Chapter 2
The compartment was made to accommodate six, but there were only three passengers left as the train began picking its way through the suburbs of the city. The three were unlike each other in appearance, but even a casual observer would have guessed correctly that they were all intimate friends. There was something in the relaxed, informal way in which the woman, an attractive brunette, was stretched out on the seat with one leg tossed carelessly over a suitcase which suggested that she was in the presence of men she knew very well. The two males were clearly at least ten years apart in age, but their conversation was spirited and enthusiastic, not resembling in the least the usual casual exchange between two travelers who have struck up an acquaintance to pass away the idle hours.
"Did we have the film refrigerated in L.A.?" asked the younger man. He was a big muscular individual, tanned from months of brutal exposure to the Oriental sun and hardened by long hours of carrying camera equipment through jungles and rice paddies. The hardness had not as yet reached his face, however, and he wore the open friendly expression of a college football player.
"Yeah," replied the other man. "It was on ice from the time it left Saigon. It'll catch a little heat coming across the country but it shouldn't deteriorate much." The speaker was perhaps a decade older than his friend and spoke with the casual toughness of the career Army non-commissioned officer. He was a burly heavy-set individual with long, powerful arms and he puffed contentedly on a cigar as he talked.
"You boys worry all the time," the girl suddenly spoke up. "You can relax now. The stuff got through the customs all right and the M.P.'s never said a word. When you should have been sweating, you were both cool as cucumbers. Now we're on easy street and I've heard nothing but worrying since we left the West Coast. What's bugging you?"
Val was an attractive female in her late twenties, obviously a sophisticated woman of the world. In keeping with the current fashions she wore faded blue jeans which were deliberately ripped on the bottoms, and a casual V-necked sweater. From the unrestricted movement of her breasts as the train rocked from side to side, it was clear that she disdained the use of brassieres and preferred to let her high, well-formed breasts bounce naturally.
Bill, the younger man, responded to her question.
"Val-baby, we're all right as far as the Army is concerned. Allan and I have our discharge papers in our pockets and it will be a century or two before they get around to looking for all the cameras and equipment we "borrowed"! But civilian life is a whole different thing. We know our work well enough, but we're moving into a very stiff market and we'll be facing the very stiffest kind of competition from the established film makers in the city. We've got enough film for a year or two if we use it carefully, but we're damned short of money. And the one thing we couldn't steal from the Army is a bunch of clients. Take my word for it, this is no time to get relaxed."
"Ah, now cool it, son," drawled Allan with the fatherly tone of an old sergeant speaking to a raw recruit. "If we could make films standing in mud up to our assholes with bullets flying over our heads, we can make them anywhere. After all, they didn't give that award to us for the best battlefield documentary of the year for nothing. We've got what it takes, kid, here or in Vietnam or anywhere. All we need to do is stay with our formula: good clear films with plenty of action and lots of sex. It doesn't make any difference whether we're shooting advertisements or training films or skin flicks. The formula stays the same."
"And by doing the basic film processing ourselves, we'll save a pile of dough," added Val enthusiastically. "And how many young film makers just starting out have got the gear you two have collected? Cameras, lenses, projectors, enlargers, cutting equipment-where did you get it all? I never saw such a mountain of stuff. I couldn't even figure out what half of it did. And how on earth did you ever swipe it without the Army catching on? You never did tell me the whole story on that."
"It wasn't easy," admitted Allan uncomfortably, lowering his voice. "Bill and I had just checked into a new station where they had enough gear to re-equip Twentieth Century Fox. The Viet Cong overran us about the second night we were there and since we were all camera crews and not combat troops, we bugged out without putting up any resistance. Bill and I got lost in the jungle in the confusion. After wandering around getting stung by mosquitos for a couple of hours, we stumbled back on our station again. The Viet Cong had left a couple of men behind to guard all the gear and moved on chasing our troops. We knew it was the chance of a lifetime so we moved in and took out the guards...."
"What do you mean, 'took them'?" interrupted Val.
"Well, honey, war is hell and they'd have done the same to us. We bumped them off and spent the next day and all the following night hauling gear into the jungle and burying it. Just as we got the last piece out, the Marines counter-attacked and re-captured the station. Everybody figured that the Viet Cong had heisted the gear and nothing ever came of it."
"And it was almost six months before the area was completely pacified and we went back to shoot a film," reminisced Bill. "We had to hire a native with a truck to cart it all back to Saigon where we played games with the customs people getting it onto a ship. That was riskier than taking it away from the Viet Cong."
"How did I get hooked up with you two?" demanded Val jokingly. "A couple of cut-throat cameramen! Well, anyway, now that I know you're both war heroes as well as hot-shot movie makers, I'll have to do my duty as a patriotic citizen and think up some very special reward for the two of you." She grinned at the two men lasciviously and wiggled her bouncing breasts to leave no doubt as to what kind of reward she had in mind.
