Beatrice Butler frowned slightly as she saw the dirt stain on her bare knee. She'd have to go shower as soon as she was finished in her garden. Shrugging it off, she knelt back in the dirt and began digging a hole for the next of the several flowers still sitting in their purchase pots next to her. It would be a few hours yet before she was ready to come in from the well-kept yard and gardens she shared with her four comrades and sometimes lovers.

Beatrice was a woman in her early thirties. She had an athletic body in excellent shape and a moderately large bust. Right now, that body was coated in sweat and her short, light brown hair was soaked through and through. Her nicely toned, tan legs were left exposed by her hiked up, tight red short shorts, worn as much to please the other girls as to keep cool in the summer heat. She wore a tight white t-shirt through which could now be seen the ouline of her conservative bra. On her feet, she wore black socks with red sneakers, a rather tacky addition but she had always had odd taste in footwear.

Beatrice had been one of the most important of the leaders of the early revolution, even holding a nominal Presidency at one point. Gardening was one of the few things that took her mind off her political misfortune. She didn't like being out of power. Still, even though she'd been to jail a few times, she felt it was only a political misfortune, one which might change and, in any event, didn't threaten her private life. She and her friends were about to learn how wrong that assesment was.