Chapter 36

As I entered into a third year of, an assumed state, matrimonial bliss, I had oft wondered if getting hitched had ruined a perfectly good friendship. So far so good, but there were many uncertainties. My psychological unknowns exceeded the knowns, which was a principal reason that Dianne and Charlie Brews were assigned as unofficial shrinks for the group. I had thought, at this point, us to be a tight group, but we were, at times as inidivoduals, strung too tight. Dianne had also wondered about the affects of a formal marriage decree on our ardor, thus relating these two interesting conversations, as had been later divulged to me by Dianne.

“Hello Joe, how are you doing? I’ll bet that Jackie was happy to see you return. How was Mark doing when you left the area?”

“Hey, Dianne. The usual shit. We were pushing it a bit too hard, but nothing unsafe. The doc won’t let Mark get too stupid.”

“Surprised to see you and Jackie back to work so soon.”

“She had to be in Twin Falls for the next two or three days; shit going on at the board factory and she has those two classes to teach.”

“Everything okay at the home-front?”

“Fucking wonderful. Why you asking?”

“Uh, no reason.”

“Ya mean, why aren’t we fucking our brains out for a day or two? Woman, I know that Mark wants you to keep a close watch on the gang, but there are limits, ya know?”

“I am sorry, Joe. I did not intend to...”

“Don’t worry about it. I guess Jackie and me are getting old. We are close to fifty, so guess the flames don’t burn as hot anymore. But I still love the woman.”

Damn, makes me feel better just hearing my woman’s voice. Damn I like that voice. Maybe my dumb ass is hallucinating or something. Fuck it, it’s a damn good dream. If this ain’t real, fuck reality.

“Hey, lady. I miss ya. Sorry I’m not there for ya b-day and our annual hitch-up day.”

“I miss you so much, Mark. When are you coming back? What is going on, baby?”

“Can’t say much over this connection. Doc and me are flying our asses off. Ya get the shit I got for ya?”

“I did, Mark. It is a truly beautiful machine.”

“Yeah, your GSX was gettin some mileage on it. So figured that your beautiful ass deserved the latest model. So what ya think of the K5?”

“It’s interesting; it is a big update to the GSX-R1000 series. Did some sprints up and down the runway. Handles well. Torque seems smooth and progressive through all the gears. It is certainly a speed demon. Mark, you did not answer my question. How long, baby?”

“My dick is the same length it’s always been.”

“Mark! I’m going to reach through this phone and choke your smart ass.”

“Geez, Calm your tits. No more than ten days, probably more like five if I keep pushing the schedule and nothing breaks. No fun flying race-tracks without you and the furbags, anyway.”

“Do not push too hard. Do I need to do the disconnect procedure if not running the encryption?”

“Yep, better do it. Enjoy your bike. See ya.”

“I love you, Mark ... Disconnect now.”

Fucking-A. I knew that a new ‘gixer’ would get her all hot and bothered. That bike is probably a fuck-ton faster than mine. Why the fuck don’t Honda make something like that? I guess there’s the Honda VFR model, but it looks retarded. Maybe it’s time for me to look at the Yama-hopper shit. Maybe I should just set my ass on a Suzuki.

“Ready, Mark?”

“Yep. Uh, doc?”

“Yeah?”

“Thanks a bazillion for reminding me to call Dinky. She liked the bike. She’s a happy camper.”

“So you think that the motorcycle is what made her happy?”

“Yep. She was doing too much work on her old bike.”

“Matty and Dianne are correct, you are an idiot. What made her happy was that you remembered, and gave her something that was based on thoughtfulness. Thinking about her and being thoughtful is an essential glue for a marriage. Shit, think about it, Mark. The woman is married to a billionaire. She could have bought a hundred such motorcycles without a second thought.”

“Guess that ya would know. What did ya say? Ya were married for over twenty years? Ya must have done some shit right ... Got the flight plan loaded?”

“Just waiting for the computer to sync ... Let’s call it a night after this one.”

“Nah, Let’s do one more.”

