Chapter 4.
It was news headlines by morning; prison escape, helicopter crash, no fatalities, prison SWAT re-captured everyone, prison warden congratulated by the Texas Governor. We chuckled and watched video of the chopper wreckage while I cooked us eggs and bacon, David made the orange juice and dropped bread in the toaster. The operation cost us two spiders at $110,000 each. They're handmade somewhere in Nevada I think. It actually looked like the chopper wasn't badly damaged, but the landing skids were destroyed, even the blades weren't damaged but it would never fly again. It was worth a lot sold for parts.
Live TV coverage showed a crane lifting the wrecked helicopter onto a flatbed semi for the trip around the mountains to the Army airfield. It was safe to assume someone in Mexico was very pissed off this morning because we had his chopper and more of his men.
We drove to our office to discuss the operation again and order replacement spider drones, they'd arrive by two day air, but we still had more at home. We watched the press conference and laughed but we knew everyone involved knew what really happened, as he spoke to the TV people he used a code phrase that some politicians knew to tell people watching it was a controlled operation when he said the size of the prison SWAT team was thirty three' men and women, and the chopper crashed thirty three hundred feet beyond the perimeter fence, the number `thirty three' being a coded message to others that it was an op, the script read on the TV news was just a cover story fabricated in some Pentagon office.
We got home around 2pm, it had become cloudy, rain was in the forecast for tonight but it was very nice out so we loaded our dirt bikes in the back of the truck and decided to go exploring around one of the ghost towns north of El Paso, near the town of Orogrande on US Route 54.
We used the turn-off north of town and parked near the old railroad bed and rode into the desert to look at the abandoned gold mines and ruins of Brice, New Mexico. There was an area between White Sands Missile Base and Route 54 that was public land. There was a closed landfill there too and lots of trails and some head of cattle. So it's fun to ride in the sand up there, I told David that we should consider trading the dirt bikes in for four wheelers, they were better on loose desert sand.
We both drove Yamaha XT250s but were customized so they looked rather different, mine's cooler and his was louder. We stopped by one of the closed mine entrances near the ghost town of Zora to sit and rest our bodies, drink some water. In the desert we always had to find something to put under our kickstands so the bikes didn't fall over. We had big plastic ones at home but always forgot to bring them along.
"Were we supposed to earn a bonus for finishing that op without killing anyone?" I asked.
"Yep, that's what the Justice Department wanted, catch them alive so they could stand trial." David replied.
"I can't wait to see my next pay check." I offered.
"Got plans for the money?" He asked smiling at me.
"Yes, I'd like to go to San Diego and stay at that hotel in the Gaslamp with the rooftop pool and bar."
"Ahhh, I loved that place. It's got the big bathrooms with the walk-in showers and the huge pillows."
We had a moment of silence, then he asked how many tunnels were under San Diego.
"Not as many as you'd think with all the military there, I think its four. Under the city building, the stadium, and the county lock-up. I think there's one under the Navy airbase but it's had problems with flooding after an earthquake two years ago, not sure what condition it's in today." I replied, then added that I'd rather drive to San Diego than fly, with all the hurry up and wait, and security bullshit it's almost faster to drive than fly, and I don't have to empty my pockets and hold up my hands if we drove.
Then David got back down on the sand and unzipped his motocross shirt to expose his flesh to the sky and soak up some rays. I rolled over on my stomach and watched his chest rise and fall. I loved looking at him. My husband was so beautiful I could watch him breathe for hours. I loved it at home when he sunbathed in the nude.
I think he felt me staring at him, he turned his head and opened his eyes and smiled at me, I really was staring at him again. He looked back at the clear blue sky and closed his eyes again but reached out one hand, we held hands for a while.
We relaxed on the warm sand beside our bikes, he asked, "How do they fix leaks in tunnels?"
"I think after its located they try to grout it from the surface using a well drilling machine. They have to locate the crack down to a gnat's ass and then drill down and pump something like cement all around the cracks, then pump out the water and see if it's fixed."
