I stood in front of them now, still trying to hide myself by holding one arm in front of my breasts and the hand of the other arm in front of my vulva.Those girls were looking at me, and I could see they were smiling at me. However, I didn't like how they were looking at me. I don't know why, but I had the sudden feeling that they were up to something, and I was afraid that I would be the subject of their torture."Well girl, start walking and we will follow you," the girl said.The girl who was doing all the talking was a very tall girl, I think she must have been around 180cm tall, with short boyish black hair and a very slim figure with normal sized breasts. They all were wearing the same clothes: sneakers, blue jeans and a light blue t-shirt. It was strange for me to see those four girls dressed like that. The other three girls looked like followers, because the tall girl was the only one who had talked to me from the moment that I was discovered.I started walking and when the four. I only remember sparse details of conversations some forty years later, but there are quotes that managed to burn in, the rest is story telling. Any names, of course, have been changed. Any similarity to actual persons, living or dead, is intentional.Coming HomeThe day I flew home from Andrews AFB to come home my Dad had come to pick me up. I was still in my khaki's, my Corcoran jump boots gleamed in the Texas sun. I adjusted my beret and walked through the Space A terminal. My dad shook my hand and then gave me a perfectly masculine half hug. I chucked the duffel bag into his trunk and we were off.We went back to his office where he had coordinated with a friend to have my Vega waiting. He said we'd throw some steaks on the grill that night and catch up. He tossed me my keys with a new house key on it. "I'm going by Bonanza and catching up with folks." He looked at me with that dead pan expression that was his trademark, "Steaks will be coming off around eight." I nodded.
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