The sun had set early and the snowflakes were flying thick and wet in the headlight beams. It was the kind of snowstorm that completely buries anything not moving. The couple had left the trailer park in San Jose around 2pm, and were travelling north through California's central valley on Interstate 5 to get to Klamath Falls, Oregon until the orange neon highway warning signs announced the stretch of highway to the Oregon border had been closed because of snow. Never one to let weather stop him, Donnie Faylor turned off the interstate, determined to by-pass Interstate 5 and use the old two-lane Route 97 instead to get to his brother's house before midnight.
With only 88 miles left to go now, Donnie was confident that they could make it; they had plenty of gas. In addition to the normal 30-gallon gas tank, his Ford F-150 pickup truck had a 70-gallon auxiliary tank topped off before they left Sacramento. The red '67 V8 also had plenty of power, 4-wheel drive with good off-road tires and four off-road lights on the front bumper to light the way.
Huddled against the passenger door, Donnie's wife Janine did not share his confidence. Even with the off-road lights blazing, each passing minute made it harder and harder to see the road. The flurries in front of the windshield made the view a non-stop blur of white.
"Slow down, Donnie," she pleaded. "Can't we just stop somewhere and stay the night?" After two years of marriage, Janine seldom questioned her husband; she had learned this could lead to at least slap in the face, if not worse. In this case her fear of them both getting killed had overruled her fear of his wrath.
Donnie's response was not unexpected, as he reacted to questions like it was an insult to his manhood. This tendency had gotten him fired from his last three jobs, in fact. "Shut up, woman," he growled, "my fucking truck can make it lots of places that stupid CHP trucks can't. Mark my words, we'll make it to Klamath Falls in less than an hour -- AWWWW, SHIIIIIIIIT!"
Donnie desperately began to counter-steer as the truck swapped ends. It had lost traction when they had entered the last curve - a patch of ice lay under the snow. Janine wanted to scream, but suffered her terror in silence since Donnie would punish her for it. The truck suddenly hit a snowbank and stopped, the engine dying. Neither was seriously hurt, but since there were no seat belts in the old truck Janine had been bounced around, hitting her head on the passenger-side window. She knew she'd have some bruises on her body the next day. Donnie, of course, wouldn't have a mark on him. The man seemed indestructible.
"MotherFUCKER!" Donnie screamed, pounding the steering wheel. "This piece of shit truck, I ought to drive it to the scrap heap right now!" He restarted the motor and jammed it into reverse; the wheels spun momentarily until one of them was able to melt through the snow and get traction on the ground underneath. He got the truck back onto the snow-covered blacktop and kept driving, albeit much more slowly. As if on cue, the wind gusted and it began to snow harder. The snow glowed white from the now nearly useless truck lights.
They creeped around a corner to where the trees provided a wind block; for a moment the snow flurries abated, and it was then they saw the glow of blue neon. It was an old-style motel sign reading "The Cloisters" glowing brightly in big blue letters, small red letters spelling "Vacancy" glowed underneath it.
Resigning himself to the inevitable, Donnie turned the truck into the driveway, coming to a stop in front of the motel office entrance. Looking for an outlet for his anger, he shook an index finger in Janine's face. "This is all your fault -- if we'd left earlier we'd be there by now. I'll be taking the cost of the room out of your ass later. Stay here, bitch!"
Janine sighed inwardly. No matter what she did, Donnie was always blaming her for something; it gave him an excuse to physically abuse her in some way or other. She watched his hulking back as he walked into the lobby. She had married him to get out of Copper Hole, Tennessee, population 400. In Copper Hole, if a young woman didn't leave as soon as she was 17, typically she'd get knocked up, marry some dirt-poor farm boy and live in poverty, pumping out kids until her uterus finally quit working. Janine had hoped being married to Donnie would be a better life. As it turned out it wasn't a better life, just a different kind of misery.
Janine had set her sights on Donnie as her ticket out the minute he walked into the roadside diner where she'd been waitressing. He was a good-looking sweet talker, and they'd had a 24-hour backseat courtship. He'd driven into town single; he'd left town with a wife in the passenger seat. The first few weeks of their marriage, weeks he'd been a good husband, sweet and attentive. By week three, his abusive personality had started to show itself; soon enough, Janine found herself frequently wishing she were back in Copper Hole. The one thing in her life she was grateful for was that she wasn't pregnant -- her husband hated kids. He always made sure there was a condom on when they fucked.
Donnie walked into the lobby, brushing the snow off his sleeves. He rang the desk bell twice. A man limped from out of the back, using a cane to walk; he was a few inches taller than Donnie, who was 6'1". But where Donnie was solidly built, underneath the flannel shirt the man had gotten soft around the middle. He was older; his gray-and-black hair was tied back into a short ponytail.
"Welcome to the Cloisters Motel," he said, smiling. "Awful night out, I'm glad you folks got here safely. The way the snow's coming down, we weren't expecting any guests for a week or so until after the roads cleared. I'm the owner, Nathan Rundstrom, but call me Swede." He extended his hand, and Donnie shook it. "How many rooms for you tonight?"
