Trouble Triangle (Tyler's Trouble Trilogy) (8 page)

A huge mirror hung directly over the toilet, angled down from the wall, aimed at my crotch. Master Chief handed me the bottle. I took my penis out and prepared to fill it up. In the mirror, I could see my dick, with Master Chief behind me, looking at my dick; so I stretched it a little. I tried to pee, but nothing came out. Master Chief ran some water from the sink, trying to induce my urine to start flowing. Still, nothing. After a few minutes of Master Chief getting a good, long look at my dry dick, I gave up.

"Sorry, Master Chief. Not ready yet."

He unlocked the door and we returned to the waiting bench.

"Looks like you got stage fright," Master Chief said. "Well, we'll just sit here and drink water until you're ready to explode, then we'll try it again."

I drank copious amounts of water. Master Chief held the highest enlisted rank achievable, which I found daunting. He just stared straight ahead, not speaking. His silence added to my nervousness. Given his seniority, perhaps talking to him and learning something about Navy adventures would make me feel more at ease with the man
designated to look at my penis.

I took a drink of water and wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "How long you been in, Master Chief?"

He turned his head and gave me a 'Why the fuck are you talking to me?' look. He turned his head back, looking ahead. "Twenty-five y
ears," he replied dismissively.

I cleared my throat. "Wow. I bet you've seen some things. Ever thought about writing a book?"

"In progress. 'My Love Affair with the Navy'." He held his head up toward the ceiling in a reflective mood.

What a crap title. I let the conversation end there and drank more water quietly. Ten glasses of water later, and the desire to pee moved up from a mere order to a full-blown state of emergency.

"I'm ready, Master Chief."

We went back to the head, and I stood there. Penis in one hand, plastic bottle in the other, Master Chief in the mirror. Nothing. Not being able to any pee added to my anxiety. I stood there for two minutes without producing a drop.

"Sorry, Master Chief. False alarm."

We returned to the bench, and I resumed my water consumption. I really had to go, but some guy staring at my dick proved to be a little off-putting, to say the least. Another forty minutes of drinking water, and I was ready to fill a bathtub. I hoped I could make it to the head before I pissed myself.

"Ready, Master Chief," I announced.

Master Chief leaned in, his face inches from mine. He spoke through clenched teeth. "Goddamn it, Chambers. If you don't go this time, I'm
gonna
personally grab your dick and wring the piss out of it." He held th
e face-off for several seconds.

In the head, I stood over the toilet ready to fill the little bottle with enough pee to flood the Pacific Ocean. A sharp pain stabbed my groin, and I shifted my weight. I had to piss like a Russian race horse. Images of Master Chief grabbing my dick like a cow's udder flashed through my mind. I winced at the thought. Closing my eyes, I leaned my head back as far as it would go.
Water fall. Running faucet. Rain. Anything wet. Just piss!

Piss whizzed through my dick, and I sighed. "
Ahhh
…" Yes, pure bliss. The relief was unimaginable, nearly orgasmic.

"Chambers! Put your goddamn dick in the bottle," Master Chief screamed, "You're spraying piss all over the place."

I snapped my head down and opened my eyes to see that my hand holding the bottle had dropped out of the firing line and pee splattered everywhere. I lifted the bottle and redirected my aim. Piss came out with such force, it hit the bottom of the container and ripped it out of my hand, sending it bouncing off the tiled walls and around the room like a ping-pong ball. I tried to stop the flow of pee while I retrieved the bottle, but failed. Chasing the bottle around the room, dick out, pee spraying, all to the sounds of Master Chief shouting 'goddamn it' in the background. I finally managed to grab the bottle, but not before piss sprayed across the
toes of Master Chief's boots.

With bottle and dick back in hand over the toilet, I continued to release the gallons of water squeezed into my bladder. Filling the bottle to the brim in milliseconds, I continued peeing into the toilet. It didn't make a whole lot of difference where I aimed anymore given the amount of urine already on the floor.

With nothing better to think about, I wondered if Master Chief would have a chapter in his book about his duties as a wiener watcher, and, more importantly, if my dick would get a mention. With the show I gave him, it just might.

I did laugh as I spent the next hour cleaning up the head, thinking about Master Chief's sole purpose in life for a time was to look at my dick, and perhaps have footnotes about it. Maybe he'd have to call them
dicknotes
.

I didn't laugh quite so much when he told me I would be giving his boots a top of the range spit-shine and polish everyday for a month.

Autumn in Hawaii offered a little relief to the heat of summer. It was still very warm, but more pleasant as the heat wasn't quite so blistering. Holly and Debbie kept me guessing what the future may hold, but Mark often had ideas of how to bea
t the stress of everyday life.

Mark and I got off work one Friday evening and headed back to our room to get cleaned up and hyped for the weekend.

"I suppose you'll be going out with Holly tonight," Mark said.

"No, I need to give it a rest. Man, she's
doin
' my head in. She's a bit of a control freak. I'll break it off eventually, but I need to stay with her for a while so she doesn't feel like I just used her."

Mark shook his head. "I still can't believe you're going to dump her. After what she did for you, I thought you'd worship the ground she walked on."

I laughed. "No, she does that herself. Yeah, I owe her one, but…. Hey, you want to hear something else? Debbie wants me to stuff her one because she's not sure if she's gay or not."

He rolled his eyes. "I don't believe this. You
gonna
do it?"

"It's tricky." I drummed my fingers over my lips. "If Holly finds out, well, I know she's good with paperwork and could come up with something to get me thrown out. Or Debbie might tell Holly that we slept together just to get back at her. Man, it's a mess. I always wanted to get it on with Debbie, and now that she's offering, I'm scared it might all blow up in my face."

"So you told her no, then?"

