I looked under the sheet. My naked body was covered in their drippings from my chin to my thighs—a reminder of last night’s escapades. I had come out of the shower after dinner wearing my pajamas, just a t-shirt and gym shorts. Rachel and Becky had showered first. Usually, I would shower with at least one of them, so when I was excluded I knew something was afoot. My suspicions were confirmed when I entered the bedroom and saw them huddled together, completely naked and rubbing their bald pussies. “What are you doing, Michael?” It was Becky. Rachel always called me “G.” “Uh, just getting ready for bed. Why?” “Oh, we’re getting ready for bed, too, and you’ll notice we aren’t wearing anything that will get in the way.” “Geez, didn’t you two get enough this morning and again this afternoon?” “No, G”– Rachel this time. “We want to thank you for the great vacation. Don’t you want us to thank you?” “I guess it wouldn’t do any good to say it isn’t necessary.” “No!” They chimed in. It had not penetrated far; it must have been deflected from your saddle horn. It seems, no internal organs were damaged too badly. Another shot went through your chest, far to the right, without hurting the lungs. Your ribs will take a while to mend, I suppose."Jim nodded. This would explain the pain when he talked and breathed."Since you're improving, I shall see to it that you will get on the first transport to England." But ... my regiment?" They will have to make do without you. It'll likely be a year before you can ride again, if at all. Lie back, and let your body heal, Captain. That's all you can do."Jim Tremayne had to follow the Doctor's advice as there was nothing else he could do. After spending another two weeks in the infirmary, tended by the female nurses led by the 'Lady with the Lamp', Florence Nightingale, he recovered sufficiently to be carried by stretcher on board a steam ship headed for England. There were over two-hundred wounded and disabled men on board, many.
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