Most of Stash’s little lecture was wasted on the company of the Rock Dove. His companions, however, were eager to visit the distillery, especially when promised free samples of whiskey. The men were less thrilled when Stash announced he’d arranged for them all, Duncan and his crew included, to be put up in the barracks, alongside the soldiers.
“We’re going to live just like the soldiers do,” Stash said, gleefully.
“If I wanted to join the bloody army, I’d enlist,” Robert complained.
“Well, at least it’ll mean a roof over our heads, and beds, on shore,” Niall suggested.
“More like bunks. It doesn’t sound as though it’s going to be very comfortable,” Carter warned. “More room to stretch out than in the cabins here on the boat, maybe.”
“But this is an opportunity to do a real story,” the irrepressible Stash insisted. “About the impact the base has had on the local economy. How the residents feel about it, pro or con. And what it’s like for the soldiers to be assigned to such an isolated base, away from their families.”
Carter didn’t fail to notice that when Martin heard Stash say that, the Scot immediately perked up. It was remarkable. Carter was sure he knew exactly what Martin was thinking. Soldiers stationed away from home tended to find outlets for their sexual needs. The civilian population of a small island probably didn’t include an adequate supply of available females. With any luck at all, Martin might find an opportunity to indulge in his favorite hobby.
But Carter wasn’t psychic. The truth was he was thinking along much the same lines, himself.
After docking and securing the boat, they packed what they’d need overnight. There was a bus service on the island, kept especially busy going back and forth between the village and the military base. But Alonzo and Bill, with their usual efficiency, had arranged to rent a vehicle which could carry their whole party. It was an old pickup truck. Three men could squeeze into the front seat, and the rest could pile into the truck bed in the back.
Driving across the island at a leisurely pace, they arrived at the base in the late afternoon. There was time to stow their gear in the barracks, and clean up and change clothes, before dinner was served in the mess hall.
To his disgust, Robert saw they would indeed be sleeping in a large open room, in narrow utilitarian bunks, right alongside the enlisted men. Carter didn’t mind it, though. After the cramped quarters on board the Rock Dove, he was looking forward to the novelty of being able to walk all the way around his bed, without the need to be careful about stumbling over something on the floor, banging into something protruding from the wall, or hitting his head on the ceiling. And he had already spotted many attractive specimens among the soldiers, who ranged from raw young recruits to mature veterans.
A corporal named Trent had been put in charge of the visitors, getting them settled, showing them around, and answering their questions. He was a big man from Glasgow. A devilishly handsome man with an outgoing personality, he was obviously popular among the other men on the base.
Something clicked within Carter the moment he was introduced to Trent and shook his big hand. The corporal couldn’t have more masculine, indeed macho, in appearance or behavior. But Carter got that distinct, indefinable gay vibe from him.
“No women traveling with you gentlemen, eh?” Trent asked.
“No,” Stash said. “Not because my employers are prejudiced in any way,” he was quick to assure the corporal. “Just a coincidence.”
“But having only men on your boat must make things a bit freer,” Trent suggested.
“Of course. We don’t hesitate to—well, you know,” Stash replied.
“Strip off in front of one another? Swear? Talk about sex? That sort of thing?” Trent asked.
“Yes.”
“It’s the same here. We do have some women soldiers here, housed separately, of course. Otherwise, they’re treated exactly the same as the men. My superiors don’t tolerate anything in the way of put-downs, hazing, or sexual harassment. Here, we’re soldiers first, and gender is secondary.”
“I’d really like to interview some of the women, to get their perspective.”
“I can arrange that, easily enough.”
Carter caught Martin checking out the shower and toilet facilities, adjacent to the soldiers’ sleeping quarters. Brightly lit, this was one large space, with a tiled floor and walls. The shower nozzles were lined up in a close row. Nearby was a row of urinals, also spaced closely together, and a row of toilet stalls, each with the usual hinged door providing a modicum of privacy.
“Down, boy,” Carter admonished Martin, in a whisper.
