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This was written in response to Lisa's September 19, 2002, requirement challenge on the mash-slash list. The requirements were:

1. at least some mention of a Henry Blake lecture
2. the hole in the shower tent (note that the men and women all shower in the same tent but at different times)
3. a flashback of sorts
4. the mention of a threesome

Much inspirational credit should go to Dagny, whose "The Benefits of Public Showers" demonstrated (to me, anyway) the potential charms of this particular threesome. :)

by iolanthe <iolanthe@cais.com>

Two knocks, a pause, then two more knocks. That was the signal.

"Come in," I called, trying like hell to keep my voice steady.

The door swung open to admit Trapper John McIntyre, bearing gifts. "Hey, Henry." He flashed me a wide, easy grin as he swaggered into the tent. "Thought I'd bring along some hooch to help grease the ol' wheels."

Nervous as a high school kid on prom night, I accepted the bottle of half-decent scotch. "Yeah, nothin' better than greasy wheels," I babbled.

"Why don't you find us a couple of glasses, or do you wanna drink it straight from the source?"

While he took a seat, I fumbled around in my footlocker for the shot glasses I'd picked up last month in Tokyo. Since they'd never seen action, I figured they would be reasonably clean.

I filled each with a healthy belt of the scotch and offered one to McIntyre. My own glass was quickly drained and refilled; in situations like this, there's a lot to be said for greasy wheels.

As we shot the breeze for a while and proceeded to get comfortably sloshed, I thought back on how the pair of us had managed to end up here, alone in my tent, after eleven p.m. on a Thursday....

----------

It all started with a late-night trip to the latrine, courtesy of my famously low-capacity bladder. I was walking past the showers on my way back to bed when I heard something that stopped me in my tracks. Now, around here there's nothing too unusual about taking a shower in the middle of the night -- with our crazy duty shifts, sometimes you just have to grab one when you can. But this time, over the hiss of running water, I thought I heard someone moan. And not like they were in pain, either.

The sound traveled straight from my ears down to my more personal regions, causing an instant response. (You can't really blame me for that; after all, Leslie had been on leave in Seoul for almost a week, and a man has needs, ya know.) Curious now, I sneaked around back of the shower tent, where I knew there was a conveniently placed nurse-ogling hole, to check things out.

Let me tell you, what I saw through that hole opened my eyes in more ways than one. This sure wasn't the co-ed shower I'd been expecting to see! Sharing a single stall -- tangled in each other's arms and exploring each other's tonsils -- were Trapper McIntyre and Hawkeye Pierce, my two best surgeons. Yeah, two guys.

Now, at this point you might think I would beat a hasty retreat after having seen more than enough...but you'd be wrong. Strangely, I found that I wasn't at all disgusted by the sight. In fact, it spiked the needle on my arousal meter quicker than a tongue kiss from Nancy Sue Parker.

So I stayed glued to the spot while Pierce and McIntyre demonstrated a few of the possibilities right before my eyes. The only frustrating factor was that the height of the stall partitions blocked way too much of the view, but I guess that's why God gave me an imagination.

When McIntyre's head disappeared below the partition, and Pierce started moaning again -- quieter this time, more wary of attracting unwanted attention -- that imagination proved my undoing. Without thought, I let my hand slip downward and through the gap at the front of my robe to, you know, take matters firmly in hand.

Too soon, Pierce tensed and gasped out Trapper's name, his hands gripping the top of the partition with white-knuckled intensity, and I reached my own peak within seconds of witnessing his. When McIntyre reappeared, Pierce, grinning like a Cheshire cat, slumped forward into his arms and into a passionate-looking liplock. With reeling head and sticky shorts, I stumbled away from the peephole and was safely back in my tent before they left the showers.

At first, it looked like a clear-cut case of all's well that ends well. I came, I saw, I came, and that should've been the end of it -- no one need ever be the wiser. But instead, for days afterwards, the things I had seen stayed with me, gnawed at me, tantalized me, until I knew I'd have to either take action or burst.

Even before that night, I understood that Pierce and McIntyre were at their best as a team. A united front. Together, they could even be kind of intimidating. So I figured I'd avoid the whole two-against-one problem by singling one of them out. The ol' divide-and-conquer strategy.

I had McIntyre report to my office, but not before I sent Radar, my company clerk, off on an extended errand. A terrific kid, Radar, but sometimes I think he hears more than he should outside those office doors, and there are certain things about me he's just better off not knowing.

