Date: Sat, 19 May 2012 19:01:29 -0700 (PDT) From: Henry Brooks Subject: The Hostage Chapter 2 The Hostage Chapter Two The stifling air seemed to cool down at least ten degrees on the shore of the small mountain stream, which was shaded by the cypress trees along its banks. Martin undid the ropes on Trevor's wrists. He sat down on a rock with his rifle aimed at Trevor. Trevor dipped a toe into the stream and was pleased with the water temperature. He dropped his underwear and waded in. "Aren't you going to join me?" he asked. "Not this time. I bathed a short while ago." Not this time. I guess Martin would join him another time. Trevor hoped so, but again he hated himself for thinking such thoughts. Martin was the enemy, and he had no intention of sleeping with the enemy, no matter how attractive. Trevor washed himself as best he could without soap. Nevertheless the romp in the cool stream was very refreshing, and he hated to come out. After he emerged, he realized that he had no towel so he laid himself down on the grass and let the sun dry his body. Martin just sat with his rifle pointed at his hostage. He was strangely quiet. "Next time can we bring soap and towels?" Trevor asked. "Of course. I was unprepared to take you here today. Next time will be different." Trevor could only wonder what he meant by next time. Would Martin join him in the water...naked? He hoped so. When he felt that he was dry enough, Trevor stood up and put on his boxers. Martin stood up also, his rifle still pointed at Trevor. "We had better get to the cabin and out of the sun soon," Martin said. "The afternoon sun can be brutal." Trevor was pleased that Martin did not put any ropes on his wrists. He reckoned that Martin considered him to be no danger with a rifle constantly pointed in his face. He was afraid the ropes would be reapplied at bedtime. "I'll make us something to eat," Martin said. "After lunch we will rehearse your first message to your pig friends. I have already written it." There were two knapsacks lying in the corner of the room, along with both their clothing. Martin removed a slab of cheese from one of the sacks. He broke off two small pieces and he gave one to Trevor. He carefully returned the remaining cheese to the sack. Then he opened the other sack and removed a large, round loaf of bread. Again he broke off two small pieces and offered one to Trevor. Apparently that was to be the menu for all times, since Trevor could not see any other food around the place. He wondered if the keys to the Jeep were in one of the sacks, or in the pocket of Martin's trousers lying alongside. After what passed as their lunch, Martin restrained Trevor again. He walked out of the cabin without closing the door. Trevor could see him getting something out of the Jeep. He came back, closed the door, and laid out two sleeping bags on the floor. He made no explanation to Trevor, but he reached into the pocket of his trousers, and he took out a little piece of paper. Yet again he untied Trevor's wrists and handed him the paper. Trevor read: Hello friends. This is Trevor Lawrence. As you know I am a journalist with CNN. My cameraman Ahmed and I invaded insurgent territory on the pretext of wanting to interview some of them. Our real mission was to spy for UN forces. We were captured and we were separated, but my captors tell me that Ahmed is alive and well, and he is being well treated. As for myself, I am being well fed and treated humanely. This is a pleasant surprise since they know that I am a spy. I think they will want to swap me for one or more of our prisoners at a later date. Time will tell. "Do I have to lie about Ahmed?" Trevor asked. "It isn't fair to give his family false hope. He has little children." "It can't be helped. Ahmed was a soldier in the fight for Islam. Someday his children will learn of his martyrdom and be proud. Now read and memorize the message and be sincere. I want you to convince me that you are telling the truth. Remember, I can make your life misery or paradise. It's up to you." Trevor read the message several times. He pretended to take a long time to commit the message to his memory. He was stalling for time, and still no plan came to him. Finally, as he recited the first word, he conceived a plan. For no reason at all, he got a picture in his mind of Humphrey Bogart playing Captain Queeg in The Caine Mutiny. When he testified at the court martial, Queeg betrayed his insanity by rubbing steel balls in his hand. Trevor had no steel balls, but he decided that he would hold his hands perfectly still in his lap when he was telling the truth. When he was telling a lie he would begin to rub his fingers together in a slow motion, but when he was telling a whopper, he would rub his fingers in a more agitated manner. If he did this at every taping, he prayed the experts would pick up on it. He could only pray that Martin would be too busy with the camera to notice. Martin had substituted his rifle for the camera. "When you look in the camera," he instructed Trevor, "pretend it's my rifle and behave yourself. Smile occasionally. If you cooperate, I have a special treat for you for dinner. If you try to fuck it up, you can watch me eating your treat, and you'll get nothing to eat, not even water." Trevor had to take the risk. He recited the message rather convincingly and rubbed the fingers of his right hand together at the appropriate time. He also smiled occasionally, but only when he was lying. He hoped that would be an additional clue to the experts to indicate that he was being forced to recite this bag of lies. Martin seemed pleased at the result. "See how easy that was?" he asked. "So what's my treat?" Trevor asked. He knew what he wanted but it wasn't going to happen. "I've got a cooler in the Jeep and it's full of fresh melons. We'll have