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Kyle and I grew up together. Our families lived across the street from each other in a small town in northeastern Iowa. I can't remember a time when Kyle and I weren't friends. We are almost exactly the same age. Kyle is only two months older, a fact that he never lets me forget.
From the beginning, we spent virtually all our spare time together. If we weren't under our parent's direct control, we were off doing guy things. We were raised before helicopter parenting became the norm, so basically we could do whatever we wanted as long as we were home at the time specified by our parents.
By any measure, we were pretty good kids. Our part of the country adhered to conservative blue-collar values and we were raised accordingly. Compared to kids elsewhere, we were saints. Sure, we experimented with cigarettes and beer when we had the opportunity, enjoyed rock fights with other guys using garbage can lids as shields, built tree forts with lumber borrowed from construction sites, and played with firecrackers when we could get them. But we weren't truants, shoplifters, or vandals and had no brushes with local law enforcement.
Our academic performance was less than stellar, but good enough to keep our parents mostly at bay when report cards came out. As 'B' and 'C' students, we'd get the standard lecture about applying ourselves to do better. Our increased efforts would last about a week and then we'd lapse back into our old study habits. We didn't know what we wanted to be when we grew up but figured that something would come along sooner or later to capture our interest. Neither of us had any desire to go to college.
As teenagers, we liked girls and sports in that order. Good enough to 'letter' in several sports, we got more than our share of attention from the fairer sex. Neither one of us ever went more than a week or two without a steady girlfriend. Getting laid was our highest priority and much of our time was spent in pursuit of that goal; unfortunately without success. The young ladies of our acquaintance were raised in the same conservative environment, so we were invariably stopped at first or second base. It wasn't until late in our senior year, when we turned eighteen and were permitted to have our own cars, that our sex lives began to improve.
The summer after graduation was one to remember. We both had jobs, money in our pockets, and girlfriends who had been liberated by their own eighteenth birthdays. Sex, mostly in automotive back seats, became our major focus and we fucked our brains out at every opportunity.
About midway through that summer, my girlfriend of the moment confessed that she had a thing for Kyle and told me he felt the same way about her. Knowing he would not act on his feelings out of loyalty to me, I brought the issue up. When he admitted his attraction, I relinquished her without rancor. Kyle and I had shared everything since kindergarten, so there were no hard feelings. Within days, a different young woman occupied the back seat of my car. A week or two later, my old girlfriend had moved on and Kyle was involved with a different young lady. Life went on as usual.
And then came September 11, 2001.
Kyle and I enlisted in the Marine Corps under a buddy system in place at the time, attended basic and infantry training together, and then deployed to Iraq with our unit. We returned from that deployment unscathed and remained stateside for a few months, knowing it was only a matter of time before we would be overseas again.
From the beginning, Kyle was the better Marine. He reveled in the adventure, the discipline, and the danger. I was far less enthusiastic. I did my job, but my heart wasn't really in it.
Two deployments later, the first in Iraq and the second in Afghanistan, our enlistments were up and we faced a big decision; reenlist or take our discharges and return to civilian life. At that point, we were attached to an outfit stationed at Camp Pendleton near San Diego. By that time, Kyle was wearing Sergeant's stripes while I remained stationary at the rank of Lance Corporal, two levels lower.
For the first time in our lives, at the ripe old age of twenty-two, our paths diverged. Kyle announced his intentions to make the Corps his career and chose to reenlist. I decided to punch out, find work, and start attending classes somewhere in the San Diego area. I had generous GI Bill benefits and a newly-discovered interest in higher education.
I quickly found work with a local contractor that provided a variety of services to Camp Pendleton. The pay was good, the hours reasonable, and the job allowed me to remain close to Kyle. I had a 401K retirement plan, medical benefits, and some tuition assistance from the company to supplement my GI bill payments once I began classes.
Although now pursuing different careers, Kyle and I still spent as much time as possible together while waiting for his next deployment. Surfing and chasing girls were our primary activities and we became moderately proficient at both. Say what you will about Southern pendik escort California, but the weather is perfect and the women are liberated and very easy on the eyes.
