“That’s the military for you,” agreed the Skipper. “Still, these guys weren’t doing it the way we are, with beer, lobster, and excuse me for saying it, a boatload of beautiful women.” Babs blushed but grinned anyway. “Imagine a month of eight on and eight off, humping around a Springfield rifle and staring at the sea with binoculars, and nothing but K-rations and chlorinated water and the ugly faces of your buddies. I’d have gone nuts, and I’ve done that sort of shit before!”He continued steering the boat around the small island, which was halfway between the stereotypical desert island with a single palm tree and the stereotypical lush tropical paradise. It only rose a couple of hundred feet above the water line and was covered mostly in a thin grass and even thinner scrub. There were several small and separated beaches, and at the center of the island, what appeared to be a tower. “Right now, I’m looking for the dock that was put up for launches. It’s pretty much shot, and we won’t. Any sexual encounter with Marcus is great, although I have a few rules, like no slapping or leaving any marks. “Come to my office around 2pm. Dress up in a dress and heels,” his text reads. Marcus had a thing for feet, pantyhose, stockings and high heels. That gives me an hour. So, I change out of my tekkies and jeans and put on a nice dress that I didn’t need to wear a bra with. I also put on some sexy high-heels and finish off my make-up with lip-gloss. At 2pm, I knock on his office door. I hear his sturdy voice from inside: “Come in!” I open the door and there he is, sitting behind his desk, with a rather horny smile on his face. “Hallo Marcus.” “Valerie,” he replies, while standing up. He takes my hand, spins me around while looking at me from head to heels and then kisses my neck and lips. Then he moves back to his chair and as he sits down, he pulls me to the edge of his desk in front of him. As if in a slow-motion movie scène, he starts by letting me sit on his desk, lifting.
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