You Ask, I Tell: Being Gay and Getting Away with It [Chapter 2]

Chapter 2: Fellow Bar and the Incestuous Gay Entourage

It all started very innocently. I would meet up with friends like Bill, the prissy one that can judge you with a smile, and Rhoni, the batshit sailor who would playfully punch you when he was drunk. Ace, the towering giraffe of a man, would begin to flirt with me, wrapping his hands around my thigh, and squeezing till I laughed like a school girl. We would meet at Fellow for drinks and they would invite me out to do things like go ice skating or go eat with them at a curry restaurant. I was extremely nervous about letting my guard down. Yes, these were my gay friends, but I was a military officer and was scared of getting into any trouble whatsoever. Aside from concerns about Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, I was concerned about perceptions of fraternization, the act of engaging in friendly or sexual relations with an enlisted member, something considered a crime under the Uniform Code of Military Justice. When I went ice skating for the first time, I sat alone in the corner quietly eating a cup of noodles while everyone else sat and made fun of people busting their ass on the ice. Ernesto, this quiet sailor who totally rocked a bushy mustache that made him look like the Mexican version of Ron Jeremy, came and encouraged me to relax and join the group. As time passed, I did put my fears aside and relaxed, and as I relaxed I noticed, “Hey, these gays are hot!”

The entourage had a very bad habit of incestuous sex. Friends routinely banged each other or passed around new hot guys and then we would all compare notes. It was so intricate that one of the guys drew a spider diagram called “The Cum Line” that illustrated who had sex with who. Bill and Vic were the clearly the biggest whores, as scores of lines emanated from their names. My initiation into this systemic friend-fucking occurred one night when I went over to Bill’s barracks after a night at Fellow. Bill had a big enough bed that the six of us felt compelled to jump in together. This Marine named Joe, a guy who constantly tried to come off as a piss and vinegar man’s man, had been flirting with me that night and we decided to get naked and fuck in bed inches from the four other guys in bed with us. Joe ordered me to grab my ankles as he fucked me senselessly. In the back of my head I am thinking, “Holy crap, I am getting fucked in front of four other people.” Thankfully, it was dark and the rest of the boys were pretty occupied amongst themselves. Yes, the slumber party had devolved into a flash mob orgy with dicks and assholes in every direction. Joe pulls out of me because I need a break. I roll over and quickly found Jeff stroking me. I proceeded to fuck Jeff for a bit before taking our escapade to the shower and fucking him some more. The next morning I apologized to Bill for the epic mess we all made of his bed sheets. Bill rolled his eyes and said, “It’s OK!”

Eventually, Bill got permission to move off base. With his housing allowance, he rented an elegant house just north of my base. I cannot tell you how jealous I was of this homo. He was minutes from the beach, meanwhile, my dumbass rented a house in the mountains not knowing any better. With a newer, bigger party pad for all the homos, Bill quickly positions himself as the center of the entourage. When he had a party, all the soldiers, sailors, marines, and airmen from all over the island converged on his house for cocktails and playing Twister in our underwear. Talk about how much I enjoyed being at the bottom of the pile when four guys fell on top of each other. The underwear version of Twister was also an opportunity to judge and make fun of each other. I was dogged for having some old fashioned granny panty type briefs while another guy, Hector, was laughed at for wearing some sparkly underwear with neon stars all over the place, essentially the gayest underwear anyone had seen.

The party was so massive that evening that it spilled out into the street. While tame at first, the clothes quickly came off and we began running around the street naked, doing cartwheels, and jumping on cars… actually only Jeff jumped on a car while everyone else scream-whispered at him to get the fuck down. I am watching this from Bill’s front balcony when Ace cat calls for me to strip naked like the rest of them. At first, I was nervous, watching the ends of the street to see if any cops were going to come barreling down the road, but eventually, Ace talked me down and I got naked. Once down on the road, we posed for pictures using Ace’s camera. I am pretty sure Ace is still in possession of those photos, so it looks like my dreams of running for elected office are dashed… oh well.

