Three men, bloody and disheveled, their tanned faces fierce, thrust themselves into the cabin, their weapons drawn. ‘On yer feet, ladies. Capt’n wants ye on deck.’ Rough hands grasped her by the upper arms, dragging her to her feet. The smell of sweat and sea assailed her. ‘You first, lassie. I’m keeping me eye on you.’ ‘Take your filthy hands off of me,’ she demanded, struggling in his grasp as he held her by the upper arms. ‘Aye, a feisty one, lads.’ ‘Capt’n will like that,’ another. Andy’s group had found several seamstresses who brought their industrial sewing machines to the new offices and had all of the men’s uniforms altered over the week. The Velcro was put where the new unit and rank system was to be attached. The ranks were to be painted on helmets and safety gear.On the shirt was the only permanently attached name and rank. It was on the right front - over the pocket - the same as the military used. My gear was camo but all of the security people were issued brown. I left my silky tanned legs bare and wore a teeny tiny black string thong that barely covered me, but made sure I kept my 5" red patent leather heels on. I remembered he loved heels so I didn't want him to be disappointed. I left the door open a little, turned off the lights, lit a candle and played some great music that reminded me a little of the rap/soul music we used to listen to as teenagers. I was on the bed, hair full and fresh and looking sinful, yet still cute. I popped open a bottle. She smiled at him again and he smiled back, putting her mind at ease. She took little notice of the other men in the audience, even the ones who regularly tipped her. Why the new man’s reaction mattered so much made her curious. She surveyed him again, and noticed nothing special. But that was it. His plainess bespoke a sincerity that was a rare trait among people today. He was not the least embarrassed by his appearance. He was sure of himself. Despite sensing that he was not quite in style,.
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