Chapter 25. Jessica Visits The Barracks Friday

Friday Afternoon, October 3, 2008

(This chapter is from Jessica’s POV for the rest of Friday, her first partial day as a comfort woman. The balance of her weekend continues in Chapter 7 forthcoming.)

As I crossed the three steps between the vehicles a woman’s hand reached out to me. “Careful, here we are.” She helped me get into the van. I quickly buttoned some buttons.

“Trish? I am glad to meet you. Will you be active this weekend?”

Trish’s reply was to shushed me as she fiddled with the door, buckled my seatbelt and then pounded on the wall, a signal to the driver to start. Once we were moving she whispered, “Yes ... maybe. We were not sure about you...”

“Do you know Do Wong? I had a delightful overnight with her, so you might say I am good to try.”

“Sounds good ... I and the others will be delighted.”

The others? Were there more females in the barracks? If so did they...? Then the music killed my question.

For the drive in the van I was given what looked like a full coverage motorcycle helmet with a opaque visor down and headphones playing music - it seemed to be some hits from the year I graduated high school. One biggie was that “Macarena,” song which could not be avoided. Another was that messed up “Ironic” song which was a special project in my first college Honors English class. The other songs never registered. Well, I was not a typical teenager, that year was for Calculus, Physics, Honors Econ, etc. and not a single date. I was legal but nobody asked. This weekend I had a lot clean, wholesome teenage years to make up for.

The helmet was light, it was a costume piece, but it did the job of blocking senses. I got a quick glimpse around between removing the glasses and donning the helmet. The van had no windows in the cargo area and there was a plywood wall behind the front seats so I never saw the driver. Trish stayed in contact with me on a bench seat that was set sideways.

There was a roughly thirty minute drive - highway and city streets - to what sounded like a parking ramp for an office building. When the van stopped Trish walked me the few steps to an elevator and stayed with me for the ride up. We walked through a few doors and corridors, it seemed confusing but we did not double back.

I got more excited and aroused as we got closer to the destination. I was going to be so fucked. Eric said I was going directly to a group shower room. I was both turned-on and scared as we got closer.

The last room entered was large, the sound was different, more like an empty lecture hall. The last few steps placed us at my bed.

After what Eric did with me in the car I was eager for things to start. I realized now that he was warming and relaxing me. I opened my blouse in the elevator, only two buttons were buttoned and they were mismatched so I imagine Trish saw plenty of my tits during the ride over. She would see more. I opened the remaining buttons in the elevator. At the bed Trish took the helmet and gave me a look. As an answer to her unspoken question I dropped her blouse, slid down my skirt, and stepped out of my shoes. There was no underclothes.

I answered her. “I am ready for a lifetime adventure. Why wait any longer?”

Trish giggled at my eagerness, that was the same in any language.

I glanced around at the barracks and got my bearings. The room was fairly dark because the light fixtures were placed below the level of the beds. That was consistent with sleeping in shifts. There was a central aisle lined on both sides with single beds arranged in pairs with space between them. A short dividing wall, about 6 inches taller than the top of the beds, separated each pair. That meant no privacy. It looked like half-a dozen pairs of beds on each side of the center aisle. Each pair had a tall double storage locker at the back wall between the beds and a chest at the foot of each bed.

My cubical was at one end, it was larger than the others with a queen sized bed with space on both sides. There were two of the tall storage lockers and two chests. As I looked around Trish hung my clothes in the tall locker where several garment hung. It immediately felt like Trish was an enlisted and I was going to be treated as an officer. Except for the fucking of course. I looked at the beds again, I was going to fucked in each one.

In my mind I needed a sense of direction so I thought of this as the east wall. (It said “EAST.”) To the south was another room that looked like a group shower. We had come from the north end of the room, but there had been enough turns before that so I was not sure where the elevator was. I did notice an “exit” sign by a graphic for stairs.

Glancing at the bed I asked Trish, “Do I have a bedmate? Or is this where I meet the customers?”

Trish smiled but covered her mouth with her hand, so I guessed conversation was over for now.

