In for the kill

“For Christ’s sake, Diana. It wouldn’t be fair.”  “All’s fair,” she giggled. “And ’sides, I’m a doctor. I can be clin’cal; won’t bother me a bit. Help me with this.” 

After five hundred years, they were still putting brassiere clasps in the back.  One kind of gentleman would have helped her get undressed and then made a quiet exit. Another kind of gentleman might have bolted for the door. Being neither kind, I closed in for the kill.  

Perhaps fortunately, she passed out before we had made any headway.

The forever war, chapter 31 - Joe Haldeman