New Homeport Island (28 page)

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Authors: Robert Lyon

Tags: #Adult, #War, #Sea

BOOK: New Homeport Island
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to as taxes. As complacency set in there became hide away
 locale and places to be festive as well as solemn. Once his
 majesty Dave Artimus was prepared he would purchase food for
 a great celebration of survival that some suspected was
 something of a coronation. I had made a delivery of the fish
 rations and caught them sarcastically referring to Artimus as ‘his
 majesty’ only to witness him correcting them with the retort,
“Her majesty the queen is married to his highness the
 king…you’ve got the genders confused.” I knew how badly
 things were going but I don’t think I was proved to be a fool by
 not having foreseen their rebellion.
It was me that Artimus, whom I referred to as a former
 captain, tried to buy addition rations from with American
 currency. I was dumbfounded; did he expect I would make a
 quick run to a grocery store for some sandwiches?  
Aritmus was standing at the opening in the tree line to the
 path we had beaten with our frequent trips when he said, “I can
 finally offer you some compensation for your efforts, but I need
 something extra to show them ‘the good faith’ is still intact. Of
 all the money on the island I offer you twenty percent of the
 only currency present.” I replied, “Artimus, I have no…”
Artimus interjected, “That’s Captain. Lyon have you lost your
 mind?” I continued, “Look captain there is no monetary system
 here, those dollars are worthless there is no grocery store, or
 hardware store. You see those plants over there? The grain in
 those plumes are what I need, we actually made a small loaf of
 risen bread.” The blooms or cluster of red I had pointed to were
 sorghum according to one of the Pilipino from the former crew,
 the yeast we had found was a pungent and disgusting mold but
 as hungry as we were we recognized the smell of yeast.

Artimus was both glad for the hope of bread while
 simultaneously dashed to find out the sense of power and
 influence as well as an innate sense of security slipped through
 his fingers. He had planned to barter refusing any offer made
 until a week had past to ensure he had elevated the value of the
 money to its maximum potential. He had intended to set himself
 as the bank of the island and struggled to remember what he
 could, and devise new versions of the derivative schemes, stock
 trading, interest and investments of all manners. He stood there a
 long while starring at those dollars in his hand, so long in fact I
 had to gesture to one of his ‘in crowd’ to tend to him and left
 him there that way.  
Back at the boiler site Michael and I had nearly finished
 our revised fishing boat. Mitch and Michelle had worked on a
 small triangular sail, while Jennifer and Mike maintained the
 boilers making fresh water trading off with Tommi and Tammy.
Dave Miles and Athena Williams had been working on turning
 the sun dial into a navigational circle, using celestial navigation
 to work out our longitude and latitude; I had added a farmer’s
 almanac aspect to the circles around the staff in the ground since
Megan and Tim had been gathering grain.  
The quartermaster koleson, a second class petty officer,
 with a pension for the unusual had been laying low. The Captain
 had certain needs and desires, to be recognized, feared and
 celebrated. Now that the captain had a cabin boy koleson felt left
 out; as though the game of cat and mouse had left him not
 played with at all. He had discovered the subterfuge the captain
 and his cabin boy were using a sexual intimidation tactic that
 had, for years before, been reserved for ships with all male
 crews and this man’s man had discovered the cock tease.
Koleson enjoyed participating in displays of machismo and

sometimes embracing the sympathies of other hormonally
 unstable men. It was a game of passive aggressive threat and
 black mail Artimus had practiced with koleson but Artimus
 enjoyed the mockery and shaming aspects and only endured the
 shock and humility himself instead of languishing in it. Koleson
 embraced a fevered blush, the sudden onset of hormonal urges
 and the feeling of butterflies in his lower abdomen.
Koleson was racked with jealousy, he couldn’t blame the
 cabin boy and he had never been dominated as he desired by the
 captain, his efforts had bared no true reward and only solicited
 the most passing forms of attention. Now he would be more
 direct and would utilize the technics of the straight sailors and
 allow their prey to seduce themselves, bringing on the fever of
 lust and he would quench those flames with his effeminate
 allure. To a straight man his mustache seemed to be a mask to
 conceal his true identity, which he thought was taken as being
 mysterious and was still an allure. But to the gay man a
 mustache was a sign of virility and a textured contour to be
 experienced rather than observed. Koleson had decided to plan
 his seductive pout which always brought the dominate men to
 him, throwing him to his knees and forcing his true frail
 demeanor out into the light to be gawked at and acknowledged
 publicly, the only form of true social acceptance he knew other
 than sodomy.  
Koleson was sitting in quiet contemplation. He recalled his
 stepfather’s claim that Koleson’s real father sold Slurpee’s at
Wham concerts and there were no beverages involved. All his
 life his stepfather had berated and mocked his biological father
 in ways he was just too young to understand until the day he met
 his first papi. Koleson had met a middle aged Cuban man at a
 party in his first year in the navy. He said his name was

