Read Online From Morocco to Paris by Lydia Nyx - Free Book Online

resembled beach showers, but with so many people waiting for them everyone got about two minutes to clean themselves, if they were lucky. The water came out ice cold, which really wasn’t a problem in the heat, but the frantic dash to wash and shampoo made the experience highly unpleasant. Zane had yet to clean himself quick enough to not have suds left in his hair. The real soldiers found this funny. They had camp showering down to an efficient art and were usually out before the two-minute time limit. They slid their hands over their smooth heads; hair only served as a hindrance in a real army.
    As Zane got in line to return the props, Davey came up beside him again.
    “I don’t think the food is that bad either,” Davey said. “I’ve already lost a couple of pounds, combined with all the sweating. So have you. You’re looking good.”
    Zane didn’t have a huge issue with army rations, but they left him craving something more substantial. They got one sparse, catered meal a day from the craft service, as storing food in the desert wasn’t easy and some foods simply couldn’t be kept.
    “There’s really only one thing I have a problem with,” Davey said. Zane looked over, curious to hear what Pippi Longstocking had to complain about. “This fucking tent situation!”
    “Tent situation?” Zane asked.
    “Yes. I don’t know how you’re getting along with Elliot…”
    “Elliot’s driving me crazy. He’s written six emails to Cristiano already. He’s saving them for when he finally has internet service.”
    Davey chuckled. “Does he lay there and moan his name all night?”
    “Not yet.”
    “I’m sharing a tent with the guy who dresses Fakhir.” Fakhir Ahmed had been cast as Murad Bey, commander of the Mamluk forces. “His name is Jack. He’s a great man for conversation, never complains, very neat and mannerly.”
    “He sounds like a nightmare.”
    “My point ,” Davey grew peevish, “is that he’s too polite for me to subject myself to. You can’t even get a moment to yourself to jerk off around here. A man has needs!”
    Zane groaned. “I might have known this would be about your sexual frustration.”
    “Right, and you’re going to go a month without so much as jerking off?”
    Zane shrugged. “This isn’t about sex. We’re supposed to be working. There’s more important things to occupy our time.”
    “Sure. And you’re out of your mind if you believe the French never jerked off. That’s why homosexuality takes place in armies. It’s not a choice, it’s a necessity!”
    Zane looked at the people around him: all bedraggled, dirty, and ready to collapse. Clearly none of them were thinking about sex or lack thereof.
    “In case you haven’t noticed,” Zane said, “there are women around here, Davey. One whole unit of the stunt crew is female. You don’t have to be gay.”
    “Maybe I want to be.”
    “Suit yourself. Me, I’m focused on work. I’m going to turn in Elliot’s props, then I’m going to the showers.”
    “I’m going to the showers too. We’ll see how much you’re not thinking about sex when we’re naked together.”
    “I find it hard to get aroused when I’ve got ice cold water shrinking my balls.”
    Zane stepped to the front of the line, and the prop girl raised an eyebrow. He smiled wearily at her. “I don’t understand why a scientist needs a sword and a bayonet,” he said, “but tomorrow, can he have cardboard ones?”
    Zane maintained his stance on sex for exactly four more days. He spent those days helping Elliot stay organized, keeping him hydrated and shielded from the sun, and observing Saul every chance he got. He grew used to the very basic meals, became faster in the showers, and went through two bottles of sun block. At least he had the luxury of Elliot’s umbrella during takes and his air-conditioned trailer when the temperature became overwhelming.
    On the fifth day, he woke up with an erection hard enough he could have put