General Gordon was a tall, muscular man with an astonishing military record behind him. He'd fought proudly for the USA in a number of territories, and had only recently been in charge of a couple of vital missions in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Now he was back on American soil, but only for half a year. Already he had been given the details of his next mission over in the Middle East. It was to be his most dangerous yet, but could potentially be the most rewarding too, not just for his career but for the whole direction the war was going.
He was itching to get back out there with his fellow generals, but he knew the importance of his six month post at the Military Training Facility in Nevada he was currently stationed at. There was he believed a serious lack of discipline among the new young recruits that he hoped his stern approaches would soon have under control.
Matters weren't helped in his opinion by the fact that the facility was based in a state that had legalised prostitution. He felt that the idea of running off as quickly as possible on leave to one of the many brothels that had been set up around the army land settled too easily in the minds of the young soldiers, male and female alike.
That wasn't to say General Gordon disapproved of prostitution; far from it. As a single man with too much time for his job and not for his social life, he could often be seen checking into one of his favourite places for some sexual relief. The difference was you would never actually say you'd seen him to his face – that was just asking for trouble.
One morning the general woke up feeling hornier than usual. He lay back in his bunk and tried to recall the dream he'd had. It was definitely something to do with a female pop star of some kind, a redhead; he'd seen pictures of her in some of the quarters, though he didn't know who the heck she was. General Gordon was a little bit behind with the times when it came to all things culture.
He got up and checked his small calendar that he kept by his bunk. There was a large red circle ringed around today's date. The general grinned. Maybe that was why he was feeling so aroused: today was his turn for leave.
He busied himself with his morning chores – the wash of the chiselled face and shaving of the stubble, the cleaning of the brown boots, the fifty press ups and fifty sit ups before breakfast. All the time he kept from being distracted by his randy thoughts through sheer determination and trained will power that came with years of experience.
After breakfast came the morning drill. As he took the soldiers through their paces he felt the hot air hit him like a dishcloth. He was dedicated to not breaking his concentration from the essential job at hand. He had to put himself last for now; the more he waited for it he longer it would take to for his leave to start. He quickened the pace.
"Come on, come on," he shouted loudly in his gruff voice. "One, two, one, two. Step on it, Falkirk. Ashgrove, you look a disgrace; take five hundred laps. Smarten up! Put your backs into it, you measly little worms."
Two soldiers ran past him and, when out of earshot, one turned to the other and muttered, "What's got him pissed off this morning?"
"Scope has a theory," replied his companion. "Usually the general's just a bastard, but today he's a super bastard. Coincidentally, he has his leave this afternoon, where he'll pay a hooker to suck him off or something."
"So you're saying he's a super bastard this morning 'cos he's got a boner?"
"Do you want to check?"
"Hey, fuck you, man!"
Finally the time came. After changing into more suitable clothes, and trying to look as calm, cool and collected as possible, General Gordon left the Military Training Facility in a large army jeep and drove off down the desert roads towards civilisation.
It took half an hour down the dusty tracks before the general even saw any sign of life, and that was just another vehicle. No wonder our lives are so lonely, he mused, when we're this far away from company.
He soon found himself at a fork in the road and stopped the jeep. He had a decision to make; each route would take him to a different brothel. If he went left he would arrive at Madam Play Time's, and if he turned right he would come across Sizzle, one of the newest of these establishments but already highly regarded.
General Gordon reached down and felt the hardening bulge in his dark green trousers. It was pointing right. Never one to argue with a starving cock, the general started the jeep up again and turned into down the right road.
Sizzle looked like a beautiful hotel, which it was, if you thought enough about it. It had tall windows and deep interiors, with many different rooms for the various activities that went on. General Gordon had already acquainted himself with the place twice before. The first time had been a little disappointing, as the business had only just opened, but when he'd given it a second chance it had won him over.
There was one slight problem with the place however, and that was the time it had taken to get there. He knew that, after all the transactions that had to take place before the dirty deed, the actual sex, he wouldn't have a lot of time to satisfy himself before having to return to base. He smiled now as he turned the jeep's engine off. He wasn't worried. Over the years he'd picked up a little trick that often worked wonders on occasions such as this.
As General Gordon entered the large, homely building he felt a cooling waft of air conditioning, a sweet relief from the now stifling Nevada desert heat outside. Although the entrance and various hallways were covered in cold chrome steel, the main reception area looked like a hunting lodge, minus the roaring fire, of course. There were deer heads and antlers scattered tastefully along the walls, and a large bar stocked with every kind of alcohol imaginable, where a smartly dressed barman was standing polishing a wine glass with a bright white cloth. Soft music was playing quietly through hidden speakers.
An elderly but still very beautiful woman, dressed in simple black, stepped behind the desk and smiled warmly at the general. "Good afternoon, sir," she said, "and welcome back to Sizzle."
General Gordon had never ever revealed his proper name or job title in any brothel he had visited. He often used pseudonyms and sometimes found it a little tiring trying to remember which ones were required for which establishment. Thankfully, Sizzle being still quite new, he was able to recall his 'name' easily.
"It's nice to be back," he said to the lady in his gruff tones. "Name is Morrison and I'd like to get started as soon as possible, if that's okay. I'm afraid I'm a little stretched for time."
"That is a shame, Mr Morrison. We aren't too busy at the moment, as you can see, though I do have a heavy evening booked in; bachelor party, you understand. Would you like a drink from the bar while you wait?"
"Please," said General Gordon, "but could I skip a few steps and make my request for a companion now?"
It wasn't usually right to choose a girl without a traditional line up, but the Madam of Sizzle knew from the last two times General Gordon had visited that he had a heavy wallet. She picked up a black folder and opened it halfway for him. "Take it to the bar with you, sir," she suggested.
General Gordon nodded and did just that. The barman – a young, bookish looking man, who seemed half the time to be still getting over the fact that his first job was in a brothel surrounded by gorgeous women – flashed a white, toothy grin and said, "What can I get you this afternoon, Mr Morrison?"
"Bourbon, please, on the rocks."
"Right away, sir."
While the barman poured the delicious brown liquid, the general glanced over the pages of the black folder. He looked at blondes and brunettes, redheads and even a bald lady. There were whites, blacks, Asians; there tall ones and short ones; big breasts and small; if you named a distinguishing feature shared by a group of women, Sizzle seemed to have at least two ladies who would fit into that category.
