" She dimpled. "But there's no reason we can't practice in the meantime." She picked up her cup and sipped, looking at me from under her eyelashes."I ...an't believe my luck," I sighed.She giggled. "Funny, that's just how I feel." She took another sip, put her cup down, stood, withdrawing her hand from mine ... and began to strip.The uniform jacket, resistant to projectiles and energy weapons, went first, revealing the close-fitting grey under-shirt. That didn't conceal her upper-body shape as. The room smelled of cigarette smoke, cooking oil, and a faint undertone of bananas rotting somewhere. I stood there uneasily, hands jammed in the pockets of my painter’s pants—one of which held the rubbers I bought last week—my heart beating fast, while Eleanor Kaminski dumped a scoop of powder into a tall glass, added tap water, and stirred it all up into a murky, swirling brown. She went to the freezer and took out an aluminum tray of ice, yanked the handle to free the cubes, then dropped a. More

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