some with dinner." Dinner consisted of a piece of cheese, a smaller piece of bread, and a sliver of melon. After dinner Martin said, "I'm sure you have noticed that we have no electricity. We have about an hour of daylight left. Do you play gin rummy?" "I haven't played in years. Perhaps you could refresh my memory." "I used to play with my father," Martin said wistfully. "He taught me." He produced a deck of cards from out of his trousers. Trevor wondered how many other little treasures were in the pockets of the trousers lying neglected on the floor. The keys to the Jeep, he hoped. They sat facing each other on the floor. Their legs were folded under them, producing a gap in the fly of both their boxers. Trevor could see Martin's dark pubic hair again, and he was sure that Martin could see his blond pubes. They played until it grew too dark to see. Martin put the cards away and started to tie up Trevor. "Please," Trevor said, "don't do this. Where could I go if I wanted to escape? I have no idea where I am." He was very shocked when Martin relented and threw the ropes on top of his discarded clothing. "I'm a very light sleeper," Martin warned. Trevor had hoped that Martin would put the two sleeping bags close together, but alas, he put his bag clear across the other side of the room. Fortunately, it was clear across from the knapsacks and clothing also. It had cooled down considerably once the sun set, and both men crept inside their sleeping bags. Trevor willed himself to stay awake. He was rewarded when he heard Martin snoring slightly. Quietly, stealthily, he stood up and went over to Martin's trousers. He reached into the right hand pocket because he noted that Martin was right handed. There were the keys he so desperately sought. Clad only in his boxers he crept out of the cabin and sat down behind the wheel of the Jeep. He put the key in the ignition and got only a cranking, groaning sound. He tried again and again, but the Jeep would not start. "Are you having trouble?" he heard Martin ask. Martin was standing outside the Jeep holding out his hand. Trevor removed the key, got out of the Jeep and handed the keys to Martin. "I removed the wires to the ignition," Martin said in a very matter of fact way. He was grinning broadly, almost laughing. "I knew you would try something like that. I would have been disappointed if you hadn't. Just don't try it again. Now let's get some sleep. I want to tape another message tomorrow." Trevor was dejected, but he followed Martin meekly into the cabin. He lay down once again and crept into his sleeping bag. He was shocked when Martin brought his bag right up to his, and laid it down so that they were actually touching. "I see I have to keep a sharper eye on you," Martin said. He crept into his bag and mumbled something that sounded to Trevor like g'ni. In the middle of the night Trevor awoke. Martin was breathing into his ear and it had disturbed him. The room had been pitch black when they retired, but now moonlight streamed through a dirty window. Trevor glanced at Martin. He had come out of his sleeping bag and was lying on top of it. He was on his side, and was sort of hunkering up to Trevor. Martin's leg was covering his cock, and Trevor could not get a glimpse of it. Suddenly, as if in answer to a prayer, Martin rolled over and onto his back. His very hard cock was pointing straight to the ceiling through the fly of his boxers. Trevor gasped. Martin's cock was very fat and at least eight inches. He wondered if it got bigger in the heat of passion. Trevor longed to take that cock into his mouth, or sit on it and take it into his ass, but he didn't dare. He got out of the sleeping bag, and lay down on top also. He sidled as close to Martin as he could, and he let the back of his palm touch Martin's leg. He was afraid to go further, so he lay like that for a long time unable to breathe. Finally, Martin rolled over in the other direction, and they were no longer touching. Trevor finally fell asleep. In the morning, they relieved themselves behind the rock. Martin dug a little hole which served as their commode. When they were done, he covered their dung. We'll wash later in the stream," he said. "If you don't cooperate, you can walk around all day with a shitty ass." Trevor desperately wanted to bathe naked with Martin, and he did indeed behave himself. He taped the next message as convincingly as he could, but he smiled at the biggest lies, and rubbed his fingers together along with his smiles. If Martin was suspicious, he didn't show it. When the taping was done, Martin led them to the stream, but he didn't stop. He walked a bit farther upstream. "It's deeper here," he explained. "We'll be able to get in almost neck high." They dropped their boxers and Martin laid two towels on top of them. He had a bar of soap in his hand, but it was laundry detergent. Neither of them cared. They soaped themselves alternately and then Martin handed Trevor the soap and said, "Do my back, please." Trevor was shocked, but very excited. He took the soap and started soaping Martin's neck. Little by little he went farther down Martin's back. "I haven't felt this clean in weeks," Martin said. "Aaaah." Trevor was nearly in a trance. He soaped farther and farther down Martin's back. He didn't even realize it when he started to soap Martin's buttocks. Martin made no move to stop him. Trevor began to rub the soap up and down Martin's crack, and without thinking, he inserted a finger in Martin's most private part. Martin sighed and pushed himself farther back against Trevor, forcing Trevor's finger further up his ass. Suddenly Martin pulled away, turned around and faced Trevor. His eyes were blazing with anger and he slapped Trevor hard across his face. "Faggot," he yelled. "You won't drag me to hell with you." The two