I took a good look at Trish again, with a different perspective. She suggested she was going to be one of my customers. Now that I was naked she was not shy about looking at me, and she liked what she saw, she actually licked her lips while looking at my pussy. Well, I had no problem with being seen.

Trish stowed my shoes, setting out some flip-flops and a shower cap, then pointed to a the door at the south end of the central aisle while smiling and making a “move there” signal. Then she walked away. It sounded like a shower room that was occupied by a handful of people. I put on the shower cap and flip-flops, took a breath and walked into my first ever co-ed group shower.

Just before I entered I realized I was wet with anticipation. I never got that way for my Father’s old partners.

I had never been in any sort of group shower before, the private schools I attended had these little individual suites where we changed, showered and applied makeup. Without makeup we were naked. It was so foolish.

This was an open group shower, much like what you see in movies, with shower-heads along the two long walls and on pillars down the center. There was a spot next to the door where dark green flap-flops were lined up neatly and dry towels were arranged. My flip-flops were pink and had the designation “G1” written on the inside of the heels. I noticed the others all had odd numbers “13” through “21” as designations.

Under the shower heads were 5 males showering like after a work-out. They all looked my age, plus or minus 5 years. I expected to fuck all of them, I could see their cocks stiffen as they looked at me and smiled. The smile was not a leer, it was friendly and welcoming. I took that as a good sign. They all looked friendly, but then, why wouldn’t they? They were guys without regular access to a woman, and here I had just walked in wearing my best birthday suit.

A hot wave of emotion ran over me, anticipation spiced with a little bit of apprehension.

Something else registered, but I did not identify it right away. It was some time before I figured it out. Unlike most gatherings in LA, these people all had a racial similarity one simply does not see outside of family gatherings.

Because I write I have to describe people, so beyond the superficials like hair I look at them like an anthropologist. That was when I sorted out the utter lack of diversity. Forehead, nose placement, jawline, orbital bones, ear flaps, hairline, chin, even skin shading, they were all strikingly similar. These could all be brothers! Even more disturbing was that I saw now how Trish fit the same pattern. Eric also, except he had somethings else, something I suddenly saw as primitive. They were not clones, and they looked too close in age to be siblings, but they had too much in common to be a typical mix. I filed it away and came forward with a smile, that seems to work for most people.

I admit that part of me was scared, possibly a sustained scare deeper than at anytime in her life. This could go bad in so many ways. I was naked, helpless, and did not even know where I was. I could be in fucking Orange County!

But I was also turned on because just that quickly I was immersed - exactly as I had wished for - into the sexual role of the story. I became “Lora, comfort lady at the front, reporting for leg-spreading duty,” and this was as real as it gets.

The men were smiling at me, all ‘there she is’ welcoming smiles that said they were friendly. Stiffening cocks told me what they were friendly about - it wasn’t my big brain. My next observation was that these adult men were all shorter than me, and white. I was just over 5 foot 10 but the tallest was at least 2 inches shorter. Isn’t it funny how height boosts confidence? They were all built of solid muscle, like wrestlers.

The closest one had a good-looking smile and HUGE pectoral muscles. When he gestured for me to approach it seemed normal so I moved closer. There were no washcloths, they were washing using body wash and their hands. It seemed that this guy wanted to share some friendly handling. But he was not pushy and did not touch me, he held out the tube of body wash - I recognized the brand as one that was odor-free - and waited for me to make a move.

I made quick hand gesture suggesting I could jerk him off but he shook that off, as a counter-offer he made a sign indicating that he wanted me to wash his back, then he would do the same. That seemed like a very friendly thing to do. I was here to be friendly, and washing was kind of natural, so I agreed. I got some of the body wash on my hand and made the first friendly move towards washing his back.

I realized that, as I moved my hands over his body as the others watched, I was setting limits. I went down a bit on his butt and did his sides, but I kept it G-rated, like I was making a note in a script. Then he did me, exactly the same way. He did not try to ‘cheat’ by brushing my boobs or anything like that.

