"Girls With Guns" (Closed to Southern Slut)

The six men were so engrossed in the gang rape of three women they'd snatched in an early morning raid that they didn't know danger was present until one of their own screamed out in pain. They looked up from their own play things to see two horrific sights: their screaming comrade, clutching his groin with blood spraying about as he stumbled away from the woman whose ass he'd been raping; and the silhouette of his attacker, holding a huge military knife in one hand and their comrade's severed cock in the other.

The remaining men went for their weapons, but not a one succeeded in arming himself. The early dawn erupted with gun fire: AK-47s, 12 gauge shotguns, T91 NATO assault rifles, and more. When the gunfire went silent and the echoes rolling over the Geary Street neighborhood of Northwest San Francisco faded, the shooters descended from every direction, their weapons still in front of them in case there was any one left alive. A voice demanded, "Light it up."

With the scrape of its striker, a road flare thoroughly bathed the rubble strewn alley, revealing three of the eight attackers as:


"Check'em," Bert called out.

The eight member squad moved in on the area of carnage to either check the men for pulses or gather their weapons. One after another, the Girls -- as they referred to one another -- reported the man at their feet "Dead". There were no survivors of the barrage. None of the men had been worthy of mercy, so no mercy had been afforded.

After all of the rapists had been checked, the raped were as well. "Dead," a Girl called out. From another location in the alley, "Dead." A third Girl said in a compassionate tone, "This one will be shortly."

"Jesus Christ," murmured Jia. "Animals. Fucking dead women...? Really?"

"Got a live one!"

Down the alley, Mona was on her knees at a pile of rubble. A twitching leg was all that could be seen of the woman who had crawled away to safety. "Help me get her out!"

At Jia's gesture, a pair of the Girls rushed down to where Mona was pulling away pieces of wood, metal, and plastic debris and tossing them behind her. "Looks like she crawled in here to get away from them!

Another Girl asked, "Was she raped, too?"

"I don't know," Mona said, getting a grip on the unconscious woman's arm. "Help me get her out ... gently ... gently."

Back at the far end of the alley, Jia told the others, "Weapons, ammo ... every thing of value. Burn the men. We'll take the women."

No one questioned the Sergeant's order to take the already dead women. Being burned unceremoniously in some nondescript alley wasn't the way for any woman to be sent to what ever God she had prayed to before death.

In less than five minutes, the alley was filling with thick black smoke and the smell of burning flesh, and the Girls were scurrying through alleys and down side street, through basements and sewers, and finally across the rolling hills and sometimes dangerously open spaces of Lincoln Park to get back to the Legion of Honor Museum.

With a grumbling moan and shaky limbs Claire feels herself being lifted up. Pathetically struggling against the hands on her arms and picking up her legs.
"N-no more... Let... Me... Stop... P-Please...."
She doesn't even realize who has her, eyes are unfocused and she's fading in and out of consciousness. The dizzyness set in causes her to roll... kind of, and begin vomiting.
"Ew! That's fucking disgusting, what's up with her?"
"It's a concussion. Given where she was, with all of those blast waves, she's lucky she's not dead."
After that is blackness....


It hurt... A lot. I figured dying would be a lot easier but nope. The ringing of the bullets off the walls of the alley was hanging around in my head now and I could still feel where that one guy decided to dribble my skull off the concrete. In fact, I could feel the pin from the grenade at his belt in my hands still... I could feel sheets on my skin... Fuck! I breathe in deep and reach up to start fighting back at that son of a bitch but my hands are strapped down. Screaming up at him, yelling that he won't have me, feeling the blood on my jeans from the night before. Never again!

Mona was standing in the hallway just beyond the open Infirmary door when she heard thrashing and a frightened -- and yet at the same time angry -- voice coming from the bed in the far corner. She hurried to the girl's side, sitting on a stool as she pleaded, "Shhh ... shhhh ... it's okay! You're safe. You're safe! No one's going to hurt you here."

Mona had been against strapping the girl down, but Jia -- First Squad's Sergeant and, therefore, Mona's superior -- had demanded it. Now, as she saw the girl's fury about ready to tear the single mattress sized bed to pieces, Mona understood Jia's concerns.

She looked to the other woman in the infirmary and nodded to her. A moment later, Anna -- the Militia's civilian medic -- pressed a rag over the girl's face and held it there tightly for several seconds as Mona continued with, "Relax! It's just a sedative. No one's going to hurt you."

As the girl breathed in the sedative, her thrashing slowed, then ceased. Mona nodded Anna away, then smiled to the newcomer and said, "It's just a sedative. It'll wear off in a few minutes. I don't want you to hurt yourself. My name is Mona. I'm a medic ... of sorts. We found you out in the city and brought you here for treatment. You're not a prisoner here. No one's going to hurt you, and when you are ready to travel, you are free to leave if you wish."

Mona was going to continue, but the conspicuous clearing of a throat behind her caused her to turn her head. Jia was leaning against the door frame as she asked, "Free to leave, Moaner? Ain't nothing free in the--"

"Go away, Jia," Mona cut in with a growling tone. "We aren't on assignment. Here ... I'm in charge. Let me do my job."

Jia smirked wide and shook her head as she turned to leave. She hesitated just long enough to say, "That chick ain't leaving until I'm repaid. Tell'er what you want."