Eventually, Kyle's unit deployed to the Middle East once again and I started classes at San Diego State University, a school with a low acceptance rate but a high regard for veterans so I was able to squeak through the gate. Nine months later I completed my freshman year with decent grades and an interest in data system security. Two weeks after that Kyle returned with a Bronze Star and a Purple Heart that he had failed to mention in our frequent e-mail exchanges while he was overseas.
His wound was serious enough to require rehab and a longer-than-normal stay at Camp Pendleton before deploying again. As his health improved, we resumed our surfing and girl-chasing hobbies. That's when he met Barbara at a local watering hole we favored.
I liked Barbara immediately but thought her an odd choice for a dedicated Jarhead. She was an intelligent, witty, and beautiful throwback to the hippies of the 1960s. She sported untamed blonde curly hair and loose fitting clothing that covered most of her body, even at the beach where she wore a wide-brimmed straw hat and slathered what little skin was exposed with sunscreen every half hour or so. She served as a sharp contrast to the ever-present bikini-clad beauties who worked diligently on their tans.
Kyle was clearly smitten. I had never seen him react so intensely to any other woman.
"I think I've found the one," he announced to me as we were driving to her apartment one Friday evening. We had become a threesome who socialized together a couple of times each week.
"Are you thinking about getting married?" I asked with a grin, doubting that marriage was his intent.
"Yep," he replied with a straight face.
"Aren't you the guy who always told me that if the Marine Corps wanted you to have a wife they would have issued you one in basic training?"
"That was me," Kyle admitted, "but this is different."
"How so?"
"Because I really am in love with her. I want her in my life for the long haul."
"Then you had better get out of the Marines as soon as your enlistment is up," I advised.
"Barbara and I have talked about that. She knows I love the Corps and she's more than willing to take on the trials and tribulations of being a Marine Corps wife."
"That's probably because she has no idea what she's getting herself into."
"Maybe," Kyle admitted. "But we'll do okay."
"Have you already proposed?" I inquired. "Without telling me?"
"I'm telling you now," he replied with a grin.
"Have you thought about the long deployments and what they often do to a marriage?"
"I have. We'll get through them."
"Jesus Christ!"
"I want you to be my best man," he responded, ignoring my outburst.
"Of course I'll be your best man. When are you doing this?" I demanded.
"Tomorrow."
"What?" I yelled. "Where?"
"Coronado Beach at sunrise. I found a justice of the peace who's willing to perform the ceremony early on a Saturday morning," he replied as we pulled up in front of Barbara's apartment building. Moments later she answered her door with a radiant smile.
"From the look on your face Jake, I assume Kyle has informed you of our plans. Give me a hug and tell me you approve."
"Of course I approve," I responded, fibbing a little as I gave her a brief hug, still concerned about Kyle's future deployments. "I couldn't be happier for you both."
"Then let's go celebrate," she ordered.
****
We arrived at the beach just before daylight, Kyle and Barbara in his Mustang and me in my Jeep. There were only four of us; the soon-to-be-newlyweds, me, and one of Barbara's girlfriends, Leah, whom I had encountered a time or two in the past and didn't particularly like. She was already on the beach, her Miata parked nearby. She was a pony-tailed redhead only slightly less hippie-like than Barbara. I knew she was some sort of artist and graphic designer which is how they met. Both did similar work for firms in the San Diego area
The marriage was a non-traditional wedding in every sense. I had been told to wear shorts and a t-shirt in keeping with the groom's attire. Barbara's only concession was to abandon her straw hat and stick a couple of flowers in her hair. Leah was similarly dressed. All of us were barefoot.
A Volkswagen convertible soon pulled into the parking lot and a slightly rumpled looking woman of indeterminate age got out of the car, spotted us, took off her shoes, and strode purposefully to the water's edge.
Kyle doesn't have a creative bone in his body, so I was certain the vows were written by Barbara. She did a nice job and both bride and groom recited the emotional words without faltering. Love and honor were mentioned but obedience was omitted in keeping with Barbara's free-spirited nature.
I had been handed a pair of simple gold bands earlier so I served as ring maltepe escort bearer when the time arrived. Leah's only role was silent support of her friend. Studying her briefly, I once again concluded that she was an attractive woman, but I still didn't like her. At the time I could not have said why except that she seemed aloof compared with Barbara's bubbly personality.