"Hey, Henry," said McIntyre, resting his hip on the edge of my desk. "What's up?"

"Have a seat, McIntyre. I want to ask you something."

"Sure." With casual grace, he settled into a chair opposite me.

"This is all off the record, by the way." I fiddled nervously with the little Japanese doll that sat on my desk. "I'm not talking colonel to captain here, but...uh...man to man."

"You got personal troubles, Henry? You know I'm always here for ya."

I cleared my throat. "That's kinda what I was hoping, actually. See, I recently had an experience that sort of changed my whole perspective on things."

He leaned forward, interested. "Go on."

"It was last week, pretty late Wednesday night. Not many people up and around at that hour, you know."

I saw his eyes narrow slightly in suspicion. McIntyre had a quick mind for a guy who drank as much as he did.

"Anyway, just by chance, I happened to see something. Something very...umm...interesting. And I haven't been able to stop thinking about it."

"This thing you saw, was it somewhere in the vicinity of the shower tent?"

It was time to come clean. No point in hedging when he'd already figured it out. "Yeah, it was. I saw you and Pierce. In the shower. Together."

"I see." He leaned back in the chair and laced his hands behind his head. "So don't keep me in suspense -- what's the next move? You gonna turn us in?"

"Aw, come on, Trapper, you know me better than that. I leave all the tattling around here to Burns and Houlihan."

"What, then? A slap on the wrist?"

I was never much good at the direct approach, but I gritted my teeth and took a chance. "I want in."

McIntyre's eyes widened and his arms dropped. "What?"

"I said I want in. Look, watching you guys got me so worked up I could barely see straight, and I just can't get it out of my head. I...I have to find out what it's like to do that stuff."

"Henry, do you realize what you're asking? I thought you were straighter than Radar's poker face."

"I know what I'm asking. Will you at least think about it?"

"Sure, okay." He paused, considering. "I can discuss this with Hawk, right?"

"Yeah. But I'd want to start out slow at first, you know? With...uh...just one of you. If that's all right."

----------

So there you have it. The nutshell version of how McIntyre and I ended up here, getting bombed in my tent, after eleven p.m. on a Thursday.

My head was swimming pleasantly by this time, and I didn't feel half as tense as before. I guess my wheels were well and truly greased, and McIntyre knew it. He stood up, stretched, and nodded toward my bunk. "Think I'll go sit over there for a while. Care to join me?"

And how! After all the preliminaries, I was ready to get this show on the road. I plunked myself down next to him on the edge of the bed, grinning like an idiot.

"Feelin' good?" he asked, amused.

"Yo!" I tried to form the "OK" sign, but my fingers didn't seem to want to cooperate.

McIntyre casually draped an arm across my shoulders, and I leaned against him, buzzed and happy. But after a moment or two, he whispered in my ear, "What say we make ourselves more comfortable? Clothing tends to get in the way of progress."

It was an excellent suggestion. And he only had to help me with a few of the buttons. Oh, and the bootlaces. I think I did manage to unzip my pants on my own.

Next thing I know, we were both buck naked, stretched out face to face on my bunk in a close embrace. Damned if it wasn't a little slice of heaven, too -- real warm and cozy like. I must have let my eyes close for a minute, because McIntyre cracked, "You're not gonna fall asleep on me, are you, Henry?"

"Whoops, sorry. Unscheduled eyelid inspection."

He chuckled and started rubbing my back in a slow circular motion, pressing us into even closer contact. I laid a tentative hand on his cheek, and that was all the invitation he needed to lean in and brush his lips against mine. Soft and careful at first, evaluating my response, then more insistent as I demonstrated my acceptance and approval. Kissing Trapper like that brought back vivid memories of what I'd seen in the shower stall, and any lingering thoughts of sleep evaporated. I was instantly, achingly, helplessly aroused.

It's tough to hide something like that when you're sharing an army cot in the buff. Trapper drew back, grinning his naughty grin. "Hey, did you bring your sidearm to bed, or are you just happy to see me?"

"Ha ha, smartass. Looks to me like we're both armed and dangerous at the moment."

Not bothering to deny the truth of that statement, he gave my backside a friendly squeeze. "So what did you have in mind for your introductory lesson? Just a little foolin' around or maybe something more...intense?"

