Bishop (A Frat Chronicles Novel)

by B. T. Urruela

  “Yeah, the dude could do just about anything with his feet by the time he left Walter Reed. Harvey, he’s still a great friend of mine, spends his life makin’ sure these men and women comin’ back real fucked up learn to adapt to their new normal. He helped me a shit ton.”

  “Sounds like an incredible guy.”

  “He’s the best. Biggest heart out of anybody I know. And his love and dedication toward the people he serves … it’s incredible.”

  “It’s good to know people like that are taking care of you guys.”

  I nod, taking a bite and washing it down with some whiskey.

  “So, what about wiping his ass?” she asks, and then takes a bite.

  Swallowing first, I reply, “This is the craziest fuckin’ part. So, this poor guy had to learn to wad up the toilet paper with his foot, sit back on top of his foot like he’s stretchin’ his quad, and he’d have to kind of grind against the paper. Can you imagine?”

  Her face answers for her. She shakes her head slowly with wide eyes, a hand meeting her mouth. “Oh my, that poor man.”

  “Yeah, I felt terrible for askin’ honestly, but then I remembered all the times people asked me about my eye. People are curious by nature, some more than others. I guess, at the end of the day, it’s better to ask and learn, than to not and just assume. He took it in stride like everything else in his life. Even with all the difficulties, all the rehab—I mean, he was there for four years before I got there—he still kept a level head and cool demeanor. He spent the majority of his damn twenties at Walter Reed, re-learnin’ how to do everything. And even with all that, he was still one of the happiest and kindest people I’ve ever met.”

  “You guys are all so freaking brave.”

  “It’s guys like that I look up to. He never stopped fightin’. Always kept a smile on his face. Never complained. If I had lost my arms, or been burned all over, or lost my dick … fuckin’ hell, some guys gotta shit in a bag for the rest of their life.” I shake my head. “I don’t know, those people inspire the fuck outta me. They’re the brave ones. They’re the ones keepin’ the rest of us lucky ones in line.”

  “You’re pretty inspirational yourself, you know?”

  Smiling, but feeling awkward, that tight uneasy grip beneath my sternum, I say, “I appreciate that.”

  “I appreciate you! I appreciate you telling me about yourself and your life. You’ve lived so much already. It’s crazy to even think about. It makes me want to spread my wings a little bit.”

  I grin. “You gonna join the Army?”

  She shakes her head firmly. “Not a fucking chance. I don’t like being told what to do.”

  “Yeah, I didn’t much either comin’ into it. Fuckin’ hated it actually. Luckily, I was young, and the drill sergeants were just scary enough that I kept my fuckin’ mouth shut.”

  I chuckle, Staff Sergeant Giles immediately coming into mind’s view.

  His hulking body stood just behind me as I held a tray in the chow line. It was the smell of Brut that let me know it was him, and it scared the daylights out of me. I spent the first two months of basic managing to stay invisible through the drill sergeant’s eyes, and then, there he was, the biggest, baddest fucker of them all, standing right behind me.

  All I could wonder was what the hell I had done to piss him off.

  “Private,’ he said, in a half whisper, half growl, grabbing the rifle slung to my back. ‘Why in the fuck is your safety not on?”

  My heart sank, breathing halted; my mouth immediately went dry.

  ‘I … I don’t know, drill sergeant,’ I whimpered, scurrying to put my rifle on safe.

  I spent two hours low crawling back and forth across a football-field length patch of mud after that, as he held onto my rifle, being forced to shout, “I miss my rifle. I miss my gun. I’ll get her back. When I stop being dumb,” the entire time

  I didn’t make any more mistakes.

  “Was basic training hard? I’ve asked Zane, but he doesn’t really say much.”

  I laugh, giving my head a quick shake. “Zane’s basic training and my basic training were vastly different. I’m pretty sure the Air Force’s is even shorter than ours, but yeah, way less privileges, way more bullshit, plenty more sleepless nights and smoke sessions.”

  “Smoke sessions? You could smoke cigarettes in basic?”

