I’d worn heels three times since Matt found me. I’d fallen over twice. My shirt was in the bag, with my bleach pitted sweatpants. I’d change out...of my grungy t-shirt when it was time to go to work. I assumed I was going to spill something on myself in the interim.“Hey, who’s still wearing temporary bracelets?” Matt asked. We could’ve just left but he was looking at the elevators. That redhead in the jewelry store worked upstairs. The Indian girl wasn’t at the virgin kiosk and Matt was sour. One man turned and saw me standing there and walked over to the door, his penis bobbing inches from my face, 'Be a good girl', he said, 'Mummies having some fun', he continued, adding, 'Go back to bed, and wait'.I waked in the direction of the toilet, passing the living room, where daddy slept on the settee, in a drunken stupor, no we were not naturalists, we were swingers, with one difference, only men came to party, daddy drank, and mummy fucked.I climbed back into bed and listened to the sex. On one hand, they were proud of the men for having gone to war. On the other hand, they just wanted to hug and touch their returning heroes.While making his way to his wife and family, the realization that he was now a veteran of a foreign war came upon him. He was one of only two thousand people in all Misera who could say that. He had been the highest ranking officer there. He’d probably get a promotion out of it.He couldn’t say that he had looked war straight in the eye. He had been there,. He turned at the top, smiling huge, bigger smile than I ever seen him produce, blinding really, so much weight had been unloaded from him.“Fucker,” he said, trying to grab me, but missing as I moved past him, grabbing at his junk, playfully, showing my appreciation for it – for him.“You bet I am, k**,” I barked, laughing. “You bet I am.”I slammed the door to my room, closing him out, catching my breath – reeling in emotion and desire. “Get dressed, k**.” I yelled at him, and ripped off my.