"Ahh, you make it sound easy."
"There's a lot of technology involved. You know what Hollywood celebrity from the past was responsible for the stuff they used to fix tunnel leaks?"
"No, who?"
"Howard Hughes, his company developed lots of drilling technology still used today."
"Huh, that's funny, never thought."
"Yep, that goes way back, almost a hundred years ago. He was a real nut job but Hughes Tool was top notch."
"Yep, that reminds me something else we could do some day."
"What's that?" I asked.
"I've always wanted to take one of those bus tours around Los Angeles that visit the graves of famous people from history, like Errol Flynn, Jerome Howard, Judy Garland, Elvis, and James Dean."
"I think Elvis is buried near Memphis." I seemed to remember hearing he was a big tourist attraction.
"Oh yeah, that's right."
After a moment of silence he asked, "What about Oppenheimer or General Groves, or what about Mae West or Wernher von Braun? Where's the Marx Brothers buried?"
"I think Von Braun is buried near Washington DC, and Oppenheimer was ashes in the sea somewhere." Seems I read that somewhere before.
"Mae West?" He asked.
"She's in LA, like the Stooges and the Marx Brothers." I answered
"Jimi Hendrix?" David asked as he raised his eyebrows.
"Near Seattle." I paused then told him that Jimi had a great body, I bet he would have been great in bed if he'd been gay. He was skinny, well built, and only about five foot nine inches tall, plus he had big suckable tits.
"John Wayne?" He asked with a smile.
"Los Angeles area." Where else would the Duke be buried but near Hollywood?
"What about Howard Hughes?" He asked.
"I think he's buried in Texas." I speculated.
"Brittney Spears?" He asked trying to sound like he was serious.
"Uhhh, I don't think she's dead yet."
"Oh. I think we should go if there's a tour bus like that." I just laughed at his idea.
"Einstein?"
"Ashes scattered somewhere, it's a family secret." I seemed to recall.
"Leonard Nimoy?"
"L.A." That was an easy answer.
"Wright Brothers?"
"Dayton, I think." Actually, I wasn't totally sure but I think they were lifelong residents of Dayton.
"FDR?" He asked.
"New York State, I forgot the name of the town." I answered.
"Harry Truman?"
"Missouri."
"Richard Nixon?" He asked sounding like he really wasn't sincere.
"South of LA I think. I'll look into it, bus tour of the dead celebs." I grumbled and dictated myself a voice note on my cell.
Then David added, "Stars and dead famous people too." He was quiet for a while then asked, "I wonder if the men that got rich building the Transcontinental Railroad are buried near LA?"
"I wonder if there's a tour service for the original route of the railroad through the mountains east of Sacramento." I pondered.
"Probably, they practically had to abandon the entire original mountain route due to shoddy construction and poor design." David has always been interested in the original railroad across America.
"You know what they call rail enthusiasts these days?" I asked.
"No, what?"
"They're called Foamers. I got no idea where that comes from but it sounds funny." We both chuckled while we held hands and he still had his eyes closed and his face aimed at the clear blue sky. Then I told him it didn't sound like something you'd want to admit on a first date. I sort of expected a wisecrack out of David after I said Foamer, but he never did. `I got your Foam right here.' Then he'd squeeze his crotch and shake it at me.
It wasn't too long after that we were invaded by huge black ants so we got on our bikes and rode back to the truck, loaded our bikes and drove home. We stopped at a car wash on Dyer Street then unloaded our bikes into the garage and decided to take a trip to the motorcycle dealer and look at prices on the Honda TRX250 with our bikes traded-in came to $9100 with tax for two ATVs and they'd both fit in the back of his truck. Back at home I looked into the cost of both of us spending three nights in San Diego at the hotel with the rooftop pool and bar in the Gaslamp District. We loved to walk around the Gaslamp in the evening, holding hands, do some window shopping, look at all the pretty gay boys, and step over the homeless sprawled out on the sidewalks hoping some idiot tourist would call 911 and they'd have a free night in a hospital bed, with a color TV and a call button.