  I chuckle, shaking my head. “Fuck, do I wish that’s what smoke sessions entailed. No, it means when they punish you for whatever transgression may have happened through exercise. Whether you played a part or not, most often, everyone would feel the pain. They make you do all kinds of labor-intensive exercises over an extended period of time. It’s fuckin’ miserable. I swear to Christ, when I first got there and went through those first few smoke sessions, I thought my body was gonna collapse in on itself like a dyin’ fuckin’ star.”

  We both laugh.

  “So you hated it then?” she asks.

  I shake my head immediately. “Not one bit. Were there times I hated? Absolutely. Plenty of ’em. But it made me the man I am today. I was a degenerate punk. I hated authority—teachers, cops, my parents. Hated school. Hated feelin’ so goddamn trapped in that little town. It was suffocating. I’ve always considered myself a bit of a free spirit. I’ve always had that desire to travel and explore, to be adventurous. It’s one of the reasons I joined the Army. And it gave me what I yearned for.”

  She shakes her head, a look of understanding in her features. “I so feel you there. I had the choice of staying in New York for school. I got accepted to SUNY Oneonta, and my mom wanted me to stay really bad, but I just felt so trapped there. Claustrophobic. I knew everybody. I always felt like there was more out there. One day, I want to go backpacking across Europe for like a month or two. Just get away and video blog every step of the way. I think I could really find peace that way.” She pushes her nearly clean plate away from her, her eyes distant as she looks to be lost in thought.

  “I think you should. Sooner the better. I don’t know if you want a family or not down the road, but from what I’ve seen with friends, that always snuffs globetrottin’ out pretty quickly. And then you get to the point where you say, ‘Okay, we’ll travel once the kids leave the house,’ but by the time the last kid’s out, you’re both so broke from puttin’ ’em all through college that you don’t have the money to do the travelin’ you intended. So, then you say, ‘Well, we’re only fifty. Still young. Still plenty of time. We’ll save up money and travel when we retire.’ Well, by the time sixty-five rolls around, you’re up to your neck in hospital bills for your diabetes and gout, and generally don’t enjoy leavin’ your couch, let alone the fuckin’ country.”

  She chuckles. “Jesus, you’ve thought this through.”

  “My mind’s always goin’.” I shrug. “There’s a gerbil just runnin’ his ass off in that wheel between my ears.”

  “Same here. As for the ‘having a family’ thing, while I do want to one day, it’s about the last thing on my mind right now. I’m in no hurry to start a family, and unless it’s absolutely right, I’m in no hurry to meet anyone either. I believe when the time is right, the universe will put everything into motion.”

  “So, what would I be considered?” I grin. “A placeholder?”

  “You? You caught me by surprise to be honest. Completely.”

  “How so?”

  “You’ve seen the idiots here. They aren’t much better back home. My experiences with men have not been good. To put it as bluntly as possible, my relationship lineup is a collection of assholes, liars, and douchebags with one thing in common.”

  “What’s that?”

  “They were excellent actors. They portrayed themselves to be the ultimate catch. They did everything right—held the doors, paid for dates, bought nice gifts—but it was all for show. Once they wooed me and won me, the façade started to fade. Before long, you’re waking up to a complete stranger with a penchant for verbal thrashings and violence.”

 
“I’m happy to say I don’t fall into that category. Actually, violence against women of any kind is on my list of ‘Things That Get You Fuckin’ Hit.’ Right up there with animal abuse.”

  She nods. “Yeah, that shit makes me sick.” She abruptly snaps her fingers. “Oh, I completely forgot, I wanted to ask this earlier, but we got sidetracked. Where is your friend now? The one who lost his arms?”

  “Oh, Jude? He’s livin’ back home now, just outside of LA. He left Walter Reed about a year before I did and started school out there. We still catch up on the phone from time to time. I’m actually really fuckin’ proud of him. Last time we talked, he told me he had taken a semester off and pursued stand-up comedy and was actually startin’ to get some notoriety around the scene. Got himself an agent and everything.”

  “No fucking way. That’s so awesome!”

  “Yeah, so obviously I’m tryin’ to get out there at some point and catch his act. Pretty fuckin’ sweet he has the balls to do that. I’ve acted plenty in my life, but to stand up there and try to make people laugh …” I hook a finger in my shirt collar and pretend to let in air. “No fuckin’ way. That’s gotta be the hardest thing ever.”

