Sure, there was a Fear-Of-God speech delivered by Lt. Lentz in his own voice. It was now understood that the drills were life and death important and that no screw-ups would be tolerated. But it was the music that made it all work.Female stewards met the sponsors assigned to units 1-A and 1- J, the units on opposite ends of the first row where the march to the transporter pads would begin. These two stewards started something of a conga line, stepping to the beat of the music, and none too quickly at that. When the first sponsors in the two conga lines understood what to do, the stewards broke off and began to see that the sponsor of each unit joined the conga line at the right time.Yes, it took quite a bit of time for the first two lines of people to reach the transporter pad. But once the pad was reached, the metered pace was maintained. There was a line of people coming from two directions at once. A person from each line alternated with a person from the opposite line. There was. Just a towel. Sweet mother of God. Just a towel. Not a big towel at that, either. Now she is stepping into the hall. Looking down the corridor towards the stairs. Danielle! Look behind you; Mind out for your… Click. The unmistakeable sound of heavy door sliding snuggly into its wooden frame and the ominous metallic click of lock on lever. What have I done?! She is looking up and down the corridor, pushing hopefully against her door. But she heard it as well as I did. She knows. I know. No, no, NOOOO! The padding of her feet on the carpet as she walks to my door. She knows it was me!!!! How does she know?!? What am I going to say? I am an idiot. Gentle tapping. Urgent. I have to wait a beat. Or she will know I am standing on the other side of the door. Spying. Like a pervert. Wait. Wait. And… “Hi….err..Danielle, isn’t it?” Eyes, man; look in her eyes, not at those barely covered tits. Bulging, full, luscious…. Eyes! Ooops. She saw me checking her out. But is that mild panic I see in.
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