"When's payday this month?" He shouted from the kitchen.
"On the fifteenth, that's next week Friday." I shouted back from the tactical room.
After dinner I could tell David was in the mood because he walked around the house in his tight fitting stretchy underwear with a long rod showing, it pointed to the side at his hip, with a small wet spot near the tip. He's a top and I liked being the bottom but I'm versatile. I've learned over the years to be an aggressive bottom for him, like being raped by a female hooker.
I was in the tac room packing replacement spiders into our hip packs (we both carried two) when he walked in, still nearly naked, but I had a little more work to do, he walked up behind me and rubbed my shoulders while I stood at my gear rack and carefully packed the spiders and buttoned them shut. When he saw I was nearly done he rubbed my butt cheeks through my jeans, my dick responded on auto pilot. The spider drones were so secret even the boxes they came in couldn't be thrown in the normal trash, we had to carefully burn them in our back yard and flush the ashes down the toilet.
One thing about David's body I really liked was the way his flesh tasted. Once I was done I scooted him back and gestured for him to follow me, we left the tac room, I shut off the lights and shut the door, which locked behind us. I escorted him to the basement where we had our gym equipment and the floor was carpeted.
I got on my knees and David stepped in front of me and pulled my head into his belly. I rubbed my face across his baby smooth belly and kissed him as fast as I could while I slowly pulled his shorts down. His boner sprung free and started to bounce against the side of my face.
We were positioned near the chin up bar so he could reach up and hold on while he fucked my mouth. As he came closer he let go and tried to curl around my skull as he fucked me with his hip muscles and encircled my head with his upper body. His movement suddenly changed to deeper and stronger thrusts as he moaned out loud and came in my mouth. I swallowed every drop.
After he was done he straightened up and slowly backed away, when he got to just the mushroom head between my lips he stopped and softly moaned with pleasure. Finally it was done and he pulled back and offered his hand to get me back on my feet. We hugged with his erection pressed vertically between our stomachs.
Minutes later I slid mine down and sat on the weight bench, he got on his knees beside my thigh and jerked me by hand, I came on the floor shortly after he started.
That night I went to bed with his salty flavor in my mouth and on my hands.
Today was a work day, we spent nine hours at the office reviewing training on some experimental gear. We turned-in our tac suits for clean ones since we cannot clean our own suits, except in an emergency.
We were told the ground crews were nearing completion on three new tunnels, one in California, one in Denver, and one under the Brickyard Raceway near Indianapolis. They prioritized targets that would be popular with terrorists. We already had them under the Disney park and most of the larger amusement parks like Cedar Point in Ohio. The biggest problem using the TBMs was disposal of the spoil without attracting attention. A compacting machine was used to press spoil into blocks that resembled large crates on pallets and could be carried away on trucks, day and night. Location was everything. The TBMs worked fast they rented a nearby empty building to store the compacted earth for trucks to haul away at a less attention grabbing pace. The ground crews even rented abandoned malls or stores and cut holes in the floor and dug down to bedrock then let the TBM do the rest. The eight foot tunnels were large enough to run small trucks (or golf carts) inside if the distance was too far to walk and carry equipment.
After they started working, most TBMs could complete a tunnel in less than a month. The big problem was disposal, which went on day and night where possible. There were always gravel dealers nearby to purchase the ground-up rock from the TBM, but they had to be security cleared first because nobody wanted anyone to ask where all the rock came from.
Around the USA there have been reports of mysterious low pitched rumbling noises that people heard and reported to police. In our service it was commonly believed those sounds were caused by secret TBM operations deep below people's basements.