Once Jia was gone, Mona looked back to the girl and forced a smile. "Ignore her. She's just a little upset that ... well, let's not talk about that now. Sweetie, can you tell me your name?"

"C-Claire... LeFleur... The girls I was with. Are they okay? I pulled the grenade and... the boom... Where are they? What'd you do to those men?"

The look on the woman's face spoke volumes but the intense sensation of nothingness was crippling. The sedative was so powerful I was too weak to speak very well and my limbs were like jello. I couldn't fight if I tried to. Yet the look in her eyes said I should feel something, I just couldn't grasp what from the drugs. Her hands felt very warm though and very comforting despite the insane fear and adrenaline still working it's course through my body.

"Where am I? How did you find me?"

(OOC: Our story takes place in Northwest San Francisco. I add a bit of realism sometimes with links to real places and/or web sites about these places. They aren't meant to be taken totally literally. They are just here, like I said, to add a little realism. Remember: this is make believe. FYI, the "pin" in the map link above is the disputed neighborhood of Shore View, spoken of in the post below. The Legion of Honor is to the pin's northwest, while the George Washington campus is to the south east.)

"Where am I? How did you find me?"

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"You're in a safe place," Mona answered vaguely.

She'd been monitoring Claire's heart beat with a finger placed gently upon her wrist. The sedative they used was sort of a home brew, and it had gone wrong in the past, presumably because the victims had had issues with their respiratory system. But Claire's heart beat was strong.

"You are in an underground infirmary, in the basement of the Legion of Honor," Mona clarified. "This is our base of operations ... our home. We call it the Community. Well ... you aren't so much in the Community as you are in the militia bunker, but ... well, I can explain that later. For now, you just need to know that you are safe ... that no one is going to hurt you ... and that you are not a prisoner."

Mona scooted the rolling chair away from the bed, snatched up a bottle of water with a straw spout, and returned to hold it to Claire's lips. "As far as how we found you. Well, that was a bit of luck. We were on a scavenger hunt ... looking for supplies over on Shore View, when we came across the Eagles. They've been working this side of Geary pretty hard recently. We needed to remind them where the border is ... and, well, we found you by accident. Lucky, right?"

She'd intentionally skipped over Claire's question about the other girls but when asked again, she said simply, "I'm sorry, Claire. They didn't make it."

The Eagles had gotten their name from the mascot for George Washington High School, which -- located to the southeast -- was the gang's base of operations. And a gang they truly were, not a militia. Most of the militias in the Northwest of San Francisco operated with restraint when it came to such things as civilian deaths and, particularly, abuse of the citizenry, rape in particular. But the Eagles were different. They ruled through fear and brutality, and this method of power had united many of the militia's in the Northwest against them.

Unfortunately, the Eagles had something most of the militias didn't: significant outside help. Three or four times a month, an airplane from parts unknown buzzed over the neighborhood and dropped a pallet of supplies to the Eagles. The GWG and their allies had tried on occasion to damage the plane with gun fire or even assault the Eagles recovery party as it rushed out onto the football field to gather their gift. But the losses to the Allies had been greater than the gain, so the attacks had come to a reluctant end.

To make matters worse, the GWG and other militias had found themselves needing to trade with the Eagles on occasion. The gang was the only organization that was consistently gaining access to such things as new weapons, ammunition, medicines, and electronics. And while none of the militias wanted to deal with the heathens, they couldn't do without what those madmen had to offer either.

"As far as who we are," Mona went on, "most people call us the jee-dub-jee ... Girls With Guns. Believe it or not, we are an all female militia ... 82 of us at last count. We control the Legion of Honor and most of the surrounding Lincoln Park. We have treaties with the other militias that set our territorial boundaries at everything northwest of 25th Avenue and Geary ... from the corner of the Presido to Sutra Heights."

She shrugged as she stood to go to a cabinet for some meds for Claire. "Of course, someone's always wanting to take something that ain't theirs ... like the Eagles who came into Shore View. They know better ... and now their down six men. Live and learn, right?"

Mona sat down next to Claire again and shook a couple of pills out into her open palm. As she offered them, she explained that they were antibiotics. With a kind voice, she asked, "So ... Claire. Tell me something about you?"

"I came here with some other refugees from LA, everyone is dead. Those girls were being traded between groups of militias when they grabbed me. I was trying to scrounge something to eat and... In the middle of it, this one tried to crack my skull on the asphalt. At least I'd be dead when they raped me this time. He uh... had a grenade. I think I pulled it. I tried to pull it. Is that how it all went up?"

My voice echoed off the infirmary walls like a hollow monologue. As if some disembodied zombie was retelling their latest walk through the grave yard. Mona stepped over and handed me a little cap from a bottle with a few pills on it. My hands shook as I reached up and took them.

Mona was trying to talk yet I heard nothing. Looking down at those little meds was like being encountered with the worst of all possible scenarios. The paranoia burned into my mind over years of rape, torture, abuse and terror were screaming at me. Yet these women had done more for me in a moment than anyone had done since my sisters were executed those years ago. The fact such random strangers would take me in was a godsend. Yet it would be their curse. No one who took me in lasted long. Either they were killed, taken or tried to take from me. The last typically left me bloodied on the street and took what little there was.

I'd seen the girls drugged to be transported between camps. The way the other girl said she'd collect a debt from me. It was falling into place yet I was trying so desperately to tell myself it was all in my head. They couldn't be drugging me, could they? I'd rather die. It had to be a bad dream or my own paranoia or...

