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on my bed with my nightie up and knickers around my ankles. I’d been smiling ever since, and even the prospect of paintball didn’t seem too daunting.
    The leaflet from Confidence said to wear combat attire, an instruction repeated in Mr Scott’s memo and my own. I didn’t have any, but I’d passed an army surplus shop on my way back after my encounter with Charlie and there was plenty of time to sort myself out. There was also the question of keeping the bruising to a minimum, because I knew I was going to get shot. Half the men in the office would be out to get me, while I always seem to end up on the loser’s end in that sort of situation anyway.
    Even that couldn’t wipe the smile off my face as I set off across the plaza. If anything, the mild thrill of fear and the prospect of my certain and rather public humiliation was quite exciting. After all, if I couldn’t be taken down to the main floor and put out for general use, at least I could provide them with the fun of paintballing me, and my reservations of the day before now seemed silly.
    The shop was where I remembered it, and open, allowing me to purchase trousers, jacket and cap in a matching grey camouflage far smarter than the green or khaki. I added boots, thick socks and a heavy-duty sweatshirt that would go some way to protecting my chest, and on sudden impulse a set of lieutenant’s pips and a crimson plume to add a splash of colour without being too obvious. The mirror in the changing room showed a tall lean soldier girl, every inch the officer. With my hair up under my cap I looked better still, and while the jacket was a bit shapeless the trousers were really quite snug and set off my hips and bottom nicely. One thing was certain: I’d be the smartest woman in the team, at least at the start, and I decided to wear my new gear back to the building.
    As I left the shop I was feeling more than a little pleased with myself, and enjoying a pleasant daydream in which I was being made to strip from my uniform on a vast parade ground with hundreds of people watching. I’d just got to the point at which my commanding officer was assuring me that my knickers really did have to come off along with the rest when a far more pleasant voice penetrated my conscience.
    ‘Lucy? Lucy!?’
    Only my father calls me Lucy, normally, and it took a moment to realise that the call was directed at me, which meant it could only be Charlie. She was across the road, her brilliant hair concealed beneath a hooded top, the girl who’d fucked me a couple of nights before. I was blushing as I went across, and slightly surprised by the expression of awe on her face. She’d been undoing the shutters of her shop, but stepped out into the street to greet me.
    ‘Lucy? Are you army?’
    The tone of her voice suggested she wanted me to be, quite badly, and I was tempted to lie, but thought better of it.
    ‘Sorry, no. I’m going on a team-building exercise this afternoon.’
    ‘Oh … you look great anyway!’
    ‘Thank you.’
    She walked around me, making little purring noises as she admired my outfit, and me beneath it. I could feel my blushes growing hotter for her very obvious attention, especially when she gave my bottom a gentle squeeze.
    ‘Charlie, not in the street!’
    ‘Sorry, but you look so good. Would you like to see me later?’
    I hesitated, not sure if I dared accept and wanting to tell her that I wasn’t a lesbian. After what had happened between us, it would have sounded ridiculous, but I knew better than to try to explain that the reason I found her attractive was that she made me feel ashamed of myself. I nodded.
    ‘Maybe. I’d like to, but I’m not sure what time I’ll be back.’
    ‘I’ll be here until nine.’
    ‘I’ll try. Must dash.’
    It was a lie, as I had plenty of time, but she’d shaken me up. I’d made a date, with a girl, again. It was awkward to say the least, with my job, because, while the company was obliged to pay grudging lip