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Follow Focus

Copyright© 2024 by aroslav

Chapter 35: A Little Excitement

Historical Sex Story: Chapter 35: A Little Excitement - Nate and his three girlfriends have graduated from college at last and prospects are good—except for the draft board insisting Nate still has to complete alternative service. But Nate's alternative service will be unlike any that has gone before. It leads him all over the world as he and Ronda visit embassies to install new passport cameras. And there are those in the world who don't care about diplomatic immunity as Nate is hijacked, kidnapped, and sent to the heart of the war zone.

Caution: This Historical Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Fa/Fa   Consensual   Heterosexual   Fiction   Historical   Polygamy/Polyamory  

“WHEN WAS THE LAST TIME the four of us were traveling across country in a van?” Anna asked as we piled into our Suburban. Ronda took the front seat next to her and I took the backseat next to Patricia.

“Where are the kids?” I asked.

“Grandparents!” Patricia exclaimed. “We couldn’t really bring them to the airport in the middle of the night.”

“It feels like we should pull over someplace and ‘camp’ for an hour. I love you, baby!” Ronda said scooting to the center seat next to Anna.

“Why don’t we?” Anna said. “Maybe we aren’t equipped to camp like we used to be—especially since there’s snow on the ground—but there are plenty of little motels between here and Tenbrook.”

None of us needed any further encouragement.


We didn’t lie around in bed for too long Thursday morning. We headed into Tenbrook and were at Patricia’s parents’ house by ten. Then we simply had a few days to hang around Tenbrook, visit friends, and make sure the kids had a good Christmas celebration. I reminded Toni there wouldn’t be snow in Oman, so we should enjoy it while we had it.

We stayed in the hotel. It was sad to see that since the movie production had moved on, a lot of the life in the town seemed to go with it. It was the same sleepy kind of town that I moved into eight years earlier, though it had been scrubbed and painted. No one else was staying in the hotel.

Patricia, Toni, and I went out to visit Tony’s grave and make sure it had flowers on it for Christmas.

“I saw the place where the soldiers were kept in Oakland while they waited to be shipped out. There’s not a lot there now. It was a depressing place,” I said.

“They aren’t shipping anyone else to Vietnam now,” Patricia said. “It took a long time, but we succeeded, Nate. We stopped a war.”’

“I wonder if there was ever a time when the people of a nation rose up to stop a war before. Still seems most people would rather start one,” I said. “And it’s not true that no one is being sent there now. No American combat troops are in Vietnam. Did you ever wonder how many guys are in Laos and Cambodia? And how many people are there who aren’t in combat? Advisors. Embassy guards. Even people keeping the airport running. One of the guys we trained said there would be a hundred pilots flying in and out of Saigon to evacuate people. Thousands of Americans in Vietnam. And dependents. Guys who were there are still trying to get their Vietnamese wives and children out of the country.”

“Tony, we’re still fighting against the war, honey,” Patricia said. “We’re still trying to get everyone home safely. Maybe even something Nate and Ronda are doing with the embassies will help. We will always love you and respect what you did.”

“Love you, father,” Toni said, patting the stone.

Then she took Patricia’s and my hands and we walked back to town. I swore I would be the best daddy my little girls could ever have.


We spent Christmas Eve with the Bergs since they had a celebration much like my family had. Christmas morning, we made the rounds to Anna’s family, Ronda’s family, and a trip out to see the Kowalskis before we headed back to Camp Otterbein.

Mom and Dad had decorated the cabin with everything they could find. Dad had even managed to get a twelve-foot Christmas tree erected in the main room near the fireplace. That room had no second floor, but was open all the way to the roof. They called it a cathedral ceiling, which I though was kind of funny for a log house.

Kat and Julie were there, too. I hadn’t seen any life around Julie’s house the few times we’d driven by. There was a for sale sign in the yard.

“Yeah, Mom and Dad told us they’d be over in Des Moines for Christmas. That’s where Chris and Carl live with their two little ones now,” Julie said. “They wanted me to come with them, but that guy is just too creepy. Brian didn’t even want to go. We’ll go over to Tenbrook Sunday and spend a few days before we go back to Minneapolis.”

