He's rather daft, isn't he. I mean he comes in a barwearing the most paper-thin disguise ever," I reached across and pulledhis glasses down a bit, and...brushed my hand against his temple, "comesup with the most bloody obvious pseudonym, I mean, the whiskey's bloodybehind me, of course someone's gonna figure it out."His expression changed into a wide, titillated grin."Although," I said with a wicked grin, turning my voice into a sexygrowl, "I do find it rather ballsy for him to step out in public. My male senses tingled. “As you were,” I ordered. She turned to leave. “Hold up, Private,” I remarked. “You haven’t finished the job.” She dutifully returned to mopping the floor as I stepped back into the restroom. I purposefully left the door open. I tossed the towel on to the floor near the shower and proceeded to lather up my face for my morning shave. Through the mirror, I could see her mopping the floor in my living quarters. She casually glanced in my direction and then averted her eyes. ‘I would love to see some of her work.’ They began to walk toward her cabin. It was so wonderful to talk with a man the way the two of them had been talking all night. Even to her cabin the discussions flowed. They had many things in common, likes, dislikes. Although they had a lot of similarities, they were very opposite within their upbringing. He was from the country and she was from the city. He always wanted to live in the city and she in the country. The thought that both wanted to live. The diaries were turned over to the Federal Court while the final paperwork was finished. Eventually the diaries were turned over to me. I went home to Hereford that weekend and left Marilyn in D.C. I never read them. I just grabbed a box of kitchen matches and went up to the helipad and threw the diaries into some old cardboard boxes, doused them with lighter fluid, and set them on fire. It was chilly, but I didn’t really care. I just stood there and watched, occasionally kicking unburned.
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