David and I were on call five days a week to cover an area from Port Arthur, Texas to San Diego, then up to Seattle and over to Duluth, Minnesota and back down to Texas. If anyone tried to commit a large act of terrorism we were usually the first ones to get the call. For some federal agencies, calling us was as easy as `break glass and push button.' We were required to be at the El Paso Airport in forty minutes or less where we often left in a modified three-seat fighter jet. It was always us and our black plastic case. We were not allowed to be seen by the public in our tactical suits, although sometimes it was unavoidable.
On work days we reported to our office where we always had gear to inspect and evaluate and maps and building sites to review. We also travelled to different large sites to review if tunnels would be a wise investment or not. We recently toured the stadium in Arlington, Texas and also Arrowhead in Kansas City. We already had them under the Saint Louis at the Gateway Arch and their stadium too, it's the same tunnel system that started in an old steel mill near Alton, Illinois and had four stops in the Saint Louis area. I read they were working on one under the Johnson Space Center and planning another under Statue of Liberty Island. Some of the bigger cities were out of consideration because of their extensive underground rail and utility networks, like Boston.
We had no tunnels (that we knew of) in Wyoming, Idaho, Utah, Kansas, Oregon or New Mexico. Some well known sites had access already, most you could probably guess were: Glen Canyon Dam, Grand Coulee Dam, Hoover Dam, Disney, Los Alamos National Labs, nuclear facilities around Amarillo and Denver, Omaha, Duluth, and five of the most important bridges across the Mississippi (two were rail only). We also had access to oil refineries on the Texas gulf coast, and every nuke power plant west of the Mississippi. Even though our territory was west of the Mississippi we did not cover Arkansas or Louisiana.
That weekend I looked at our calendar and coordinated with David to set a date for our trip to San Diego, we decided to drive, I-10 to I-8, it should take us nine hours if the roads were good, no big wrecks, etc. I got us three nights reserved and listed as off-duty those nights just four weeks before Thanksgiving. Since we're not active duty military we negotiated for time off just like any other civilian job.
There was a baseball game that weekend, the Padres versus the Dodgers, but I could only get tickets for the San Diego Zoo. This trip was four weeks from today. We decided to take my car instead of his truck.
Our checks arrived that included a hefty bonus for the capture of a working Huey helicopter and two additional cartel members. Our op at La Tuna was called a major success, it just happened to occur thirty miles from our home. I was now able to pay for our trip, and the new ATVs, and put a hefty deposit into the bank.
There were no incidents between La Tuna and our San Diego trip, which was the 25th of October, a Wednesday.
Days prior to the trip we were packed and had our stuff loaded into my car along with our Batcase and our Batsuits just in case. Even though we were not on duty should there be a national incident we could be called-up or we could even volunteer if it was a facility we had accurate and detailed mapping for. There had been some discussion about handling some facilities without tunnels or special access but we hadn't been shown any yet.
We left before sunrise and took the highway across the mountains and got on I-10 and set the cruise control for 85mph and roared across New Mexico and Arizona (except for the Tucson area). I-8 was wide open and we cruised 90mph all the way to the checkpoint at Yuma to enter California, allegedly looking for illegal produce and illegal aliens.
If those California border agents (or any law enforcement anywhere) detained us and our mysterious case and said they'd have to open it we were authorized to warn them that if anyone opened our case we were cleared to kill them after one verbal warning. "Both of us are federal agents for the DOD, if you try to open that case we are authorized to kill to protect it."
But if we were detained they would have searched us first so they would feel cocky thinking we were unarmed and probably open the case out of spite, but like I said we were authorized to kill to keep its contents secret. We could let them open it, then kill them, but the optimal choice would be to simply let us go. I always pictured Ben Kenobi saying "...these aren't the droids you're looking for..." If we could not protect the case someone else surely would.
Anyone breaking the seal and examining the contents of the case was likely to die within 24 hours of some unexpected event: hot tub drowning, small plane crash, traffic accident, slip and fall at home leading to deadly brain injury, self inflicted two gunshots to the head in the left hand, those sorts of suspicious `accidental' deaths.