men glared at each other, Martin with hate, and Trevor with disappointment. Neither said anything. They left the water and began to dry themselves. Trevor was frightened. He was certain that he had overstepped his bounds, and that Martin would see to some severe punishment. They started back to the cabin. When they entered it, Martin closed the door, grabbed hold of Trevor and began to kiss him with an open mouth. Martin put his lips up against Trevor's ear. Be very quiet," he said. "We are being observed, and the cabin is most likely bugged." The cabin remained eerily quiet after that. Trevor was afraid to say anything. He knew that the cabin was probably bugged for sound, but after careful scrutiny, he was sure there were no hidden cameras staring at them. Martin would not have kissed him if there were. They made small talk when they ate, and also when they played gin rummy. Otherwise they spoke hardly at all. Finally it grew too dark to see anything, and they got ready to retire. Martin put both sleeping bags close together, and he lay down on top of his. Trevor heard a slight rustle and figured out that Martin had removed his boxers. He did the same and lay down on top of his bag with his stiff cock throbbing in expectation. "Don't pull the same crap you pulled last night," Martin warned out loud, and then in an instant he was on top of Trevor, kissing him passionately. Martin whispered in Trevor's ear, "I will do everything I can to keep you safe, and get you back to your people as quickly as possible, but you must never speak of this. If my comrade's found out about this, we'd both be dead as quick as you could say Martin Spenser." He slid down Trevor's body and took Trevor's hard cock into his mouth. Trevor put his fist in his mouth in anticipation of what was coming. He came quickly, too quickly for both their wishes. Trevor had to bite hard into his fist to keep from emitting any noises. Martin swallowed all that Trevor had to offer. When Trevor recovered a bit, he returned the favor. Martin had to bite his fist also. Afterward they held each other tightly, and just before they separated for the night, Martin whispered again. "Tomorrow, in the stream, I think it will be safe to fuck each other in the deep water." In the water the next day, they pretended to be splashing each other and romping around. They somehow managed to enter each other's asses, but they did not dare start to fuck for fear of discovery. They were able to play like this for the next few days, but at night they went down on each other and came to a mind blowing conclusion. They were frustrated about not being able to cum in their asses, but they had no choice for fear of being discovered. Every day Trevor taped a message to the outside world, penned by Martin. Martin did not seem to notice the phony smiles and the fluttery fingers, and Trevor allowed himself to believe he was getting away with it. His only fear was that when the tapes were sent out, the experts would not pick up on his shenanigans. One morning, Martin was extremely cold to Trevor. "This is the day the courier is coming. I don't know what time he'll get here, so you will have to forgive me for this." He found the ropes he had previously discarded and tied Trevor's hands behind his back. He had Trevor sit on the floor and he tied his ankles together. Trevor said nothing. He just stared forlornly at his captor. He was shocked when Martin took out a piece of duct tape. Before Martin could tape his mouth, Trevor said, "I have heard that prisoners very often fall in love with their captors." He stared hard at Martin. "I'm no exception." Martin looked like he was about to cry, and he slapped a piece of tape across Trevor's mouth. The courier did not arrive until mid afternoon. Trevor was bound the whole time. Martin did not even feed him the entire day. Very few words were exchanged between the courier and Martin. The courier took the camera and gave Martin a new one. It was very inferior to the one stolen from Ahmed. He also brought in a few bags of provisions and exchanged a new cooler for the old one. On his way out, he kicked Trevor in the ribs and spat out one word. "Pig!" Martin winced. Martin wanted to make sure that the courier would not return unexpectedly. He waited almost two hours, until the sun began to set, before he untied Trevor. As he did, he kept hugging him without saying a word. Both men were crying. When it grew dark and they got ready to retire, they held each other tightly and cried bitterly. They did not make love that night. They just held on to each other as if they were clinging to each other for dear life. They slept that way all night. They were awakened before dawn by the sound of several vehicles approaching the cabin. Martin put on his boxers, grabbed his rifle and ran to the window. Trevor put on his boxers also, and watched Martin intently, fearing for his life. "Thank God," he heard Martin say. The cabin door opened and several US Army personnel entered. It was still dark, but one of them shone a flashlight into the room. Another lit a gas lamp and illuminated the room. The sergeant with the flashlight, turned it off, stood straight, and saluted. He smiled broadly and said, "Lieutenant Spenser, sir. It's good to see you again." Then Martin and the sergeant shook hands. Trevor was struck dumb. "You don't know how glad I am to see you, Jim. How did it go?" "According to script, sir. We killed twelve of their top honchos, and a few paeans to boot." "Great! Now get us out of here. We need a decent bath, a decent bed, and transportation back to the States ASAP." Martin threw Trevor's clothes at him. "Get dressed, Trev. We're out of here." "What the fuck is going on?" "I'll explain everything later. You're going to get a good news story for CNN; I promise you." To be continued...