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Take Hold Of Your Restraint
Talk about imperfect timing at the perfect time. This man that stands here with an utterly stupid smirk on his face in the opening of the tent better has a very valid excuse for rudely interrupting me just as I am about to take Isabella in a way that will even make her blush. She is aching and ready to go; I can almost guarantee that she is the perfect wet mess for me as her body quivers in anticipation.
But wait…
"Lewis."
"Yes, Sergeant?"
"Is someone dying?"
"No, Sergeant."
"Is someone dead?"
"No, Sergeant."
"Then why are you bugging me?"
"I…uhm…it."
I hear him hesitate for more than a few seconds too long, and that alone says it all. He is wasting my time entirely unnecessary. If I can place it precisely, he has come across his own dilemma that he has no idea how to resolve.
"Lewis."
"Yes, Sergeant?"
"Unless the camp burns down, do not dare come to disturb me again.
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