Still naked, we decided to have a race to the end of the block. Yes, caution went to the wind as half a dozen service members dashed down the street with their genitals swinging about freely. Of course, this 20-year-old marine named Jerry won the race. I had my eye on Jerry at the party and I felt like this was my evening to make a move, right there in the street, still completely naked. So while everyone else walked back to Bill’s house, Jerry and I kept walking down the street, slapping each other’s bare cheeks. We duck into a cemetery to get some cover in the event a car comes down the street. Within moments stepping inside a cemetery completely naked, Jerry and I began kissing and stroking each other’s cocks. If there was a moment for the pits of hell to open up, it would have right there in the cemetery, swallowing us whole. Jerry wanted to lay down inside one of the concrete gravesites and make out with me, you know, next to the urn. Out of respect for the dead, I say no… we should lay naked and makeout to the side of the gravesite. We spend the next 15 minutes sucking each other off, all the while scratching ourselves on the concrete surface and swatting away mosquitos. Hey, when you are in your early 20s, you will get down just about anywhere. After blowing our, we then get up and walk back to Bill’s house to pass out in his living room. The next morning, Bill gets a knock on the door. A Japanese police officer was at his door inquiring about the scores of naked men that were making noise outside. Joe said we that we all had gone home, despite the fact that were laying on top of each other on his floor about 15 feet from the front door. All in all, the officer gave him a warning about having parties with excessive noise. Bill shrugged it off and then climbed back on top of the dick he was riding before that police officer interrupted.

As time passes, the entourage splinters off and only really gets together during holidays and special parties at Fellow, or gay parties that we get flyers for. When I was not with my homo entourage, I was typically at Fellow, singing karaoke. The bar owner, Toru, would love it when I sang "You Spin Me Round," because no matter how wasted I was, I was able to belch out the lyrics and the high notes during the “I want your love” portion of the song. I would sing for Toru, while munching on Toru’s snacks as well as food that he would prep at home and bring to the bar. Rhoni, Victor and Ace joined me on most weekends, and we would sing all the greatest hits while the Japanese patrons would sing theirs. Fellow Bar was literally the size of a walk in closet, but managed to fit upwards of 30 people at once. Halloween and Christmas were special days, as Toru charged entrance for an all you can eat and drink extravaganza. So many people showed that the party spilled into that rape-alleyway. As an incentive to get patrons to dress in drag, your admission was cut in half. Initially, I was afraid of attempting drag. I had no idea how to dress up nor where to get materials for a look for that matter. So I played it safe when Halloween 2006 came around. I dressed up as Lieutenant Dangle from Reno 911, short shorts and all. I arrived thinking none of the military guys would come dressed in drag. Many lived on base or off base near other service members, making it very they would spotted in drag. No way, right? Boy was I wrong!

Half of the military guys there were dressed in drag. Brittney Spears, Daphne from Scooby-Doo, Shakira, hell, one of the guys even dressed up as Rainbow Brite! I was amazed and at the same time I felt inadequate. Yeah, all of them were impressed by my look, but I was so much more impressed with theirs. Such began my first attempt at drag for the Christmas party.

With the homo entourage way ahead of me in the drag queen arena, I had to catch up fast. The problem was that I was in the military and the items I needed would for the most part be found on base. Compounding the problem was the fact that I was not comfortable just walking through the base exchange buying makeup, high heels, and a dress. Folks, this was still the Bush Administration, and fundamentalists reigned supreme in the military. Not wanting to provoke yet another base-wide controversy, I sought the assistance of my friend Michelle, who was more than happy to help me put this costume together. I attempted to emulate Jem, from the cartoon TV series, Jem and the Hollograms. The goal was to dress head to toe in pink with silver eyeliner and silver shoes. Problem with the shoes was that they were too small. Michelle suggested taking some scissors and cutting off the sides so that I could at least fit my toes inside. When all was said and done, I looked like a wobbly, pink nightmare that smeared on some lipstick and stuffed his hooves into pumps two sizes too small. I could not even walk in the shoes and when I did I stumbled. So after walking 50 feet from my house that evening, I say fuck it, take off my shoes, and walk barefoot to the taxi stand.

I am the first drag queen to the party, holding a cocktail while stumbling every 30 seconds like a drunk sorority girl… classy. Eventually, the gays rolled in. First is my friend Daniel dressed head to toe as Britney Spears with a bra filled with rice to make tits. I on the other hand, forgot about the tits and arrived flat-chested. Mark and Toru said, “No no no, this cannot stand.” Using dish rags and masking tape, they fashion some lop-sided tits for me that would look believable. Although, I paid the price for my lack of planning when I pulled that masking tape off my chest the next morning and ripped bits of skin off. The best dressed award, however, goes to Roni. He shows up in a brown wig, a red dress with a wide black belt, black and white stripped socks and stiletto heels. I was in awe at how effortlessly he had transformed into a full fledged lady! After a few hours, I was so drunk that my body went into panic mode. I was sitting at a booth and out of nowhere ran outside barefoot, jumped in a cab and bolted home. I wake up the next day, completely naked, with those damn dish rags still taped to my chest. I return to the scene of the crime that night and as soon as I walk through the door, Toru hands me the tattered high heels that I had abandoned... how thoughtful.