The Sailor's Wife Ch. 05: Extirpation

"What is it?"

"Some new shit they're working on over at Berkeley. Sort of like LSD, except the trip isn't as high."

"I've never done LSD," Steph admitted.

"No problem. Just put the cube on your tongue, and let it melt. It'll take awhile, just wait for it." Stephanie did as she was told, then got Bob out to dance. She was swirling in the middle of the room, bouncing up and down, the skirt of her dress flying up, everyone was getting a great view of the microscopic panties and her mostly uncovered ass, she didn't care.

Bob got tired, other guys danced with her, they were lining up to be near this tall, golden goddess. After a time, she noticed that whenever her current partner touched her on an arm or perhaps her ass, a beautiful sensation would result. Then the good looking guy who gave her the drug grabbed her as a slow dance started. He pulled her close, and Steph felt her nipples, being rubbed through the fabric, go absolutely ecstatic, she was sure they were three inches long. "How you doing with the stuff," he asked, "you mellow enough?"

"Oh, yes," she moaned, "I love you!"

"I love you, too," he responded, and then, in the middle of the dance floor, he held her breast. "That feel good?"

"Oh, it's amazing." Then, "Oh, I want you."

"Great. Let's go upstairs, to one of the bedrooms."

"Oh, I couldn't. My boyfriend . . ."

"You're with Bob, aren't you? He won't mind."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, if you're worried about it, let's go ask him."

"Okay." It made perfect sense to her.

The man led her over to where Bob had been watching, smiling every time she changed dance partners. "Hey, Bob, how's it going?"

"Fine, Greg, see you latched onto Steph."

"Yeah, she wants to do me. You don't mind, do you?"

"Hell, no, fine by me. She's great in the sack, you're going to find out." And then, to Steph, he ordered, "Show him a good time, babe."

Greg led her up to the master bedroom. There was already a couple on the humongous bed, the woman on top of the man, slowly rotating her hips, and another couple was on one of the couches, the girl was kneeling and giving the man a blow job. Greg led her to the bed, and got her to lie down, the other couple just four feet away.

Steph always enjoyed the first kiss, but this time it was even better. She found her lips to be over sensitive, and the brushes of Greg's tongue on hers filled her with a sense of awe, of nothing but wonderment. She turned her back to be unzipped, and then pulled the fabric over her head. She was all but naked now, except for the panties and boots, and while Greg took his clothes off, she realized the other couple was inspecting her. She smiled at them, and found their faces were softly outlined in a neon pink, it was beautiful. And then Greg was beside her, sucking on her nipples, and she felt the rush go through her body, she moaned as loudly as she could, and the air escaping her mouth was like a hurricane. And then Greg had her panties off, and he was on top of her, and when the penis just brushed her lips she went into the most pleasant of convulsions, and then when he was inside her, moving in and out, she saw colors that never appeared on any wheel. She kept going and going, and when Greg spent into her she wanted more, and suddenly there was a man she hadn't seen before, and she was lying next to him, and she climbed on top and grinded her pelvis on his, and when he came she found another man . . .

It was morning, the light was bright, Steph found herself in a room she didn't recognize, and an oriental man was snoring beside her, they were both naked. She knew, somehow, that this man had been the last to screw her. How many had there been? Five? More? She remembered, as one man was beside her that Bob had come into the room, taken his pants down, and she'd given him a blow job while the other man was still fucking her. The stretched sensation in her rear end gave evidence to the fact that all of her holes had been ravished.

She sat up, saw her clothes were no where to be found, plodded off to the bathroom where she washed her face and tried to repair the damage to her hair. She examined herself in the mirror, found her body was just as good looking as she remembered it - how had she done it with so many guys, and why didn't Bob stop it? She wasn't ashamed of what she'd done, nor was she proud, it was just something guys had done to her, and she hadn't stopped them. In fact, she'd enjoyed all those different men.

Wrapping herself in a sheet, she went in search of her dress, found it as expected in the master bedroom where four men and two women were drowsing, all naked, of course. She poured herself into the gold dress, put her panties on, had no clue where the boots were. She went down to the central room, found Georgie sitting in an easy chair. "Good morning," he greeted her, "There's coffee and orange juice and muffins in the kitchen. Help yourself." She did, and came back to sit near Georgie - she found herself in need of company.

"Is Bob here?"

"No, he left about three in the morning."

"Oh!"

"What?"

"Well, I don't know how I'm going to get home."

"That's not a problem, you can stay here. A lot of the guests are going to stay the whole weekend. It'll be a great orgy."

"I couldn't . . . no, I couldn't. What time is it?"

"Nine thirty."

Suddenly, an image of a very angry Mr. Donegal came to her mind. "I've just got to get home."

"Really? Well, if you can't stay, don't worry, I'll give you cab fare."

"Oh, that would be wonderful. Thank you." While she was waiting for the taxi to come, she searched for her boots, found them out by the hot tub, had a dim memory of sharing the water and herself with two men.

Sitting in the back of the cab as it sped toward Oakland, she began to shake, suddenly nervous over the debauchery she'd been forced into. Finally in her apartment, she took a hot shower, dressed carefully then drove into work. It was nearly noon by the time she got there. Mr. Donegal just waved her into his office, closed the door. "I'm sorry, sir, I'll work during lunch, I'll stay late, if you want me to I'll come in tomorr . . ." He cut her off.

