Phule’s Company by Robert Asprin

“Yes, sir!”

“All right! I want you all to get upstairs and clean up, then report to the main ballroom for-“

A new eruption of catcalls interrupted the commander, though it was apparent that he was not the focus. Breaking off his briefing, he turned to see what had captured the company’s attention.

“Hoooo-eeee!”

“Ain’t that purdy?”

“Look out, girls!”

“How ‘bout a kiss, Slick?”

Chocolate Harry stood framed in the hotel door, though “stood” scarcely embraced the picture he presented. He was ramrod straight, despite his inflated-pear stature, and wore the smug smile of a rich baron surveying his peasants. The obvious reason for his self-pleasure, and the target of the catcalls, was his uniform.

In place of his normal faded and frayed uniform, Harry glowed in a velveteen jumpsuit of the purest midnight black. The change from his usual rough-and-tumble look was stunning, and the contrast between him and his mud-caked admirers made him look like he just stepped off a recruiting poster. Calf-high boots of what looked to be the supplest suede with low, broad heels added to his height as he drew himself up and fired a parade-ground salute at his company commander.

“Ready in the main ballroom, sir!”

Any annoyance Phule might have felt over his supply sergeant upstaging his announcement was quickly crowded aside by his amusement at Harry’s obvious pleasure with the uniform. It was clear that the sergeant had been unable to resist the temptation to show off his new outfit, and had seized on the excuse of reporting in to parade it in front of the rest of the company. Stifling his smile, Phule returned the salute.