I distract myself with papers, folders, a pen, a napkin to tear into pieces. Watching my fingers twirl a pen, I can see them, instead, trailing across...your shoulders over your starched shirt feeling the stretched, smooth fabric over the heat of your skin. My fingers find their way down to your ribs and then waist where they pause to rest on your hips. The overwhelming and obvious need to press my body against yours is one I’m finding difficult to fight but also to imagine. If I used your hips. Even if someone was watching one of the monitors inside the command post, nice and toasty away from the cold and snow, I doubted that they’d be able to see anything. There were still risks involved given the fact I didn’t know who was waiting for me in there, but I knew I would have to take them. All I could do was to make certain that my people didn’t get hurt.The invitation said that the front door would be open at midnight. That was nice to know, but I had no intentions of using the door if. More

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