Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55308 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 277(@200wpm)___ 221(@250wpm)___ 184(@300wpm)
Under her breath, the older woman continued to fight a knot that would probably need to be cut out of her hair. “Can’t have washed this mop in years.”
It was less that she was naked in front of a stranger, and more that the stranger’s snark was really getting on Eugenia’s nerves. “Oh yeah, every chance I get, I trot right up to the Four Seasons and book the presidential suite, followed by a day at the spa. How long has it been since you’ve been out there, lady? Let someone get a glimpse of the goods and you’ll end up on a whore ship, shaving your legs and armpits in front of a stranger. Oh, and there will be a man with his back to you, two feet away in case you try to use the safety razor to attack Madame Joan, wrangler of unwilling women who’d would really like off this boat.”
That earned a smirk, Joan’s silver bob better suited to a business meeting than stranger scrubbing. “But you owe a debt now. Food, water, two nights’ board. Oh, and those clothes you so kindly refused to wear. Don’t get me wrong; the men would love to see the new girl naked on her first day, but let’s take things one step at a time.”
“How the hell did you even come by clothes like that out here?” Lacy panties. A plaid, pleated mini skirt. A shirt designed to tie under her breasts and leave her belly exposed. “This is a stripper’s version of naughty Catholic schoolgirl outfit… and I’m not a whore.”
“No, you’re not. They won’t be paying you.” Joan didn’t mince words, which Eugenia had to admit was somewhat appreciated, considering the circumstances. “They won’t be paying you for your time. You, young lady, are an indentured guest.”
Fancy language was a tool smart people used to confuse stupid ones. Leaving Eugenia with a don’t even try it smirk as she said, “My mom used to call me ‘young lady,’ but only when I was in trouble.”
“You have been a bit of trouble, but that’s nothing a few weeks’ hard labor won’t wear out of you.”
“Or, and hear me out.” Raising her hands and not at all concerned that the bodyguard was listening, Eugenia gave her most winning smile. “All the women can mutiny, poison the men, and take over the boat. We could christen this ship New Amazonia. Eh? Good idea, right?”
“It takes a crew of three-hundred strong men to keep this ship running, to gather food, to manage maintenance and power, to make repairs, to fight off invaders, and run trade. Sorry, young lady, but I’m comfortable… and you will be too once you accept the world isn’t what it was.”
“It’s not my fault all you older idiots voted for the wrong president! I wasn’t even eighteen when that potato stole his first term. You killed this world, and now I am expected to whore in it?” There was no question of the bitterness hanging tight in Eugenia’s heart. None at all, when she added, “Thanks, but no.”
Bitterness it didn’t seem practical ol’ Joan shared. “From the stories circulating, that John fellow said you whored plenty.”
“Yeah, well John is a lying sack of shit.”
“You’re not the first girl brought here by their beau. Just be glad you’re not chained down in the engine room like he is. He’ll have to slog at least six months before he’s given an option to win tickets. You get all of this.” Gesturing around the tiny bathroom and the adjacent cubicle with the twin bed, Joan knew the same thing Eugenia did. This was actually… fine living these days.
A shower, a mattress, the world’s sluttiest outfit—and that was not an exaggeration. The world did not make clothes like that anymore. As far as where these men scrounged up lace panties, Eugenia could not even begin to guess. “What are tickets? I thought you said no one got paid.”
Tiny scissors snipping through overgrown hair, Joan went from detangling to barbering. “Consider them currency. Men win or trade for tickets that get them up to Level 15, to enjoy the company of ladies.”
“Well, I’ll be damned. A raffle for pussy. And I will be getting paid. So… back to the statement where I refuse to whore.”
“There are rules, missy.” Apparently, her sass wasn’t as funny as it had been. Barking at the guard to move doors, Joan pocketed the safety razor. A razor Eugenia strongly suspected all the women shared.
Which had to be commented upon. “Sharing that razor could lead to a spread of hepatitis just so pits and legs might be smooth for some greased-up dirtbag. It’s a tiny virus and only takes one nick. But hey, were all just slaves here.”
“Don’t want to slave? Earn your ransom. It’s the only way any female steps off this boat.”