"One, single bed," Donnie replied, his tone neutral. He didn't trust friendly people. Swede gave him the guest register and Donnie signed it.
Swede handed him the key, a large #3 on the plastic room tag. "Room 3, it's at the end of the building."
Donnie nodded, but said nothing. He didn't want to encourage the guy; he'd already had an earful.
A small Asian woman came out, carrying towels, and Swede introduced her. "This is my wife Binh. She's got extra towels for you. We don't have a restaurant but there's no eating places close by, so if you folks are hungry she can whip up a little something in our kitchen."
Hearing this, Donnie perked up. As he took the towels he asked, "Her name's Vietnamese. Is she from there?"
Swede appeared a bit uncomfortable at the question, but then regained his smile and answered, "Yes, I met her when I was with the 2nd Battalion, 7th Marine Regiment -- my second tour ended in October 1969 after I was wounded. I married her in-country, then brought her back as a war bride."
Donnie warmed up to Swede a bit. "Oh, a Jarhead. I was over there with the Army, 1st Signal Brigade, come home in 1972. Never got directly shot at, I was sitting in a communications center in Saigon. I used to call in reinforcements when you guys were in the shit, and it seemed like you guys were ALWAYS gettin' in the shit, man."
Swede got serious for a moment. "Yeah, the Marines were always the first to go in. I lost a lot of friends over there, and damn near got killed myself in a bad firefight. I would have died, in fact, but Binh got me help."
Donnie gestured at Binh. "Well, different strokes for different folks, I reckon. I fucked some slant pussy a few times out of boredom over there, but I never developed a craving for it myself." He smiled at the tiny woman. "You like soldier-boy boo-coo, right? You so horny, baby?"
Binh stood for a moment, stunned at his rudeness. Reminding herself this was a paying guest, she responded tactfully. "I sorry, honored guest. In Vietnam I grew up in farm village. Jesuit missionary teachers in my school, no spend time in city. I not learn to talk that way." She smiled courteously and bowed her head.
Donnie looked at her, his face now a mixture of discomfort and simmering anger. "OK, well, we've been driving all day so we're kind of hungry. Can you bring us a couple of BLT sandwiches and a couple of beers?"
Swede spoke up, "We'll be happy to bring you your sandwiches, but we can't serve you alcohol. No liquor license, right?"
Donnie gave Swede a dirty look. "I don't think any liquor inspectors are going to come out here for the next 72 hours, so how about you be a white guy and bring us the beers?"
Swede returned Donnie's look, his face stone cold and resolute. "Sorry, friend," he said in a monotone. "No alcohol. I'll give you some soda on the house."
Donnie stared hard at Swede for a moment, but then smiled and backed down. "OK, OK, Jarhead," he said, holding up his hands in a surrendering gesture. "Like my CO always said, you can fuck with the Air Force assholes all day long, but don't fuck with the Marines for a second."
Swede nodded. "Your CO was a wise man. Binh will bring you your sandwiches and chips in a few minutes, with soda on the house."
Back in the room, Janine was unpacking the bags while Donnie began raving. "That gimpy Marine prick," he shouted. "We're both vets, he should have given me a fucking beer. And he's actually married to a gook, can you fucking believe it?" Janine knew better than to answer. When Donnie was on one of his rants, any kind of response might be used as an excuse to slap her. "That old asshole has a bad leg and he's out of shape, it would be easy to kick his ass."
There was a knock at the door. Janine answered, and Binh handed her the sandwiches. The two women were the same build and height; just a hair under five feet tall, except Janine's hair was strawberry blonde and curly while Binh's was straight and black. As Janine took the sandwiches, their fingers made contact. Binh and Janine both laughed nervously, and Janine thanked the Asian woman warmly.
In his current rage, even Janine's brief moment of happiness infuriated Donnie even further. He reached over and put his hand around Binh's tiny forearm, as if to pull her into the room. "Hey gook," he said, "How about you stay and do fucky-sucky with us? I'm tired of fucking my ugly wife and you're kind of pretty. With three of us, we have good time!"
Janine was horrified. She was used to Donnie's insulting her, but this was humiliating. Tears formed in her eyes as she ran into the bathroom and slammed the door.
Binh was now alone with Donnie, and his grip was becoming firmer on her arm. She began to gently lift his hand off her arm. "Oh, Mr. Faylor, you make joke. Your wife so very pretty, I'm sure she make you very happy. Next to her I am ugly." Instead of letting go, Donnie grasped her forearm more tightly.
"Well, I ain't very happy with her right now. What would really make me happy is if you was to suck my cock right now." He pulled her into the room and pushed the door shut. "Get on your knees, you slant-eyed whore." Seeing no way out, Binh lowered herself onto the carpet.
