Sex for America: Politically Inspired Erotica by Stephen Elliott Read Free Book Online Page A

well for me. The tower had air-conditioning pumping through it all day, and the lounge area was equipped with a fully stocked wet bar. The two guys running the port were Brits. They didn’t mind us hitting the bar after duty. So of course we would. Drink- ing Cape Cods and Absolut martinis up was a pleasure we hadn’t expected. The bathrooms were fixtured in gold, and the showers, outfitted with three or four spigots and a bench, could’ve fit ten people easy. It was a queer bathhouse waiting to happen right in the middle of the desert.
I started sleeping with one of the Brits, Simon. He had bad teeth and he drank way too much scotch. I don’t see how a single boat made it through the port during his watch. He spent much of his time quoting Samuel Johnson and T. S. Elliot, swaying with a bottomless tumbler in one hand and the microphone in the other, pausing between directions to ships to wink at me or smile his brown, broken-up teeth. But we were great lovers. He insisted that he wasn’t queer or even bi. He opposed screwing whores, and the Saudi women were untouchable. He’d screwed the wives of a few of his co-workers, but those situations never ended well. I would call him a straight fag as I entered him from behind.
My sergeant noticed I spent my off-duty hours in the tower, and he asked questions about my friend Simon, so I implemented evasive action. Word had it that a navy captain sold blow jobs for five bucks apiece. I tracked her down and covered her for my guard team, all twelve of us plus the sergeant. I brought her up to the lounge at the tower and she sucked us off, Simon and his co- worker Thomas as well. After everyone dispersed she asked for a drink, so I made her a Cosmopolitan. After three or four Cosmos, she started touching my knee and laughing with her neck quirked sideways, her pretty, long fingers wrapped around the sweaty stem of her drink. She wanted to seduce me, and she told me so. I lied and said I had a wife back home, a wife who didn’t mind me get- ting blow jobs but nothing more. She wouldn’t stop with her sexy routine, and told me not to worry, that it wouldn’t cost anything, and soon she had her uniform off except her panties. She said, If you’re not going to fuck me, at least watch me masturbate.
She arched way back and pulled her hand out of her panties when she came, and there were beads of sweat on her forehead
and nose. She reminded me of Egon Schiele’s Reclining Woman with Legs Apart , her body contorted in libidinous repose.
     
SERGEANT SAVINE
Esmeralda petted Cash’s head as we entered the room. He said over and over, I’ll kill the motherfucker. Professor went into the bathroom and puked again while Mathis, Boner, and Preacher Boy looked at Cash with flat amazed faces. Preacher Boy ran down to the basement to look for a corpsman, and we left Esmeralda with Cash. We had to find the Ether Bandit. Bad shit would soon be go- ing down, and we were going to be the arbiters of the bad shit and the world should stand the fuck by.
     
PFC BROCKNER
Simon started getting uppity, uppity little whore, I called him. He swung at me one night when I wouldn’t stop. He said, Please stop. You have to be fucking stupid to use the words Please stop, so I kept fucking, and harder, and I am a big man, so it was not hard to continue. He swung again and hit me in the jaw, which I barely felt, and I beat him severely, but not his ugly face. I pummeled his kidneys and chest and the back of his head until he cried and my knuckles and fingers were swollen and stuck in a fist, and he continued to cry and I left him there in the lounge, moaning like a little bitch.
     
The first time I used the ether in the desert was at a USO show out in the mining areas near Ash Shama. It was an amusing show, Brooke Shields singing and playing off the Muslim-censored jokes of Steve Martin and Bob Hope. Amusing but not funny. Hope
told a joke about going blind from masturbation, and that’s the only one I