The shower later, though the water was cold, was a relief in comparison with the daylong outdoor shower she'd just experienced. Please, she pleaded with whatever powers might hear her, please don't let it be raining like that tomorrow.

Back in her cell, she finished her evening meal and sat back, wishing the guards could somehow decide to take an evening off -- couldn't there be some big soccer game somewhere they all wanted to watch? -- but was despairingly sure the day's second unpleasantness, after the misery of her workday, was about to begin.

She was ready when the women around her began getting into the Present Breasts position. She still wasn't sure what the signal for that was. Likely it was simply that the women nearest the entrance to the row of cells saw the guards assemble there with evil little smiles on their faces.

Rachel waited, her body pressed against the bars, as the full complement of six guards shopped for rape targets. Rachel, knowing that, if the usual form was followed, six of the sixteen women would be raped, held some hope that her chances were good of being left out. But Boris stopped in front of her cell, reached down to run his fingers along the underside of her left breast, gave it a squeeze, and smiled.

He made the twirling gesture with his finger, the signal for Rachel to turn around. She moaned as she did so. She knew it didn't matter which hole he used, it was going to hurt either way.

Less than a minute later Boris, now unzipped, was pushing his way inside her sex, her inner walls slowly parting, trying to keep him out but unable to. He began thrusting. He seemed to go forever, Rachel screwing her eyes closed, telling him silently to hurry up, hurry up, get done with it. Finally, with a shout, he stiffened and sprayed sticky goo inside her. There, she thought miserably, if you could somehow do that at the start instead of the end, it wouldn't hurt as much.

Afterward, as she expected, the Games began. Rachel's eyes followed Matt and one of the other team's guards as they walked slowly past. Matt stopped at the second cell beyond Rachel's on her side, while the other guard walked back past Rachel in the other direction and picked out the second cell from the start of the row across from Rachel.

As the women stood in the middle of the row, almost directly in front of Rachel, Matt and the other guard, surprisingly, unlocked not only their handcuffs from their slipchains, but also unlocked their hobble chains, and pulled the slipchains out of the assembly, giving them freedom of movement Rachel herself hadn't experienced since Alina's room.

Matt directed a brief speech at them, and then backed off to sit with Igor and Boris in the aisle just beyond Rachel's cell, while the other three guards sat together on the other side, both sets of guards occasionally, it appeared, making jokes among themselves, and making high-spirited taunts at the women standing between them, who faced each other looking both miserable and determined. Rachel hadn't yet figured out what they were supposed to be doing.

At a harsh word from Matt, the women finally closed with each other. For wrestling, Rachel now saw.

Rachel wished she didn't have to watch, but felt she needed to keep a close eye on them to make sure she saw what the rules were. She felt sure she would be involved in the next round.

It appeared that they were free to use hands, arms, and legs in the attempt to get their opponent down to the floor. With their arms, each tried to throw her opponent off balance; using their legs they tried to trip each other. Rachel wondered if they were allowed to hit each other with fists. She had some doubts it was prohibited, and that they avoided it only because each knew that hitting would lead the other to hit back, and neither wanted to start that kind of escalation. Rachel decided that if one of them did use her fists, then Rachel, during her own match, would make a decision about hitting based on whether her opponent was stronger or weaker than herself. She'd hit her own opponent if it looked like the opponent couldn't hurt Rachel too badly in return. Except Anya. Rachel wouldn't hit her unless the guards ordered her to.

At least hair-pulling was impossible. For the first time Rachel felt glad of the loss of her hair.

The two wrestling women were the same size and evenly matched, and for several minutes they grappled ineffectively, and occasionally backed away briefly, breathing hard. The guards were shouting on either side of them, all perhaps encouraging the woman from their own team. The guards seemed more excited than usual. Men seemed to find it especially arousing to watch nude women wrestling.

Finally one of the women, the one from Rachel's team, whom Rachel had many times rubbed against to warm her shivering body after a trip outside, and been warmed by her in return, managed to get her leg behind the other's and push at just the right time, taking her to the floor and falling atop her. Her opponent desperately tried to roll to the right, to reverse their positions, but was so drained of energy by this time that the woman from Rachel's team managed, after a short struggle, to get the other directly onto her back.

Matt slammed the floor with his palm and shouted, pointing at the women, obviously declaring the one on top to be the winner.

As the woman from Rachel's team retreated, relieved, to her cell, and was locked in without any of her restraints being restored -- one of the guards simply piled her loose chains on the roof of her cell -- Rachel expected the loser to be put in that same "hogtie of defeat" she'd seen used last night. She was surprised to see her directed simply to sit in the aisle at the far end of the row, against the wall.