"Please Mr. Faylor, I not that way. I am a good wife to my husband, love him very much." As she was pleading, Donnie unzipped his fly and pulled out his fully-erect cock. He reached down and put her hand on it.
"Well, if you're such a good wife, then you know exactly what to do." Having no choice, Binh began to slowly stroke his hardness. Donnie sighed with pleasure.
"Now see, what did I tell you? You're a horny gook whore just like all Vietnamese women. Put your mouth on it." Humiliated, Binh opened her mouth and put her lips around the tip, then slowly began sucking.
"Oh, yeah, that's it baby. Suck me good. Use your tongue, too." Binh stopped sucking for a moment and licked the sensitive underside of his shaft just behind the tip, then engulfed his cock with her mouth again. Donnie shouted over his shoulder towards the bathroom door. "Hey, baby, you should come out and see this, maybe you'd learn a thing or two. This little whore can really suck cock!"
A malicious look crossed Donnie's face, and grabbing her roughly by the hair, he pulled her face away from his throbbing member. "Tell me you like it, slut. Am I bigger than your husband?" Terrified, Binh responded, speaking Vietnamese whore-style. "Oh, yes, me love your cock, Mr. Faylor. It so much bigger than husband's."
A smug look on his face, Donnie leaned down and whispered, "Tell me you want me to fuck you."
Binh looked up, tears in her eyes. "Please Mr. Faylor, I am a good wife, I love my..."
Suddenly there was a knocking at the door, and Swede was calling loudly. "BINH? YOU IN THERE?"
Binh looked at Donnie, who nodded. "Yes, I'm here. I was just talking to Mrs. Faylor. I be right out!"
Donnie pulled his cock back in his pants and zipped up. "Not a word, or I swear I'll kill him," Donnie whispered. "I have plenty of guns in my truck."
Binh nodded. Jumping to her feet, she opened the door. Swede was there with a huge flashlight. Snow blew in through the open door -- the storm had gotten worse. "Come on, sweetheart," he said to the shivering woman. "I was worried about you. It's getting colder, and I need my wife to keep me warm!" Swede leaned down to kiss her, and Binh wrapped her arms around him, glaring back at Donnie.
"I right here, husband," she said, hiding her fear. "I keep you warm all night tonight." Swede reached over to grab the doorknob.
"You folks sleep well," he said pleasantly, and pulling the door closed they left to go back to their rooms.
Donnie walked over to the still-closed bathroom door. "Come on out, Janine," he ordered. "That whore got me going, so I got some unfinished business for you. Get that pussy squeaky-clean, because I'm about to fill it up again."
The door opened, and Janine came out. She was naked, the bruises from the earlier spin-out beginning to turn blue on her thin legs. The puffy nipples on her A-cup tits were rigid from the cold of the room. Her hair was tied back, and she laid obediently on the bed and spread her legs.
Donnie pulled a condom out of his pocket and shed his clothes, then pulled the latex over himself.
Knowing what was coming, she had put lubricant in her vagina before leaving the bathroom. Her husband didn't like foreplay, so Janine was used to applying lube before getting into bed with him. Otherwise, he'd just plunge into her dry and she'd be sore for days.
Donnie jumped on the bed and began pumping his cock into her slick cunt. As he pumped, he taunted her. "Did you like hearing me get my cock sucked? She sucks better than you, too. I wish I'd taken her blouse off, so I could see if she had bigger tits."
Janine replied, "Goddamn you, Donnie, you humiliated me. I don't know why you stay married to me, you fucking bastard. And you forced that poor little thing to suck you, she didn't want to." The only time Janine was allowed to talk this way to Donnie was when he was fucking her. Her anger got him harder, and made him more excited.
"Well, now that her cock's been in my mouth I'm going to fuck her before we leave, mark my words. I may even have you help me by distracting her husband." His thrusting became harder, it didn't take him long to build to a climax. Janine began to feel some pleasure now, but she knew he'd be done long before she could orgasm.
"Donnie, please no, she's a good wife, you've already done enough, please don't wreck her marriage." Janine's pleadings seemed to have done the trick -- with a hoarse groan, Donnie slammed all the way in and held his cock there. She could feel the warmth of his cum spread in her battered pussy. He rolled off of her, and was asleep within minutes.
The room heater was barely effective and the mattress was hard. The pillows were so old they barely had any resistance. Between the physical discomfort and her emotional distress, Janine tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Swede seemed like a nice enough man, and Janine felt a sisterly connection with Binh.
Maybe Donnie's cruelty had somehow bonded them; she felt so badly that her husband had forced himself on her. While Donnie had never been tender with her, she had married him and his brutality was something she had learned to accept. What he had done with Binh was rape, plain and simple. But here, stuck in a remote motel miles from nowhere, there was nothing she could do.
She felt Donnie stir, then sit up. She slowed her breathing, pretending to be asleep to discourage him from fucking her again. "I never did get my goddam beer," she heard him mutter. The bed moved and she felt him stand up, and then heard the sound of his zipper and the metallic clack of his belt buckle being fastened. "I'll bet they got it hidden in the fucking kitchen." She heard the door open, and felt a blast of cold air as he went outside.