“I’m sorry you don’t have a better relationship with your sister,” I said.

“She chose her life,” Julie said, matter-of-factly.

“And how’s my sister doing?” I asked.

“Pretty good,” Kat grinned. “My sweetheart keeps me on the straight and narrow. You wouldn’t believe how much dope there is on the art school campus!”

“I hope you’re staying away from that.”

“It has a certain attraction, but I don’t need that. Not yet, at least. I’m afraid it might alter my style before I’ve really settled into it,” Kat said.

“How’s that coming? I kind of fell into my style because of the opportunities I had.”

“Yeah, you sure had opportunities. But I have a lot of opportunities, too. I’m definitely into drawing and painting women. But my instructors have really pushed me to broaden my horizons. I actually have an entire class this year on landscapes. I do pretty well, but I keep thinking that a scene would be perfect with a naked girl in the middle of it.”

“And here I thought it was just me and you didn’t want any other girls,” Julie mock pouted.

“Oh, honey, you’re so beautiful I forget to paint you. I just want to sit and stare at you. And touch you. And kiss you. And ... you know.”

“Yeah, I know,” Julie giggled.

“So, we’ll graduate in a year and a half,” Kat continued. “I’m putting my reservation in now. I’ll have my senior exhibition in May of ‘76. I expect you to attend.”

“We wouldn’t miss it!”


After our Christmas celebration and spending a couple of days out in the wilderness playing, Kat and Julie left for Tenbrook and Dad drove the six of us and our luggage to O’Hare for the long trip back to Oman—the last leg of our State Department assignment. In May, I’d be finished with my alternative service and could make a rational decision about what I wanted to do with my life. I was seriously thinking of going back to grad school and learning some of the new processes. Cameras were really changing and I wanted to keep up. I still preferred my black and white portraiture, but I was getting along fine with color transparencies and prints. Maybe I needed to learn color negative processing.


A lot had happened the last month of 1974. We’d trained in three Arabian countries. We’d visited Jane and Peter in London. We’d trained on three US bases. We’d been to another movie premiere. We’d visited family in the States. America had a new Vice President, Nelson Rockefeller, so it was the first time in history that neither the president nor vice president had been elected. And on the day after New Year’s, we heard that Haldeman, Ehrlichman, and Mitchell were found guilty in the Watergate break-in. At least it didn’t look like Ford was going to pardon them like he had Nixon.

The ambassador and his wife left Oman just before we got back. The next week, the Sultan would be paying an official visit to the US and would meet with the president, vice president, secretary of state, and anyone else they could foist him off on.

But Ronda and I had our next trip planned out. We reviewed the plans with Mr. Martin by phone and he approved them. We’d be heading to Tanzania, Zambia, Malawi, Botswana, Madagascar, and Mauritius. There would be no visits made to Uganda, Barundi, Rwanda, Swaziland, or Lesotho. We weren’t delivering equipment to Mauritius, the tiny island in the Indian Ocean. We would simply bring them greetings from the State Department and photograph the dozen or so employees in the tiny embassy.

Our crew was excited about having had a month off to visit home, but they were happy to be back in the air. Robert didn’t go with us on this trip, but we had a pretty good time.

We got back to Oman on Friday the twenty-fourth. Adrienne was at the house waiting for us when the embassy car brought us home.


“We’ve had such a good time this week. Toni took Adrienne to school with her. We went to the markets. We went to a few very fashionable stores and got new clothes,” Patricia said.

“I’m so happy you could come to spend some time with us, Fifi,” I said. “Especially to spend time with Anna and Patricia since Ronda and I got to see you last month.”

“But you get her for another week,” Anna said. “And where are you going to take her off to?”

“We’re scheduled for Iran and Afghanistan next week,” Ronda said. “We won’t be more than four days. Then we need to come home and prepare for our next long trip to Pakistan and Nepal.”

“You are world travelers,” Adrienne laughed.

“It’s almost over now,” I said. “Just three more months and we can go home.”

“I used to think world traveling would be so much fun,” Patricia said. “But now that I’ve been in Puerto Rico, England, and Oman, I’m thinking settling into our nice little home and staying put will be quite nice.”

