In appearance, she was dressed far more provocatively than even the skimpily
clad waitresses, her semi-transparent top cut in a deep v that exposed her
generous cleavage, the wispy white material doing nothing to hide her full
breasts, instead highlighting them, and her pale skin.  Her skin tight pants

<no comma after "them", skin-tight>

were similarly translucent, a deep obsidian color that seemed opaque in
certain lights, nearly transparent in others.  The body so teasingly
revealed was well formed, curvy, yet muscular, with long legs accentuated by
a pair of high stiletto heels that appeared to be made from crystal.  Long
chestnut hair framed a face with high cheekbones that highlighted her warm
brown eyes and full lips.  By all local standards, she was pretty, but the
well used pistol in her hip holster was ample warning not to take her for a
playtoy despite the outfit.

<Yeah.  Sure.  Stiletto heels and a hip holster may make for a helluva
dominatrix pinup but anyone who has seen action and is ready for it
is going to wear flats.  A nice pair of jackboots would fill out 
out that outfit just as well without sending the message that 
the first thing you'll do if a fire fight breaks out is twist an
ankle.  That's not a dangerous woman, it's a sexual fantasy of a
dangerous woman.>

And that, more than anything, was what set her apart, that aura of
dangerousness and competence.  The other patrons of the bar were all

<"dangerousness" is such a very bad word that if you use it, you
should use "competenceness" just to balance out the sentence.
Seriously, use something else.  Anything else.  Danger.  
Formidability.  Psychosis.  Dangerous competence.  Not, mind
you that I'm going buy her alleged competence as long as she's
wearing those shoes.>


military types, whether in guard uniforms, or those of the local militia, a
mixing mostly of lower level troops and a few officers, but despite her lack
of a uniform, the woman seemed far more dangerous than any of the soldiers.

<After all, none of them are going to poke anyone's eye out by standing
too close.>

That was when the planet had decided that since she had been only one
person, and a woman, that they would only pay the fee they had allocated per
man for the hundred man squad they had requested.  Jessie had not been

<I'm not impressed with the Guild either.  They failed to finish
negotiating the contract before deploying their operative.  The
truth is, the planet has a case as you describe the situation.
The Guild didn't send them what they asked for.  While it sent
them what they _needed_ it failed to get their agreement to
contractural terms before solving their problem.  By the basic
principles of contract law the planet has no obligation to pay
them a damn thing, apart of course from the Guild having the
power to beat them up and take anything they want.>


That was when a newcomer entered the bar.   Another woman, and one as
obviously foreign as Jessie

She was striking, very young looking, with a body so perfect there was no
doubt it had been sculpted.  She was dressed only in a transparent neon
green skinsheath, the faintly glowing fabric as sheer as glass and very
striking in the bar's dim light.  The main piece covered her entire left arm
and plunged down diagonally across her body to her right hip, leaving her
right breast uncovered.  It also covered her left leg only, the bottom of
the central section curving up from the joint of her right leg up and across
to high on her left hip, leaving her pubis unclad as well.  Her right arm

<Boom-chika boom-chika...>

The newcomer smiled and began to walk towards her, to the obvious
disappointment of the male libido's.  One brave officer stepped up to the

<libidos, although really you can't see a man's libido.>


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