The F-150 was parked right outside their door; the driver's side was protected from the wind, so the snow on it was a light dusting; it was the passenger side that was covered by a snowdrift. Wearing only his pants and shirt, Donnie opened the driver's door and pulled a crowbar from under the seat. He made his way down to the back door of the managers unit. He tried the doorknob, but it was locked. There was no padlock, so a simple push with the crowbar, the sound of wood cracking, and door was open.
Donnie stepped inside; as he suspected, the manager's back door led straight into the kitchen of the unit. There was a single low-wattage light bulb on over the range hood, so the glow allowed him enough light to look around. He opened the refrigerator, and the bright light inside made him blink. Various foods were there, but no beer.
"Fucking assholes must have hidden it," he muttered. He went to the cabinets above the countertops. The first one he opened held breakfast foods, the second he opened was full of cooking oils and vinegars. He was about to close it when he saw the familiar neck of a whiskey bottle in the back. Pulling out the other bottles, he saw it was a full bottle of Jack Daniel's.
"Now we're talking," he said. "Selfish asshole kept the best for himself." Hopping up on the counter, Donnie removed the top and began drinking straight out of the bottle. The golden fluid warmed him from his mouth to his stomach.
About three-quarters of the bottle was gone and the wall clock showed 2:45 when the overhead kitchen light went on. Standing in the doorway leading to the rest of the unit was Binh, dressed in a bathrobe and slippers. "Mr. Faylor, this area not for guests. You must go now," she said quietly.
Donnie looked at her. "I don't think so, slut. Where's your husband? Does he know you're in the kitchen drinking with a guest?"
"Swede sleeping, and I not drink with you, so please go." Donnie jumped off the counter and took off his shirt. As walked over to Binh, he asked, "You like what you see, slant-eyes?" Binh said nothing, just pointed to the back door.
Holding the bottle out to her, he said, "Drink with me." Binh shook her head no. Donnie persisted. "Come on, take a drink and I'll leave, OK? I promise." He held the bottle out to her. Reluctantly, she accepted the bottle and took a sip. Suddenly Donnie was on her, forcing the bottle into her mouth and pouring it into her throat. "Drink it all, bitch, you're gonna need it, 'cause I'm about to fuck the shit out of you."
Binh began to choke, trying to swallow as much as possible, but much of it flowed out of her mouth and down the front of her robe. Donnie threw her to the ground, pulling off the robe. She lay naked on the floor, shivering and sobbing now. "Get up, slut," he ordered. Quickly he removed his pants. His member stood fully erect now, excited by the violence.
Taking her by the arm, he pulled her to her feet and looked at her. "Why you got even less tits than my wife," he declared, and then he saw the small soft cock between her legs. Infuriated and drunk, Donnie began to scream. "GODDAM! You're one a'them fucking hermaphrodites! I ought to kick your fag ass, you disgusting piece of shit."
Eyes on the ground, Binh snapped back defiantly, "You had no complaints when you make me to suck your cock. I guess you a fag, too!"
"SHUT UP!" Donnie roared, backhanding Binh's face. She dropped to the ground again, defensively curled up in a fetal position.
A metallic 'SNICK-crack' sound rang out, and Donnie froze. Swede's voice rang out, "Recognize that sound from Vietnam? Winchester Model 1200 pump-action shotgun. I used to use it to clean out Viet Cong hidey holes. Against regulations, I brought it with me when I came home. There's one round in the chamber, four more in the magazine, and the business end is pointed at your fucking head. Now stand up and turn around."
Donnie did as he was told, slowly. In the doorway stood Swede, with Janine right behind him. When Donnie had left, afraid of what he might do, Janine had quickly gotten dressed and made her way down to the manager's unit to warn Swede.
Swede's face was a mask of fury, while Janine's was part heartbreak and part fear. "Put your fucking pants on, nobody wants to see that miserable cock of yours," Swede commanded him. Donnie did as he was told, all the while watching the barrel of the shotgun pointed at him. Binh reached down and picked up her bathrobe, covering her nakedness.
"Don't make the mistake a lot of Viet Cong did," Swede warned. "This shotgun's got a hair-trigger - you make a grab for it, I'll put a hole in you the size of Mount Shasta. Now I'm gonna lock you in a storage closet. I'm calling the Sheriff tomorrow, and you're going to jail, asshole."
Donnie finished putting his shirt back on. As he dressed, he had moved a few inches closer to the door. Suddenly he made a dash through the outside kitchen door yelling "Fuck you, I'm not going to jail again!" Barefoot, he sprinted towards the pickup truck, pulling his keys out of his pocket.
In the few seconds it took Swede to limp to the door and raise the shotgun, Donnie had made it to the cab of the pickup truck and jumped behind the wheel. The lights came on and the motor roared to life. With a lurch, the truck bounced out of the parking lot onto the snow-covered driveway.