"Fuck it!"

With a sudden jerk I downed the pills and reached for the water but suddenly the concussion reminded me... Well that I had a concussion. The lights became extremely bright and I felt myself sliding off the side of the cot.

Mona snatched at Claire, steadying her on the bed. She studied the young woman for a moment, then groaned, "Crap."

She knew what the problem was, of course: concussion. She laid Claire back on the bed, wetted some towels in cold water, and wrapped her head. "Claire...? You need to tell me more about yourself, sweetie."

Mona knew that the girl needed to stay conscious. Concussions weren't new to the GWG, of course: IEDs were one of the favorite defensive weapons of the Bay Area militias, and -- assuming that the shrapnel didn't rip them apart -- victims of the blasts were often left with the brain rattling trauma of a concussion.

Claire managed to talk a bit more, though it wasn't anything too clear or informative. When she thought the girl was clear headed enough to understand her, Mona answered her earlier question with, "Yes, you set off the grenade. Good thing you did. It was what brought us to you."

The GWG patrol had been just a block away from the Eagles without knowing they were there. The explosion had been what drew them to Shore View. Had Claire not pulled that pin, she'd be back there in that alley raped and murdered like the other slave whores.

"How is she?"

Mona popped up from her chair near Claire at the sound of Roberta "Bert" Robinson's voice. "She'll live, Commander. Concussion ... nothing else major."

"When can she begin to pay her debt?"

Jia stepped into the doorway from the hall, adding to her question, "I had plans for those drugs."

"I know you did, Sergeant Ling," Mona responded, her tone more subordinate than earlier when she'd ordered the bitch to leave her to her work. She looked back to Bert. "She needs a week or so of additional care."

"For...?" the GWG Commander asked.

"Lice," Mona said quickly. "Skin rash ... possibly ring worm..."

As she continued to name ailments, Mona caught the widening grimace on Jia's face and forced herself not to smirk with pleasure. Jia's payment from the new girl required her to be physically clean, and the Sergeant had no desire to be close to a woman suffering any of the ailments that the medic was naming off.

"She's a mess," Mona explained simply. "She's been out there in the wild for a long time, and it's going to take a while for--"

"Take your time," Jia said, turning and disappearing down the hallway.

Now Mona smiled, but quickly reigned in her obvious pleasure at the hard look from her Commander. Then, Bert smiled. As she turned to leave, she said with a bit of humor in her voice, "You heard the Sergeant..."

After they were alone again, Mona turned to Claire and said, "Okay, so ... I didn't mean to make you sound like some stray dog that's been living in the gutter, but ... you do have lice and some skin legions that need to be dealt with. But not yet. Why don't you tell me more about your trip up from La La Land"



Mona ensured that Claire remained conscious for the next hour or so as she herself dinked around the Infirmary, straightening and cleaning and doing inventory. When she was fairly confident that the young woman had regained enough strength and stability to move onward, Mona helped her carefully to her feet and said, "Okay, let's get you naked. You need a shower and a full medical review ... then ... we'll deal with your issues."

Slowly wrestling myself out of those clothes had become a chore. Between the concussion and the ass kicking I'd been through I couldn't move much without being in pain. It wasn't new to me, the pain, what was new is how gentle and soft spoken Mona was as she eased me out of the old sweat shirt and jeans. They were caked in mud and blood from the last few weeks but they had lasted longer than most of the clothes I had owned.

"Thanks. Did anyone find my bag? An old green duffel I'd taken from an army store. I had other clothes in there."

"Sorry, we had to beat feet before others had shown up. A small team we could've handled but hauling wounded under fire wasn't an option."

She was trying to be nice and not make it obvious I was the reason they'd been held up or lost out on supplies.

"What about the drugs she'd mentioned? The sergeant. Nobody is going to get sick because of me, are they?"

I never got a response, Mona had been digging through a drawer and was sanitizing something again. By the time she had come over I'd peeled the last of my underwear off and was sitting naked on the cot. It was a shaving razor.

"Part of the medical exam is a visual inspection for sexually transmitted disease and infections. It's easier if you're clean shaven but I'll understand if you'd rather keep it."

The 'it' was a dense mound of curly black pubic hair. It was pretty thick, even I knew that.

"Do you have an electric razor? It's easier that way. That's how the men in LA wanted it done."

She handed me a small electric shaver and led me to the showers in the back so I could begin cleaning myself up. There was a delousing powder along with soap and the look on my face was not one of pleasure.

"You do have lice. No one can argue that. If it spreads there can be adverse health effects to everyone here."

Guilt trip. I was already feeling like crap for costing everyone who'd saved me and I feel like Mona was the type to use that. She was nice, really sweet. Yet seeing how she handled Jia proved there was a toughness behind those eyes.

Mona wasn't at all surprised with Claire's difficulty in stripping down. She'd been so used, misused, and abused for so long. She had the stiffness and aches of a woman four times her age. Mona felt this kind of pain herself sometimes, although it was usually the result of a military action.

What Mona was surprised with was Claire's natural beauty once her nasty clothes were tossed aside. If you looked past the scraps, scratches, and other results of wear and tear, you found a beautiful young body that any man would give his monthly ration to press up against.

