Chapter 3: Sensation

Zoe darted down the hotel hallway, her bare feet soundless against the plush carpet. As many times as she repeated Yvain’s words to herself, that the difficult, dangerous part of her mission was over with, she couldn’t quite believe it. She was still on the top floor of a hotel frequented by high-ups in the secret police, and she still had to make her way down to ground level. Doing so in nothing but a towel would have been bad enough, but now she had to do it naked.

Her chest rising and falling with her breath, Zoe reminded herself of how much she’d already been through tonight. She had also been naked when she beat up that officer, and when she infiltrated Heinrich’s computer. Most importantly, she’d been naked when she entered this hotel, and the lady at the front had paid her no mind. All she needed to do now was get back down there and exit the building as inconspicuously as a naked woman could.

The elevator was too dangerous, she decided. If she bumped into someone now, they would certainly have questions for her. Should she cling to the cover story of being a Public Service girl, someone might request her service, and she would have no choice but to assent, which would waste valuable time.

That was her rational reason for seeking out the fire escape, and the one she communicated to Yvain. Her irrational reason was that she was fucking naked and would rather die than let even more see her like this! She’d already showed her body to too many people tonight.

The fire escape was dimly lit, and the metal steps creaked and clanged under Zoe’s feet. She had barely gone two flights down when she heard a door open below her.

Biting her lip, Zoe darted back up a couple of stairs, putting a wall between herself and the eyes of whoever was shuffling through the door that had just opened. Hardly daring to breathe, she pressed her back up against the wall and instinctively clutched her breasts and crotch.

The footsteps of the other person on the fire escape became fainter, indicating that they were going down.

<Whoa, > thought Yvain, projecting a mixture of feelings Zoe recognized from her shower, but more intense. It was then that she realized she was still sharing her sense of touch with him.

Blushing furiously, Zoe yanked her hands away from her crotch and breasts. <Omigod!> she thought. <Sense of touch revoked!>

<G—good, now I don’t have to feel the cold anymore, > Yvain replied, clearly disappointed.

Zoe continued down the stairs, her arms awkwardly hovering in the air. It was okay to cover herself up again, but she couldn’t get the sensation of Yvain’s reaction to feeling her most intimate parts out of her mind. At the same time, walking without covering herself made her feel even more exposed. But she couldn’t touch any part of herself without feeling like someone else’s hands were there. Someone who really, really wanted her.

<I—I’m going to take it as a compliment, > Zoe thought.

<Permission to speak unprofessionally for a moment, Fighter Zoe?> Yvain appeared to have regained his usual cool and collected demeanour.

<Permission granted.>

<You’ve got an extremely sexy body.>

Zoe smiled and reminded herself that she had given him her sense of touch in the first place. This had been surprising and unexpected, but he’d done nothing wrong, really. Better for him to react than to keep quiet about it.

She already knew he thought she was sexy and sincerely meant it, but it was nice that he put it into words. It made her feel a bit more confident. <Thank you.>

The rest of Zoe’s descent was uneventful. The person below her had reentered the main building without noticing the naked woman above them, and nobody else came through the fire escape while she was there.

Now that they were past the awkwardness of the unexpected touch, Zoe and Yvain’s mental conversation resumed its normal tone. <Have you heard anything from Manuel’s people yet? Is he aware of the trap?> Zoe asked.

<No, > thought Yvain, not hiding his frustration. <It’s been complete radio silence. They are known for being difficult to get anything out of though. And we’ve got a while to go before Violet’s plan kicks into action.>

<I hope he’s received the message, > Zoe thought back. <And that he believes it. Violet is not pretty enough to be worth destroying the Resistance over.>

<I prefer brunettes.>

Finally, Zoe reached the bottom of the stairwell. The door to the ground floor stood a few feet away from her. She pressed her ear against it. Silence. Then she opened it just a crack and peeked through.

The hotel lobby was as empty as it had been when she had come in—that is, Sylvia the receptionist was still there, sitting behind her desk wearing a blank expression.

The thought of purposefully exposing herself to someone made Zoe’s heart drop into her feet, even though Sylvia had already seen her and not reacted at all. Would she behave differently now that Zoe was on her own, unaccompanied by a party high-up? Would she be suspicious? Would she be mean?

Maybe she would be both, but for Zoe’s part, she would give Sylvia as little reason as possible to do either. She took a few deep breaths, shook some of the tension out of her limbs, put a smile on her face and told herself she was sexy. Then she pushed open the fire escape door and walked out.

Sylvia’s attention was immediately captured by the naked woman walking out of the fire escape. She looked at her steadily, only the faintest hint of a blush rising to her cheeks. “Good night, comrade,” she said evenly. “There was no need to take the fire escape. The elevator is in perfect working condition.”

Zoe smiled sweetly and thought quickly. “Gotta keep this in tip-top shape,” she said, gesturing at her body.

“Indeed,” Sylvia said coldly. Her cold gray eyes looked Zoe up and down from behind steel-rimmed spectacles. “We must all do our part for the Revolution.”

Zoe immediately regretted calling attention to her naked body, heroically forcing down a blush. Sylvia would be suspicious if the naked Public Service girl suddenly became self-conscious. “Good night, Comrade Sylvia,” she said, turning and walking briskly to the exit. She could feel the woman’s disapproving look against her bare, shifting buttocks. I’m not normally like this, she wanted to say.

