Clap

C. H. Savage

January 2006

Everyone was getting ready for the weekend. We had three days off with no duty – just what a sailor needed. Ten states within three hours and three days off – beautiful.

I was going to New York for the weekend, although, it was a tough choice. I had my buddy and a couple Jersey sluts on one hand, the Jersey shore and a cabin on the other, Philly and about 3,000 bars tugging at my leg or my girl in New York. I chose my girl in New York.

It had been a hot summer in Philly and the ship was even worse. The paint dust had started to seep into my blood and mixed with all the alcohol . . . well, I hadn’t been right for about 3 months. I needed a break.

Mathis caught me in the dorms. He was already half drunk but a little less pissed at me. He didn’t have anyone to double with now and ended up losing both of his Jersey girls.

"Who the fuck do you know in New York anyway, Savage?" he asked from the doorway. He was finishing off a forty of the Best.

"Someone that won’t blow me for a fuckin’ sixer and a Big Mac."

"What ever, asshole." he said walking on down the hall. I heard his bottle shatter against the back hall wall as his door slammed shut - a trick I had taught him. I liked Mathis, but I couldn’t wait to get to New York and away from the yard. Everything was building up and I needed out. I needed something warm . . . familiar.

Josie was as pure a girl that one could find and was just what I was needing. The day we met she was mowing the lawn of her church. She was beautiful. Cut-offs. Tank top. Tits and ass. Clean . . . Tan . . . Fresh . . . Iowa. I had known her for about two years before I set off for Philly and the Navy and hadn’t seen her for about six months. We were good friends but both of us had always wanted more - two virgins too shy to move on, I thought.

I pictured our first kiss during the train ride to the city. Maybe it would be on top of the Empire State Building - wind gusts and tourists; or under a subway outside some noisy tavern – music and dance spilling over us and our newfound bliss. Maybe I’d just grab her at the door and give her one – let her know right off how I really felt.

Josie met me at the station. She looked great; a little more makeup and a little thinner than before but still great. She was wearing a spaghetti strapped dress. Her tan legs and tits led the way and I followed, happily. Every guy there was looking at her as we hopped into our cab, which was headed for her sponsors’ apartment. The city was busy and loud - horns, stereos and people all over the street, but I couldn’t take my eyes off of her for the whole ride in. I was mesmerized and back to normal. This was going to be a great weekend.

Josie had taken a job as a full-time nanny. Her sponsors were living in an apartment in queens. It was the smallest place I’d ever seen. The front door entered into a 5 by 7 foot kitchen. Against the back wall were two doors – one for a bedroom and the other for a bathroom – both about the size of a small sofa. To the right was another bedroom, which was even smaller than the kitchen.

"Philly and the Navy, eh?" said Danny, the Dad. As I took a seat at a wobbly dining room table I could feel him and his wife eyeing me up.

"Yeah," I said. "I’ve about a year and a half left and then it’s off to college. I joined on the sea-college fund for a two year stint."

"Yeah? Well, I ain’t never been to the military or college, but good for you anyways," he said taking a pull from his Rolling Rock.

"What do you kids have planned for the weekend?" asked his wife.

Josie described a day trip around New York that ended at the Empire State Building. I hoped it would begin soon. The room was cramped and his wife kept looking at me with worried eyes. Danny had that effect on people.

"I bet he’d rather go fag bashing than to the fucking Empire State Building," he said nudging me in the ribs.

"What?!" Danny said incredulously. He couldn’t comprehend the confused look I had on my face - I didn’t know what he was talking about. Josie sat with her mouth agape.

"You know!? Fag bashing," he said. "We used to do it all the time. You know. You and your boys jump in a car and drive down to the strip. When you pull up on a bunch of fags one of ya just leans out the window and smashes one in the head with a bat."

"Danny!" said Margaret as she slapped the back of his head.

"Hey! What?!" he laughed. "What do you care? They’re just fags. Who cares, right?" he said matter-of-factly.

"Anyways, I bet you’ve better plans for Josie than that, eh, Savage?" he said as he pulled open another Rock. "Too bad you got that infucktion, huh, Josie. I told you to stay away from that DeAngelo. Fuckin’ filthy wop."

Josie blushed and said that it had all cleared up as she pulled me into the back bedroom where she was staying.

I could hear the wife berating Danny in the background. "That one hasn’t been around lately, Danny." I heard her go on as Josie shut the door. "You know better than to say that in front of . . ."

"What’s he talking about?" I asked as I sat on the bed, which was the only piece of furniture in the room.

"Nothing," she said, "he’s just kidding around with you is all. He’s like that." She was rubbing my leg as we talked. We kept on talking and catching up from the past year until, eventually, she asked if I’d like a back rub. I turned onto my belly as she started to rub my shoulders. This was unfamiliar territory for us but I was ready. Straddling me, her sundress draping my legs, Josie began to rub deep into my neck. I could feel the warmth coming from her crotch as she was grinding her ass into my lower back. I was getting aroused.

The room was dimly lit and my eyes were slowly adjusting as my head was crunched between the bed and the wall. I could only see the floor and I began to feel sick. Beneath the bed against the wall was an empty box of tampons. The box was littered with spent condoms.

I left that evening after we cut our day trip short. I never mentioned to Josie what I saw and didn’t question her again about Danny’s comments.

C. H. Savage has largely slid under the radar, despite having an almost preternatural flair for truly incendiary writing. Little is known about him or his pernicious habits.