Of course, here in the GWG, it wouldn't be a man who would have that privilege. It would be a woman, specifically Jia Ling. Mona cringed at the thought of how the Sergeant would be the next person to use, misuse, and possibly even abuse the young survivor. But unless Claire could find another way to reimburse Jia for the antibiotics and other drugs she had required and would continue to require during her recovery, the only way to compensate Jia was...

Well, that. And as if reading Mona's thoughts, Claire asked...

"What about the drugs she'd mentioned? The sergeant. Nobody is going to get sick because of me, are they?"

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Mona didn't know how to answer the young woman's question without making her think her future here was as a sex slave to that bitch, so she only answered part of the question. "No, no one's going to get sick because of you. Jia just had plans for the drugs ... the antibiotics, mostly. She had a trade lined up with the Eagles, but ... well, she'll find something else to give them. Don't worry about it."

Mona crossed the room and returned with a bladed razor. She explained that Claire needed to shave her groin for a visual inspection for sexually transmitted disease and infections. In all honesty, Mona could have performed the inspection without Claire shaving, but ... well ... Jia liked her women smooth as a baby's butt. If it came to that, Claire was going to have to learn to shave, pits to pit to ankles to keep the Sergeant happy.

"Do you have an electric razor? It's easier that way. That's how the men in LA wanted it done."

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"Sure," Mona told her, returning to a counter across the infirmary.

The men in LA, she thought. As she returned, she couldn't help but wonder about Claire's sexual experience or -- more specifically -- her willing experience. She'd become a woman in this world of mayhem. Had she ever enjoyed a sexual interaction with someone who cared for her and for whom she cared back? If not, it seemed so wrong that her first experience here in the GWG would be that of pleasing Jia Ling.

"We have an array of solar panels on the roof, so there's lots of hot water," Mona explained as she walked Claire to the bathroom. "So, take your time."

The shower had been constructed decades earlier for decontaminations for the Museum's staff should they get doused in diesel from the back up generators, cleaning liquids in the restoration department, or what ever other chemicals they might be working with during their work day. So, it was little more than three tiled walls, a shower head, and a single leaking temperature-adjusting knob. As if it wasn't already primitive enough, it didn't even have a curtain.

Mona located Claire a pair of shower slippers, a towel, and a pair of wash rags. She told her...

"You do have lice..."

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...then talked to her about the need to tackle it before going out into the general population. From the other room she called to Claire, "I'll help you with it, of course."

Mona returned to other room as she listened to the shower water begin striking the tile. She rounded up the already sterilized lice comb and a box of Nix that Jia had gotten in yet another trade with the Eagles. When she returned to the bathroom, she stopped short. Claire was running the bar of soap over her wet body, and -- despite not having ever considered herself even bi-curious -- Mona couldn't help but stare at her beautiful form.

She was short, 5'3" at the most, and barely into the three digit weight class, though Mona thought that beyond having a naturally petite frame Claire was likely malnourished as well. As she moved this way and that, Mona caught sight of the girl's tattoos: names tattooed down her left forearm, which she would later learn were members of Claire's family; and a lotus flower on her ribs on her right side, which Mona would ask about one day when she wasn't blushing for ogling the younger beauty.

And then there were the scars: cigarette burns on her arms and stomach, and when she'd been face to face with Claire, Mona had thought she'd noticed the remnants of scars to her lips, too, as if she'd been slugged earlier in her life. Mona's first thought about that, of course, was Fucking men. Mona had known some cruel women in her life, but she'd never known one to beat another woman, whether child or adult. Hell, even as sadistic as she could act sometimes, Jia Ling had never even beat a woman, and the Sergeant pretty much hated every one, male or female.

Claire made a sound of pain as she turned to rub the bar of soap over her back side.

"Let me," Mona found herself saying even before she realized she'd opened her mouth. She stepped forward and held out her open hand. "Would you like help?"

Being vulnerable is not something I handle very well. It reminds me of being tied over a saw horse or left naked and staked with a lead and collar like a dog in the backyard. When Mona appeared in the shower and was holding her hand towards me it was almost infuriating. Being seen as helpless was what they looked for to get you. Wasn't always men either. On my first escape attempt from L.A. I was with two other women older than myself. We were found and tried to run. One of them knew I'd hurt my leg and kicked me to slow me down. Bastards had me in seconds and I never got to even that score. This thought comes across my mind as the soap bar slips out of my hand, one of the effects of being startled in the nude. It clunks against the tiled floor and slides between Mona and myself. She picks it up and walks it over with this odd bashful smile and blush. It wasn't just attractive and I wasn't afraid to be with another woman. It was that she wasn't forcing it on me and no one was forcing her. It was one thing I hadn't seen since I'd made it this far north, sincerity.

Great now I'm blushing. Reaching out to gran the bar of soap forces a wince and I grab the side with the raw ribs.

"Thanks. I think someone kicked me pretty good the other day."

Mona was a rarity. Soft skin, nice hair and a genuine interest in helping other people. Those qualities made for whores and dead bodies yet here she was. Somehow she'd hardened herself and despite the horrors of this new world she was like a breath of innocence and decency. Suddenly I felt so much more indebted to her and I could see why she was so respected. Anyone in charge that I'd met thus far wouldn't have cared how hurt the new meat was. They'd have me working off what they'd lost for me before I was able to stand up straight. Yet that commander let Mona give her opinion and then she had actually listened to her.

"Y-you don't have to help me. You'll get wet..."

