Chapter 25: Where is Veet-Nam?

Monday, October 29

While I was acutely aware that fingers were near triggers, and the fog of war remained thick, I awakened, much more relaxed. A different sort of tension replaced it, however, as I became aware of something warm and wet in my ear, which caused me, half-asleep, to rush to the bathroom.

Terry, it developed, was right behind me. “Oh, damn! I made you waste it. You know my sexual secret; which I share only with the people I trust most -- I love piss play.” She knelt, and licked me. “Still a bit of taste, though. Want me to keep using my mouth?”

“No, dear, not now. Let me be more awake for it.”

I noticed that she was dressed differently than many Companions came to wake me in the morning. She was in a wet-look jumpsuit, zippered from neck to crotch, but not what had become the standard short skirt. “Different outfit?”

“Oh yes. I was asked to convey the new female consensus to you. We’re more likely to wear something simple in the mornings, simply because many partners want to take a shower early in the day, and it’s silly to mess up a careful hair and makeup job. Now, if you ask for that the night before, you’ll get it.

“Right now, we are overbalanced toward women. While that remains the case, we can make night-before arrangements for pairs or more to arrive in the morning, and then have one at a time depart for careful dressing. Now, someone may ask, even before breakfast, once she’s in a miniskirt, to be bent over and fucked, but that’s separate. Incidentally, you have no idea how comforting it is for us all simply to request sex, and know either that the proposition will be joyfully accepted, or, if there’s any problem, we’ll find a surrogate person. I used to kid about Dreaded Semen Buildup, until a doctor taught me that is a fair description of why some vasectomy reversals don’t work -- the body becomes immune to one’s own semen.”

“OK, Terry. We’re going to work on additional recruiting. When we both have some time, let me be sure to drink some beer to get ready for your kink. You’re starting to get me to like it. I’ll just be sure to avoid asparagus but snack on oranges.”

On the diplomatic front

After breakfast, Terry, Lois, and Arlene, our diplomatic team, reviewed the day’s plans, involving continuing negotiations between McCloy and Deputy Foreign Minister Vasily Kuznetsov. On our side, Deputy Secretary of State Gilpatric oversaw them, Secretary Rusk being concerned with broader world events.

Submarines

The Navy continued intensive anti-submarine activities, with sightings of at least four Soviet vessels. They reassured the JCS with clear submarine photographs sent to the JCS Conference Room. Paul actually was a submariner, so he can share his knowledge. Arlene has to be one comment, with her ideas about things going down.” Margaret spoke up. “I’d like to know more about the technology.”

It was Paul’s first attempt to teach through rapport. “Let’s have lunch and relax before trying it. You’ve probably heard that U.S. submarines serve the best food in the Navy, which tends to be true. In fairness, some surface ships have great cooks and a supportive supply officer, but they tend to be good, not great.

“So do the Russian subs, although the menus are distinctly Russian. For example, their breakfast might be cottage cheese, honey, and jam for breakfast; the dinner meal would, according to one officer, “necessarily include red caviar and cured sturgeon fillet”. I was very surprised that they have a daily ration of 100 ml of red wine -- about half a cup -- because our submariners simply don’t tolerate mind-affecting substances. We believe that slight inattention can kill everyone. We have a saying, “There is no such thing as a minor accident aboard a submarine”.

“More cheerfully, they also get a daily chocolate bar. Dried fish, which they call stock-fish, is both a regular ingredient in menus, but also a popular snack. I’d imagine they’d consider some of our dishes to be weird.

“When I had some Embassy duty, though, I definitely learned to like Russian food in general.”

My eyebrows went up. “I didn’t know you had Embassy duty. How’s your Russian?”

“Fluent. Officially, I was a very junior assistant to the Naval Attaché.” Paul looked around the room, carefully. “Sorry, I forget the geas here, that you have the rooms checked, and, overall, it’s a totally secure group. Let’s leave it for now that I helped in some SIGINT, and learned a few fascinating things about Olga, masseuse to the Politburo.”

Back to the Diplomatic

Today’s negotiations involved considerable information exchange. Kuznetsov told McCloy that the Cubans, who were not under full Soviet control, had taken over all anti-aircraft defenses. McCloy expressed surprise, saying we had thought that the Soviets kept control of the most sophisticated weapons. “Ambassador, that is true of the offensive weapons, and nuclear warheads for defensive systems. Otherwise, Cuban fingers are on triggers.”

“Oh. I hope the Soviet Union understands that we would have to hold it responsible were one of our reconnaissance aircraft shot down.”

Kuznetsov, known as a wise and honest negotiator, looked seriously at McCloy, whose biography he had studied carefully. “Ivan Ivanovitch -- John, son of John, in your language -- I speak informally so that I hope you feel my sincerity. My Premier and your President want to avoid war. In your language again, “we got caught redhanded”, but that is no reason not to be adults about the continuing relationship. That being said, we both have to deal with what might be called rebellious teenagers.

“For us, that is the Cubans. For you, it seems to be your military.” He laughed, a strange sound in the environment. “Your General LeMay should be celebrating, not threatening, as he can again get Cuban cigars. If it were to keep him from wanting to blow up the world, I am happy to buy him the finest of Cuban cigars, from my own wallet.” He paused. “Still being silly, I would have to arrange inspectors to be sure that the Castro brothers do not put explosives in them, or that Che does not kill the cigar makers. Personally, I don’t smoke.”

Returning to substantive negotiations, McCloy told Kuznetsov “We fully understood that the Soviets are sensitive about on-the-ground inspections of weapons, even partially dismantled, because that might reveal secret technology. Let me reassure you that the pictures taken by aircraft simply cannot reveal that level of detail. We are willing to involve you in the photographic process, such that you can be assured that we are using the pictures simply to verify presence or removal, not technical intelligence. We are also prepared to let the UN, with appropriate resources, take over that photography.

“That being said, our photographs of day before yesterday did not indicate any marked progress in dismantling, indeed indicated some further construction, although we realized not all sites may have received appropriate orders. We hoped photographs after tomorrow would show such progress.”

“I will investigate your concern. May I ask for copies of the photographs of the facilities about which you are concerned?”

“Of course.” The U.S. did not regard the photographs taken by aircraft as revealing especially sensitive technology, while we would not even hint at the satellite photography or its capabilities.”

“Ogronmoe spasibo, Ivan Ivanovitch. I am happy we work together, honestly, to avoid war.” McCloy understood that he was being wished “a giant thank-you.”

Lois looked up. “I want to hug both of them. Fucking certainly would be available later, but I feel very good about those two.”

Terry responded, “For all my experience, sometimes a hug or kiss is the most intimate of acts.” Without words, we exchanged hugs everywhere in the room.

Wednesday, October 31

“I’ve said that the Navy has been the grownup, but they may be turning into the guy at the bar whose friends take his keys, after this: