Wilt on High

'Oh, but you are, honey. You're just what momma needed.'

'And you're not my mother,' said Wilt, wishing the hell the woman was. She'd have been dead ten years. Mrs Glaushof's hand strayed down his body. 'Shit,' said Wilt. That damned poison was beginning to work again.

'That's better, baby,' Mrs Glaushof whispered as Wilt stiffened. 'You and me's going to have the best of times.'

'You and I,' said Wilt, frantically trying to find some relief in correct syntax, 'and you may considerouch!'

'Is baby going to be good to momma now?' asked Mrs Glaushof, sliding her tongue between his lips. Wilt tried to focus on her eyes and found it impossible. He also found it impossible to reply without unclenching his teeth and Mrs Glaushof's reptilian tongue, tasting as it did of alcohol and tobacco, was so busily exploring his gums that any move that might allow it to go any further seemed inadvisable. For one insane moment it crossed his mind to bite the filthy thing but considering what she had in her hand the consequences didn't bear thinking about. Instead he tried to concentrate on less tangible things. What the hell was he doing lying on a quilted bed with a sex-mad woman clutching his balls when only half an hour ago a homicidal maniac had been threatening to plaster his brains on the ceiling with a .38 unless he talked about binary bombs? It didn't make even the vaguest sense but before he could arrive at any sane conclusion Mrs Glaushof had relinquished her probe.

'Baby's steaming me up,' she moaned and promptly bit his neck.

'That's as maybe,' said Wilt, making a mental note to brush his teeth as soon as possible. 'The fact of the matter is that I...'

Mrs Glaushof pinched his cheeks. 'Rosebud,' she whimpered.

'Wosebud?' said Wilt with difficulty.

'Your mouth's like a wosebud,' said Mrs Glaushof, digging her nails still further into his cheeks, 'a lovely wosebud.'

'It doethn't tathte like one,' said Wilt and instantly regretted it. Mrs Glaushof had hoisted herself up him and he was facing a nipple fringed with pink lace.

'Suck momma,' said Mrs Glaushof.

'Thod off,' said Wilt. Further comment was stifled by the nipple and Mrs Glaushof's breast which was worming around on his face. As Mrs Glaushof pressed down on him Wilt fought for breath.

In the bathroom next door Glaushof was having the same problem. Staring through the two-way mirror he'd installed to watch Mrs Glaushof putting on the regalia of his fantasies while he bathed, he had begun to regret his new tactics. Subtle they weren't. The bloody woman had clearly gone clean over the top. Glaushof's own patriotism had led him to suppose that his wife would do her duty by cosying up to a Russian spy, but he hadn't expected her to screw the bastard. What was even worse was that she was so obviously enjoying the process.

Glaushof wasn't. Gritting his teeth he stared lividly through the mirror and tried not to think about Lieutenant Harah. It didn't help. In the end, driven by the thought that the Lieutenant had lain on that same bed while Mona gave him the works he was now witnessing, Glaushof charged out of the bathroom. 'For Chrissake,' he yelled from the landing, 'I told you to soften the son of a bitch up, not turn him on.'

'So what's wrong?' said Mrs Glaushof, in the process of changing nipples. 'You think I don't know what I'm doing?'

'I'm buggered if I do,' squawked Wilt, taking the opportunity to get some air. Mrs Glaushof scrambled off him and headed for the door.

'No, I don't,' said Glaushof, 'I think you're'

'Screw off,' screamed Mrs Glaushof. 'This guy's got a hard-on for me.'

'I can see that,' said Glaushof morosely, 'and if you think that's softening him up you're fucking crazy.'

Mrs Glaushof divested herself of a boot. 'Crazy, am I?' she bawled and hurled the boot at his head with surprising accuracy. 'So what's an old man like you know about crazy? You couldn't get it up if I didn't wear fucking Nazi jackboots.' The second boot hurtled through the door. 'I got to dress up like I'm fucking Hitler in drag before you're anywhere near a man and that ain't saying much. Like this guy's got a prick like the Washington Monument compared to yours.'

'Listen,' shouted Glaushof, 'lay off my prick. That's a commie agent you got in there. He's dangerous!'

I'll say,' said Mrs Glaushof now liberating herself from the bra. 'Is he ever.'

'No, I'm not,' said Wilt, lurching away from the bed. Mrs Glaushof staggered out of the suspender belt.

'I'm telling you you could get yourself deep in trouble,' Glaushof called. He'd taken refuge from any further missiles round the corner.

'Deep in it is,' Mrs Glaushof shouted back and slammed the door and locked it. Before Wilt could move she had tossed the key out of the window and was heading for him. 'Red Square here I come.'

'I'm not Red Square. I don't know why everyone keeps thinking' Wilt began, but Mrs Glaushof wasn't into thought. With an agility that took him by complete surprise she threw him back on to the bed and knelt over him.

'Choo choo, baby,' she moaned and this time there was no mistaking her meaning. Faced with this horrible prospect Wilt lived up to Glaushof's warning that he was a dangerous man and sank his teeth into her thigh. In the bathroom Glaushof almost cheered.

'Countermand my orders? Countermand my orders? You're telling me to countermand my orders?' said General Belmonte dropping several decibels in his disbelief. 'We have an enemy agent infiltration situation with possible bombing implications and you're telling me to countermand my orders?'

'Asking, General,' said the Colonel gently. 'I am simply saying that the political consequences could be disastrous.'

'Having my base blown apart by a fucking fanatic is disastrous too and I'm not standing for it,' said the General. 'No, sir, I am not having a body count of thousands of innocent American service personnel and their dependants on my conscience. Major Glaushof's handling of the situation has been absolutely correct. No one knows we've got this bastard and he can beat the shit out of him for all I care. I am not'

'Correction, sir,' interrupted the Colonel, 'a number of people know we're holding this man. The British police called in enquiring about him. And a woman claiming to be his wife has already had to be ejected at the main gate. Now if you want the media to get hold'

'The media?' bellowed the General. 'Don't mention that fucking word in my presence. I have given Glaushof a Directive Number One, Toppest Priority, there's to be no media intervention and I am not countermanding that order.'

'I am not suggesting you do. What I am saying is that the way Glaushof is handling the situation we could find ourselves in the middle of a media onslaught that would get world coverage.'

'Shit,' said the General, cringing at the prospect. In his mind's eye he could already see the television cameras mounted on trucks outside the base. There might even be women. He pulled his mind back from this vision of hell. 'What's wrong with the way Glaushof's handling it?'

'Too heavy,' said the Colonel. 'The security clamp-down's drawing attention to the fact that we do have a problem. That's one. We should cool it all off by acting normal. Two is we are presently holding a British subject and if you've given the Major permission to beat the shit out of him I imagine that's just what'

'I didn't give him permission to do anything like that, I gave him...well, I guess I said he could interrogate him and...' He paused and tried the comradely approach. 'Hell, Joe, Glaushof may be a shitass but he has got him to confess he's a commie agent. You've got to hand it to him.'

'That confession's a dummy. I've checked it out and had negative affirmation,' said the Colonel, lapsing into the General's jargon to soften the blow.

'Negative affirmation,' said the General, evidently impressed. 'That's serious. I had no idea.'