Wow. That's my warning. Not 'everyone dies around me' or 'I don't want to be vulnerable'? Hell. Anything would've served as a better 'I don't want to be a burden' message than that.

"I mean... You've done so much for me today."

(OOC: I don't often write in the first person like you do, but I'll give it a try.)

"Y-you don't have to help me. You'll get wet ... I mean... You've done so much for me today."

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"Don't be silly!" I said, setting the bar of soap on the little table next to the shower. I stripped off my wind breaker and tossed it into a chair, then stepped out of the slip-on deck shoes I often wore in the Infirmary. "We survive around her by helping one another. There's no such thing as doing too much."

I snatched up the already wet wash rag that Claire had hung on a hook in the shower, wrapped it around the bar of soap, and began working up some serious lather as I told her, "Turn around. I'll get your back."

She seemed hesitant, and I assumed it was because someone she didn't know was offering to clean her naked body for her. I had no idea that her tentativeness was due more to a feeling of vulnerability than to a feeling of awkwardness that the person pressing the rag to her bare flesh was another female.

"Claire, around here," I began, "you'll have to get used to the idea of women doing nice things for you because ... well, to put it simply ... they're the only ones around. Men aren't allowed in the GWG bunker ... in the portion of the Museum where the militia lives and works. They come here only once in a while ... to do some specialized maintenance or help deliver supplies or other stuff like that. But, for the most part, it's just us Girls around here."

I'd been rubbing the rag about Claire's shoulders, the backs of her arms, and down her back. I did my best not to irritate her many issues -- scars, skin legions, sensitive patches -- but once in a while I caught her wincing or flinching.

"I have some good salves that will help with this," I said, running a finger tip around a particularly nasty patch that looked like ring worm.

I lowered my fingers to another flaw just barely above her round buttock, then -- suddenly self conscious about touching her in that way -- pulled my fingers back and returned to washing her back with the rag. My gaze settled upon her firm ass for a moment, and I found myself wanting to simply reach down and cup it. I felt my face explode with a fiery blush, and quickly laid the still soapy rag over Claire's shoulder.

"Okay, you can probably do the rest," I said, trying to hide my embarrassment. I had never considered myself bi-curious, but being in such proximity to this well rounded and stark naked young woman had me thinking thoughts that had never before bounced about inside my thick skull. As I turned away to leave the room, I said, "I'll get you a change of clothes. Why don't you finish up and dry off."

"W-wait. I can't really bend very much. Could you..."

I turned around and offered her the rag. Denying how relaxing and calming it felt to have her there was just unfair. Her hands on my skin was like a soft caress and I can't tell you the last time I was actually handled gently.

The only problem was now that my pubic region was free of hair there was no way to obscure the aroused tissue. The flesh was puffy and swollen with an obvious blush to it. I hadn't realized it was so obvious but there was no way it could be denied.

Not only could Mona see me but I could clearly make out her shoulders and more of her skin now that her jacket was off. Somehow the sight her was more comforting than the touch. The way her neckline and her shoulders met was where my eyes rested and I was alright with that.

"W-wait. I can't really bend very much. Could you..."

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I turned back to Claire in time to catch the young woman turning to face me, arm stretched out, offering the soapy rag. It was my first view of her body in what the movie critics used to classify as full frontal nudity, and while I hadn't meant to do it, my gaze dropped to the meeting of her thighs and the freshly shaved triangular patch of skin there.

I stared for just a brief moment, then looked away, flushing. I couldn't help it and chuckled with embarrassment as I realized that not only had Claire caught me looking at her pussy, I'd caught her checking out my only now revealed upper curves. I glanced at her for an instant, looked away, then padded across the cement to take the rag, whispering with humor, "Awk-ward."

I took her arm and turned her again, a bit more forcefully than I meant. As I returned to rubbing the rag over her -- this time at her lower back -- I apologized, "I, um ... didn't mean to stare. Sorry. It's just..."

I didn't know how to say It's just that you're getting me wet and I want to get naked with you, so I quickly jumped into a rambling explanation of the treatment schedule I saw in her near future. As I bent over, then actually dropped to my knees, to continue cleaning her hips and legs, it was obvious from my tone and near stuttering that I was feeling very nervous.

I felt like an idiot. I was intentionally avoiding running the rag over Claire's firm, young, round ass ... and particularly anywhere near the freshly exposed skin on her opposite side. I felt like a perv', wanting so badly to rinse away the soapy clinging to her skin and simply kiss and lick her madly. I didn't understand from where this desire was coming. I'd never done another girl before, not even when I was a pubescent teen on sleep overs with my girl friends or cousins. And yet here I was, with a beautiful young woman ... naked ... in a shower ... wanting to experience her in ways I'd only seen in the old pre-Collapse movies.

"Mona, have you ever dealt with another woman being naked? I mean, outside of being a doctor and all."

I reached down as far as I could, my head hanging to keep the water from my eyes with caused it to dribble from the locks of hair tumbling around the sides of my face.

"You just stutter and... it reminds me of the newer girls in L.A. Whenever there was a bunch of us or a big event happened we were forced to put on a show. The new girls were nervous because they'd never been with a woman and they were being threatened. It's okay..."