"You're going to have to be satisfied with rewarding just old Allan, I'm afraid. This young stud has got a real piece of woman waiting for him at the train station. Hasn't he shown you a photograph? Hard to tell with all her clothes on, but she looks like the hottest piece of goods I've seen since we left Hong Kong ... Hey, Bill, remember that broad in Hong Kong, the one with the enormous tits?"
"Yeah," replied the younger man without much enthusiasm. "Listen, about Sandy...."
"I'm here to tell you, Val, that girl had a body like something out of a wet dream," Allan interrupted. "We rented her for a whole day and took turns climbing on and off her. I was ready for a heart attack by dinner time, but this young stud must have socked it to her about twenty times."
"I want to explain about Sandy...." Bill tried again, but Val cut in over him.
"You don't have to tell me," she said saucily. "I'm still sore from the workover the two of you gave me last night. If you're as good a team behind a camera as you are when you're entertaining the ladies, you should have an Oscar or two inside of a year."
"About Sandy...." Bill persisted.
"What a pretty name that is!" Val chattered on. "I'm sure the four of us will get along just fine. Is that what's been bothering you? Long as she lets you climb into bed with me once in a while so I don't get too bored with the old sarge here, then I'll be happy. And Allan'll be glad to teach her anything she doesn't already know."
"That's just it!" Bill cried out in desperation. "No one's going to teach Sandy anything. I've been trying to explain since we left L.A."
"S'matter, chum?" inquired Allan. "Doesn't she go for our kind of fun and games?"
"It's worse than that, Allan. When I left for Vietnam, Sandy was a virgin and I imagine she's still the same.
"A virgin?" repeated Val, as if she was unsure of the meaning of the word.
"You're putting us on," growled Allan, throwing his cigar out the window in disgust. "The greatest cocksman in Saigon with a virgin girlfriend? For Christ's sake, how old is this girl?"
"She's twenty-three, a year younger than I am. But you have to understand, we were both raised in this tiny town in New England. Her mother ran the whole community with the Bible and her husband's money. Sandy's just ... well ... she's not frigid or anyting, but she's very proper."
"And what are you going to do?" demanded Allan. "I figured we could use this girl as a model and an actress. If she doesn't want to join the party that's her business, but a broad with her looks could sure help us out."
"She will," promised Bill eagerly. "I know she'll do everything she can, but we have to take it slow with her, ease her along, if you know what I mean."
"Gee, a virgin at twenty-three," mused Val, staring dreamily out the window. "I lost my virginity when I was thirteen. Two kids I went to grammar school with pulled me into a vacant lot on the way home after classes. I've been screwing ever since. I can't imagine how people like that manage to live without it. I'd go nuts in a week."
"You, baby, are a special case," Allan assured her as he reached over and patted the large, partially exposed breast nearest him. "Hey, here's the station!"
The train shuddered as the conductor applied his brakes and brought the long gray liner into the station at a crawl. Bill threw himself to the window and began scanning the crowded platform for his fiance.
"There she is! Hey Sandy!" he shouted, as Allan and Val peered over his shoulder.
"Is that the one?" gasped Allan as Sandy came into view. "The one with the big boobs and the smooth little ass? And you never got a piece of that? Bill, I'm ashamed of you. I'll give you one week to get it into her or I'm cutting you out of my will."
"Now Allan, stop that," Val corrected him. "We've got to try and make a good impression on Sandy. She looks like a lovely little girl and I'm sure Bill will know just how to handle her. Without any help from you, you dirty old man. And try to watch your language, at least until she gets to know us. God damn, she does have big tits, doesn't she? Some girls have all the luck."
Bill, overcome by joy, raced down the corridor waving his suitcase and pushing the other passengers roughly out of the way. When the train J slowed sufficiently, he jumped to the platform and flew to her side.
As Bill's arms closed around her soft, yielding body, Sandy forgot about the insulting bums, the dingy station, the year of loneliness and all the troubles behind and ahead of them. For a few minutes they stood, wrapped in each other's arms, without speaking, or even kissing. Sandy was only dimly aware of the other passengers climbing down from the train and the porters hauling baggage and mail. Finally she became aware that there were two people, a man and a woman, standing next to them and grinning broadly.
So this was the couple Bill had written about!
Bill, his face smeared with lipstick, made the introductions. Val looked pleasant and cheerful and Sandy found her very pretty, except for a little hardness in the way she dressed. Allan seemed younger than she had anticipated and she realized that she had been expecting a grizzled old sergeant. He seemed nice enough, but there was something cold and unfeeling about his smile and this frightened her a little.
She led them to her old car and the four set off for the house Sandy had rented. Bill kept kissing her passionately every time they stopped for a signal light and once he brushed his hand over her ripe young breasts. Allan and Val could hardly have failed to notice this crude sexual gesture and she shot Bill a warning look, thinking at the same time that this was perfectly normal behavior for a man who had spent twelve months in the jungle without so much as a glance at a woman.
He will be hard to control, she told herself. They had better try to schedule their wedding as soon as possible or they were likely to fall into sin. In the meantime she would simply have to be strong enough for the two of them. With this thought, she pulled into the alley and introduced them to their new home.