‘Tis Charity
to Show
Chapter II
Part 2
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.”
“What?”
“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.
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