The young sailor grinned at him. “This place looks like it could become—busy. Active,” he specified. “Especially late at night.”
“And I’ve noticed a light switch there on the wall, right by the entrance,” Carter said. “I wonder whether it turns off all of these overhead lights?”
“Damn,” Martin exclaimed, under his breath. “I can’t wait to find out!”
After freshening up, the visitors joined the soldiers in the mess hall.
“Sit here beside me, lad,” Trent invited Carter. “I always welcome the chance to get to know an American.”
Stash, Alonzo, and Bill were Americans too, of course, and obviously so, as revealed by their speech. Carter had the distinct impression that Trent had singled him out. Why? Carter began to lose himself in homoerotic speculations. Maybe Trent “fancied” him, as the British would say.
However, none of Carter’s sailing companions had any reason to feel neglected. Their presence was clearly a welcome diversion for the soldiers, who engaged their guests in lively conversation during the meal. The soldiers were in a good mood because, in honor of their guests, the base’s cook had promised to prepare a more lavish meal than usual.
The base’s commander made a brief speech, welcoming the visitors and urging the soldiers to cooperate with them.
Then, while everyone dug in, Carter began to study the soldiers and fantasize about them. In this isolated spot, there didn’t seem to be a wide range of recreational activities. Carter speculated that the base was much like any other predominantly male society. Guys—even supposedly straight, married guys, who were away from their girlfriends and wives back home—probably ended up turning to each other for sexual release and thinking nothing of it.
Next, Carter imitated Stash by honing his own interviewing skills.
“What exactly is the purpose of this base?” he asked Trent.
Trent shrugged. “It’s as good a way to spend the taxpayers’ money as any, I suppose. We might be invaded someday by sea by a fleet from Canada or Greenland, you know,” he joked. “But theoretically, I suppose, we’re here to keep an eye on the Arctic Circle. If our friends in Russia ever start lobbing a few missiles over it in our direction, we’ll be the first to know.”
“Are you equipped to lob any missiles back?”
“That’s a military secret, Yank.”
“If I found out, you’d have to kill me, huh?”
“Oh, no. Nothing as dramatic as that. We’d just keep you here in the brig under house arrest until you died a slow, agonizing death from boredom, like the rest of us.”
Carter laughed. “What is there to do here in your free time, at night?”
“Not much. Drink, wank, and shag. That just about covers it.”
“Um, I know that the first two of those activities can be done alone—”
“Although they’re more fun if you have company,” Trent interjected.
“But doesn’t shagging require at least one other participant?”
“Yes, it does. And even on this rock, a bloke can get laid if he’s resourceful enough, persistent enough—and not too particular about whom he’s doing the shagging with. Being bisexual helps,” Trent said, lowering his voice a bit, so only Carter could hear him. “It enlarges one’s range of options, you see.”
“Are you telling me you’re bi?” Ca
rter asked, boldly, although he also took care to keep his voice down.
“Very,” Trent admitted. “I’ll fuck anything which isn’t nailed down. And I’ll fuck that, if I’m drunk enough and it’s got a promising-looking hole bored in it,” he joked. “Seriously, though. Around here the basic choice comes down to a few homely women in the village, who get excited by the sight of a man in uniform, and who’re at least eager to please—and a bunch of good-looking young lads right here on the base. Some of them will insist that they’re straight, but if they get drunk enough or horny enough, or both, they’ll be willing to have a go. The secret is to accept that for what it is, and not expect anything in the way of a big romance.”
“Wow. Hearing you describe it like that, Trent—you make it sound somehow exciting and depressing, all at once.”
“That’s about the size of it. We’re talking about convenience sex, most of the time. That’s why we’re so happy to have you blokes staying with us. No offense, but you and your mates are fresh meat. There’re the four of you television men, plus the boat’s crew. Nine all told. So, by my calculations, at least one or two of you must be gay. And the odds would favor the likelihood of a couple of others among you being willing to experiment.”
“Yeah, that’s how’s the smart money would be bet,” Carter agreed.
