My aide, Georgia Dickson, was a southern belle, more accustomed to mint juleps than diesel oil, but she was effective and organized. “General Rasmus...en, I have the orders you dictated for the changes in the delivery of aircraft fuel to the planes. If you would just sign them, I can have the duty officer deliver them back to the C.Q. Sir.” She was about twenty-five, a bit on the stout side, and the owner of a fine set of breasts that threatened to topple her over each time she leaned down to. One of these times, well after midnight, I reached down and found her wearing panties. She hadn’t worn them in some time so it surprised me somewhat. “Why are you wearing panties?” I demanded.She looked at me and then to Katy before looking back to me. She stood frozen, without saying a word. “Take them off,” I told her. She hesitated, then nodded and began to move in the direction of the bathroom. I grabbed her arm and pulled her back to me, “Take them off now.”Diane began to tremble as we. More

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