  She shakes her head. “Nope. I couldn’t either. But I definitely have mad respect for those that have the balls to do it. So, acting, huh? Is that what your major is?” She smirks, leaning in, adding, “It’s kind of hilarious you’ve already been inside of me and I still don’t know your major.”

  “Yeah, isn’t that supposed to be, like, the first thing a person asks when they meet another in a college town?” I chuckle. “No, I’m undecided right now. I’ve thought about actin’. I’ve thought about it a lot. But I also know the likelihood of makin’ it is slim to none. I’d be better off usin’ my retirement pension to buy lotto tickets.”

  “Wait, so you get a monthly pension?”

  “Yeah.”

  “A good one?”

  I nod.

  “You dumb fucker!” she shouts, eliciting annoyed looks from the surrounding tables, but a smile stretches across her face. “If you make a good pension, why don’t you chase your dreams?”

  “I could ask you the same question.” I finish off my whiskey, grinning at her against the rim of my glass. “I assume if you’re makin’ money on YouTube, you probably have a lot of followers.”

  “Quite a few, yeah.”

  “Wait, how many?”

  Her eyes fall to the tabletop and her face goes a little red as if she’s gone bashful. “It’s so lame.”

  “What is?”

  “Talking about this stuff. It’s boasting.”

  “I asked the question, so it doesn’t count as boasting,” I argue, and she rolls her eyes, letting out a heavy sigh.

  “A little over a million and a half. I’m one of only a small percentage who’ve reached a million.”

  “Holy fuckin’ shit!” I say, eyes wide, and it garners a throat-clearing from a neighboring table. I put a hand up and mutter a sorry before turning my attention back to Ember. “I figured if you were makin’ ad money, you had to’ve been doin’ good, but a million and a half? That’s a stupid amount.” I chuckle as she sips down the last of her drink through her straw. “So, it further supports my argument. You’re obviously makin’ pretty good money with that many subscribers, and you said you wanted to do video bloggin’ in Europe, which, seen by that many people, would be fuckin’ huge. So why wouldn’t you take time off from school now, and go chase your own dreams?”

  She has a half frown, half smile on her face as she crosses her arms. Rolling her eyes, she says, “I guess you got me there, shithead.”

  “Aw …” I tilt my head, a ridiculous smile on my face. “Have I mentioned how much I love your terms of endearment for me?”

  “Have I mentioned I wore my sharp heels tonight?” She quirks an eyebrow as the laughter exits my mouth.

  “You ready to get out of here?”

  She nods. “Yeah. You ready to burn off our dinner?” She bites her bottom lip, a one of a kind look of seduction on her face, and it takes everything I have not to take her into the bathroom right now and fuck her silly.

  “You have no fuckin’ clue,” I say, shaking my head.

  We barely make it through my front door before she pounces on me, grabbing at my junk and kissing my neck. As I shut the door behind us, I realize my roommate is in the kitchen grabbing a bowl of cereal. He looks right at us, his weasel face scrunched in confusion as she sticks a hand down my pants, unaware he’s watching. I go to say something, but her hand against my cock has it ticking its way to full form.

  “Sorry, dude,” I manage to say, as I have an internal battle between mind and cock.

  Ember shoots her eyes over to him as she yanks her hand out of my pants, and then bursts out in laughter. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” she says, turning back toward me with a wide smile still on her face. She mouths an ‘oops’ and says, “I’m gonna head to your room. I think I’ve made a fool of myself enough already,” she says, blowing me a kiss and turning on her heel toward my room.

  “Um, hey man …” my roommate Matt says in that Milton voice of his. “Can I, uh, talk to you for, uh, just a second?”

  I cross the living room to the kitchen counter. “What’s up?”

  He cranes his head around to look toward my bedroom and then back at me. “Um, the last time she was here, uh, you guys were kind of loud, and uh, you know, the walls are, you know, they’re thin, so I hear everything.”

  I think first about the amount of times I’ve heard his stupid fuckin’ video games all the way in my room with both doors shut.