I sighed. "Umm…not exactly. I'm stringing her along. I told her I strained a groin muscle doing the six-hundred-yard run during the physical fitness test, and I don't know how long it will take to heal. I need some time to think about this one."

"Well, I know just what you need." He slapped his thigh. "Let's go down to Shit Street and check out some strip joints."

I rubbed my hands together. "Now you're talking."

#

We both showered, changed and got a taxi down to the run-down part of Honolulu, Hotel Street. Known by all sailors and taxi drivers as Shit Street. We got out of the cab and walked past various massage parlors, tattoo artists, strip joints and scam artists, stepping over the odd drunk laying on the sidewalk now and then, and shunning the
tarted
up ladies of the evening asking us if we wanted a 'date.' No wonder it was a popular hangout for servicemen.

Mark and I went into a packed bar, Jezebel's. The place was a dive and reeked of stale beer and marijuana. A heavy layer of smoke made it impossible to see across the room. It was fairly dark except for the spotlights illuminating the stage. The strippers weren't bad looking, but most were strung out on dope or drink, and would do anything for a tip. Military personnel occupied all the tables, with a dozen guys standing at the edge of the stage slipping dollar bills into the current stripper's garter belt.

She leaned over one guy at the edge of the stage. The place erupted in cheers when he reached up and pulled both tassels off her nipples.

We pushed through the room and made our way to the bar. I shouted out our order, then with beers in hand, we worked our way down toward the stage and found a spot where we leaned against the wall just to the left of the stage and not too far from the stripping action.

A new dancer came on stage and began her routine. She peeled off her garments in a seductive fashion, and was soon down to a bra equivalent and g-string as
Bette Davis Eyes
by
Kim Carnes played. She sashayed off stage and clambered down the four steps in her spiked heels and stood in front of us. Cheers went up as she grabbed Mark's hand and led him toward the stage.

Just a few feet before the steps up, she whispered in Mark's ear. He removed her hand from his and walked back to me. He leaned against the wall and took a drink of beer.

"What are you doing, man? She's hot," I pointed out.

"She said she wanted me to have sex with her onstage."

"Well, this
ain't
no stage." I pushed him toward the limelight. "Why aren't you up there giving her one?"

"If you're such the porn star, why don't you go up and drill her?"

I handed him my beer, ran my fingers through my hair and headed for the stage. I leapt up the steps, walked over to her and began a slow hip swivel, as she did. I undid her bra, revealing her tits to the crowd which received rapturous applause.

As I groped her boobs, she whispered in my ear. "
I want you to fuck me onstage."

I leaned down and removed her thong. For a moment, I just stood there admiring her nakedness. She rubbed me through my pants until I was hard. She dropped down on all fours and turned her head back to look at me. "Come on, big boy. Make me scream."

I pulled my pants down, dropped to my knees and moved in behind her. I looked out into the cheering crowd, which proved to be a huge mistake. I couldn't pee with one guy looking at my dick. Now I had about two-hundred guys urging me on to jam this stripper. I turned into a shrinking violet before their very eyes.

The cheers turned to boos. I tried to think of
Farrah
Fawcett to regain my former glory, but it didn't work. The crowd turned ugly: jeering and throwing cans and ashtrays at me. I quickly did up my pants up and exited the stage.

As I came down the steps, some jarhead connected a left hook with my right eye, sending me crashing to the deck. "Queer," he shouted. I scrambled to my feet while he assumed a boxing pose, fists up and dancing on his toes like a Golden Gloves champion. He looked like he really did know how to box, so I kicked him in the balls. He dropped to his knees, and I planted a size ten in his face. Fists flew all around me, and I indiscriminately returned fire. Punches landed on me, and mine landed on whoever was closest.

I dropped to the floor and crawled toward the exit, suffering kicks to the ribs and face along the way, but I made it out to the street. I sat on the curb nursing my wounds.

Mark came out and sat next to me.

I looked at him through already swelled eyes. "Yeah, great idea," I said. "Let's go down to Shit Street."

"Look, Chambers, if you didn't try to fuck everything that moved, you wouldn't be in half the trouble you are." He assessed the damage to my face. "Damn, you really got your ass kicked."

"I see you got tagged a few times yourself." I fumbled around for a cigarette and lit it. "What am I going to tell Holly?"

"Tell her you tried to prevent a mugging and ten guys came out of nowhere and kicked your ass."

"Yeah, right." I took a drag off my cigarette. "Like she's really
gonna
buy that."

"Okay, how 'bout this?" He clasped his hands together. "Well, love of my life, I went down to Shit Street, and some stripper begged me to publicly fornicate her. So, I obliged. Only
problem was, I couldn't get it up, so some jarheads beat the crap out of me." He smiled. "Pretty good, huh?"

I took a drag and
blew
smoke in his face.

#

"What the hell happened to you?" Holly asked as I stood at her front door the next day. She ushered me in and sat me on her couch. She gently touched my two black eyes and swollen lip. "Does it hurt?"

I tapped my eye and grimaced. "Ah, just a little." I leaned back on her couch letting out a slow groan. "Mark and I went down to Waikiki to hear the comedian at The Crow's Nest. When we came out, a gang of locals were harassing a couple of tourist girls. They couldn't have been much more than fifteen. The girls looked pretty scared, so we did what any decent guys would've. We stepped up to the plate and told the Hawaiians to leave '
em
alone."

Her eyes narrowed. "
Ohhh
, those
Mokes
can be nasty. You'd think they'd be grateful after we liberated them from the Japanese. How many of them were there?"

"About ten or so. They got mouthy, so I punched the biggest one, thinking they'd back off after that. Then they jumped us. Mark got off a little bit lighter than me, but the girls got away. Th
at's all that really mattered."