I plummeted back to the mundane, landed with a jolt.But Clare was the angel imprisoned here, and I was frantic to undress her. My need for her became passion unhindered, carnality as white-knuckle.April, the air still chilly. She had turned on the fire, but it had not yet warmed the room. In my mind I still see her standing half undressed beside the leather sofa. Her top and skirt were gone, and I eyed her bare breasts, saw their youthful uplift, nipples stiffened — either by the cold air or excitement. Her tights and panties I'd pulled to her knees. Her high suede boots prevented them from falling further.All the same, she spread her legs as wide as her panties and tights allowed, and I rubbed her cunt with the flat of my palm until she moaned out loud. Then I fingered her with three fingers. She made sounds as if she'd never been touched there before; sound like disbelief, sounds like astonished discovery.The speed and degree of her arousal shocked me. Her breathing frantic, her. Please don’t kill me.”“Throw both weapons out. Now,” ordered Schaffer.A few moments later, a pistol came flying over the bonnet of the car. Then a shotgun was slid out from between the cars, sliding about ten feet before coming to a halt. A young man slowly stood, his face ashen, and blood all down one side of him. His arms were high above his head, his fingers splayed out wide and tense. The platoon came out of cover, allowing the man to see that Schaffer hadn’t been lying about his numbers.“Is that your blood?” called a corporal with a red-cross arm-band.The man shook his head. “You shot the Squad Leader in the neck. His blood squirted all over me.”“Impressive shot,” Schaffer murmured to his sergeant.“Lucky,” growled the sergeant.“I’ll take what I can get,” Schaffer responded.He turned to Copeland, still on the radio.“Get me axe leader.”Axe leader was the call sign for number 1 platoon at Killington Lake services, a few miles to their north.The two platoon COs quickly conferred,.
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