The Consultant

The next day at lunch, it was just Professor Sandstorm and Lieutenant Hammer at a table in the Officers' Mess. Captain Depardieu had a 'working lunch' with Professor Williams about the implementation of the Duotronic Computer with the 5-EX's navigational and steering operations.

"I missed you yesterday," Denise told Hammer as she started her salad.

"I doubt it," he winked at her. "You probably went straight to bed and slept all night."

"Well," she grinned shyly, having been 'caught out'. "I am missing you now."

She slipped her foot out of her shoe and extended her leg to rub her toes against Hammer's ankle. His response was a soft smile. Then he stared into her big blue eyes as his demeanor became serious. "Are you really interested in exploring bondage?"

"Yes," she nodded her head slowly. "Yes. I think I am. Why...?" Her heart was racing, wondering what the tall, handsome, sexy creature sitting across from her had up his sleeve. Even though she was ten years older than he (a thought she tried not to dwell on), in many areas he was far more experienced and knowledgeable than she was.

"I think I have found a consultant for us," he answered.

Her response was delayed by the Steward placing their entrees before them, but when the man had left, she asked what he meant. "You're not going to . . . To bring in some strange man? I mean, I know my actions have been . . . wild . . . wanton . . . In the past couple of days. But I'm not really like that. I'm not like that at all."

"I know," he reassured her, reaching across the table to pat her hand. If anyone noticed, they could be damned as far as he was concerned. "But the man is the Boatswain on my new ship. He has tons of experience in the field."

"I don't know, Jack," she replied, "Let me think on it."

The afternoon was not very productive for Professor Sandstorm. She seemed to be lost in thoughts other than 'Standing Bear'. Several times one of the Senior Chiefs had to repeat a question and even Hammer's fellow Officer asked at one point if she was O.K.

By 1700 Hours (five o'clock, P.M.), she had reached a decision. Once the others had left, she walked up to Hammer and said, "Let's do it. Let's get your Boatswain friend in for a consultation."

"Alright, I'll call him now," Hammer replied.

"Now? But . . ." And she stopped herself. Yes. Now. Before she lost her nerve. Nodding her head, she told him. "O.K. Do it."

1830 Hours

Despite the short notice (as in an hour and a half notice), Chief Petty Officer Wallace's hovercraft pulled up at Professor Sandstorm's house precisely on time. Lieutenant Hammer was waiting for him on the sidewalk. He had dressed casually, sloppily even, for this meeting, trying to imitate the style the Boatswain was wearing yesterday. He just prayed that the Chief didn't show up in sharp attire and make Hammer look like a bum. When Wallace climbed out of his vehicle carrying a leather overnight bag, Hammer mentally heaved a sigh of relief. The Chief was wearing baggy three-quarter length cargo pants and run-down athletic shoes. And, his black ball cap.

"You have any trouble finding the place?" Hammer asked as they climbed the steps of the stoop. The Chief said he had not, and Hammer said, "I want to thank you again for this, Boats. I really appreciate it."

"Don't mention it," Wallace replied as Hammer knocked on the door. "It is . . ."

His voice trailed off as the door was opened. For there, standing before the two men, was Professor Denise Running-Dear Sandstorm. Her short, pixie-cut blonde hair was perfectly in place, her makeup expertly applied, and she had on a sleeveless black dress, dark stockings, and heels. She could have been on her way to a Faculty cocktail party.

Hammer made the introductions and in response to the Professor's 'nice to meet you', Wallace replied, "I had heard that you were brilliant, Denise." He deliberately used her first name, trying to establish his dominant roll. "But no one had told me that you were drop-dead gorgeous."

Although Hammer thought Wallace was laying it on a bit thick, the broad smile and blush across Denise's face and upper chest spoke otherwise.

"Won't you come in, Gentlemen?" she asked, opening the door wide and stepping aside. "I have a pitcher of martinis made down in the basement. I figured we could talk down there as . . . As that will be where . . ."

She was still feeling awkward and a little unsure about all of this, but she led them down the stairs and poured three glasses. The trio sat around in heavy wooden chairs, making small talk for a few minutes. At one point Professor Sandstorm gestured to a large, wooden and mechanical object behind her. "This is something I tinkered together a few months back, but have never had the opportunity to actually try it out. Jack," her blue eyes briefly flickered in his direction, "told me of your . . . preferences . . . and I thought this evening might be a good time to try the device."

As she explained its function, Wallace slowly nodded his head, at last saying, "Yes. Yes, I think we can incorporate it most definitely."

Lieutenant Hammer looked from Denise to Wallace and asked, "Well, let's get started, shall we?" Turning to Chief Wallace, he asked, "What's the first step, Boatswain?"

"First," the Chief nodded towards Denise, "Take off your clothes."

The professor immediately stood up and crossed her arms in front of her. Grabbing the fabric of her skirt, she lifted her arms, peeling the garment over her head. She had come prepared. For she was not wearing any bra or panties. Tossing the dress aside, she turned to stand confidently, almost defiantly, in front of the man she had just met. Her height of five-feet four-inches, combined with her pixie haircut, made her look like a mischievous imp.

Admiring her womanly curves and heavy breasts, the Boatswain stood up slowly, openly appraising her body. "Oh, yes. We can do a lot with this. Quite a lot."