”You take a sip on your beer, leaning into the table a bit, knowing thatyour cleavage is pushed up against the top of the table, not tooobvious, but...enough to catch another glance from me. “I mean, you are agrown man, how do you handle that sort of thing?”I clear my throat, “Well, I mean, I don’t want to get graphic, but,well, let’s just say, I haven’t had so much “me time” since I was ateenager.”We both laugh, but you also know I’m not k**ding.You ask me seriously, “Um, I know it’s kind of a. Is there aproblem, functionally, that my sensors haven't detected?"If everything was working it couldn't be him, it was me! What was Idoing? What was happening to me? What was I thinking?I mentally counted the days since my last monthly. It had been threedays since leaving 1917: one day back at base to prepare Sand Dollar,one day at sea in 1918, one day at Brie's in 1983. In addition therewas the unknown time spent in my domain with Russell Brackenridge,Momma Scott, and Russell's sister, Anna. More

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