“You won’t find me arguing about it,” I laughed.

We enjoyed our weekend and then took off again on Sunday afternoon. This time, Robert and Adrienne were both with us. Adrienne still had the black passport she’d been issued in order to accompany me on the trip to New Zealand and Australia, so she was clear to travel with us.

Robert was quite taken with our beautiful mistress.

“Do you travel a lot, Adrienne?” Robert asked. We were gathered on the sofa and adjoining seats.

“Some. I visited Nate and the family in London, and in Stratford, Ontario. Two years ago, I traveled with Nate to Australia and New Zealand. That was a lovely trip.”

“Ronda was staying close to Patricia and our newborn,” I said. “It’s hard to believe our little darling will be two years old in three weeks.”

“But you are originally from France?” Robert asked.

“Yes. I was sponsored to come to America several years ago and traveled extensively with our sponsor for two years. Ill health curtailed his travels, but he sent me to several entertainment industry events on his behalf. Like the Cannes Film Festival,” Adrienne said.

“You have some remarkable experience for one so young,” Robert said. “But look at Nate and Ronda. They travel far and wide.”

“All thanks to Uncle Sam,” I laughed.

“Relax and enjoy the trip,” Nancy said. “Anyone care for a drink? We’re five hours from Kabul.”

“Kabul?” I said. “I thought we were going to Tehran first. Am I that confused?”

Ronda started sorting through her papers and nodded. Robert pulled out his itinerary.

“Mine says Kabul,” he said. “I picked it up from the Telex on Thursday.”

“I’ll bet Josie had to make an adjustment for something local,” Ronda said. “It happens.”

“I didn’t even look at the itinerary we picked up when we got back Friday. I just made sure the order for equipment and supplies was correct,” I said.

We had a relaxing flight to Kabul and even had a drink with dinner. When we arrived, we went to our hotel with the plane locked up securely. In the morning, I went out to the plane with the pilots and an embassy car to collect the equipment. Ronda, Adrienne, and Robert went on to the embassy.

The training went smoothly and we were able to deliver our packet to the ambassador. He invited us to dinner.

“Afghanistan is the only one of the ‘stans’ that wasn’t absorbed into the Soviet Union,” the ambassador instructed us. “And it is definitely under Soviet influence. At the same time, stubbornly resisting. Turkmenistan, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, Kyrgyzstan, Tajikistan are all Soviet states. The USSR is trying to buy Afghanistan. They are pouring millions of dollars into the economy. Afghanistan continues a policy of non-alliance, but Daoud is taking money from everyone he can convince to make a concession. Even China has invested here in several gemstone mining operations.”

“Is the country stable?” Ronda asked.

“Stability is an interesting concept. As long as Daoud can maintain control, things are stable. But like most Middle Eastern nations, this one is made up of several tribal factions. To them, central government is a matter of convenience. They are uninterested in most world affairs as long as they are left alone. I’m afraid the Soviets won’t leave them alone for long. They want a return on their investment and will pressure Daoud to give them more control.”

“Should we not be leaving equipment here?” I asked.

“There are over 100,000 Afghan refugees in Pakistan. We can stem some of that tide by issuing US visas. But the big question will be what happens when the Daoud government falls? It will, eventually. Either the US needs to be ready with a massive aid package for the people of Afghanistan, or we need to withdraw and leave them to their own. There is no way we should ever become embroiled in a conflict here. It would make Vietnam look like a cakewalk.”

Those were all sobering thoughts. The next day, we were given a tour of Kabul, conducted by the embassy military attaché, Lt. Col. Rolf Jacobs. This was mostly for Robert’s benefit, but we enjoyed it, too.

“I’m thankful for the wall around the chancery every day,” Rolf said. “I just wish you could put a protective bubble over the top of it.”

“Are you afraid of rocket attacks?” Robert asked.

“Oh, sure. Rocket attacks and bombing raids. But we have more present dangers,” Rolf nodded. “Arabs love their guns. They love to shoot them off. For any reason. Wife had a baby? Shoot a few rounds off in the air to celebrate. Maybe the neighbors will bring their guns out to join you. Wedding? Let’s all shoot a few up in the air. They have no concept that bullets come down. People are injured or die almost every day.”

