The shut-off button is basically right between her thighs.
“Jolene?”
My voice is drowned out as Jolene squeals her release. A serene smile spreads across her face and she peels an eye open.
“The divine flow,” she whispers, her voice rasping. “Can you feel my life force? Hmm, you should try it. Find your sacred state.”
“Um, honestly, I need to find the off-switch, do you mind?” I gesture vaguely.
She smirks then jumps down. “Your loss, Princess.” She leans against the wall, rolling a cigarette.
I finally get the machine to turn off. The silence that follows is awkward as fuck, filled only by the hiss of cooling steam and the smell of hot oil.
“I guarantee you’ll be less uptight if you amplify your energy,” Jolene says as I stand again.
“I’ll bear it in mind,” I mutter, not looking at her.
“And the spin drive is nirvana,” Jolene calls as I beat a retreat.
Fuck my life.
I practically jog back to my station. Candy is still methodically stripping lint from a trap. I slump against the machine nextto her and make sure Dot is occupied before leaning in closer. “I just caught Jolene having a very intimate moment with the industrial dryer.”
Her eyes go wide, her hands pausing in a pile of gray fluff. “What, like… sitting on it?”
“Legs-akimbo. Eyes closed. Talking about ‘divine flow’.” I shake my head, a hysterical little bubble of laughter rising in my throat. “I think she and the machine are officially dating.”
Candy’s mouth twitches, and then she lets out a quiet, stifled giggle. “Well,” she whispers, stuffing another handful of lint into her pocket. “I hope she added a stain remover to the load. Divine flow can be a bitch to get out of twill.”
I snort. “Probably depends on how aligned her chakras got.”
Out of all the Digger girls, I’m most comfortable with Candy and Layla. And I think it’s mutual. The three of us have some weirdly fun times.
For the kid, it’s different when other people are around. Especially men. Any male makes Candy clamp up and hide immediately.
Wait, that’s not true, she’s good with Imran.
I guess that’s not surprising, a less threatening male doesn’t exist, poor kid. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, but it’s bad.
Every night I fall into bed exhausted, muscles throbbing and various steam burns blooming around my body. But in the hour before the morning bell, while Taliesin goes for his “private time” running laps around the yard, I move through mypliésandtendus.
The concrete floor is gritty under my bare feet, and today, every extension feels like pulling against a lead weight. I’m mid-stretch, my forehead pressed against the iron bars as a cramp twists through my gut.
Taliesin walks in as I groan, his skin steaming in the hot air from his run.
His eyes narrow as they sweep over me. “You’re slow today, Princess.”
“My back hurts,” I mutter, not moving from the bars. “Fuck off and let me die in peace.”
Taliesin steps closer and doesn’t say anything at first, but then I see his nostrils flare slightly. He turns on his heel and marches out. What the fuck? Did he just sniff me?
Groaning again, I splash water on my face, feeling like shit, then collapse on my cot.
No, that doesn’t help. “Asshole,” I croak at the empty doorway.
Fucking stretching then. Every muscle in my back is so tight it could be twanged like a harp string. I lean back against the cell bars, allowing the cold iron to press into the space under my scapula. Wriggling from side to side, I can really get the pressure into the knots. It’s the only relief I’ve felt all day.
“Ugh,” I moan aloud, eyes fluttering shut for a second of bliss.