"Stephanie, I'm sorry, but I can't carry you any longer. I'm going to have to let you go."

"But you can't do that, Mr. Donegal, I need this job, my husband . . ."

"Funny you should mention that, Stephanie. I try to honor our men in uniform, but you don't show him any respect when you . . ." Suddenly, he stopped, afraid to say anymore. "Just get the things out of your desk and go, Stephanie, we'll mail your final paycheck to you."

Steph hung her head as she threw her things into a box, some lipstick, hand cream, a picture of Glenn. She was sure the other girls were laughing at her, but she didn't look at them, nor did she even say good bye to them. She was too ashamed.

Back in the apartment, she laid in bed, clutching a pillow to her, interspersing crying jags with periods of mindless brooding. The phone rang, she ignored it. Saturday afternoon found her in the same position, she neglected the phone and the knock on the door. Near dark, she got up, made scrambled eggs, didn't eat half of it. She fixated on the picture of her husband on the bedside table, cried because she'd never gotten around to fixing the broken glass.

Late Sunday morning, she heard a knock, wasn't going to answer it, but she heard her best friend's voice call, "Stephanie, please unlock the door. I know you're in there. Just let me know you're okay, that's all." She opened the door, fell into Joann's arms, let her hold her and make a sandwich and coffee, cried as she told her about the deprivations she'd been forced into. "It's okay," Joann told her, "Everything's going to be okay."

Monday morning, she took the last pill out of the circular container, figured she'd go over to the Oakland Naval Hospital to get her prescription refilled. It wasn't like she had anything else to do.

A young officer listened to her heartbeat, and did other incursions to her body. They always liked to have one of these young punks examine you for the slightest things, Glenn had explained that's how these guys got experience, and it was the cost you paid for getting free medical care.

"Well, Mrs. Reed, it doesn't look like you're going to need anymore birth control pills."

"Why not?" Were they just going to cut her off? That wasn't fair, she wouldn't stand for it, she'd tell Glenn, she'd . . .

"Because, Mrs. Reed," the officer continued, "I'm pretty sure you're pregnant."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Glenn was in the electronics shack, immersed in a game of Risk, and the phone rang. LeFoy answered it, said, "Reed, it's for you. I'm pretty sure it's the Lieutenant."

"Reed here, Sir."

"Bounce down to the Chaplain's office on the double, Reed. Some sort of a message for you. Second deck, aft."

"Aye-aye, Sir."

Glenn stopped by his bunk, got a clean dungaree shirt on, the Chaplain was a Commander, you don't fool around with those guys. The clerk made him sit for a few minutes, then the Chaplain beckoned him into the office. For a few moments they sat, the Chaplain seemed to be feeling him out, asking him questions about how long he'd been in the service, what he did in his spare time, stuff like that. Finally, he got to the point. "Petty Officer Reed, we got a message from the Naval Hospital, Oakland. It seems your wife has had a bit of a breakdown. It's not serious, she'll be fine by and by, but they think it'd be best if you went home for a little bit. So we're going to give you two weeks of emergency leave, there's a COD plane taking off for Subic Bay, you need to be aboard in forty minutes, so get going, right?"

"Aye-aye, sir. You say she's in no danger?"

"I don't think so, that's all the information I got in the cable. But there is one other thing, son.

"What's that, sir?"

"She's seven weeks pregnant."

Glenn's divisional officer caught him just after he'd packed his sea bag, told him, "Don't worry about anything, Reed, we'll take care of it. Just go home, take care of your wife. If you need anything, let me know, all right?"

"Yes, sir. Thank you, sir."

Glenn got up to the flight deck, poured himself into the small plane, crowded with eleven bodies and more boxes and crap than you could shake a stick at and felt the movement as the craft was placed on the catapult. Then the huge shock of forward motion, Glenn's stomach twisted as the plane left the deck and dropped a dozen feet, then the propellers bit and the plane drifted east. Catching a bus from Subic to Clark was easy, and after only a seven-hour delay, Glenn was ordered aboard a C-5A transport bound for Travis Air Force Base, between San Francisco and Sacramento. For the next sixteen hours, Glenn sat in the uncomfortable seats, tried to read, tried to sleep, did little except worry about his wife. The pregnancy, of course, weighed heavy on his mind, but was secondary to his concerns over her health.

At last the plane touched down on California soil, when Glenn disembarked he found the ladder and tarmac drenched with the heavy March rains, the last of the season. And there, with other wives and children waiting for their servicemen to return from the war, was Stephanie. They held each other for four minutes, not saying a word, just feeling the warmth of their love.

"How'd you get here?" Glenn softly asked.

"I drove. They let me know when your plane was going to be here."

"Let's go then." And they walked toward the car, the seabag on Glenn's left shoulder, his right arm tucked firmly around his wife's waist, the one that he would never let go of again.

"Honey, I'm . . ."

"I know," he admitted, not letting her finish. "I know, we're not going to worry about that right now. Don't worry about anything, we're going to get through this.

The rain drenched them, it was over.