Back out on the dark city streets, Yvain directed Zoe to turn left, and she hurried down the road and away from the hotel. <The safehouse isn’t far from here. Just walk quickly, keep your head down, and don’t run into any more police.>

<Got it. Don’t run into any—shit.> As Zoe’s eyes swept across the street ahead of her, they came to rest in direct contact with a pair of brilliant green eyes framed by dark lashes and a bouncy blonde haircut. <How is she still here?!>

Violet looked just as surprised to see Zoe as Zoe was to see Violet. Their eyes mirrored each other in size, and both stood frozen. The flames of panic erupted across Zoe’s mind, but were doused by a torrent of calm from Yvain. <At least we know she hasn’t met up with Manuel yet. Calm down Zoe, she hasn’t ever seen you before. Just act natural.>

<I’m acting too natural, that’s the problem!> As much of a relief as it was to know that Violet had no reason to attack or try to arrest Zoe, there was still the matter of her being a relative stranger, who was staring wide-eyed at Zoe’s naked body in the middle of the City.

“Comrade!” Violet cried, her expression softening at once to one of deep sympathy. She started at once towards Zoe, the soles of her boots clacking loudly on the road. “What happened to you? You must be cold!”

“I-it’s a warm night,” Zoe replied, cringing. The nonchalant facade she’d put up for Sylvia’s benefit was quickly cracking. There was a hard limit to the number of people she could tolerate seeing her naked in one night, and she was running right up against it.

“Here,” Violet said, shrugging off her elegant, full-length leather coat. “Please, put this on. I will escort you back to your quarters.”

Zoe stared at the coat with a mixture of longing and dread. <What should I tell her? Do I keep up the Public Service story?>

<Put on the coat.>

<Wait, what?> Zoe couldn’t believe that Yvain had just instructed her to put on a coat that was certainly microchipped, and the property of a spy no less. But there was no way to mishear thoughts.

<I still haven’t gotten through to Manuel’s people, so we’re going to have to go with Plan B. The mission just got extended, Fighter Zoe.>

Zoe fought to keep the flood of conflicting feelings from showing on her face as she gratefully accepted the coat from Violet and draped it over her shoulders. The leather was sleek and cool against her skin, and she was grateful to hide her most intimate parts from the world as she tied the belt at the front.

Violet was wearing a form-fitting, shoulderless red dress that flared out at the bottom and ended just above her ankle-length brown boots. Sheer stockings covered her legs. Having transferred her coat to Zoe, they were now both showing similar amounts of skin. “Show me where your quarters are, comrade,” she said, touching Zoe’s leather-clad elbow.

<Lead her along the path I give you, > Yvain commanded. <And be ready for action.>

Zoe gulped. She couldn’t believe what Yvain was asking her to do—take down a high-ranking regime spy as part of her first mission! Things just kept getting crazier. Still, it had all gone well enough so far.

She led Violet down the quiet street, following Yvain’s directions. As they walked, Zoe thanked Violet profusely for her kindness, and gave her a fake name and story. As Violet had not seen Zoe emerge from the hotel, she and Yvain thought it better to reuse Justine Trask, the nude sleepwalker.

“Does this happen to you a lot?” Violet asked.

“Oh no, I don’t usually sleepwalk this far!” Zoe answered. “But I think I will have to start wearing pajamas again.”

“Fortunately we live in an age of plenty, where such things are freely available on the basis of need,” Violet replied. “They say that under capitalism, workers owned but a single outfit and were forced to sleep naked. In warm countries, they would labor naked part of the year to prevent their clothes from wearing out.”

Zoe had learned similar things in school. The stories were intended to make students grateful for their scratchy, shapeless overalls and starched underclothing.

<Pure propaganda, > Yvain thought contemptuously. <The City provides you with two pairs of overalls and three sets of underwear, and it wants you to believe that represents abundance.>

As they walked, Zoe’s eyes were continuously drawn to Violet’s dress. She had never been so close to an outfit like this, made for aesthetics rather than mere utility. Of course, she had seen important women in the party wearing such things in the distance, and she had seen Public Service girls wearing ragged, skimpy versions, but in her daily life she rubbed shoulders with mass-manufactured overalls. She had owned a dress, but it was made of the same coarse fabric as her overalls and hardly looked better.

Violet’s leather coat felt better than anything Zoe had ever worn before, and she regretted that it would soon be necessary to discard it.

<Down this alley, > Yvain thought. <Tell her it’s a shortcut.>

“It’s just down here,” Zoe said, ushering Violet down a narrow alley. “I don’t want to wake any of the other girls up, so I’ll take the back entrance.”

As they walked down the alley, Zoe slowed and allowed Violet to walk past her. Violet looked up at the brick walls and steel staircases and asked which one led to Zoe’s quarters. The alley was dark, so Violet didn’t notice Zoe untying the belt of her leather coat.

The sides of the coat slumped apart, exposing Zoe’s front as she pulled the belt out of its loops and gripped it tightly in both hands. With quick and totally silent steps, she positioned herself directly behind Violet, whose attention was still on the walls. “It’s right over ... here!”

Zoe flung the belt over Violet and pulled it tight, pinning the blonde woman’s arms to her sides. Before Violet could cry out, a leather sleeve forced itself into her mouth, muffling any sound she could make. Her hands scrambled frantically against her thighs, pulling up the bottom of her dress and revealing the straps of a black garter-belt.