We walk through the encampment in silence. Once in a while, people who are hurrying to do whatever it is they are hurrying to do stop and get out of our way. The drivers we pass huddle together and whisper. None of them want anything to do with this. In fact, no one—not even the organizers and their so-called “cooperation”—want anything to do with the situation. Terra One is a mind-your-own-business sort of place. They’ll watch, sure. But actually do something to help when they’re not directly involved? Good luck with that. I think that’s also why the boss isn’t motivated to solve this case even if it indirectly involves him in the long run.
The camera drones continue to hover. By now the news of Slipstream’s death must be everywhere. I can only imagine what Mistress Anne must be going through. A part of me wishes I could be there for her, take her into my arms, and tell her everything will be all right. The way she used to do for me when I woke up from nightmares of seeing my parents in black caskets being lowered to the ground. But with the state I’m in, she might be the one comforting me. There’s been too much death in my life already. More than what is considered usual in Terra One. Living in a mobocracy is a bloody business. Just not like this.
I don’t notice that Star has brought me to the showers until my lungs move from inhaling early-morning air to heavy steam. She barks something at someone, and soon the place is deserted. She pulls me the rest of the way in and positions me in front of one of the stalls. Without saying anything, she proceeds to remove my clothing. She starts with my ribbed shirt. She has to tug extra hard because the blood has fused the material with the bandages I still wear for my ribs. Funny. I don’t feel their pain anymore. Still, I can’t see this as a good thing.
Star drops my soiled shirt into the hamper and begins undoing the gauze Mac insisted I change on a daily basis. She hisses when she sees the patches of purple, yellow, and green skin. After throwing away the discarded gauze, she touches the patch taped to my neck where the stitches remain. Mac says he’ll remove them in a couple of days. Star doesn’t remove this bandage. She leaves a kiss at the center of it before moving her hands to my leggings. But instead of tugging them down, she kneels and unzips my boots. She rubs my calf, encouraging me to bend my knee, and then tugs off the boot. The sock follows. She repeats the same process for my other leg. I comply without complaint, content to watch her without really seeing her. My brain is stuck on the image of Slipstream and his slit throat. Viper better wake up soon. I want information and I want it yesterday. The killer isn’t making it back to HQ alive. This I vow.
“Of course he won’t,” Star whispers into my ear when she straightens. I hear her only because she’s so close.
Her thumbs hook into the waistband of my leggings and panties. Excruciatingly slow, she peels them off my legs. The tip of her tongue darts into my navel when she’s on her haunches, causing me to jerk back. The first real reaction from me since discovering Slip. Without waiting for her caress on my calf, I step out of my leggings. As she stands, she skims her hands over the entire length of my body, tracing the lines of my legs to my hips, then up my sides until she circles around and unclasps my bra. My breasts drop from the underwire no longer supporting them. Lust sparks in her eyes as she lets the straps slide down my arms.
“Beautiful,” she coos, then licks her bottom lip.
“Star,” I have to force myself to say. Her name sounds so much like a moan to my still ringing ears. I still don’t have all my faculties, so I don’t resist when she gently pushes me into the stall. A squeak of the tap being opened later, I immediately sag when warm water tumbles over my weary bones.
“That’s it,” she says in a breathy voice. “Let me take care of you.”
What little consciousness I regain slips away again when she begins lathering shampoo on my head. Her fingers work my scalp so well that my eyes roll to the back of my head in pure ecstasy. I completely forget the type of person she is. Star doesn’t do anything because it’s the right thing. She does things she expects will lead to sleeping with someone. She’s been hounding me enough as it is. Taking advantage of my current vulnerability isn’t beyond her.
This quickly becomes obvious when she rinses the suds off and moves to soaping my body down. Her hands linger on my breasts longer than is considered customary when washing a body. She takes one mound and feels the weight in her palm. Then, using her thumb and index finger, she pinches my nipple. I gasp from the shock of the contact. My breasts have always been sensitive and she knows this from the night I conceded to sleeping with her. That decision is fast becoming one of my biggest regrets. Next to insisting the IC continue as planned.
My arms hang limp against my sides when my hands should be pushing her away. She replaces her fingers with her teeth, sucking my nipple into her mouth. My back arches involuntarily. My body craves what my mind is screaming for me to
