Chapter Twenty Three
The Captain was a man of many moods. Depending on the weather, or how much brandy he had indulged in on this day off, he might be deep into reminisce or soured on the world and life in general.
On this particular day he was in a rather mellow sort of mood. We were in his quarters, a room that was as well equipped for s****l torture as Daphne’s dungeon. I was over by the hearth polishing his boots. The fire was blazing. The weather had turned rainy and chill. I was grateful to be near its warmth.
They were knee high cavalry boots, already buffed like obsidian mirrors when I began. My efforts were an attempt to improve on perfection, a useless and unnecessary task. The truth was that the Captain was inspired by erotica of the visual sort, and my newly developed muscul
