Amélie took the hint and stepped back.“Tonight, Antoine.”“Tonight, Amélie.”She walked away, giving her hips a little shimmy as she did so. T...is was playing with fire, she knew that, but she couldn’t stop herself. She wasn’t really Capitaine Amélie, that was a joke. She was something between Ship’s Mascot Amélie and Fuck Toy Amélie, passed around among Antoine, Gérard and Captain Beauchamp. Sometimes she wished they’d let the crew have a crack at her, but only sometimes. Beauchamp had made it. Her voluptuous figure filled his view completely, his eyes drawn to the wonderful way that her fat dimpled where her hips met her waist, the elastic of her underwear cutting deep into her supple flesh. He knew her body like the back of his hand now, every dark-grey freckle, every pink scar that served as a reminder of her former life as a soldier. His own skin was a patchwork of healed wounds, including those that he had sustained during his time in New Mombasa, the scar from the needle that. More

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