Exchanging good luck kisses, my husband firmly ran his hand over my ass as we parted. Walking around I found a table, the only available table had Ken sitting there. I made my way in and sat almost identical to our seating last night. Going into my purse I put money on the table. "Changing $200," said the dealer. As the dealer slid my chips my purse hit the stack and a few chips fell off the table. One fell into Ken's lap, which I grabbed hastily, I think I actually grabbed some of his pants while I was grabbing the chip. He then slid his chair back, got on his knees and went under my legs. As he was getting up he was directly between my legs at eye level, when I began to question what the hell he was doing he came up with a $25 chip. "Here," he said, "Missed this one." After a simple "Thank you," he said. Then he asked if he could explain what happened at the martini bar. "It's over with," I said. "And anyway, what did you mean that it's so soft and silky, what is?" "Your hands" he. Starching Army Combat Uniforms was prohibited since it supposedly screwed up the flame resistance and infrared signature patterns on them. Maybe he never got the memo, or maybe he didn’t care. By that point they had me up and walking around. He sat down at the table we were at and introduced himself. “I’m Major Duckworth and I’m with the Public Affairs Office. I’m going to be handling your interactions with the press and with Miss Hunter.”At the mention of Tolley Hunter, the rest of the table started asking a lot of damn fool questions, mostly centered on whether they could meet her and what was she like. I rolled my eyes and spoke up, “Hey, knock it off! I’ll ask the questions and you guys can shut up!”Major Duckworth smiled at that. “Thank you, Corporal, or is it Sergeant yet? Corporal, I suppose.”“No disrespect intended, sir, but what the hell is going on? I never heard of this Tolley Hunter before, but it seems like I’m the only guy in Iraq who hasn’t. What makes this such a big.
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