“You are not going to fly anymore after this run. If you insist, I will be PIC for the next run.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever ya say, daddy.”

“Eat shit, Mark. One more thing, these command-line programs sucks.”

“Fine, if ya gonna be a whiner, I will get Tim or Matty to write a pretty little GUI for ya.”

“Gooey?”

“G-U-I. Graphical user interface. It’s what the well-dressed Harvard MBA asshole insists on using.”

“Eat shit, Mark.”

“You already said that. Ya know, doc, have ya ever noticed that them Harvard MBAs are all hitched to women that don’t got anything for tits?”

“Computer link, we are sync’d ... Indicating hard GPS lock ... Ref for sensor platform indicating stab. LNA temps all indicate stab. Shall we dance?”

“I only dance with Dinky. You’re too ugly, anyway.”

“Eat shit, Mark.”

“Good to see you back. Thanks for keeping him under control, Charlie.”

“No problem, he certainly was driven to get back to you, though ... Dianne? Is there some reason you stopped by this morning? Something else you wanted to talk about?”

“This is a bit embarrassing, Charlie ... it is sexual in nature.”

“Is Mark okay? Is he having problems?”

“Oh, no. Quite the opposite. But the issue is sexual, and it is mine. How much do you know about female sexuality?”

“The typical medical academics for a PA. But most of what I know of the female response was gleaned from over twenty years of marriage to a wonderful woman.”

“How did you meet her?”

“We were quite the item during high school. Got married just after boot camp and my ‘A’ school, just before shipping out to Vietnam.”

“Wow. Sounds almost perfect.”

“It was not. No marriage is perfect. So what do you want to discuss?”

“Well, physically at least, Mark and myself are probably close to perfect. But there are times when I am not there, and I do not know where I am. I am lost.”

“Can you be more specific?”

“For the two days after you and Mark returned. Once he started my motor running, it only turned off when we slept, and we only slept for two or three hours at a time. When he gets me going, it is, initially, fantastical. But after several times, I feel as though I am lost among these intense feelings of being permanently connected, no longer a separate person, always at the edge of these cascading orgasms. It is wonderful, but it scares the shit out of me. This will sound weird, maybe a bit insane, but is it possible to go crazy from prolonged pleasure? Why do I feel as though I am losing myself?”

“In the absence of any drug-induced state, and because you lack any paranoiac delusions, there is is no reasonable concern for your sanity. Talk to Mark about it. These type of discussions will bring you and Mark more close ... And for your ears only, my wife described something similar to me, that she had experienced after some of my returns from deployments ... You love him. He loves you. Simple as that, no further analysis required.”

When Dianne revealed this conversation to me, years later, the realization, at least for my dumb ass, was that Dinky and myself had finally become a permanent item. Dinky’s revelation of this conversation enabled me to let go of some of my Darth Vader. Somewhat conversely, there is no reason one can not enjoy the love of a good woman and also go to the Dark Side.

“Dunno what the fuck what them spooks think they saw. I was watching the data stream; I sure didn’t see shit.”

“Look at this ... Stop staring at my boobs and look at this...”

“I’d rather look at your tits ... Damn, okay, just calm your tits, lady. I’m fucking looking ... I dunno, I don’t see shit.”

“You are a lousy analyst. It is what is not there. Farming structures in good and recent repair, but no farming activity. Large live-stock grounds, but no live-stock. Hundreds of acres of plowed fields, but no crops.”

“Yep, you’re right. Sure as shit. I’ll be a flying anteater. So this is what the general was talking ‘bout just before he went dark?”

“I believe so. And look at this pic. Stewart’s people post-processed to a re-scaled over-lay using the near and far IR with the RF emissions map. Look at the composite image I made with their overlays.”

“Holeee fuck-shit. Them stock-pens are the radiators; they’re fucking antennas. Yep, looky here, lady, this is gotta be the induction point. Ya would’ve made a good PI back in my old squadron.”

“What is a ‘PI’?”

“Photo Interpreter. The squadron I was in had a shop full of guys that looked at this shit all day long ... Anyone see if Tim had any Watcher flags that got logged for these two places?