On the back bumper of my car was a tiny reflective sticker that told some people we should not be pulled over or interrogated. I have seen it work in the past on the Interstate when a cop came up behind us and followed along then backed off after they ran my plate to confirm the sticker. I've been told it worked better than a diplomatic license plate.
We zoomed across the Imperial Valley and got glimpses of the Salton Sea north of I-8, and there was another federal prison out there too, much larger than La Tuna. Then we started the long curving uphill drive into the mountains, an area I liked to call the California Department of Rocks. It's an interesting drive from Yuma to San Diego. Then came the long winding downhill drive into San Diego, forty minutes later we unloaded the car and walked into the Alfred Hotel. While I checked us into the hotel David kept a close eye on our stuff on the luggage cart because the bellboy couldn't keep his fingers off our luggage. Dave approached him twice with advice to leave them alone. He told me later he almost pulled his pistol, but called the manager to the luggage cart and told him the bellboy tried to open our stuff three times. The bellboy was forcibly rushed out the front doors by security while a crowd watched. We heard some yelling outside in Spanish, and then the manager apologized. I pictured the bellboy being stripped of his uniform on the sidewalk and walking home in his white boxers.
That incident put David on edge the rest of the day. After our arrival we got settled in our room then went to the roof and looked at the pool and the menu, we ordered dinner too. We were both hungry after a nine hour drive across the desert, nine hours of sand, rocks, weeds, and dodging chunks of truck tires on the roadway. We ate dinner at a small table by the glass wall around the edge of the roof. After dinner we went back to our room and got changed into shorts and tank tops, grabbed our towels, and went back to the pool.
When we got back there were two hetero couples in the shallow end but not much was going on. The lights were on and the music was playing, we both decided to try swimming laps since the couples were only around the edge of the pool, we both swam end to end. After several laps we went to a corner in the deep end with just our heads above water. I slipped my hand down his shorts but he was totally limp, I held him anyway and we looked around to see if anyone noticed. The only way anyone could see was to look underwater but nobody was close enough to us in the deep end.
After he didn't get hard I slid my hand up his tummy and fingered his belly button hole, he glanced at me and smiled, then I gently squeezed his breasts and kissed him. Soon after I stopped he did the same things back to me.
The bar was slowly getting busier, two more couples got in the pool, one of them was a gay couple like us but much older. By 11pm every table was full and there were numerous couples and singles standing along the railing looking out at the beautiful San Diego skyline. The pool got crowded too since the bar was full, they only let people if they were in swim suits. I think we counted twenty couples in the pool and several single guys floated around on colorful noodles.
One younger guy came by us and struck up a conversation. He looked to be barely 21 and was adorably cute Mexican boy but he had a long white surgical scar (like a white line) down the center of his face from the top of his forehead, between his eyes, alongside his nose and all the way across his upper lip. I've never seen such a scar, but it looked surgical, not an accident.
His English was acceptable but he was too way cute to ignore. His tall slender body looked soft and squishy. Like all Mexican boys I'm sure he wasn't cut, his belly button was perfect and his nipples were big pudgy ovals that puffed way out like red pleasure domes stuffed full of marshmallow. He was very interested in what we did for a living, which put David on guard again. He said he sold wholesale car parts to repair shops (which I think was code for he dealt with stolen car parts). David told him we owned a business in Texas and when he wouldn't stop asking he told him we sold new and used DVDs online which included porn.
The kid said his name was Rudy had been in porn up in Los Angeles a few years ago and made nine films. David tapped me on the hip to mean he thought his story was bullshit and he was trying to get into our room, we couldn't use Whispernet because the case was too far away. While the kid was going on about his film career as a male model David put his hand on the kid's shoulder and then rubbed his chest and stomach but the boy never reacted. The thing that bothered me the most was his strong desire to talk to us and find out if we had money, I sensed a thief was talking to us, but wondered if he was in partnership with the bellboy.