Barbara and Kyle were pronounced 'man and wife' and the simple ceremony came to an end.
"Breakfast is on me," I announced and everyone adjourned to a beachside restaurant except for the presiding justice who declined my offer. Excellent Bloody Mary's got everything off to a good start and we stuffed ourselves for the better part of an hour. Leah's participation in the festivities was less than enthusiastic. I couldn't figure out why, but basically didn't give a shit. My friends were happy and that's all I cared about.
An hour later, we all parted company; Kyle and Barbara for a three-day honeymoon on Coronado Island, me for my apartment and a nap, and Leah for wherever she kept her cauldron and broom.
****
Several years went by. Kyle deployed a few more times, returning with more medals and stripes, a Silver Star and another Purple Heart now adorning his Gunnery Sergeant's uniform. Per his request, I called Barbara once a week while he was gone to make sure she was okay and to determine if she needed any help. From time to time I performed a task or two that she couldn't take care of herself and about once a month we met for lunch, enjoying each other's company. We had grown quite fond of one another, both of us valuing our friendship. After each encounter I was careful to e-mail Kyle and tell him where we went and what we talked about. Barbara, I was certain, did the same.
I continued to work on my degree by going to night school. As my knowledge of data security grew, I went to work for the company that has employed me ever since. The work agreed with me and I was able to build a solid career.
During those years, I had a number of girlfriends. One or two of them developed into serious relationships but ultimately didn't last. At twenty-eight years of age, I was enjoying a reasonably active sex life and felt that marriage would come when Karma, or whatever, dictated.
Eventually, Kyle was assigned to duties at Camp Pendleton that would keep him deployment-free for two years. I was thrilled and Barbara was ecstatic. It was a relief to know that Kyle was out of harm's way and our Three Musketeers-like relationship could continue with fewer interruptions.
From time to time, I had to deflect attempts by Barbara to hook me up with Leah who, to my annoyance, was still hanging around. Within a few weeks of Kyle's return from Afghanistan, I found a woman who showed enough promise to become a fourth Musketeer and cause me to contemplate marriage in something other than an abstract way. Her name was Julia. She was a thirty-year-old knockout who soon became a vital part of my life and then died in a traffic accident less than a block from her apartment. I was devastated. If it had not been for Kyle and Barbara I would have completely come apart at the seams. Only their support kept me reasonably sane. It took months for me to heal enough to reclaim something resembling a normal life.
Eventually, Kyle's stateside assignment drew to a close and the three of us knew that another deployment was imminent.
"I need to talk to you," announced Kyle during a phone call late one afternoon.
"Go ahead," I responded, "I have time."
"In person. Can you meet me the Red Eye after work?" The Red Eye Saloon was a watering hole we all favored a few miles northeast of Camp Pendleton.
"Sure. I'm about done for the day anyway. What's this all about?"
"I'll explain when I see you," he replied. "I'm buying."
"Oh good," I replied, "I'm feeling a strong thirst for fine, well-aged single-malt Scotch."
"You'll get beer. Draft beer."
"Cheapskate," I responded and terminated the call.
****
"Okay, what's up?" I inquired as I took a sip of my beer.
"I have a story to tell you. When I'm done, I'll ask you for a favor."
"You know I'll do whatever you need me to do," I told him as I lifted my glass in salute, not knowing the next half-hour would start us all on a path that would change our lives in a big way.
"A few times during my first deployment after our wedding, Barbara cheated on me," he announced without preamble, dropping a bomb in the middle of the table.
"What?" I shouted, completely blown off my feet.
"Keep your voice down," Kyle commanded, "and I'll tell you the rest of the story."
"What more could there possibly be?"
"Lots more."
"How did you find out?"
"She told me all about it when I returned," he answered and then calmly took a sip of his own beer.
I stared at him for a full minute, trying to gain mental traction so I could process the news. Kyle waited me out.
"Why are you still married?" I finally kartal escort asked, "I love the woman like a sister, but what she did to you was inexcusable. Why on earth are you still together? How can you deploy knowing she's capable of something like that?"
"It's complicated."
