He smells of the ocean, of oil and sweat. He's dressed in jeans and a nice shirt. You really only notice the bulge in his denim. He reaches down the s...des of your legs and slides your dress up your body, rough fingers on smooth skin. Legs, thighs, hips, waist. His hands stop at your breasts, the dress bunched above his fingers. He squeezes your breasts through the cloth, and you feel the strength in him.The man in front is taller, a little thin, perhaps, and slightly older. He looks as though. I don’t feel any need for any other woman on the planet, only you. Can’t you understand? There were a thousand opportunities in Iraq. Other officers, civilian employees, prostitutes from a dozen nations were all available any time I wanted one. I never even looked at them once. All I wanted was to stay alive and come home to you, only you.’ Maybe I should have never said the name, but once ‘Iraq’ left my lips I started to get cold and shaky. I could feel a darkness beyond the night creeping up. More

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