Rachel bit her lip. They've got something different planned for the losers this time, she decided.

Rachel watched a second match, this one's contestants chosen by Igor and one of the other team's guards. Throughout the match, Rachel's concentration on the action waned, as her internal worries came to the fore. Boris would choose a girl for the third match, she knew. And he'll pick me, she told herself. I know he'll pick me. For obvious reasons, he has it in for me.

The second loser was directed to sit beside the first, down the aisle behind the guards, and Rachel, holding her breath, said to herself Please Boris, not me, not me, please don't pick me Boris.

As expected, Boris stopped in front of Rachel's cell and smiled.

This time, it seemed, he did not have the option to pick both contestants, and Rachel saw with relief that the other guard had no intention of choosing Anya, but was focusing on girls in his own team. He probably could have picked Anya if he'd wanted, but Rachel supposed that watching such a mismatch in wrestling, which would be over in seconds, had less appeal somehow than hitting with fists. She wasn't surely exactly why, but she was grateful.

She was less grateful seconds later. Sucking in a deep breath, she looked miserably at her opponent. The Amazon.

Rachel, now standing directly in front of her, saw she had been right about the Amazon's height: just two or three inches short of Rachel's, she was taller, Rachel thought, than any other woman in the room besides Rachel herself. That's not the important thing, though, Rachel told herself. Just from what I'm seeing, I don't see how I can match the strength of those muscles in her arms, legs, and shoulders. It looks like she could hold Boris horizontally over her head if she wanted to. In fact, thought Rachel, I wonder whether the guards have any second thoughts about letting the woman out of her bondage. They probably have to reassure themselves, Wait, there's six of us and just one of her.

The Amazon was swinging those arms around now, freed of her restraints, and doing squats, trying to loosen all those muscles up. And glaring at Rachel as if she were a bug. She was probably friendly enough during the day, acting with concern for her fellow inmates in exactly the same way Rachel had seen her own team operate. But now it seemed some competitive instinct had kicked in. The woman hadn't looked at Anya this way before their fight, though she hadn't looked at her tiny opponent with anything like sympathy either. But she probably just didn't think Anya was enough of a challenge. To say the least.

Shit, thought Rachel. Oh, shit.

Rachel still hadn't seen any use of fists. She guessed that must be prohibited, contrary to her earlier speculation. She thought she might have a chance if she could keep the woman at a distance until she was tired from trying to close with Rachel -- Rachel at least, besides being taller, had longer arms. She could push the Amazon away. She hoped.

Boris and the other guard backed off and sat, and it was Rachel and the Amazon alone.

Foremost in Rachel's mind: If I don't try, they will take it out on Mandy.

Rachel suddenly realized that her biggest problem was that she was nervous about the idea that she might inadvertently touch the woman's breasts with her hands. Rachel felt, as nearly every woman does, that her breasts were an intensely personal space, and that touching them had to be an invited intimacy or else not done at all. Obviously the guards here violated that rule routinely, and did far worse things beyond that, but Rachel had no control over that. She wasn't the one doing it. And somehow she herself had crossed that barrier with Anya, by accident, but that was between her and Anya.

Get over it, Rachel, get past it! she ordered herself. Think how you'll feel if they decide you're holding back, and then Mandy pays the price.

It always came back to Mandy. Rachel felt anger bubble below her surface at the inhuman way her friend had been treated. Oh, there! she thought. That anger! Tap into that. Rachel felt a growl start at the back of her throat.

As Boris barked an order, and the Amazon approached her, Rachel tried to start the action first, putting her left hand on the woman's waist and her right on the woman's shoulder, first pushing and then quickly switching to pulling, trying to throw her off-balance. The Amazon, with reflexes superior to anything Rachel could muster, put out her left hand and pushed Rachel's waist in the same direction Rachel was pulling, turning Rachel and driving her backward across the knee the Amazon raised behind her thighs. Rachel felt herself going over backwards, and tightened her grip on the Amazon's shoulder to try to pull her down with her. The Amazon's efforts to remain upright slowed Rachel's momentum so that she didn't hit the floor as hard as she would have, but the impact still jarred her and sent pain shooting through her butt.

Rachel caught her weight on her left elbow, and desperately worked to keep her right shoulder off the floor as the Amazon came down to her left. Rachel's mind screamed at her, I can't let it end this fast! They'll think I didn't try hard enough! She grunted and pushed to her left, trying to roll atop the Amazon, but the woman pushed back harder, and Rachel almost went flat onto her back.

Her earlier concerns completely disappearing in her fear for Mandy, Rachel reached in with her right hand and grabbed the Amazon's breast, squeezing hard enough that Rachel knew it was hurting. The Amazon gasped and reflexively rolled away from the pain, and Rachel thought for a moment she could get on top.

