The girl was sitting on a camp chair, fully dressed but with her jacket and shirt open, peeled back and hanging to her elbows. The ensign held a small...dirk between her pointed breasts and flicked away at the laces of her stays, intentionally pinking her lush breasts and producing an occasional droplet of blood, pausing between each poke to ask, “Where were you going?”“I demand you call Captain Bainborough,” she spat at him and he chopped off another string, this one well below her. Jesus, I thought. How the fuck do I extricate myself from this situation? All I could think about was Gary, James, and Arnold, three of the studs from school. Why the fuck was this not happening with one of them. Hubert? Fuck no, I thought. Anyone, but Hubert, my thoughts concluded. I felt like the unluckiest arsehole on the planet.To make matters worse, his puppy-dog eyes began pleading with me as he continued, “I think about you all the time and dream of making love to you. Fuck, Marty, I am. More

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