And with that, he suddenly flew off, leaving me and Praxis alone on the roof again. "That was... interesting," I commented, not sure whether I was tal...ing more to myself or her. "But bad timing," Praxis sighed. Then she added, "I am kind of impressed at how nicely you turned him down." She sounded impressed as well. I blushed faintly, telling her, "I once worked in public relations." Praxis didn't say anything to that and we remained on the rooftop for a few more minutes before deciding to go. Sometimes we have contests around flying. I got to be the bombardier for one of our contests – flour-bombing. Mister Barton flies in from western Georgia in an airplane that’s older than he is – 1946. It’s a neat old thing.Actually, he took me and Vicki and Rachel all up, one at a time, for bombing runs. It’s fun. That thing clatters along at seventy-five miles an hour, we’re a thousand feet above a big X in the grass by the runway, and you toss a two-pound bag of flour out of the plane trying. Fuck! My cock was as hard as iron. Fuck yes! 'Please, please kiss,' I thought to myself. The first girl slid her hand down over the other girls firm bum cheeks, down to the hem of her short flared skirt, and grasped her flesh, digging her nails in at the crease of her tight arse. “Oh, Samantha,” she purred, “I’ve been dreaming of doing this for ages.” She leaned forward, her lips parting wide, and they kissed, their pink glossy lips meshing, their tongues pushing into each other’s mouths.. ”“It is merely a scare tactic to suppress those who believe that such a young Queen would be sympathetic and easy to sway.” I shrugged what he said away. I was still in awe of the people. So many people, and they were all here for my master, my best friend, the one who sees me as her older sister. “What you see is not even half the protection in place,” the head sentry boasted to me. His bragging would probably be right too. If you wanted to wipe the government clean from the empire, targeting.