Her hands were slowing a bit and I could sense she was thinking over what I'd said. As she brought the rag upwards I gently guided her towards the front of me. Keeping with the circular motion to clean off the months of grime and dirt caking my skin. The fact was, I'd only ever been good at this. And being beaten up. And losing fights that got me beat up. Seduction or at least being something desirable is how I'd survived this long. Keeping Mona on my side was going to be a key element to my hopes of staying here.

(OOC: I only have a moment.)

Just hearing Claire talk about being with another woman, let alone women plural, made my face explode in red once again. I opened my mouth to respond, hesitated with doubt as to what my answer might say beyond the actual words, and then simply said, "No I've ... I've never done ... been with ... I've never done that with a woman."

The way Claire was now directing my hands over her body was allowing me a freedom to touch her in a way that would forgive me should I do so in a way she did not like. I was confused. I didn't know whether her questions were simply an inquiry, or an invitation, so although I wanted to slide my hands up further to grope those delicious breasts, I didn't.

"All I'm saying Mona, is that you don't have to be uncomfortable when I'm naked like this. I'm very used to it."

Her hands were so hesitant and the idea dawned across my mind that maybe she was just being nice. It's possible. Most of the women from the road only did this because they had to and no one admitted to enjoying it. Still I let her hands wander and help clean me off. The warm water and her gentle touch were enough to make me... No, I did. I moaned out loud. My body shuddered and I let the sound escape between my lips like the tiniest of words. Yet the meaning was so much more. Oh God, please let her be okay with that. Or ignore it. Or kick me out the back door. I would fend for myself again, I could do that.

She never wavered though and she did not stop running that old rag across my bruised and discolored skin. For the first time I felt at ease, almost safe. Leaning against the tiled wall was freezing cold on my shoulder yet letting the water run down my front and along her arm was too exquisite to stop.

"Remind me I'll have to wash your back sometime. I sure owe you too."

Claire's audible moan made me yet once again blush. How many times can you do that? I chastised myself. I was a grown woman -- 24 years old -- and while not a floozy, as my gramma would have said, I had had enough lovers to claim ample experience and avoid white should I one day get married. So, why was I feeling like a 13 year old girl standing naked in the girls locker room that first day of dress-down P.E. class?

The answer, of course, was that I was having lesbian thoughts about Claire. Lesbian thoughts...? Oh, there's gotta be a better way of phrasing that! I looked into the brunette's eyes for a moment, then turned my attention back to my work ... but since my work was scrubbing Claire's naked, enticing form, looking away didn't help much.

I pulled back a half step, lowering my arms. I had to stop touching Claire, otherwise... Otherwise what? I drew a deep breath, which made me away that as I'd been washing the new girl, enough water had splashed upon me to give me that wet tee shirt look. I wasn't soaked, but the thin cotton was sticking to me enough that my now hardened nipples were easily noticeable.

I smiled, embarrassed, then laughed aloud. I cocked my head and smiled to the slightly shorter woman, saying, "This, um ... this isn't something that ... something that I'm used to. You know. Being..."

I drew another deep breath, causing my Double D's to thrust out conspicuously before settling down again. I couldn't believe I was going to say this, but I had to get it out. "Being attracted to another woman, I mean. I'm not gay ... a lesbian. Not there's anything wrong with that, of course. I'm just ... just not."

My tone was sincere, because I truly meant what I was saying. The GWG had plenty of gay members. Some had preferred women long before joining the militia with its No Male Fraternization policy; and others had only discovered their joy for other women after they took the oath. Others still preferred men but settled for women to satisfy their urges and needs.

Ironically, Jia Ling fell into that last category. The Sergeant had had at least a half a dozen female lovers during the years I'd known her, and the uninformed would have thought she was one hundred percent pussy eating lezzie. But she wasn't. Jia did women for two reasons: personal gratification and power.

And, of course, there was one more group of women amongst the GWG: the celibate. That group included me! I hadn't had sex in ... oh god, I couldn't even remember the last time. It had been with a man, obviously. Oh wait, I did remember! It had been during a trade mission with one of the China Town militias. And while it wouldn't have violated the GWG policy, since the man wasn't a resident of the Community, I hadn't told anyone about it and likely never would.

I looked down to my breasts again, to the swollen nipples that ached to be touched. I glanced toward the bathroom door, then back to Claire. I smiled slightly as inappropriate thoughts rushed through my head. I turned and went to the door, saw that the infirmary was just as empty as it had been for the past half hour, then closed the door.

As I turned back to Claire, I stripped my tee shirt off over my head, laughed nervously as I snapped loose the bra's catch in the front, and said with obvious nervousness, "About that back cleaning..."

As Mona stripped herself down to come and join me I took the time to appreciate her body. Good heavens these women were well taken care of. Not so much that she was plump but you could tell they were eating regular and hearty meals. The way her top peeled over her head was like a dream and I could hardly contain myself. This was more than just me wanting to pay her back or to make her on my side. I wanted her!

"Listen, it's okay. Just come here and relax in the warm water."

As Mona slid by me I took the soap and rag and began lathering her back and sides. Naturally I was going to take liberties but this was a chess game of seduction. She was nervous and inexperienced which could make her want to stop. That'd be new for me. Anyone who stopped before was gang raped or shot. Allowing my hands to work their way up and down her ribs, across her back, massaging the tension in her shoulders. At first I thought it was knotted muscle but it turns out Mona was just muscle. Toned with the finest of definition, you'd have to be right up on her to get a good look.

The more she let me, the further I went. My fingers found her hip bone and the underside of her breasts which made her give the slightest of pauses.