“Has there been a lot of cocksucking and bum fucking on board that sailboat of yours?”
“Not nearly as much as I’d like,” Carter said, adopting Trent’s own frank manner. “And when we land and go ashore to do our thing, then of course, Stash, being our resident celebrity, the star of the show, gets most of the attention from the locals, wherever we go. The rest of us might as well be invisible.”
“Oh, your Stash is a sexy little bugger, no doubt about that. But I don’t fancy him as much as I fancy you.”
This was plain speaking indeed, and Carter saw no reason to be coy.
“That’s flattering to hear,” he replied.
Trent smiled. “Does your boss keep you on a tight leash?”
“No. He’s quite easy-going—as long as we get the day’s footage safely in the can. And we got here too late today to do any real filming. Tomorrow we’ll get an early start and keep ourselves busy.”
“Then later on—this evening, when we’re both off duty—maybe I’ll take you to the village pub and treat you to a pint.”
“I’d like that.”
“And afterward, we’ll find some other way to amuse ourselves. Just the two of us, behind closed doors. Shall we?”
“Please. I’d like that, too.”
They were interrupted by Stash.
“Hey, Carter!” Stash called, across the table. “If you’re done eating, break it up. Get your ass moving. Grab your camera. I want to take a walk around the base, and shoot some footage, and interview some of these guys. And the women who’ve volunteered to talk to me, too.”
“All right, I’m coming,” Carter grumbled. To Trent, he added, “Guess I spoke too soon. Duty calls.”
“Mustn’t keep His Nibs waiting,” Trent said, with a grin. “I’ll see you later.”
“Looking forward to it.”
Stash and Carter buttonholed a number of soldiers and Stash spoke to them, on camera, before he called a break. He turned his head to look at Carter, and he began razzing him.
“So, Carter, buddy. Should we find a piece of cardboard and a marking pen for you, so you can make a sign to hang around your neck?”
“Huh? A sign? What for?”
“To proclaim to all the world—well, at least to everybody on this island—that you’ve got the hots for the dashing Corporal Trent. The two of you seemed to be having quite a bromance going on between the two of you, all during chow time.”
Carter found feel himself beginning to blush, which annoyed him immensely. “Is it that obvious?”
“Yeah, it is. On second thought, the sign would be redundant. Man, have you got it bad!”
“I’m just trying to be friendly,” Carter bluffed. “Expressing my appreciation for our hosts’ hospitality. Doing my bit to promote Anglo-American relations.”
“Oh? Are you planning to show your appreciation and promote relations by fucking all of these soldier boys, or just Trent?”
“Aw, go stuff yourself.”
“Is that what the two of you were talking about back there? Stuffing each other?”
“Hardly,” Carter lied, trying his best to look and sound haughty and indignant. “For your information, we were discussing strategic defense. Missile tracking, to be specific.”
“Oh, really?” Stash seemed to find this claim hilarious. “I bet Corporal Trent has a big heat-seeking missile packed away in his own private silo—right here,” he added, spreading his legs and grabbing his crotch. “When is he going to give you a demonstration of how he launches it?”
“With all due disrespect—that’s none of your goddamn business.”
“You mean you’ve already made a sex date with him? Jesus! Talk about fast work!”
“We’re going to go into the village to have a drink in the pub.”
“And then?” Stash asked.
“And then, don’t wait up for me,” Carter said, coolly. “After all—you and I agreed, didn’t we, that we aren’t going to get into a relationship? That we’re just going to have convenience sex?”
“Yeah.”
“So what’s the big deal, if either of us gets lucky with some local guy?”
“No big deal at all,” Stash said. “You’re perfectly free to do whatever you want to do, and with whomever.”
“All right, then. Shit!”
Carter was grateful when Stash caught sight of a few more likely candidates for interviews. Accosting the soldiers, both male and female, they got down to work and Stash suspended—for the time being—his ribbing.