David was alarmed and wanted to put this kid out of business since he obviously wasn't going to stop, we decided to arrest him in our room. After he was done rubbing his fingers all over Rudy's chest David put his hands behind my neck and kissed me with the kid watching from only a foot away so we turned and climbed out of the pool. Without being invited Rudy silently followed us to the elevator, he didn't have a towel. We went to our room and he followed us inside. David went to his suitcase and pulled a knife then grabbed Rudy and held him from behind with the blade across his throat. I carefully pulled his wet swimming shorts off and found inside the fishnet pocket was a small .22 cal pistol.
He stood there in front of David with the knife blade pressed against side of his neck, naked and wet. I liked his wet brown skin, his beautiful belly button and his marshmallowy nipples.
With gear from my suitcase I strapped his ankles together then his wrists in front of his stomach. Then using more rope I tied him to the bed, one line from his ankles to the bed frame and the other around his neck to the head of the bed. After he was tied down Rudy got very quiet, but that might have been because of the rope.
Like I said his boyish body was beautiful, I could see why he was popular in porn but his interest in us was alarming. What this kid looked like was a six foot tall very boyishly attractive, fourteen year old Hispanic teenager with a long white scar down his face.
I took off my wet shorts and sat beside Rudy on the bed, I grabbed his shrunken dick and balls and played with `em. I've never stroked an uncut wiener before but decided to wank him as if he was cut. First, I lowered his foreskin and looked at his head, which was a dark red, his balls were large. His belly button was a perfect hole and his nips puffed out more than an inch like reddish oval pillows that just begged to be sucked on, each one bigger than half a ping pong ball. We never asked about the scar across his face, I'm sure we'd not hear the truth anyway.
I rubbed his dick and his chest while David got changed out of his wet shorts. He came back with a camera and took Rudy's photo and sent it to our office, after he sent it I took nudes of Rudy then put the camera away. We got a message back in fifteen minutes that this kid had warrants in three states (California, Arizona, and Nevada), he had a State Department detain order and advisory, and was on the no-fly list. We advised our commander we had him in custody and advised they call San Diego FBI to come get him in. Our boss said there was a reward for young Rudolpho Acosta. Most of his warrants were related to theft and racketeering, he had an arrest record going back to age seven that included sodomy and various sex crimes.
While he talked to the office I wanked Rudy. He got hard and started to squirm and pull on the ropes as I got him close. When he came his balls drew up and practically disappeared. He shot one large drop on his neck but the rest squirted across his stomach, he completely filled his belly button with cream. When he was done producing I leaned over and pulled my tongue across one of his big tits and kissed his silky smooth stomach. David came by the bed and smiled at the mess and gently pressed a finger into his other tit. I looked up at him and smiled. "Too bad," David mumbled. I noticed that Rudy had shaved arm pits and a small crop of pubes above his dick, but no hairs above his patch. He had no facials hairs yet which added to his very innocent appearance. His look made me wonder if he had taken female hormones in the past.
We both got dressed into PJ pants and waited for the clown show to arrive, neither of us were particularly trusting of the FBI these days. Dave wrung out his swim suit and hung it on the air conditioner to dry so he'd be more comfortable in custody.
Thirty minutes after his orgasm the FBI knocked on our door and properly handcuffed Rudy, we stood him up and slipped on his shorts. I slipped a t-shirt of mine on him and watched him escorted out our door with semen dribbling down his belly. As they stood in front of the elevator door Rudy leaned forward and looked at us and smiled, then they disappeared into the elevator. We shut the door and took showers and went to bed.
"He was adorable." I mumbled.
"Yep I bet had we not arrested him his buddy would have joined him and robbed us or killed us. I was bothered by his interest in our jobs." He replied.
"Was it military or was he looking for someone with money to rob?" I asked.
"I think it was a hold-up attempt, cash, valuables, and credit cards."
"I got the impression he was too cute to be too smart, no way was he MexIntel."
"Yeah well I'd rather be cautious." David replied.
"Yep, I'm glad you are that way." Then I added that I bet he was working with the bellboy and David agreed.
We were both asleep soon after that.