Chapter 3

Sleep was a total impossibility for Dianne though she had gone shamefully to her room, plunged it into darkness and crawled onto the bed to avoid looking at her own conscience-stricken face. That she had not only let it happen, but had even encouraged it was now so incredible to her as to be like the living unreality of a nightmare one finally awakens to bathed in cold perspiration... except that this was no bad dream... it was the horrifying truth!

She couldn't cry. It might have helped, but venting tears had never been a part of her character. Though how in God's name she could ever face her husband again after the obscene lechery of her act with the young boy was at that moment beyond all reasoning. Her brain felt like the main-spring of a watch that had been wound too tight and unable to perform.

How long she lay there in an almost numbed state of bitter remorse before getting up again, slipping on her robe and quietly going into the kitchen, the guilt-filled, young wife had no idea. Her slender hands trembled as she poured Bacardi into a glass, filled it with ice and added Cola, the only alcoholic drink she had ever been able to stomach, and certainly she had to have something before that main-spring helplessly snapped! She carried her glass into the living room to sit in the darkness near the front window, unable even in her wretchedness to deny the tiny sensations of lust still lingering inside her from her lewd sucking of Kye's young virile hardness!

The handsome teenager had shockingly amazed her in every respect, Dianne thought as she sipped rapidly at her Cuba Libre. His genuinely innocent immoralness... lying there openly stroking himself... and the obscene things he had told her... God, it had all been too much for her in the smoldering, sensually fired existence she'd been struggling through, waiting forever it seemed... waiting for Mark... And what was there about her pilot husband which had suddenly given her an uneasy feeling, as if there were some shady mystery connected with him?

Dianne emptied her glass and quietly went to the kitchen for another. Kye would know, she felt certain... if he would tell her. She returned to her chair in the darkened shadows of the living room, deciding that she would question him as soon as possible... tomorrow morning, perhaps... if she could face him...

He'd actually been sleeping when she had finally raised her head from his sperm-drained young loins, a trace of his inevitable smile fixed on the handsome lips of his contented, teenaged face. She hardly remembered how long she'd lain there with the spent flaccidness of his long, softened penis still between her gently nibbling lips, futilely struggling against the wave of anguish she knew was going to overwhelm her... and it had. But now, with the soothing warmth of the Bacardi working into her blood-stream, she was beginning to unwind a bit and her pangs of guilt lessening.

By the time Dianne had finished her second drink she'd concluded that she could live with her sordid skeleton, but that she must have Kye's sworn promise never to reveal their secret... and to never do anything like that in front of her again! In fact, she would insist that he vow to stop his lewd playing with himself altogether... ! And then, she smiled to herself in the darkness. Of course, it would be impossible to hold him to that, being that he was a very lusty young man, but he surely could be more discreet about it just as she would have to be if he were to remain with them!

A little tremor of excitement rippled through Dianne's soft, susceptive body at the latter thought, and she arose intending to go to the kitchen for one last drink. They'd tasted so good besides lifting her spirits, but she was no drinker and two were plenty she decided. Anyway, she knew she could sleep now.

Naked to the waist with his skin a rich tanned color, the broad-shouldered, thick-chested blond teenager straightened up from his yard work to look at Kye sitting on the rim of his wheel- barrow. He licked at his red, wormish lips with thick tongue, his small blue eyes narrowed in a doubting expression;

"You sure've got an awful lot of shit, Kye, for one little guy," he partially sneered. "How the hell old did you say you were?"

"Fourteen... almost fifteen!" the slender Vietnamese replied, surprised at his new friend's put down.

Olaf Jensen's sneer became a one-sided grin. "Well, I'm sixteen and almost seventeen, buddy, and if I'd laid just half the dolls you say you have I'd figure myself a real cock-hound."

"Cock-hound... ? What is that, some sort of animal?" Kye innocently questioned.

"Yeah, human animal!" Olaf said, sniggeringly wondering if the scrawny fink actually thought he believed all the crap he'd been trying to hand out about fucking, pimping, and getting sucked-off everytime he turned around. "The way I see it, you Vietnamese must run around with your stiff cocks in your hands all the time so you don't wear out the flies of your pants!"