That threw me for a second. Most of this stuff was new to me, and -- as hot as it might've sounded in theory -- I didn't think I was quite ready for the reality of fucking or being fucked by a man. "Oh, I dunno," I told him honestly. "The things you guys were doing looked plenty intense to me."

"You're the boss." Somehow, Trapper found enough room between us to wrap his hand around my cock and give it a couple of teasing strokes before he shifted away and got out of bed.

Confused, I moaned, "Wait, where are you...?"

"Shh, not to worry. Scoot over here so you can sit on the edge."

I did as he asked, with a bit of awkward flailing, and all questions were answered when he knelt down on the floor in front of me and lowered his head to take me in his mouth.

Sweet mother of pearl, I don't think I'd ever felt anything as fantastic in my entire life. The man could do things with his tongue -- slippery, darting, quicksilver things -- that drove me straight up the wall and back down the other side. Recalling the scene in the shower, I could now identify one hundred percent with Hawkeye's ecstasies, right down to the last detail.

It's not that no one had ever done this for me before, though it was an unfortunate rarity. My wife Lorraine, as sweet and wonderful as she is, is a pretty straight arrow in the boudoir, if you get my drift. And Leslie, a gal I see a lot of over here, isn't wild about doing it "that way," either. She reserves it for special occasions -- major holidays, my birthday, or when I come back from leave with an extra-nice present for her.

Of course, the experience was too intense to last long, and Trapper must have sensed that I was already getting close. As he stepped up the tempo, I reached for my pillow to try to muffle the sounds I couldn't seem to stop making, but when the grand finale arrived and I came in endless shivering spasms, I abandoned the pillow to clutch at Trapper's shoulders for dear life.

Shaky and spent, I collapsed sideways on the bed, then looked up to see him standing over me. "Whoa, fella, that's some technique you've got there," I gasped. "Where'd you learn how to do that?"

"Peeping into showers." The grin again, and a knowing wink.

"I can see it'll take me a while to live that one down," I chuckled. "Seriously, that was goddamned incredible. How can I...you know...repay you?"

"Tit for tat can be fun. Think you're up for that?"

"If you can tolerate the fumblings of a rank amateur. Oh, and my knees aren't what they used to be...."

"There are other positions." He raised a suggestive eyebrow.

In the end, we settled on a modified version of the last position, with me sitting on the bed and Trapper standing. Being new at this, I started out slow, first trying a few experimental licks. Encouraged by his appreciative murmurs and undemanding touches, I got more and more comfortable with the whole concept and was soon slurping away with little finesse but plenty of enthusiasm. It was kind of a rush, knowing that I was giving him at least a passable imitation of the pleasure he'd so willingly given me.

I was grateful for the advance warning Trapper whispered to me when my efforts were about to pay off, but I was determined to see this thing through to the bitter end. And as it turned out, it went down pretty easy and didn't taste all that bitter.

Afterward, Trapper joined me in bed, his legs undoubtedly wobbly, and we ended up lying face to face again in that warm and cozy arrangement. "Damn, Henry, you're a quick study," he said with affection. "Now that you're such an expert, maybe you should work some of this into your next lecture. 'Course you'll need to dig up another Figure B...."

I had to laugh, well-knowing the embarrassment that always gripped me whenever I had to deliver one of the mandatory sex-related lectures to the men. "And Figure A could watch?"

"Hell, she can join in!"

"The more the merrier!" Now we were both giggling like adolescents, and I realized that I felt more relaxed and at ease than I had in ages. It struck me then how lucky I'd been to have blundered across the secret life of Captains Pierce and McIntyre and to have somehow gained admittance to it.

We stayed like that for a long while, just talking and enjoying the sleepy afterglow, but, like all good things, it had to end sometime. "I should head back to the Swamp soon," Trapper said softly. "Hawk said he'd be waiting up for the full report."

"So...will it be a good report?" I asked, only half joking.

"Five gold stars and a commendation," he smiled as he rolled out of bed.

When he was appropriately dressed for public viewing, he gave me a friendly farewell hug and a peck on the cheek. "Goodnight, Henry. Sweet dreams."

As I saw him to the door, I tried to sound casual. "Say, if you guys aren't busy, why don't you and Hawkeye drop by for a drink tomorrow night? Around eleven?"

One last grin, wicked and bright. "Ya know, I think we just might do that."

END

© September 2002