The others were already drunk, red-faced, eyes rolling, laughing. Charlie talked about the booze, this booze, other booze, rum-running. "I know a fell...w in Detroit expects to make a million running booze across the water." Nah," one of the others said."Sure, why not?" the other one said.Charlie slid an arm around Jack's shoulders. "Great to see you, Jack. You come here a lot? I don't get up this way too much."Charlie talked about the war, France, the others talking. Jack just sat and watched. Alya was wearing much more masculine clothing than she normally did since she was going to be fighting today, with tight black trousers and a form-fitting white shirt with boots. Not only did they offer greater range of movement but they outlined the shape of her body perfectly, especially the round swell of her breasts and the curves of her pert rear. Though the clothes helped her to move freely and so fight more effectively, their emphasising of her... assets also served a purpose. It was. More

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