified missions near the Philippines, and they might be able to land a nice commissioned officer post.
    Like Vinnie. Now he does the Air Force uniform proud. Ever since his arrival at the base a couple months before, he’d turned heads with the way he made the dull brass on his uniform shine. People often wondered whether he went straight home after work and polished those wings until he passed out. Although he was a first sergeant for a separate company, Manny still admired him from afar, envying the way he managed to look relaxed and formal when he walked, his perfect posture, the way his shoes shone. Immaculate. He wondered how Vinnie would look under the colorful lighting of the Loveboat.
    Manny saw the club lights from beneath his closed eyelids every time they passed over his face. After he acclimated himself to the place, he felt ready to look at Desire again, knowing he only had a couple hours before he should get home to Stella and his two boys, thinking at least she thinks I’m out with my officers having dinner, planning promotions and field tests for new planes, which usually means a few drinks afterwards. Even though he knew he would reek of stripper—the distinct flowery smell that wouldn’t wash off completely for days—Stellawould ignore it when he crawled into bed and pretended to be exhausted whispering baby, you’d think I’d get used to dealing with it, but with defense cuts and people always coming into my office to see if their jobs are in danger, the stress is wearing me out, keeping his back to her while she rubbed her foot against his calf and her ass against his back, thinking she was turning him on, Manny closing his eyes and trying to feel sorry for his naked wife behind him, who had been home alone all day getting the house in order and shopping and picking up the kids and making the bed and changing into some sexy clothes she thought he liked, and she persisted, as she always did, slowly sliding her hand across his back and over his chest and down his stomach, rubbing lightly back and forth, and then she would twirl a little tuft of his pubes between her fingers and search around for his cock until she found it resting on his left thigh and she would wiggle it a little bit and giggle in his ear and play with the head, rolling it between her fingers until she felt the slightest reaction, the dimmest pulse of blood, and then she would be reaffirmed and whisper I love you, Manny, and giggle some more as he grew in her hand and he, still trying to ignore her, could not stop his body from reacting to her skillful taunting, growing harder while she coaxed him over onto his back and climbed on top of him, telling him I want you, Manny, I’ve missed you, maneuvering her hips above him to where she could grab his shaft and hold it upright while she slowly eased herself down onto him, a little at a time until he was fully inside her, and she would groan and throw her head back and bob slowly, slowly, talking real sweet to him and smiling until they got into a nice rhythm and he would grab her hips and shove her down on him harder and speed up, doing this out of frustration and necessity, which Stella always misinterpreted as desire, until they were one organism moving and bouncing on the bed, everything around them falling into their rhythm—the bed, the clock, the swamp cooler clicking on and off—and his wife writhing on top of him and scratching his sides and leaning down to bite him on his shoulders and neck and ears over and over and over. But that would be later.
    Now Manny spotted Vinnie laughing with a few guys on the other side of the stage and decided he was ready to watch Desire thrust