Roger was very proud of the home he'd created for himself. He'd been one of the original 14 members of the armed group that would ultimately become the Bentonville Militia. This had given him privileges that most people in this post-blackout world could only dream of. Most of the lower ranked militiamen didn't have their own homes, either sharing a home with multiple men from their Unit or living in one of the three troop-occupied apartment buildings, often with at least one roommate.

This [i]concentration[/i] of the militia into a limited number of buildings was partly about Unit cohesion and the rapid spread of orders. The depletion of resources, though, was also a key element of the decision. There simply wasn't enough heating fuel, lighting oil, candles, clean water, and food to be dividing it up amongst a vast array of [i]bachelor[/i] or even [i]bachelorette pads.[/i]

While one might think that all of what Kimmie saw was exclusively due to Roger's compensation as a Major in the Militia, it went deeper than that. While many of the other officers and enlisted men barely covered their [i]outgo[/i] with their [i]income[/i] because of drink, women, and other [i]vices[/i], Roger was very much a [i]penny pincher[/i], not that pennies were part of Bentonville's currency anymore. He had made a decision to spend his hard earned Chips -- casino chips, Bentonville's form of currency -- on creating a comfortable place for him to live and, when possible, [i]entertain.[/i]

[color=red]"I'll get bathed,"[/color] Kimmie said, heading directly for the bathroom door off the hallway to the kitchen.

Roger watched her walk away from him; her mentioning of a bath almost immediately caused him to get physically aroused. He told her, [color=yellow]"I'll check on lunch."[/color]

He followed behind Kimmie down the hall, hoping that when he reached the door he'd get a look at her undressing beyond it. But she closed the door before shedding anymore than her coat. He went onward to the kitchen, finding his housekeeper and cook putting the finishing touches on a meal fit for a king. They chatted a bit before dropping a $5 casino chip on the kitchen island and telling her with an appreciative tone, [color=yellow]"You've done me right again, Gloria, thank you. Feel free to take off. I won't need you again until breakfast."[/color]   

She thanked Roger, found her jacket and purse, and slipped the chip into the latter with yet another verbal expression of her appreciation. She left, and Roger picked up the tray of snacks and a couple of bottles of beer made here in town. At the bathroom door, he knocked, asked if he could come in, and -- without waiting for an answer -- did just that.