‘Tis Charity to Show
Rand walked quickly through the large, orderly labyrinth of the busy changing room station, clothes and equipment cradled in her arms as she searched for an available stall. Finally spotting an empty room, Rand claimed it, stepped in and placed her stuff on a table. Once settled, she walked over to the corner where the open and shut mechanism was situated and positioned her hand over the button, when she heard a low pitched, nasal voice from just outside the hall.
“Mind if I join you?”
Rand turned to see a smiling Nurse Rose standing in the hall of the labyrinth, holding her own stuff in her arms.
“Shit,” thought Rand. “Is she kidding?” She let out a defeated breath and motioned Rose to come in. “You’re already here, Hyacinth. Come on.”
Rose eagerly stepped in and placed her clothes and equipment next to Rand’s on the table. Judging from the vacant smile on her face, Rose had clearly missed the dripping sarcasm rimming in Rand’s voice. Rose started talking immediately, not wasting even a moment of quiet time.
“Wow! Talk about a mission, huh? What on earth do you suppose happened to those people? Talk about hide-and –seek, huh?”
Rand tried to ignore Rose as she pressed the mechanism that shut the door to the changing room. When the two women had privacy, Rand walked over to the table where her clothes and equipment sat.
“Yeah, hide-and-seek,” said Rand dispassionately, paying more attention to her hair than to Rose’s yammering. She gingerly pulled the bobbi pins from her French twist, working her fingers through her hair until it fell to the length of her back. Rand placed the pins on the table and began to undress.
Rand was not too happy right now. Between being stuck in this room with Miss Chatterbox and her guilt over hurting Khobran, this day was certainly not starting out too well. Perhaps, maybe, this mission would keep her preoccupied. Right now, that was the one thing she had to look forward to. Hopefully, she’d be able to avoid Rose as much as possible during the mission. At least Rand could be thankful that she was a yeoman, and not a doctor.
“Oh, wow! Look at you, girl,” said Rose jauntily.
Rand turned to Rose as she placed her uniform, pantyhose, red shorts and undergarments on the table.
“What’s wrong?” asked Rand, annoyed.
“You have such a nice figure, all slender and curvy at the same time. Look at those breasts—they just shoot out like heat-seeking missiles! Full speed ahead!”
Rose fell back in loud whooping guffaws, her face turning chili-pepper red, her belly shaking. Rand smirked, and positioned herself so that she was squarely facing Rose.
“Wait ‘till you see how they aim!” Rand said with oiliness.
Rose stopped in mid laughter, almost as if by a switch, looked at Rand blankly, and then broke into even louder, more grating laughter. Rand rolled her eyes, shook her head, and reached for the specially padded, smooth, shapeless undergarments that were worn under the jumpsuits. Her nerves rattled under Rose’s uncontrollable chuckles and snorts while she stepped into her underpants, making the simple act of dressing feel more like a session of Chinese water torture. As Rose’s laughter subsided, much to Rand’s relief, Rand suddenly had the distinct feeling that there were eyes glued on her. She turned to Rose, expectantly.
“Is there a problem?”
“Oh, no. It’s just that your figure reminds me so much of Christine’s. Long lines and curves.”
Rand stopped in the mist of changing, clearly insulted by this dubious comparison.
“Why the hell would you say something like that to me?” she asked, incredulous.
“Well, uh, I’m not saying they’re the exact same…”
“Exactly, because they’re not!”
“…but they fall into the same type. So tall, slender, curvy. You know?”
Rand continued to change, reaching for her jumpsuit and stepping into the pant legs.
“Whatever,” she said with disgust.
She had seen Chapel naked once, in the women’s steam room, where she had, in the middle of her “all about moi” chats, undraped her towel and tossed it aside in her inimitable over-dramatic form, so that her adoring minion of butt-kissers could envy the physical graces that she thought she was blessed with. Chapel’s body was nice enough, reminding one of a runway model from Earth’s consumer past. Lots of length and sharp lines, her physique was an angular dream for designers to drape fabric over. Elegant was the word one came up with in describing Chapel’s body.
Aside from her height, there was nothing elegant about Rand’s body. Slender, taunt lines gave way to soft curves that fabric tended to hug and cling to, accentuating her tiny waist, her pert little ass, her firm thighs, her full, jutting breasts. She was proud of her body, and she loved the fact that Khobran loved it too.
Rand recalled the time when they were in her quarters, and she had just removed the last stitch of clothing on her body. She stood naked in front of Khobran, her lips parted as she piled her hair on her head and lowered her gaze directly at him. He sat on the edge of the bed, fully clothed. His eyes swept over her every inch, savoring her body. Rand smiled, remembering Khobran pulling her towards him and bracing her between his knees while he explored her brazenly, thoroughly. Almost to the brink of orgasm, Rand reached down and tugged the waist of his pants, revealing his erect member, already glistening at the tip. Every fiber in her body pulsated when her lover picked her up effortlessly by her hips, placed his hands between her thighs, gently pushed them open, and lowered her onto him, making her gasp at that first shot of probing, moist, exquisite pain.
Then, the memories started to fade, to change, to refocus to the last time they were together in her quarters. She could see the argument, how angry Khobran was, how hurt. The tears brimming in his eyes, and then his coolness, his withdrawal.
“Is everything all right? You seem far away.”
“Wanna talk about it?”
Rand looked sharply at Rose. What was it about Chapel and her nosy horde that they were able to sniff out just the right moments to interrupt her thoughts.
“No, I don’t,” Rand said flatly.
By now, the two women were fully clothed and equipped for their mission on Tijus.
“Oh, come on! I can be a good listener,” said Rose, leaning into Rand’s side and giving her a little nudge. Rand shook her head and snorted, not even bothering to give Rose a second glance.
“Good listening is usually a prerequisite for good gossip,” she said with pronounced sarcasm.
And with that, Rand picked up her clothes, hair pins, and boots, walked over to one of the lockers, placed her stuff in one of the slots, and locked them safely in. Standing with her back to Rose, Rand brushed and gathered her hair into a low-riding ponytail, walked back to the table, threw her brush in her duffle, zipped it closed, slung it over her shoulder, went over to the mechanism that operated the door, punched it open, and walked out of the changing room without looking back, or saying another word.