Chapter 9: Nights on the Town

Celeus Township’s Civil Services hostel was located, as were all the important civic buildings, near the township’s center. It was just a few minutes’ walk through a light drizzle to reach its front door. While it had been late night back in Diocles Township, it was early evening here. Some off-duty Marines had gathered in the bar of the hostel. From the street I could hear music and laughter. I felt awake and jittery.

When I walked in the front door, there was a lull in the voices as they saw a Navy uniform in a Marine hang-out. In the silence a voice from the bar called out,

“Hey, it’s Lieutenant Steward! Lieutenant, come on back here!” The invitation seemed to release the tension in the room and the voices resumed. I walked back to the bar and saw Private Borden and Lance Corporal Michaels from Second Squad.

The bar was fitted out as a British pub, with low, dark timbers and a darts tournament going on in one corner. A song by the Eurythmics was playing.

“Hey, guys,” I said,

“What’s up?”

“Oh, not much,” said Michaels,

“Just stopped off for a beer with the buds before I went home to the old ladies.” He laughed.

“Dude, I never thought that I’d say that word in plural.” He looked thoughtful.

“The girls are great at draining my nutsack, but a guy needs some downtime with his team.”

I nodded my understanding, grabbed some bar snacks and called for a bourbon and water. I was way past beer in my mind. I tasted the bourbon. It was moderately confused, as if someone had decided that Lexington was somewhere in Manitoba. Ah well, must needs make do.

The guys were great fellows. They weren’t interested in rehashing what happened at Metek’at. They kept their talk to current training, bitching about hard-assed NCOs, and bragging about their concubines and kids. If not for the talk of concubines, I could have been a bar in Killeen, Texas or Ramstein, Germany. After a couple of more beers, they started drifting out, complaining about how their ‘old ladies’ would bitch and moan if they were out too late.

After a few more bourbons, I was alone at that section of the bar. The room was slowly clearing out. A couple of the serving girls were flirting with the remaining customers, trying to get them to come to the back of the house. One succeeded. I was working on another bourbon-of-questionable-ancestry when the madam of the house came over. She was a smart-looking brunette in a Civil Service Decurion’s uniform. She had the bartender draw her a short beer, leaned against the bar and said,

“We don’t get many Navy personnel in this bar.”

“At these prices, I’m not surprised,” I answered. She frowned and I said,

“Sorry. That’s the punch line to an old joke. I decided to get out and see the sights. That led me here. I’m Richard Steward,” I held out my hand,

“and I’m here to scratch an itch.”

She took my hand with a smile.

“I’m Amanda Knox, proprietor of this establishment. I know who you are from the frantic calls I have been receiving from a couple of Sub-Decurions over in Celeus Township. As soon as I saw you enter, I let them know that you were in good hands.” She looked around the room.

“Well, Lieutenant, only about a third of our girls are on the floor serving tonight. Can I invite you back to view our other hostesses?”

“My dear Decurion Knox, please lead me to paradise.” I waggled my eyebrows at her. She smiled tolerantly, and then led me through a set of door into the back room.

She turned and I followed her to a door in the back of the house. We went through and entered a wide hallway, lit with sconces. She reached the second door on the left and held it open for me. With a nod, I stepped through into a room almost comic in its conventionality.

The room was decorated in lace and satin, with Louis XV rococo furniture. Modern fixtures such as video screens were cleverly disguised in scrollwork and breakfront cabinetry. Girls sat around the room playing cards or video games, or reading, or gossiping. As we entered, the madam clapped her hands and the books and cards were laid down, the video shut off, and the girls lined up. As they were lining up, the madam asked her AI interface,

“Yvette, what is the Lieutenant’s status?”

A coy female voice with a comic-opera French accent said,

“The lieutenant has a CAP rating of 8.1 and is living in a mixed family grouping. He currently has four concubines, one of which is male, and ... Oh my! He has openings for two more concubines!”

At this news the atmosphere in the room changed. I wasn’t just a guy looking to get a little on the side, I was a sponsor that could select one of these girls and make her part of my harem. And my harem included another guy. Postures were straightened, chins were lifted, and breasts were thrust out. One cute thing shucked her clothes, and the rest made sure that the draping of their lingerie was even more suggestive and provocative than mere nudity. One of the guys discretely rubbed his cock against the girl next to him, trying to become semi-hard, in case I was into guys, or that I was there that night to take a walk on the wild side.

I looked at the talent arrayed before me and spoke to the ceiling,

“Yvette, contact my office and tell them I am taking two day’s leave.” I turned to the madam and said,

“I put myself in your hands, Decurion. Pick two for me to begin with.”

Hearing the phrase,

“Begin with,” the madam looked at me with an assessing eye, and then looked at the line-up.

“Joyce, Joanne, take the lieutenant to the lodge room. The rest of you, relax.”

Two girls stepped from the line, a large-boned blonde and a small curly-haired brunette. They each took a hand and led me through a door across the room from where I entered. We went down another wide hallway. I grew hard watching the sway of the blonde’s sweet ass. We arrived at a door with the plaque reading ‘Lodge Room’ and they pulled me through a door.

The room we entered was a sharp contrast to the rest of the building I had seen. It appeared to be a room in a rustic lodge in the Canadian Rockies. The walls simulated log construction, trophy heads hung about, through sheer curtains the windows look out upon a moonlit forest. There was a canopy bed with a big, fluffy down comforter. I noticed that the temperature in the room was distinctly cooler than the rest of the hostel. I felt a pleasant shiver.

The cool air had made the girls nipples stand up and beg for a warm mouth. They pulled me towards the bed.

“What would be your pleasure, Lieutenant?” said the tall blonde.

My next coherent memory was waking up with a thundering hangover. I sat up in the bed and looked around. Oh shit. My head kept spinning like I was starring in

“The Exorcist.” Next to the bed was a nightstand with a glass of water and a couple of aspirin tablets. God bless somebody I thought as I tossed the aspirin into my mouth and sluiced them down with the entire glass of cold water. My surroundings started to come into focus. I looked around. Exposed log walls, rough-hewn furniture, antlers decorating a mantle over a dying fire, and through the double-hung windows I saw snow falling in fat flakes. My breath was visible as I exhaled. Oh yeah, this was the ‘Lodge Room.’