“I looked; nada, baby. Have you seen these other images? ... This may the most obvious pic...”

“Did ya know that I can see all the way down your shirt when ya bend over like that? And did ya know that I can see right through that shirt with this lamp on ‘em?”

“I wondered why you changed the lamp position. You are a pig. But I love you anyway ... Come here, Mark...”

“What the fuck ya doing this extra shit for? Don’t need to add to the bandwidth and latency problems we have now, dude.”

“Relax, Mark. Maybe Dianne needs to be putting a shot of whiskey in your morning coffee.”

“Fuck you, Tim.”

“Eat shit, Mark. Ya going to listen, now?”

“Yeah, okay. Show me.”

“For starters, I did not have shit to do with those systems showing up in Germany and the ‘stan. Some DIA assholes stole the machines from the Interior Department’s shipment and sent them out to the field. It took me almost two days to figure out what the fuck was going on after the State Department IT dweebs set the systems up and they started sending data.”

“Holeee shit. Anyone tell Stewart’s office?”

“Nope, wanted to talk to you and Joe first.”

“I’m gonna drag Dinky in on this.”

“Dude, none of my business and all that shit, but lighten up on your woman. You’re working the dogshit out of Dianne. She loves your dumb ass too much; she’ll never say no to ya.”

“Yeah? Ya think so?”

“So does Joe.”

“Well, shit ... Who is on The Watcher now?”

“Dianne.”

“She had it yesterday.”

“She took Matty’s watch. Probably because Bob just returned from Phoenix.”

“Fuck that shit. Tell Matty to get her ass over to the room, like fucking now. Then get Joe down here and let’s talk ‘bout this shit before we go telling the general’s office anything. I’m gonna go see my woman.”

“Hello, baby. Why are you in the control room? Miss me? Couldn’t live without me?”

“You know it, lady. Ya got everything I’ll ever need ... Dinky, I’m really sorry about this shit.”

“Sorry? What did you do? Did you yell at someone again?”

“Nah. I’ve been using ya for fucking everything. Been thinking ‘bout it. Maybe it’s because I am getting fucked up inside again. I dunno.”

“Come here, baby. Sit down. What’s wrong?”

“I can’t trust anyone else. I only trust you, so you get stuck running all the important shit. I just dunno why, I mean, Tim and Joe are my friends. Known those fuckers forever. They’ve always had my ass covered. What the fuck is wrong with me? Am I going wacko paranoid?”

“There is nothing wrong with you, baby. Mark, look at me. You are the best. No one else could run this insane three-ring circus.”

“I dunno. Ya gotta at least tell me when your tits are too full of my shit.”

“My boobs can take all of your shit, Mark.”

“Yeah? Let me see...”

“That is so disgusting.”

“Glad to see that ya could make it, kiddo.”

“Dinky, you are relieved. Let’s go home. Matty, your poor little Bobby will have to manage without you for a while. Assume the watch, Miss Edison.”

“That would be Mrs Dundron. Getting senile? We were the other couple getting hitched next to you.”

“Whatever. Sit your ass down and get to work. Mush. Dinky? Wanna ride home with me on Dumbshit?”

“Assuming he has not wandered off.”

“ ... this is not a recommendation, Mark. This is a medical instruction. Decrease your running. I did not say to just slow down, I said decrease the frequency and length.”

“Yeah, whatever. You’re about much fun as a wet rag in a monsoon, Charlie.”

“Mark, if you want to avoid the significant downtime from orthopedic surgery and recovery, decrease your running to three or four times per week, and never over two miles. And I would prefer that you run only on dirt or a light vegetative surface, like the meadow next to the creek.”

“Whatever.”

“One more ‘whatever’, and I will call Dianne.”

“Shit, Charlie. Okay, ya fuckin win. I’ll do it. How was Dinky’s checkup?”

“Your wife is in excellent health.”

“Any problems with anyone else?”

“Just non-medical stuff that we can discuss at tonight’s planning meeting. Why did we need another planning cluster-fuck so soon?”