As he looked through his viewfinder, Carter couldn’t wondering whether, all kidding aside, there really were underground missile silos hidden away somewhere on the island. It was disconcerting to imagine long-range, death-dealing weapons emerging from the ground and taking flight on a mission of destruction.
“If you don’t need me any more tonight—?” Carter asked Stash, when the latter declared himself satisfied with the interviews they’d shot.
“Yeah?”
“Remember, Trent said something about treating me to a drink, in the pub in town,” Carter said, a bit shamefacedly.
“Oh, that’s right, he did, did he? How nice for you both. I’d invite myself to tag along, but nobody likes a fifth wheel. We’re up early tomorrow,” Stash reminded Carter. “We’ll spend the morning touring the distillery, on the other side of the island. And then, in the afternoon, we can see what else this island has to offer. I’d prefer to have you reasonably sober and alert.”
“Don’t worry, I will be. But, Stash—”
“What?”
“We did agree that we’d each be free to see other guys.”
“Of course we did. Oh, for God’s sake, Carter! I’m not jealous. I was just kidding you. Come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind bedding one or two of these soldier boys, myself, if I can manage it during our stay here. Stop acting so goddamn tragic. Run along and have fun.”
Relieved, Carter went in search of Trent. They hooked up, and along with a boisterous group of off-duty soldiers they took the bus into the village. A few of the men had gone to the trouble of changing into civilian clothes, but most of them, including Trent, still wore their uniforms.
The pub was a typical intimate, low-ceilinged, smoky venue, with a contingent of the locals, who seemed determined to relax after their day’s work by doing some serious drinking. The off-duty military personnel were on much the same mission.
Trent was the life of the party. He drank heavily with Carter and his buddies from the base, and he pretended to put the make on every woman in the barroom—regardless of her age, marital status, or degree of sexual desirability. He was even flirting openly and outrageou
sly with a couple of tough, jean-clad, sweat-shirted young dykes, who owned one of the local farms and who were obviously—to Carter, at least—partners. The two women thought Trent’s attentions were hilarious.
“My buddy Carter, here, from the United States,” Trent announced. “He needs to be laid tonight, too! Any takers? Come on, now. He’s one hell of a good-looking man! No? No takers? Then I’ll have to fuck him myself!”
“Do it right here,” one of the dykes urged him. “We can use some entertainment. Bend him over the bar and shove your cock up his pretty Yank bum!”
Blushing, Carter sat there quietly in the midst of the group of drinkers, feeling a bit tired and sleepy after the day’s labors, but amused by the increasingly raunchy conversations going on all around him.
Trent was telling a sexually explicit and indeed rather lurid story about one of the new recruits who’d been assigned to the base recently.
According to Trent, this particular young soldier, an innocent Scot from Perth, was assigned to general cleanup duty on the base. He was either homesick or he had the blues about something else, and while he was trying to clean Trent’s room—with Trent lying naked in his bunk the whole time—he got on a crying jag about his problems. Trent encouraged him to cry on his shoulder, so to speak, and the next thing they knew they were both in the bunk naked, with the naïve young soldier eagerly sucking the big corporal’s cock—a process which Trent described with relish and in ear-blistering detail while everybody in their group, but especially the two lesbians, egged him on with explicit questions and comments.
Carter couldn’t believe how open the pub regulars all seemed to be about gay sex. But he kept his own mouth shut while Trent laughingly explained that, after the blow job, the cocksucker from Perth suddenly decided he’d been taken advantage of and he wanted a ten-pound note for his trouble!
“So what’d you do?” one of the dykes asked.
“I just looked at the little punk, standing there in front of me with my spunk dripping out of the sides of his mouth and down his chin, and I laughed at him,” Trent said raucously, fondling one of the two dykes’ braless breasts through her thin, clinging sweatshirt as she smiled and did nothing to discourage him. “He hadn’t even got dressed yet, so he was standing there bare-arsed naked with his dick sticking out, all slimy from where he’d beaten it off while he was sucking me and swallowing my come.”
Desire in the Isles Page 12