Swede, Janine, and Binh all watched in horror from the doorway as Donnie drove straight through the entrance to the motel driveway, overshooting the turn onto the roadway and moving straight onto the beach. From the sound of the engine, Donnie had the accelerator floored; and the tires dug down through the snow; freed from the snowy surface, the four-wheel drive bit into the sand and picked up speed as he headed straight for the lake.
"Where's he going?" Janine asked desperately.
Swede spoke quickly, his voice grim. "He's headed across the lake, but it's only frozen part way across. Once he hits the thinner ice, it won't be able to support the weight..."
They could see Donnie momentarily lose control of the truck as it left the beach; the glow of the red taillights slewed sideways as the tires made contact with the frozen lake surface. The engine's roar let up as Donnie slowed to regain control, but it was for naught as the truck's momentum on the ice carried it forward towards the lake's central surface. The storm was blowing harder now, the glow from the taillights becoming barely visible.
Suddenly there was a sound like several rifle shots as the ice underneath the 4500 pound truck began to crack. The taillights got lower, then disappeared beneath the surface. The sound of swirling water was unmistakable as the truck sank.
Janine cried, "Can't we do something to save him?"
Swede shook his head slowly, "Janine, that water temperature is a hair above freezing, and his truck's about 30 feet below the surface by now. There's no way any of us could get out to him, we'd end up in the water ourselves before we could make it to him. Even if we were to call for help, it'll take hours for the weather to clear so a chopper could make it up here. Nothing's going to be flying in this storm." Swede paused, trying to think of what else could be done.
"Maybe he can swim to shore," Janine sobbed desperately.
Swede shook his head. "Not possible. Even if he's sober enough to make it out of the truck, he'll only be able to last for a few minutes before hypothermia gets to him. On top of that he's been drinking, which lowers the body's resistance to cold water. I'm sorry, Janine, but he's as good as dead."
Janine felt two tiny arms encircle her. It was Binh. "Come, let me make some tea, warm you up." Numb from shock, Janine let the other woman lead her into the kitchen. Obediently, she sat at the table.
Binh put the kettle on, and got some teacups out of the cabinet. Janine began shivering, and tears began to flow. "You in shock," Binh told her, "Let me put blanket around you." Janine felt comforted, and the shivering lessened.
"You should hate me for what he did to you," Janine said. "I could have helped, but instead I hid in the bathroom."
"I not blame you. I saw your bruises. You had been through much, there was nothing you could have done. Your husband was strong man. He would have badly hurt us both."
Janine started crying again, her body wracked by deep sobs. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..." was all she could say. Binh's arms were around her again, soothing her.
"It OK, all A-OK, Mrs.," she said, stroking Janine's hair.
"I'm a bad wife, Binh," she said. "I know I should be sad, but I'm not."
"No, Mrs. You a good wife -- your husband not a good husband. It been a long night for you. Please to drink tea, and I put you to bed. You think better clear in morning." Obeying Binh's instructions, Janine drank the contents of her cup. It was warm, the taste a mixture of mint and almond. She felt herself becoming sleepy. In a zombie-like state, she did not resist as the other woman took her into the bedroom and began to undress her.
Binh gasped when she saw the patchwork of bruises that covered Janine's body. "Oh, Mrs., you poor thing." Janine's mind was struggling to stay awake, but it felt like it had become disconnected from the rest of her weary body. Binh led her to the bathroom and guided her to sit on the toilet. After emptying her bladder, Janine felt her caretaker tenderly wipe the residue away with toilet paper.
Leading her back to the bed, Binh pulled back the covers and lay Janine down. Exhausted, she began to fall asleep. As she drifted off, she felt Binh's small body slide in next to her, arms protectively wrapping around her. A feeling of security enveloped Janine as sleep claimed her.
In the morning, Janine woke up alone. She walked naked into the bathroom and relieved her bladder. Her clothes from the night before were gone, and she didn't want to walk through the snow to Room 3 to get some more. Shivering, she spotted Binh's bathrobe from the night before. It was stained and smelled like whiskey, but Janine didn't care; she put it on over her pale bruised body and tied the belt, then walked into the kitchen.
Binh was there wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, standing at the stove cooking eggs and pancakes. Swede was also there, looking out the window at the grey snowy landscape. Looking out the window past him, Janine could see the storm hadn't let up. Swede was wearing the same clothes -- his face looked weary, like he had not slept at all. Turning, he saw her and smiled, then poured a big mug of coffee and handed it to his guest.
"Good morning, Janine. I hope you slept well, although I'd understand completely if you hadn't."
Janine looked at him and nodded. "Your wife took good care of me, I did sleep well, thanks."
Swede walked over, and bent to kiss the top of Binh's head. "That's my wife," he said. "She's a great caretaker. Under different circumstances she could have ended up a nurse. I'm really lucky to have her." Binh stopped cooking for a moment and hugged her husband. He hugged her back, and held her close. They stood together for a moment, not saying anything, just sharing a loving embrace.
