From Chapter Four…

Captain Bradford saluted the General before turning to face the tent and hesitated, remembering the knee she had delivered to his crotch earlier. A successful interrogation was what Major Hurlberry wanted, but Bradford would wager it would be no easy task. This Miss Lipps was unlike anyone he had ever met. He could see in her eyes the defiance, the mockery, and the intelligence. As strange as her words were, she was no fool, nor madwoman.

She was deep in thought, still wearing his coat, when he entered the tent, her legs curled beneath her as she sat on the cot. He had never seen such shapely legs, nor thought that a pair of boots could look so alluring upon a woman.

“I suggest that you disclose all that you know,” he advised her, trying not to look down at her legs.

“You have something specific in mind?” she asked with an arched brow.

“It will fare better with you if you told the truth,” he said in as gentle a manner as he could.

“The truth about what?”

“Are you a rebel spy?”

“Is that what you want me to be?”

She was taunting him. She uncurled her legs and brought them to her sides, spreading her knees. He would have been gazing straight into her cunnie were it not for the flaps of his coat falling between her thighs.

He snapped his gaze back to her face. “This is no frivolous matter, madam.”

“It’s awfully warm in here,” she remarked, unbuttoning the first of the coat buttons.

“Miss Lipps, I beseech you, the sooner you explain yourself, the sooner you may be set free.”

It was warm in the tent. The summers in these colonies were damnably hot.

“Am I being held as a prisoner?” She unbuttoned the rest of the coat, which she then pulled off her shoulders, revealing her black corset. The corset had the odd function of pushing the breasts upward and towards each other.

“Until you have answered my questions satisfactorily, yes,” Bradford admitted, feeling constrained by his clothes and the smallness of the tent.

“What if I have some questions of my own?”

“Questions?”

“Yeah, like, have you ever had a lap dance?”

“A what dance?”

“Lap dance. I take it you haven’t. Let me give you a free preview.”

Putting her legs together, she swung off the bed. Bradford was grateful that he was no longer staring at her crotch, but now that she was standing, the coat open and hanging off her shoulders, he could see her bare torso and the strange black loin cloth that barely concealed her womanhood. He wished he had his own coat back to cover the growing bulge in his breeches.