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“When you’re in a real battlefield position, the last thing you want to be known for is your role as a leader. You lead by example, but not by title.”“So, what do I call you?” Mulky inquired.“Anything but ‘sir’,” I replied.“OK,” Mulky replied. “Before I make a decision on something, I have to know something.”I waited for her request.“If I decide to act on my instincts, will it come back to haunt me?” she asked.“If I didn't think you were a good leader and capable of handling the stress of leadership,” I replied, “I’d of never selected you to be the student company commander.”“Did you select me because of my looks or my skills?” Mulky asked.“I’d be lying if I said it was skills alone,” I replied.Mulky stayed quiet, processing things. She plopped her helmet down on the hood of the HUMVEE and took a step closer to where I stood, her hands on her hips. I could see her processing things in her mind. She looked down at my boots. I watched as she shifted her look upwards, stopping to look. Her earliest memory was of her first orgasm, self-induced when she was supposed to be taking an afternoon nap. She could tell, from remembering the cot and the very colour and texture of the blanket, that she had been less than three years old at the time, yet as soon as the wondrous surprise faded she had realized, with the kind of absolute knowledge that is inborn, that no-one must find out what she had just discovered.As a child she had shared a room with Charmaine, Mary-Ann and Nelly, and her biggest problem had been to find excuses to lock herself securely in the bathroom so that she could give herself up to the slow process of bringing herself to the peak of pleasure, for an orgasm was never quick with her, but required long, gentle, well-lubricated, carefully heightened, deliberately quickening strokes of her finger-tips, and if she was distracted by footsteps in the hallway outside she had to begin all over again. Worst of all, she often had to give up entirely because either.
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