‘Fellatio’. Fellatio had broad shoulders, a deep skin tone and
 was virtually body hair free with the only exceptions being his
 head and mustachio. Fellatio offered young QMSN Koleson ‘a
 ride in his sports car he would never forget’ and with the aid of a
 little ecstasy Koleson discovered fellatio was his true calling.
His step father’s predictions were all true; he would in fact make
 someone a good wife someday.  
Koleson stepped through the pentagon entrance with Dave
Artimus. Koleson explained, “look sugar, I know you like to be
 the mac daddy…” and with a z snap he continued, “but it ain’t
 happenin’” Artimus looked back at koleson and asked, “Did you
 get hit in the head?” Koleson replied, “Look, no more
 pretending. You’re an insecure domineering guy with a hard on
 for me…” Artimus interjected, “What!!??” Koleson responded,
“Oh, you don’t remember the time you put the homophobic guy
 in the brig cell so he couldn’t intervene and ordered me to suck
 you off?” Artimus looked at Koleson with a smug smile and said
 with a laugh, “Ya, and you did it!” Koleson smiled back
 effeminately and with a raise of his right knee and a slight bow
 he replied, “That’s right. and as soon as I whipped that thing out
 you were rock hard and ready. Time to stop playing straight.”
Artimus scoffed, “I was showing that guy my crew would
 follow any and every order I issued.” Koleson responded, “No
 babe…you were getting your dick sucked. period.” Artimus
 angrily replied, “Fuck you fag!” Koleson unbuckled his belt and
 retorted, “Now is as good a time as ever.”
In astonishment Dave stood there starring and drooling as
Koleson exposed himself to the man he completely accepted as
 his ‘Captain’. Artimus had enjoyed feeling dominate to other
 men and berating them in ways he thought they lack the
 sophistication to understand. He would insult them using a

sophisticated English and then be reassured in his superiority as
 they thanked him and this had brought him sexual arousal as
 well as personal satisfaction. But in recent years an associate’s
 degree from Virginia in the year nineteen seventy eight did not
 suffice as a level of education establishing that level of
 superiority. By current standards he had effectively dropped out
 in the eighth grade, lacked vocabulary and fluency, as well as
 having lost the glimmer of youth which somehow in years past
 had carried an illusion of propriety in his conduct by virtue of
 his clothing which was so common it was referred to as a
 uniform.
All of Dave Artimus’s acts of depravity and hidden
 fantasies were now out on the flight line to be observed and
 evaluated just as a younger man of approximately twenty nine
 who prides himself in being a ‘bitch’ was about to upset Dave
 fantasy world of illusion. Dave tremble and could swear he
 heard to voice of a popular Cuban actor of the seventies just
 outside the pentagon walls issue the phrase, “Welcome to
 fantasy island…I am your host ‘Harry Balls’” Artimus squealed
 in frustration as Koleson stood there awkward looking to a
 straight man but apparently enticing to a gay man…he had his
 dungaree pants down around his ankles with off white briefs
 down around his ankles as well, his shirt was fully buttoned and
 his hat was still on, his hair was dirty an oily, his face un-
 groomed leaving his mustache over grown and lopsided as he
 shuffled in the sand with arms extended as though he were a
 child at an amusement park seeking a hug from a costumed
 character playing a cartoon dog. Artimus was confounded but
 only by the shear intensity of the sexual arousal he was
 experiencing, Artimus asked, “Did you drug me?” Koleson
 replied, “Because I gave you a boner you think I drugged you?