“That’s a sobering thought.” We heard some gunshots in the distance and looked at each other. It was time to head to the airport.

When we boarded the plane to Tehran, Ronda and I compared our notes and composed our report. We arrived Wednesday near sundown and were more than ready to get to our hotel. The trip from Kabul had been turbulent and the landing bounced us all over. Ronda ran for the head and threw up.

“Honey, will you be okay?” I asked. I reached to touch her through the open door.

“I’ll be okay in a minute. Nancy, can you get my bag? I need to change my blouse.”

“Yes, Ronda. Nate, you go ahead and get things together with the guys. I’ll take care of getting Ronda pulled together,” Nancy said.

I took Adrienne with me and joined the pilots and Robert at the cargo hatch behind the plane. I saw the embassy car pull up a few feet away from the plane. The driver efficiently got out and opened the boot.

“We’ve got a problem with one of the cargo straps,” Jay said from inside the hold. “It’s twisted in the feed.”

The camera was free and I shoved a box of ID blanks to Adrienne as I picked it up.

“We’ll take these things to the car and let them know we’re tied up,” I said. I looked at Adrienne as we walked to the car. “Are you okay? That was a heck of a landing.”

“It’s nice to have my feet on the ground,” she laughed. “I’m not ready for a long car trip, though.”

I set the camera case in the boot and reached to take the box from Adrienne.

Suddenly, I no longer held the camera. The lid of the trunk was slammed down on my head and I slumped forward. I heard Adrienne’s muffled scream just as I lost consciousness.


We were bouncing over rough terrain when I awoke. Railroad tracks, I decided. My head hurt. I couldn’t see. A black bag was tied over my head and my hands were cuffed behind my back. I shifted a little and felt Adrienne beside me. I knew it was her by the scent. I loved that perfume. She reached over to touch me behind her back, letting me know she was also handcuffed.

We rode in silence another five minutes. When the car stopped, someone got out and we heard a door screeching open. The car pulled into someplace even darker than the sack over my head.

The driver got out of the car and there were voices nearby, speaking in a foreign language. I could recognize Arabic, but this was slightly different. I assumed that since we were in Iran, they must be speaking Persian. The screeching door closed and the trunk of the car was opened and our equipment removed. We were left alone in the car.

“Are you okay?” I whispered.

“They took me by surprise before I could defend you, master. I am sorry.”

“We’ll find a way out.”

I didn’t know what that way would be, but I stopped my panic to think what we’d been carrying. I snorted softly. Whatever they thought they had, they were going to be sorely disappointed. I hoped that was good.

Our captors were back and we were pulled out of the car. After being marched about fifty steps, with another door closed behind us, we were seated on straight chairs. Lights came on, though it didn’t help since we were still blindfolded. The bags were opaque enough that we couldn’t see through them, but I’d never want to use one to change film in. They leaked light. It didn’t strike me that we were all that well-secured, aside from the handcuffs.

Soon, the bags were stripped off from behind.

In front of us was a table with the camera case and the box of ID card blanks. Behind the table stood Major Maurie Sanders. I snorted again and Adrienne glanced over at me.

“What do you find so funny, Mr. Hart?” the Major asked.

“Well, Maurie. It’s just so unpleasant to see you again,” I said.

“It’s Major to you, kid.”

“You’re still outranked,” I sang back. “In fact, I should thank you for the latest promotion. Your stunt in Greece made the boss decide I needed a raise.”

“What did you do? Get a medal for outstanding bravery as you sat and drank your scotch while I left?”

“It was more like a congressional citation for humor. When I told the story, I thought Wally Morgan was going to die laughing.”

“He hates being called Wally.”

“Like you hate being called Maurie? I don’t have a hatred fixation on my name. I’ve heard they usually come from a general feeling of inadequacy. Parental shunning, perhaps. Still trying to prove something, Maurie?”

“Shut your trap. All I want from you is the instructions for how to produce a passport with this device. It’s worth a lot of money.”

“More than the $600,000 you jumped out of the plane with?”

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