"How fucking complicated can it be?" I responded, my voice starting to rise again. Kyle put a finger to his lips reminding me to lower my voice.
"Shut up and let me finish the story," he ordered.
"Okay," I choked, and then took a slug of my beer.
"Barbara has done the same thing every time I deployed. We reached an...an accommodation after that first time."
"What? Why?" I croaked, ignoring his order of silence.
"Because we love each other."
"Jesus H. Christ," I muttered. "Nice way for her to show it."
"I haven't been pure as the driven snow either and I admitted as much to Barbara after she told me what she had done. There are a lot of military women stationed in the Middle East. The life and death environment over there tends to encourage sexual liaisons even though the military officially frowns on them. I had no trouble getting laid whenever I felt the need."
That I understood. Naively, I saw recreational sex as only a guy thing, so his sins seemed minor when compared to Barbara's transgressions, but I kept that thought to myself.
"Barbara felt the same need and she was unable to control it. It was purely physical for both of us. We didn't want romance, we just needed to fuck and be fucked. Pure human nature."
"Can I ask a question?"
"Sure," Kyle responded with a grin, probably knowing my head was about to blow off.
"So you deploy knowing full well that Barbara is going to find some guy to fuck while you're overseas screwing an Army nurse, or a female ambulance driver, or whatever?"
"Yes. Both of us do it several times during each deployment, Barbara about once a month and me when combat operations allow time and opportunity."
"And you're okay with that?" I ask, my voice rising once again.
"No."
"Help me out here. I don't have a clue what you're getting at," I tell him, exasperation beginning to muscle aside my initial shock. Kyle and Barbara clearly had a secret life I knew nothing about. "You made this accommodation but now you're objecting to it?"
"When I'm doing it, I am in no physical danger unless I happen to be humping a woman some other guy has his eye on. But I'm unlikely to be harmed considering what I'm capable of as a decorated combat Marine. Remember, I can kill you with a ball point pen," he added with a grin.
"Not funny Kyle! What's your point?"
"When Barbara does it, she has to pick a stranger, someone she isn't bound to by military camaraderie and common purpose. She can't choose someone where she works. She only needs physical gratification, not emotional involvement, so it's never the same guy twice. It's a crap shoot for her and it worries me. There was one guy toward the end of my last deployment who decided he wanted things to be permanent. I got home in time to intervene. After the guy's two day hospital stay he disappeared, but the incident scared Barbara and it scared me."
"I don't fucking believe this. Why have you let it go on so long when you know she's at risk when she does it?"
"Because Leah has been involved from the beginning and we all believed that would provide adequate protection."
"I knew there was a reason why I don't like that woman. So what kind of protection does she provide? She have a black belt in something?" I asked, sarcasm dripping off my voice.
"She served in more of a quality control capacity. Barbara and Leah would go to a bar together. When Barbara identified a likely candidate, Leah would offer her opinion. Barbara would do the same for Leah. Usually everything worked out and they'd both ended up getting laid. It didn't go well the last time. I'll tell you more about Leah in a few minutes."
"I can hardly wait. Why are you telling me all this now?"
"As you already know, I'm deploying to Japan in two weeks. I'll be gone about nine months."
"So? I'll stay in touch with Barbara like I always do until you get home."
"I want more from you this time."
"More what?"
"When Barbara's need for sex becomes unbearable, I want you to be the guy who scratches her itch," Kyle responded, deadpanned.
"What?" I yelped, prompting Kyle to gesture for me to calm down once more.
"It's the perfect solution. Barbara will be safe while she gets what she needs."
"Are you out of your mind? I can't do that! You're my best friend. Barbara is probably my second best friend. Buy her dildo or a vibrator or something. What you're asking is impossible."
"She has sex toys, but you and I both know there's a big difference between doing yourself and having someone else involved. Do you find Barbara attractive?" Kyle asked, suddenly switching gears.
"Of course. She's beautiful. So what?"
"Do you want her safety at risk?" he asked with a hint of a smile on his lips.
Fuck! I was trapped and Kyle knew it. I didn't respond for several long moments, allowing creeping comprehension to organize my thoughts. Everything he had said began to make some sort of weird sense.