12.
 The inside of the Young Women’s Home smelled clean to the point of asepsis. It reminded Taxi of how a hospital smelled, with alcohol and floor wax. In a few wall sconces were fresh flowers that momentarily fooled the nose. The walls had a warm, honeyed look, being of varnished pine and dimly lit by indirect lighting. Taxi had never seen so much electrical energy in one place. The old days must have been grand, she thought, too bad a few assholes had to ruin it for all of us.
In a steamy laundry room, they offered Taxi entrance to a huge tub full of hot, sudsy blue water. Taxi checked the lay of the place first. There were windows, but they were covered with heavy wood panels. The laundry was electrically lit with bulbs dangling from the ceiling under metal cones, unlike the indirect lighting in the rest of the place. “Okay, girls,” Taxi said. She hung her gun by the side of the tub, where she could reach it. She laid her boots and knife amid some wash on a shelf waiting to be done. Jen and Shinko served as lookouts in the hall, and Anna hovered just inside, while Moira and Jan helped Taxi into the tub. They were wide-eyed and made ooh sounds as they gazed at her naked body. Scarred in places, buzz-cut, with that welt that ran from her forehead up into the scalp, Taxi knew she must look formidable to them. She wondered what they would say when they saw the little vestigial claws on the insides of her wrists and on the insides below her ankle bones. Her buttocks and waist were soft and feminine, as were her belly and small round breasts, but her legs and arms looked brawny, her thighs very powerful.
It had been a long time since she’d had a hot bath. At first it was painful, then she adjusted and the steamy heat was like a narcotic all around her. Carefully, she relaxed, keeping one hand on the strap that led to the dangling gun.
Pale, blonde Jan took Taxi’s torn and filthy camo outfit to another washtub, while Moira ran a soft brush up and down Taxi’s back. “Does this hurt?”
“Oh God no, it feels great. Keep doing that.” Taxi half-closed her eyes.
“Yes. I’ll do anything you say.”
“You will?” Taxi kept her eyes half-closed but gazed to the side at the red-haired, freckled woman.
Moira glowed with intrigue and pleasure. She put the brush aside and put spongy looking mittens on. After soaping the mittens vigorously, she began to massage Taxi’s body.
“Will you help me get one or two of those bottles? Nobody seems to need them.”
“If you wish.” Moira embraced Taxi from behind, rubbing the mittens up and down Taxi’s belly. Then she rubbed them up and down her sides.
“Keep doing that,” Taxi said, keeping her hand on the gun.
“You like that?” Moira breathed. “I want to please you.”
“You’re doing a good job.”
The mittens closed around Taxi’s breasts and turned, gently, making her nipples erect. Taxi stiffened, wondering what it was about these women. She pushed the hands away from her breasts. “Enough. I think I’m clean.”
Moira said. “It will be tomorrow before your clothing is washed, dried, and ironed. In the meantime, you will have to wear your ward clothing.” She added. “We mean only to help you. By all means, keep the gun under your dress. But do not stray from us, because at night the soldiers come, and if you are not in bed, they will take you away. They may kill you and your man will never seen you again.”
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Copyright © 2018 by Jean-Thomas Cullen, Clocktower Books. All Rights Reserved.
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