"Ticklish? It's okay. So tell me about you Mona. I told you my story."

"Ticklish...?"

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Despite it not being the reason for the new tension that rushed through my body, I responded, "Yes. A little"

In all honesty, a sudden shot of pleasure had rushed through my body as Claire's hand brushed along the lower curvature of one of my sensitive breasts. I could still remember my first lover calling me Betty Boobs because, one, I'd already fully grown into my Double Ds by 13 and, two, I could achieve orgasm simply by having my nipples suckled by age 15.

Claire continued...

"It's okay. So tell me about you Mona. I told you my story."

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I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing more than a soft moan came out. I couldn't believe how good it felt to have Claire running the soapy rag over my flesh. It had, of course, been a long time since anyone -- meaning any male -- had touched me so intimately. But even more than that, later I would realize that it was the erotic nature of being touched by another woman -- my first woman -- that was driving me so nuts.

"I, uh..." I started, pausing to control my breathing. "I'm ... I'm 24. I, um..."

I half turned to glance over my shoulder toward Claire. "I'm not sure what you want to know."

When Claire asked me to tell her how I came to be here, I looked away again and, after chastising myself silently for not being able to rein in the lust building inside me, I began, "I, uh ... I came here from Denver. My family ranched ... farmed a bit, but mostly ranching. Cattle ... sheep ... goats. I came out here to visit my Aunt and Cousins. The City ... rioting broke out a couple of weeks later ... all across San Francisco ... then every where else. It wasn't safe to get home ... and then the war started and ... well, I was stuck here."

I started to tell Claire about my family back in Colorado, but the words stuck in my throat. I still didn't know the whole truth, and -- to be honest -- I wasn't sure I wanted to know it. Anti-Federal government militias were operating with impunity across the state, and the best information that we had been able to get was that my parents -- who had been branded Federalists for their support of the status quo back in Washington -- had been declared enemies of New Colorado. They'd simply vanished, with their lands, stock animals, and other possessions confiscated.

"There was this guy," I continued, remembering the man to whom I'd reluctantly become a consort. "When I was 15, we -- my Aunt's family and me -- we were desperate. He offered to take care of us if..."

I hesitated. I was so conflicted. At the same time that my body was being flooded by pleasure from the touch of my first woman, I was beginning to describe the tragedy of giving myself over to my first man.

I continued, "If I agreed to be his lover. He took in my whole family ... fed us ... kept us safe, or safer, anyway. He was a pig. Every time he touched me..."

I didn't finish the thought. I was so enjoying being touched by Claire. I didn't want to talk about the man who had taking my virginity at 15 ... explored all of my holes ... loaned me to other men when he had something to gain from it. It had all been such a horrific time. And the last thing I wanted was to recall that time every time Claire touched me as she was now.

Of course, I was already hoping that the black haired girl and I would be touching one another often in the future. I was forgetting that she belonged to Jia Ling. I was jumping the gun. Not only was I jumping the gun, but I was running in a race to which I hadn't been invited to be a contestant.

"Then I heard about the Community," I continued, suddenly buoyed at the thought of my current life. "And we ran away ... me, my Aunt Margie ... my sisters Lisa and Rita ... Clark, my cousin."

My joy was short lived though, as I remembered those who hadn't made it to the Community. I didn't explain that my cousin Ella, nephew Bobby, and my other sister Nalla were still somewhere out there in the City ... assuming, of course, that they were even still alive.

I lowered my head directly into the flow of hot water, drowning my skull for a long moment in the stream as I tried to fight off the tears that threatened to ruin the joy I was enjoying with Claire. When I realized that the flow and Claire's touch -- as wonderful as it was -- weren't going to be enough to fend off the horror, I turned to face the shorter, younger woman, brushed the water away from my face, then pulled her naked body to my own and pressed my mouth to hers.

The water was cascading off the lines of her cheeks and the most undeniable feeling of connection and warmth was growing between us. Mona had so much in common with me and that was not very common. Well, it actually really was. Everyone had lost almost everything in the collapse.

I was about to share my own stories when she turned to pull me in and I slid to her. Our lips touched lightly at first but our hands began to rise and rub and the wet, sloppy plop of the rag on the floor met the sounds of hungry lips and growling throats. It was almost primal and I took her into me. Light with my touches, hoping she'd want to keep going and not frighten her away. Yet the hot and wet skin against skin sensation was strangely compelling. This was my first time with a woman without a gun aimed at me.

I couldn't believe I was doing this, kissing -- making out! -- with another woman ... a naked woman ... naked like me. This was so wrong. Not because it was a woman kissing and caressing and groping me while at the same time being kissed and caress and groped by me. It wasn't about being same sex. I didn't have a problem with lesbians, or lesbian sex. That wasn't it. That wasn't what was wrong. I wasn't one of those people who found gay interactions wrong ... or sinful ... or ... what ever word you wanted to use.

It was wrong because it wasn't me! I wasn't a lesbian. Or ... was I? Maybe I was and just didn't know it. I would wonder to myself later Does it matter if I am? Did a person have to be gay to enjoy a gay interaction? Jia Ling said all the time that she wasn't -- and to quote her -- a fucking pussy eating lezzie freak. And yet, she has sex with other women from within and without the GWG all the time. For Jia, it was simply about carnal pleasure.