  Motherfucker may drink Code Red all night to stay up for his Call of Duty missions, but some of us gotta fuckin’ sleep.

  “I’ll try, man, but I don’t think we were really bein’ that loud.”

  “Well, I mean, I kind of, uh, I heard moans and stuff, and she was saying your name quite loudly. You know, if you could just keep it to a minimum.”

  I nod, my lips pinched together to keep the curse words in. “Okay, we’ll try to do that for you, Matt.”

  He takes a bite of cereal and the glasses slide down his nose. “I, um, I appreciate it,” he responds with a mouthful of soggy, half-eaten cereal, pushing his glasses back into place.

  I turn, a wicked smile stretching across my face as I make my way to my room. I shut the door and walk straight toward Ember, who lays on my bed clad only in black Victoria’s Secret lingerie, her eyebrow arched seductively. She’s taken by surprise when I grab her hand and pull her up to her feet. I then squat just a bit, wrap my hands around each of her thighs, and pull her legs up, indicating for her to wrap them around me. She does, crossing one foot over the over behind my back and locking in as I push her against the wall with a thud. My lips are a breath away from hers.

  “He said we were too loud last time,” I whisper, smiling. “I want to fuck you till the whole goddamn complex can hear you.”

  She smiles wide, her eyes beaming as she nods. “You better get started then.”

  I smirk, and then my lips crash down on hers as I kiss her hungrily.

  Walking her back to the bed, I lay her down again, and she says, “If you really want to make me scream, you have to do that trick with your fingers again. My God, it felt so good.”

  “Oh, I can definitely do that and more, woman.”

  “You going to make me pay for being a bad little girl?” she asks, tilting her head and pouting.

  “Oh God, gorgeous, I’m gonna do more than that. I’m fixin’ to make you come more times in one night than you have in your entire life combined.”

  Her eyebrows lift, and she says, “That won’t be very hard with the duds I’ve been with. We better shoot for twice as many just to be safe, huh? Now, what the fuck are you waiting for, soldier?” She slips a hand down to her panties and pulls them to the side, exposing that beautiful pussy of hers, glistening now from how wet she is already. She points with her other hand, arching her eyebr
ow.

  “Fuck,” I mutter, shaking my head as I look her tan skin over, dropping down and kissing her, nibbling my way down her stomach and meeting her clit with my hot breath.

  She gasps as I slide two fingers inside her, come hithering as I lick around her bud in soft strokes. Her body tightens and then quivers in cycles as I continue applying pressure, so anxious to taste her sweet cum.

  When her eyes start to roll back in her head and her toes curl, I know I’m close. Picking up the pace, her whimpers grow to moans, which—with fingers moving as fast as a metal guitarist’s—turn to screams of pleasure as she begins to squirt.

  “Oh. My. God,” she screams, her words broken up by the force of my fingers inside her and the power of her climax. “Oh my fuckin God!” she yells out, louder now, as more cum squirts from her pussy than I’ve ever seen.

  “That’s it, baby. Come for me,” I say, and she gasps, her skin flush, her body writhing. Her trembling hands reach out aimlessly. “Stop, please. Oh my God, you’re killing me.”

  I grin, slipping my fingers out of her and giving her clit a peck. As I lift myself off of her, she lets out a heavy, pleasured sigh, and then stands, putting two hands to my chest and pushing me onto the bed.

  “It’s your turn now,” she says, her breathing heavy, an eyebrow arched. She squats, pulling my belt from the loop of my pants on the floor and standing with it. She folds the belt in half and extends it out in front of her.

  “You gonna spank me? I don’t know if I like the sound of that.” I eye the belt skeptically.

  “No, but when I’m done with you here, I want that thing.” She points to the Big Bro paddle Sarge gave me, which now hangs on my bedroom wall. “And I want it hard.”

  “You serious?”

  She nods her head in this innocent, yet seductive manner. “But after I’m through with him.” She reaches down with her free hand and brushes the tip of my throbbing cock, which is tenting my boxer briefs. Abruptly, she wraps the belt around my wrists with a mischievous little twinkle in her eye. “Now, you keep your hands to yourself or a spanking will be in order. Understand?”