haha, come here and be my Captain.” Artimus made odd
 wheezing noises and became dizzy. Sounding as though he were
 passing out from the shear intensity of his erection Artimus
 repeatedly issued the phrase, “You fuck…you fuck…” Homo-
 erotica had always been a power play intimidation to Dave and
 now it seemed it was to be his life style.  
Charlie McCree was standing near a pentagon wall and
 said, “Well, that’s freedom for ya’. I would like to state for the
 record…once again…at least I’m not a chubby chaser.” Sam
Tomly standing next to her asked, “How is the master chief, I
 mean…your old man?” Charlie replied, “Well, fuck you. But
 we’re doing fine.’’ Sam replied, “Glad to hear it.” and walked
 away to check on the patrols.  
I sat again tending to the grooming of the women. Athena’s
 ankle rest on my shoulder as I singed the hair on her inner thigh,
Athena whispered in a hush, “Be careful down there.” Flush
 with overwhelming arousal I replied in a similar whisper, “I
 am.” as I slid my hand smoothly over her thigh. From the
 deepth’s of relaxation she looked at me sternly and said clearly
 in a full voice, “Hey… she’s next” and pointed at Tammy.
Tammy said, “If Michelle see’s you like that she’ll bust your
 balls.” and laughed. Athena laughed and said, “He’s not getting
 any of that either. Maybe you should visit Tommi in the
 bushes.” I retorted, “Just because I’m keeping my eye candy
 from looking like dudes don’t think I won’t fuck the shit out of
 you.” Michelle came out of nowhere and whispered on the back
 of my neck, “promises, promises” Athena pulled her leg away
 and pressed her foot to my cheek and said, “Rob, if you’re not a
 good boy when Michelle shaves you later it’ll be more than just
 your face.” Tammy interjected, “Then they be staring at your
 ass.”

Mike Elper called out from across our cobble stone
 courtyard, “You’re always to accommodating Lyon…but,
Williams…he is a man and you may end up getting what
Michelle there is getting.” Michelle scoffed and walked away.
Athena put her leg back over my shoulder as she propped herself
 up with her elbows and hung her head back to look at mike to
 gauge his sincerity. Athena said, “I’d say bullshit by the look on
 your face Elper, but your upside down.” Tommi called out from
 a nearby bush, “I’m just going to go amazon.”
A couple of weeks later I was up on the mountain, we had
 taken to calling it a mountain despite having realized it is most
 definitely just a hill, and I saw Artimus arguing with a crowd of
 people regarding his conspiracies. They had lost all hope in
 rescue and changes were coming fast. It was likely my
 experience of having a deaf neighbor at the age of five and
 learning lip reading that saved us from a horrible end. I saw
Chief Brosuer throw the captain down into the spread eagle
 position like a pissed off cop and he held him there until they
 fetched some line. I was considerable distressed that they had
 lost stability but strangely satisfied that at least they had been
 making rope and line from plant materials. They disappeared
 from sight but from the onlookers I could still see I assumed
 they tied him to a tree. There was a strange large nest in a tree
 that they had taken materials from and began building a cage. I
 called for Mitch and Mike to observe them from the mountain;
 we would stand another watch to figure out what was going on
 before rations delivery.
              I headed back to our camp while Mitch and Mike
 watched, just as I got to camp I heard what seemed to be the
 very end of an argument. Athena said, “…So Lyon reached the
 end of his contract and left…that’s how that story ends.” and she

walked off in a huff. Micheal and Jennifer were apparently in
 the conversation they both had an odd reserved look about them
 which caused me to check the boilers and they were all fine. I
 asked, “Is everything alright?” and Jennifer said, “Ya Rob, just
 leave her alone.” It wasn’t the first time I had been told
 something to that effect about Athena and rarely did I know
 what caused it. She was a beautiful girl we had been close…at
 times, especially in long beach before the change of homeport.
But Artimus had his schemes of sibling rivalry and contrasting
 personalities. I once saw him try to snap the ship into a battle
 condition for an evaluation and saw the folly of his ludicrous
 theory; Getting people of similar personality types to have
 friction to prevent social cliques and coming up with ‘special
 projects for the captain’ to get those that had conflicting
 personality types to learn to get along. Once disaster strikes,
 some will find they get along fine after all, others will find they
 have learned to get along…the reality was instead everyone had
 disturbingly different views making them incompatible or had
 had bad experiences together leading to contempt and strife.
Artimus had been attempting child psychology on college age
 trade workers and students. Just another absurd assumption by
 the ‘eighties guy’ that refused to grow old, resulting in the
 notion that if you were born in nineteen seventy four you must
 still be twelve years old since the captain had been twenty four
 years old since that year and every year after.  
Over at the landing Artimus murmured, “You really
 think…you really think you’re gonna’ cage me?” There was a
 tremor to the captains voice. Chief Brosuer said, “It’s just a
 procedure sir, I’m afraid this trail is very real.” Artimus
 growled, “And then what!?” Smity said, “Don’t worry sir I’m
 sure justice will be served.” and Koleson interjected, “Ya, I

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