So, why couldn't I enjoy carnal pleasure with Claire without being a lesbian? She felt so good against me, her lips, her breasts, her hands. Our groins, off set from one another a few inches, pressed hard against the other's hip, and without even realizing I'd begun doing it, I was grinding my clit against her and moaning audibly.

I clutched her body tightly to me, then dropped my mouth to her neck, kissing and biting and licking at her wet skin before lifting my head back and up from the shorter woman and urging her mouth toward my chest, my breasts, my nipples.

"Oh God..." I murmured at the feel of Claire's lips upon me. "Oh God, Claire..."

I wanted to say more, but the pleasure and joy of this ... this wrongness was simply so right.

If I'd thought being saved from my impending rape and murder earlier I was now in heaven. Mona's lips were soft and light yet they felt full and inviting. The warmth of her breath on my neck and along my jawline was enough to make my knees weak.

I could feel her hips riding back and forth along my thigh and the wetness along my leg was no longer just the water from the shower head. The intense heat radiating from her was unlike anything I'd ever experienced in my sexual endeavors. Fucking to feel good beat the living hell out of fucking to survive and she was feeling SO good.

As she pulled my head towards her breasts I happily took her nipple into my mouth and began to lick and nibble it playfully. Her moans telling me to be rough or gentle, what made her happier or more fulfilled. I could tell she was thinking, rambling about in her head and I felt her unease in how she held my head between her dripping hands. Caressing her and making her as happy as I could was suddenly the most important thing to me.

Oh God ... oh God ... oh Jesus God...

My mind was scrambled by the pleasure Claire was causing inside me as her mouth worked its way down my chest to my nipples. I was moaning loudly now, the super sensitivity of my tits driving me wild for the girl. I was so lost in the pleasure and lust that I didn't even realize how I was directing her: with my fingers full of the hair at her temples, I'd been moving her face back and forth over my chest, moving her skilled lips to one nipple, to the other, to the sensitive valley between them while unconsciously in my euphoria telling her kiss'em ... bite me ... harder ... oh yes... and Lord knows what other things.

If I'd thought men knew how to make me tit cum before, I couldn't have imagined the joy a knowing woman could bring me. As I neared my orgasm, my knees began to give way. As I slid down the tile wall, I took Claire with me until I was on my buttocks on the relatively colder floor with her between my parted thighs.

"Claire! I called out, then followed with a scream, "CLAIRE!"

My entire body erupted in a trembling orgasm, and I pulled the brunette tightly into my torso, grasping her so tightly as the euphoria swept through me that later I would wonder whether I'd hurt her. My head was simply spinning, my heart pounding, my extended legs -- now bent around Claire -- shaking noticeably.

I likely would have had some interesting thoughts about what the hell was happening to me -- about what Claire had done to me -- if my brain had been able to formulate any thought other than Oh .... my .... god!

Mona was wild and I mean she was an animal. Completely unrelenting and she rode my thigh while she held me close, directed, moaned, cried out and orgasm in what felt like a few brief moments.

As she slowly sank down along the wall I set my hands out to catch myself. Not just from the lack of balance but my equilibrium wasn't quite right yet. I don't know how long after a concussion a brain can withstand the euphoria of sex but it hasn't been long enough yet. Breathing heavily, water running down us both and feeling Mona holding me close as I lay between her legs.

"Mona you are... wild. I could learn to love it."

I was coming down from my orgasm, finally beginning to regain my ability to think and hear and understand as Claire said...

"Mona you are... wild. I could learn to love it."

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And even as I was clutching the naked woman to my own nakedness, still trembling from the explosion she's caused within me, I couldn't help but think to myself, No, Claire ... you couldn't.

I continued to hold her tight to my bosom as I remembered that Claire didn't belong to me. She belonged to Jia Ling. This couldn't happen again. I was poaching on Jia's hunting ground. And suddenly...

I began sobbing. It was fucking embarrassing, and I'd felt it coming on as soon as Claire spoke that wonderful thought, but I'd been unable to stop it from happening. I was so happy right now. I was euphoric, both physically and emotionally. And it had been so long ... so fucking long ... since someone had made me feel so good.

And I knew it wasn't going to happen again. I mean, I didn't know it wasn't going to happen again. Just because Claire had a debt to Jia, and Jia would want that debt paid in sexual service, that didn't necessarily mean that Claire and I wouldn't find pleasure in one another's arms again in the future. But ... it wouldn't be like this. It wouldn't be so ... so innocent ... so spontaneous ... so meaningful as this sudden encounter had been.

I opened my eyes to see Claire looking at me with a confused expression. I chuckled through my sobs, saying, "I'm sorry. I'm ... I'm just ... happy."

I was going to explain myself when suddenly I heard noise from the other room: shuffling of feet, excited voices, and Anna -- the civilian medic -- calling out in a panic, "Mona we have injured. Are you here?"

"Oh God!" I said, panicked. We couldn't be found like this, naked, in one another's arms, having sex in the infirmary shower. As I struggled to rise, I called out, "Helping Claire with her issues!"

I looked into her eyes and whispered, "I have to help."



Out in the other room, Anna and a pair of Girls were helping a second pair of Girls onto exam beds. One's torso was covered in blood and the other had most of her head wrapped in bloodied bandages. Anna and the others were rushing to get the bloodied clothes removed to expose the wounds. The medic called out again, "Mona! Hurry!"