It was a small moment, but Janine felt a pang of jealousy and remorse. Her husband had never hugged her like that. She spoke up, "Is there any sign of Donnie?"
"No, not at all, I'm afraid. I called the Sheriff's office and let him know we had a pickup truck in the lake. He said he'd send someone out in a couple of days after the roads get cleared a little more. I'm sorry, Janine, but there was nothing we could do."
Janine stood there and watched the steam rising out of the mug in her hands. Inside, she felt nothing. She was a widow now, but realized she wouldn't miss him. She wasn't sure what to do next.
"What do you think I should do now," she asked, "I don't have anywhere else to go."
Swede and Binh exchanged looks, then Swede spoke. "Do you have any money or credit cards? Any relatives you could call?"
Janine shook her head. "My folks passed last year, and Donnie took care of all the money. We didn't have no credit cards, and whatever money we had between us was in his wallet." She stopped, realizing what that meant.
"I can't even pay you folks for the room," she said, her voice choking up and her eyes starting to brim with tears. Her legs suddenly became weak. She felt Binh guide her to a chair at the kitchen table, and she automatically sat. "I got nowhere to go, nobody to go to, and not a dime to my name." Janine burst into tears as she finally began to comprehend the degree of her isolation.
Binh's arms went around her as Janine buried her face in her hands and cried, sobbing inconsolably. It wasn't that she was far from home -- it was the fact that she had no home at all, no one in the world to connect to.
She heard a chair scrape back, and the sound of Swede sitting down. His hand touched her forearm, and his deep voice rumbled softly. "Janine, I'll put in a call to the Veteran's Affairs office and see if your husband set himself up with a Veterans' Group Life Insurance plan when he was discharged, that might get you a little money."
Somehow, talking about money distracted Janine, and she was able to focus. "Th-th-thanks," she stammered, "...but what about what I owe you guys?"
Swede patted her arm, and Binh gave her a squeeze. "We'll eat the loss, no big deal. As for you, you're a family friend, not a motel guest. You're staying here as long as you need to."
Janine was choked up, but managed to speak. "Thanks, you two have been so good to me. I don't know how I can repay you."
Swede straightened up. "Well, there is one thing you can do. Binh and I have been talking all night, and we've got a proposal we'd like you to listen to. You don't have to say yes or no, just listen. Would you do that for us?"
Janine nodded her head yes. "Of course I will. Please tell me what you have in mind."
Swede stood up, and Binh took a seat in a chair next to Janine. Taking a deep breath, he began to speak. "Before I tell you about our proposal, I need to tell you the story of Binh and me from the beginning, OK?" Janine nodded.
The big man continued. "We'd set up camp in a called Lang Vei. The firefight started at night, like most of them did. The NVA came at us after dark with 2 Soviet-made tanks, with a bunch of infantry behind them. The tanks swept the camp with machine gun fire and cannon rounds, then the North Vietnamese infantrymen behind them shot at whoever was left. A couple of our guys radioed for artillery support, and as the first artillery rounds smashed just outside the camp perimeter the enemy fire lightened up, just enough for our survivors to withdraw to Khe Sanh."
"I was hit in the left leg by shrapnel. A medic came, tied my leg off with a tourniquet and gave me a shot of morphine, but then AK-47 fire sprayed the area again and he got the hell out. It was right around then that I passed out. When I woke up, I was lying on the dirt floor of a grass hut, not knowing if the locals were working for the NVA or the ARVN. My leg hurt like crazy; I tried to get up, but collapsed. When I screamed in pain, it was Binh who came in to quiet me. She didn't want to alert the remaining NVA forces patrolling the area."
"Binh had learned English from the missionaries, so she was able to explain how she was hiding me. She was gentle and sweet, and gave me some milky potion to drink that eased my pain. Over the next few days she tended to me, trying to remove as much of the shrapnel by hand as she could. It was a tremendous risk for her; if the NVA had returned, she would have been shot right there with me."
"When the NVA cleared out of the area a few days later, she put me on a litter and dragged me by herself back to a Marine firebase. The medics there took over my care. After I was evacuated, a doctor at the Army Hospital in Saigon told me by taking most of the shrapnel out and cleaning my leg wound, Binh had saved my leg and my life."
"Even though we hadn't courted at all, I'd loved her since she risked her life for me in that mud hut. When I got the orders rotating me home, I stole a jeep to go get her from the village, married her at the base chapel and brought her home with me as a war bride. I kissed her for the first time on our wedding day, and on our wedding night Binh revealed her secret. She'd been born a boy, but in order to keep the NVA from conscripting her son, Binh's mother dressed her and raised her as a girl. It wasn't hard to pull off, Binh had always been tiny and feminine, even for a Vietnamese. In her mind, she'd never been a boy."
