Soulmates
 

 by: Hankster

© 2019 by the author

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

hankster@tickiestories.us

Chapter 5
The Sailor

Reggie and I finally made our life-changing commitment.  We moved out of our apartments, and purchased a lovely two-bedroom condominium in Battery Park Village.  I couldn’t believe what a great view we had of The Harbor.  Moving is always stressful, but when you are merging two households, it can be a particular horror.

At least three months passed before we had all our eggs in a row, and could relax.  One night after we cleaned up from dinner, we sat down on the sofa, put our stockinged-feet on the coffee table and watched TV.  I think we were in domestic bliss.

Reggie took my hand, and said, “Honey, I’ve finished writing the first few chapters of our book on past-life-regression. (When did he find the time?) If you feel up to it, I’d like to try again tonight, and add a chapter.”

“I’m fine with it, but remember, no more regressions for a while after this one.  I told you that I find it physically exhausting.”

“It’s a deal,” Reggie said.

He shut the TV, stood up,  and told me to assume the position on the sofa.  I did just that, and couldn’t wait for him to guide me through a meditation.  I can’t think of anything more soothing and relaxing.  In fact, I got so relaxed, Reggie had to repeat twice that it was time to start.

I placed myself in the monastery, and looked around to see how Gerald and I were doing. The monastery was in ruins.  I was immediately projected to the cemetery, which was fully occupied.  I stood in front of two tombstones.  The engravings indicated that Gerald and I had died on the same day, shortly after our first encounter.  Instinctively, I knew that bandits had raided the monastery for whatever worldly goods they could pilfer.  While so doing they slaughtered everyone in the building.

I was too upset to remain, I jumped into my personal time machine and projected forward.  I was in tears, and I remember feeling that I didn’t care where the machine took me.  It stopped suddenly, and I stepped out.

I was in some sort of training facility.  I looked around and saw naval personnel walking around.  Their uniforms were from another era.  I concluded that I was in a navy boot camp.  As soon as I absorbed that information, I was inside a barracks, standing in front of two young recruits.

They were sitting on a lower bunk, and I knew that the one who resembled Reggie occupied the upper bunk, and the one who looked like me, slept in the lower bunk.  As I stood in front of the two sailors, admiring their sexy manliness, I was suddenly enveloped into the body of the sailor who resembled me.  He was no longer a he, but a me.

We sat exceptionally close to each other and we were whispering.  No matter, I knew what we were saying.  We were admitting how much we loved each other and lamented the fact that we could not consummate our love.  We had two weeks shore leave after boot camp before beginning our service.  We both lied to our parents.  We told them that we were shipping out immediately after boot camp.  Our intention was to shack up somewhere cheap, like the YMCA, and spend two weeks making love.

Just before graduation, we were all given our assignments.  John (Reggie) and Jim (me) were ecstatic.  We were both assigned to a newly commissioned battle  ship,  The USS Maine.

The moment graduation was over, we threw our duffel bags on our shoulders, headed for the nearest city, and took a room at a local Y.  We made love constantly, almost non-stop, for the entire two weeks.  (Reggie told me later that while I was experiencing those two weeks, I was moaning and purring alternately.)

I tasted John’s cock and his cum so often that I believe he never left my mouth or ass.  It was delicious.  I myself lost count of how many times he got me off.  All I know for sure is that my jaw and my ass were so sore, I didn’t think that I would ever recover.

As we prepared to give up our room and head for the Brooklyn Navy Yard to begin our service on the USS Maine, John asked me, “How do you feel about me now?”

“I love you more than ever,” I assured him

The ship was huge.  It took us a good three weeks to learn our way around, and lucky for us we did.  We found an isolated spot in the boiler room, and whenever we could we made love there.

We spent most of the next three years in port, so we had lots of liberties on shore.  John and I spent those liberties making love in a cheap hotel in downtown Brooklyn.  It was now 1898, and we were both faced with the same dilemma.  Should we, or should we not, re-enlist. It was a tough decision because we both loved the navy, and we had a real camaraderie with the crew of the Maine.  On the other hand, if we left the navy, we could live together, and make love freely without fear of discovery.

We decided to get discharged, but before our time was up, we were told that our ship was being deployed to Havana, Cuba on a special mission.  We were excited.  Havana seemed like such an exotic place for liberty.

We left Brooklyn sometime in January, and once at sea, we snuck down to the boiler room every chance we could get.  In spite of the difficult environment, we made love, and as far as we were concerned the boiler room was the Garden of Eden.

We anchored in Havana Harbor, quite a distance from the pier.  Even if we could have anchored at the dock, we could not leave the ship.  Apparently Spain mistrusted our motive for being there, and would not grant permission for any of us to leave the ship.  John and I had to continue to settle for the boiler room.

After the evening meal, on Feb.15, 1898, while most of the crew was playing cards, John and I snuck down to the boiler room.  As he entered my ass, I had the most exquisite feeling of euphoria.  A second later we were both dead.  A humongous explosion ripped apart the hull of the ship, and the boiler room bore the brunt of the explosion.  In all, 260 of the men aboard the ship lost their lives that night.  Class distinctions did not concern the explosion.  Both officers and enlisted men were gone in an instant.

Jim had felt no pain.  His death was instantaneous.  Nonetheless, I (Norman) screamed out in agony.  It wasn’t physical pain.  It was anguish at the untimely death of two men that I knew to be Reggie and me in a past life.  Reggie woke me up quickly, and when I returned to the present, I found myself wrapped in his arms as he tried to console me.

When I calmed down, we discussed what I had witnessed.

“I’m bushed,” I told him.

“I know,” he said.  His voice was painful and sympathetic.

“So far, both our lives have ended in tragedy in every incarnation.  I’m beginning to worry about this one,” I said.

“I’m a fatalist, Norman.  Whatever will be, will be.”

“I guess I can only adopt the same philosophy.”

“Did you know?” Reggie asked, “The cause of the explosion was never determined.  Yellow journalists like Hearst and Pulitzer blamed a mine planted by Spain.  They actually precipitated the Spanish-American War.  Later investigation favored the theory that there was an explosion in the boiler room.”

“The boiler room?” I mused.  “No wonder we were blown to smithereens.  From now on I’m only making love in a safe place, like our bed.  It is safe, isn’t it, Reggie?”

“I don’t know.  Sometimes when we are making love, I feel like our bed is going to explode,” Reggie said.  He broke out laughing and couldn’t stop.

To be continued …

Posted: 02/08/19