When we had both washed each other’s backs he stepped away and the other four surrounded me, then turned around. It seemed they wanted me to wash their backs. Well, I really could not blame them. The four arranged themselves around me so I started to wash the one in front of me and a moment later the other three began to wash my back and my sides. They also skirted around my breasts and my bottom but they got close as they ran their hands over me. They even washed my legs. The contact was very pleasant, not sexual at all.

I kind of wondered why they kept it so clean when they knew what was going to happen later? Why take a little advantage? I realized it was because they were genuinely nice guys.

When they were done they all managed to step away so they were not looking at me. It looked a little like they were playing with themselves. That was more like I expected, except they seemed more like they were giving me some privacy. Then I realized, they were washing their privates, giving each other a little privacy, and were giving me a chance to do the same. That was nice, but maybe it was too nice considering they were going to put those cocks into me soon enough. So I touched them each on the shoulder and signaled them to turn around as we each finished up.

As they moved I brushed one penis, they were all about 40% hard, like they were responding to my presence but did not seem to be expecting a sexual act immediately.

This seemed a well considered way to introduce me to the group, a useful friendly greeting, being helpful and getting over some of the obvious hurdles. Maybe Eric’s idea? They all knew they were going to fuck me, but somebody wanted us to be friendly before that. There was no horseplay or sudden moves, it seemed very relaxed.

I needed to record this initial impression so I touched the recorder on my wrist. When the red light went on they froze where they were. Just like Eric said they would. I had not been sure about that but they stopped everything perfectly. This gave me a sense of confidence and control.

I had expected some of them would understand English, so I planned to make my notes using an abbreviated form of Latin that I and a couple of friends made up in fourth grade. It involved scrambled sentences, rearranged syllables in words, and substitution of some letters. I still used it with these friends so I was facile in it, and for privacy I thought the made-up language of my youth was perfect.

Maybe it was not as original or as undecipherable as I thought. I had the big brain, but these people all thought fast for a living.

After I made the comments and turned off the light they all returned to what they had been doing. It gave me a feeling of power.

The experience was something friendly but adult, explicit and promising. It was also an ‘in action’ communication success so I was quite pleased with it. But I wanted to add something more, something to say I was not just one of the boys.

I stood in front of the first guy again. I knew kissing was not part of the agenda. But I wanted something to open intimacy. I started to lean in, like I was going to kiss him, but stopped. He smiled and extended two fingers slowly towards my lips. I played along by parting my lips and leaning closer so the tips of the fingers entered my mouth. They lightly touched my tongue. It felt like a private intimate act between us, like a kiss would be. What came next I wondered? That was easy, so I made the next move. I spread my legs and moved his fingers from my mouth to my labials. I was not shy, I was aroused and wet, and anxious so the fingers slid into the folds of flesh easily. But just the fingertips entered me as we looked in each other’s eyes. The look and his slightly embarrassed smile acknowledged he was going to fuck me when I let him, not the other way around. He hoped it was soon, but not right now.

I was suddenly very willing to let him have me there on the shower floor, but the feelings deserved more than that. It was a date.

Then the man stepped away and the next one extended his two fingers with a questioning look. “Why not?” I thought. It made me feel a little like a slut as they repeated the moves, the intimate contact and the promise of more. With the exchange I was promising my body to each of these men. We were going to share sexual pleasure.

They all knew that, but this made it better, less slutty and more intimate.

I still felt like a slut, accepting fingers from multiple guys in my mouth was a slut act, but that term was not really fair. Why was that? I realized this was an important point.

I had to make a note. The connotation of a ‘slut,’ which is a term used to shame females, was wrong because they were giving me the power, the initiative. Like a date for lunch, only much friendlier and blessed by those in charge. That was a core idea, something I could base the character on. Instead of “it’s just lunch” do “It’s just sharing a shower” like a casual social hookup. Lora was driven to make intimate contact with each one she opened herself to. I recalled how it was her nature, something in her social upbringing. Maybe in school there were intimacy classes instead of ‘save the planet’ lectures where they played that preachy Al Gore movie.