"This didn't change how I felt - Binh saved my life and I'd fallen in love with her. The only thing it meant was that we wouldn't be having children. If we tried to adopt, the medical exam would have given away our secret and we would've been denied. We had given up hope. But now you're here, Janine."
Swede took a deep breath, and it was plain to Janine that he was having a hard time getting to the next part.
"Binh and I have talked it over - we really want a family. If you're willing to stay here and help run the motel with us, we're wondering if..." Swede seemed to be struggling now, but managed to find his courage again, "...we're wondering if you'd be a surrogate mother for us. The baby would be mixed Asian-American, just like the two of us. To avoid awkward questions at the clinic, Binh would sleep with you to fertilize you; I don't need to be involved with that part. We've got quite a bit of money saved up so once you're pregnant, we'll pay for the doctors and birth; whatever's left over you can have to start a new life."
Swede breathed a sigh of relief. "I know it sounds crazy, but Binh and I feel it was fate that brought you here. Take some time and think about it. Like I said, all we wanted you to do was listen."
Janine sat for a minute, not sure what to say. It WAS crazy, yet so was marrying Donnie just to get out of Copper Hole, Tennessee. Swede and Binh seemed to care a lot more for her than Donnie ever did, and it would give her a place to belong, even if it was only for a few months. She did a quick calculation in her head as to when he last period had ended. The numbers were right, she was in her fertile time.
Janine stood up, Swede and Binh looking at her expectantly. "You know," she said softly, "I feel like going back to bed." She looked at Binh. "I liked having you tuck me in last night, Binh. Can you come do that again?"
Obediently, Binh got up and followed her. "OK, Mrs. I make sure you comfortable." The two tiny women walked into the bedroom and closed the door.
Janine took the robe off and taking Binh's hands, sat on the edge of the bed.
"Are you OK, Binh? You're shaking a little." Binh shook her head no.
"I have loved husband, no one else." She looked Janine in the eyes. "What your husband did was not love, it was cruelty. But you are kind, Mrs., I know you care much about me. I want baby very much, and you want to help." Tears appeared, running down her cheeks. "My English is hard to say, but no one ever love me before Swede, and now you. To do this thing you must care a lot."
Janine drew a deep breath. "I feel the same way. Nobody loved me after my folks died, and I married Donnie to escape and start a new life. I know Donnie didn't marry me for love. He married me because...because..." Janine realized she didn't know why. She felt her throat tighten with emotion. "Honestly, I don't know why. Maybe it was because he was drunk. He treated me badly. But you and Swede..." Tears began running down Janine's face as well.
Suddenly they were in an embrace, kissing deeply. Janine pulled Binh's sweatshirt off, exposing her flat chest. Quickly her fingers undid the fasteners on Binh's jeans, and she knelt to pull them down and off.
When she looked up, Binh's little cock was standing upright. Taking it into her mouth, Janine began to suck softly, her fingertips stroking Binh's balls gently.
Binh leaned her head back, her long hair hanging down to the small of her back. "So good, so good, Mrs.," she uttered.
"Is this what you do for Swede?" Janine asked teasingly.
"Yes, Mrs.," she replied, "But his cock much bigger."
"Your cock is just fine," Janine said reassuringly. She stood up, and then laid down on the bed with her legs spread, holding her hand out to Binh again. "Come on, let's make a baby for you and your husband."
Binh lay on top of Janine and entered her slowly as Janine encircled her arms around the smaller woman.
Janine giggled. "That's very nice Binh, it feels very good. Kiss me now, let's conceive this baby the right way."
Binh lay atop Janine and kissed her, beginning to slide her hardness in and out slowly at first, then picking up the pace as pleasure swept through them both. Soon Binh gave out a little gasp, and Janine felt warm sperm flooding her pussy. Binh collapsed on top of her, the warm little body as light as a pillow.
They lay in silence for a while, then Binh spoke. "Will Mrs. be pregnant now?"
Janine stoked her hand gently across Binh's back. "I may be, but we need to do this a few more times to be sure. We'll know in a week or so if my period is late. In fact, hand me some pillows to put under my bottom; I want to give your sperm every chance to find my egg."
Binh pulled away from Janine and got a couple of pillows from the closet and slid them under Janine as she lifted her bottom off the bed. Once that was done, Binh bent over and kissed Janine's abdomen. "I want to welcome our baby," she whispered. Standing up, she turned towards the door. "You rest, Mrs., I need to go take care of my husband."
When she walked into the living room, Binh saw her husband had neatly moved the furniture to the sides of the room and had spread some sheets and pillows on the floor. He was laying on his back naked, covered by a blanket. "Husband, why are you on floor? You would be more comfortable on sofa."
Swede chuckled. "It's a kind of special night, and I was feeling nostalgic. The first time I met you I was lying on a dirt floor. I want to re-live that." He pulled back the blanket and patted the sheet beside him. "Come lay next to me, wife." Binh obediently crawled under the blanket and lay with Swede, her head on his chest. Without thinking, her hand moved down, stroking the skin on his left leg -- she had spent so much time tending to his wounds her fingers now had the scars memorized. Swede kissed the top of her head.