She knew she was in trouble when she saw the infuriated look in the Amazon's eyes, though she didn't actually see the Amazon's left fist flying towards her face.

Rachel was stunned when the fist caught her flush on the right cheekbone. She didn't think she lost consciousness, but for a moment, just long enough, all her nerve impulses were scrambled. By the time she got control back over her movements, the Amazon was directly on top of her, her fist drawn back to hit Rachel again. The woman seemed to be fighting for control of herself, her rage telling her to hit Rachel again, her rational mind telling her not to.

Rachel heard the hand, she wasn't sure which guard's, slap the floor, followed by a general shout from all the guards.

The Amazon, a triumphant look on her face, rolled off of Rachel, took a deep breath and stood, absently massaging her breast that was probably still smarting from Rachel grabbing and squeezing it. Rachel lay where she was for a moment, overcome by the miserable knowledge of what her night was probably going to be like, and finally sat up, wrapping her arms around her shins, looking down at the floor.

At least, she told herself, they could see I made an effort, and probably lasted longer than they thought I would. I think I saved Mandy from being tortured. That's going to make the long, uncomfortable night feel a little better.

Matt spoke to the Amazon, who listened and, at first, nodded in acknowledgment, and then suddenly blinked in astonishment and glared at him. She opened her mouth immediately, obviously intending to protest, then froze, and slowly closed her mouth again. Whatever she was upset about, she had had a graphic demonstration three nights earlier of what happens when you argue with a guard.

Rachel's spirits, near rock bottom, suddenly soared again. Did they make me the winner? she wondered. Because she hit me? I knew it. That was against the rules.

Rachel looked at Boris, who said, "You lose match. And she is..." He fished out his Russian/English dictionary, paged quickly through it, and said slowly, "Dis-qual-i-fied, for use fist."

Rachel shook her head, trying to understand. We both lost? How can we both lose?

Grimly, she told herself there wasn't exactly any international board of sporting appeal with whom she could file a written protest. The guards decide who wins and who loses. And that's it.

Well, she thought, I'm not any worse off than a minute ago.

The guards now had another of their many conferences. Rachel's blood went suddenly cold. Are they talking about whether to torture Mandy again? she wondered. She listened closely for the one word, "Amyerikanski," that would be a giveaway as to the subject being discussed. Though if that was what this was about, she would have thought Boris would have said something about it already.

One consequence of the discussion was that Igor was sent out of the room. To tell someone to get Mandy set up? To retrieve something?

Is there any chance they would agree to teach me Russian? she wondered. I am really tired of being scared of what they might be saying and not knowing.

Though she admitted to herself that knowing would often be just as scary.

At last two of the guards went down to the end of the row, to take care of the two earlier losers. A few minutes later the two women were unhappily chain hogtied and gagged in their cells. The three remaining guards, including Boris and Matt, continued talking more casually, sometimes laughing.

Boris finally came towards Rachel and the Amazon. He spoke at some length to the Amazon, whose scowl deepened while her face also indicated some degree of alarm. When he finished, she was shaking her head vigorously.

Boris ignored her and looked down at Rachel, still sitting on the floor, transferring to her the smirk he had directed at the Amazon. "You bot' very bad girls. Break rules." He reached down and playfully squeezed Rachel's breast. She squeaked and backed away, clenching her hand into a fist, barely stopping herself from taking a reflexive swing at Boris. She gritted her teeth and calmed herself down. I wonder what they'd do to me if I hit a guard, she said to herself. I don't think I want to know.

And what is with the fists, she suddenly wondered. Why didn't I try to slap him? Why didn't the Amazon slap me? Rachel realized that the fistfight games the guards so often staged were probably conditioning all the women, herself included, to think of fists before open palms.

And then she realized why Boris had just grabbed her breast. She understood he was telling her she had been "disqualified" for the same reason the Amazon had been. They had both violated rules of contact: Rachel by her breast-grabbing, the Amazon by hitting her. Rachel wished she'd had clear instruction beforehand as to exactly what the rules were, though it occurred to her that, under the circumstances, she wasn't sure she would have done anything differently. Causing the woman some pain was the only way she could think of, in the heat of battle, to save Mandy from the torment she knew they could inflict on her.

Boris went on, "You don' like her, she don' like you. We want you make nice, be friends."

The memory of what she had seen three nights ago, with the two women spread out in the middle of the aisle, one atop the other, came into her mind, and Rachel was instantly sure that Boris meant something of that nature. She whimpered and shook her head. The Amazon was still shaking hers.

Boris said something to the Amazon and gestured. