"It could be... the people outside," I said."Talk, anyway," Ingmar said, "Just be careful what you say." THIS IS CARTER JOHNSON TRANSMITTING, OVER." I...was about to say it again, when a big booming voice broke through the silence."CARTER! WHERE YOU BEEN, BOY? WE MISSED YOU!" The voice on the radio was friendly -- jovial, even. I looked at Ingmar with a 'what the fuck?' expression on my face."Talk to him!" Ingmar said."THIS IS CARTER JOHNSON, TRANSMITTING FROM BROOKE ARMY HOSPITAL IN SAN ANTONIO,. Well, that was fair; her hands were all over me. I was not packing, having decided that a strapon would spoil the cut of my slacks. Oh God, were had THAT thought come from? But now I had my Mediterranean beauty pinned against the wall between an overstuffed armchair and a small table that held more than one piece of butch equipment hidden in its drawers.But first I needed to strip Jessica down to the essentials, that is, nothing at all, with the possible exception of her high heels. I always. More

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