"How was it, being with your first woman? It must have been strange," he said, "I hope things went well."
"Mrs. is very soft and pretty, but I wasn't sure what to expect. I think I did right." Binh sighed. "Husband, do you want to lay with her too? I would understand." Swede frowned, reached down and took Binh's chin in his big hand, forcing her to look at him.
"Binh, you're my wife. I don't want to lay with Janine. I love you, and only you. You're beautiful, and you risked your life to save mine, remember?"
Tears formed in Binh's eyes. "But...what if I had not? What if I had been someone else? Would you have fall in love with me?"
Swede kissed her deeply before responding. Her hand moved to his crotch, and she felt his hardness growing. "If you had been a cheap Vietnamese whore, you mean? Yes, even then I would have married you. Let me prove it." He sat up and pulled her to an upright sitting position. "Hey whore, how much for fucky-sucky?" Swede's eyes had a twinkle in them now. Binh understood his game, and played along.
"Twenty dollar, I love you long time, G.I.," she said. "Me so horny, me want to love you, make you squirt beaucoup!" She wrapped her hand around his cock. Swede knocked her hand away.
"Twenty dollar too much, whore. I give you two." Binh frowned. Her fingers caressed his scrotum, applying light pressure to his testicles.
"No, G.I., that not enough. Fifteen, I suck you two time." She bent down and took his now-fully erect cock in her mouth. Swede groaned with pleasure. Since they had married, Binh taught herself to be an expert cock sucker.
"Fifteen -- too much," he gasped. "I give you -- ten." Binh was now sucking faster, her tongue dancing on his glans and her fingers stroking his ball sack. Abruptly he pulled her mouth off his cock. "I have to have you now," he gasped, and pushed Binh onto her back.
Grabbing a tube of lube he had placed on the floor next to the blanket earlier, he spread a handful on his cock, then moved in so Binh's little legs were pressed against his chest and her heels were on his shoulders. Her small member was now fully rigid, and as Swede pressed his cock into her tiny asshole he rubbed her cock as well.
Binh was breathing harder now, having a hard time concentrating. "Oh yes, fuck me G.I.", she gasped. "Love me long time!" Overtaken by lust, Swede now pounded her hard. It wasn't long before his balls contracted, and he unloaded into her rectum. Even as he was relaxing now, he still stroked Binh's firmness until she gave a quiet squeak, shooting her load on Swede's chest.
Changing positions so they lay side by side, Swede cuddled with his wife. "So, you cheap whore," he teased, "You want to marry me now?" Binh moved up and put her lips on his in a soft, loving kiss.
"Yes," she teased back. "Me marry you, me so horny me like to fucky sucky you too much."
"Why you ARE a slut," he declared, "I'm going to have to send you back to the missionaries to teach you to be good!" They both laughed; he kissed her again, and together they finally fell asleep.
Swede and Binh stood on the shore of the lake, watching as the tow truck's winch pulled up the waterlogged F-150. In her arms, Binh held their one-month-old daughter, Kieu. The Sheriff's divers had attached a chain to the truck chassis to winch it up, and it was now almost to the surface.
Sheriff Samuels walked over. "Sorry it took us so long to get the divers out here, Swede. What with the budgets cuts, we're stretched pretty thin these days. Is this the truck that went missing?" Swede nodded, and showed him the motel registration card Donnie had filled out when they checked in. The license tag on the truck showed the same number as Donnie had written on the card. "There's not much in there left of him -- a few bones, a belt buckle, that's about it. Is his wife here to ID his remains?"
"No Sam, as soon as the snow cleared she took off with a trucker that stopped overnight. She was pretty traumatized by what happened, probably anxious to get gone of this place, I guess." Swede put his arm around Binh, and pulled her close. Since the baby had come, he had never seen her happier.
"Well, with nobody to identify the remains I guess I'll take your hotel ID card as evidence and close this case." They shook hands as the tow truck driver finished hooking up the F-150; a minute later the Sheriff and the water-logged pickup were gone.
Swede and Binh went back into the kitchen, where Janine had started cooking dinner. She walked over and kissed Kieu's head. "Is he gone? Is it over now?"
"Yes, Janine, it's all over. You've done your part, and we've loved having you here. Like we promised, I got an account set up in your name at the bank and the money's there, waiting for you. You can stay with us, or you can pull up stakes and move on." Swede's face was stoic, but Binh's was sad.
Janine walked over and wrapped her arms around Binh and the baby. "I think I'm going to stay a while," she said, and gave Binh a light kiss on the lips. "At least until Kieu graduates from high school. I want to make sure she doesn't run off with somebody like Donnie. And if Binh ever decides she wants be the mother of two, well..." She winked at Binh, who absolutely beamed.
Apr 13, 2018 in romance