Kye thought about that, finally deciding his big friend was making a joke. Olaf was laughing, so he laughed with him. Then, he said:

"No, it is not quite like that, Olaf, but I do not lie to you. In Saigon things are very different than her in La Berdina. There is always a girl ready to fuck or suck you, but usually for a price. It is the way she gets money to eat, or help take care of her family. There are always many Joes who pay well and because I use to bring them to my girls, Kim, Chen, and Lea, were very generous with me... especially when business was slow and they were high on yum-yum..."

"High on what?" the big boy interrupted.

"Yum-yum. It is a drug, an aphrodisiac the girls take to make them very hot so they will do a bang-up good fuck job on Joe and make sure he comes back!" Kye explained.

"Never heard of it," Olaf said, his doubting expression returning. "Sounds to me like more of your shit, Kye..."

"Is not shit!" Kye snapped, feeling anger for the first time with his new friend. "Is almighty goddamned truth! Yum-yum is an ancient drug used in my country for centuries! Really, its name is Dhattura! The girls put it in their tea and fuck all night without ever stopping they are so hot! The Joes who have been there all know! You ask any Joe... !"

"Huh! I don't know any Joes," Olaf said, bending back down to his work and still not convinced that he should believe the skinny little bastard. "Anyway, you better keep that cock of yours in your pants around her, buddy, or somebody might blow your lousy head off."

"Who would do something like that... blow my head off?" Kye questioned, amazed that anyone should get that angry over such a natural thing.

"Ha, just about any chick's old man who might catch you slipping it to his daughter, is all," Olaf sneered, wondering if the goddamned dope was as stupid as he pretended. "You want to let laid, fellow, you better high tail it back to Vietnam and your yum-yum broads, 'cause you can bet no American dolly's going to fuck or suck you!"

To Kye, there was suddenly no question but what the big teenager had meaningfully insulted him. His emphasis on the word you had separated Kye from all others, and he knew it was because of his Asian blood. He was hurt, but more enraged than anything. Now, he wished he had brought Sergeant outside with him instead of leaving him so Mrs. Dianne could feed him. He would order the big animal to take a fat chunk right out of this grinning sonofabitch's almighty goddamned ass!

"So, maybe you're wrong like hell, Mr. Olaf!" Kye spat at him, getting to his feet. "Because Kye's already been sucked until his balls almost burst like a fucking mortar shell... and by an American dolly, too!"

"Here we go, more shit!" Olaf sneered, then chuckled as he wagged his big blond head.

"Let's see you explain your way out of this one, yum-yum boy? Just where the hell you been to meet any American girls, eh?"

"Right here! Where in the almighty goddamned hell do you think?" Kye swore, too angry to say more as he started toward the front gate to the street.

"Hey, wait a minute, Kye! Where are you going?" the husky teenager called after him, his lustful interest really fired this time by the other's insistently honest tone. "Come on back and tell me about it! I believe you, no crap..."

"No crap is right!" Kye snapped, for the first time feeling he had the upper-hand with this big oaf he no longer was sure was his friend. He would have to walk to the park and think about that, for friends were very important to him, such as Captain Mark and Mrs. Dianne. In Saigon, one always was skeptical of so-called comrades. Too many times they would turn out to be just that... the enemy... but he had thought all American were buddies. Now, he didn't know what to think...

Dianne had slept, but not restfully. She had dreamed insensible, sordid things which she barely remembered upon awakening to a brilliant sunshine. Evidently, she'd cried in her sleep, too, for her eyes were puffy and red-rimmed when she'd opened them. The soothing effect her midnight drinks had taken was long gone, though, the warm glow of a new California day helped. She immediately thought of her obscene performance with the young boy, but forced herself not to dwell on it. Then Mark and the mysterious "whatever" surrounding him raced into her mind and she bolted from the bed, remembering she intended to question Kye.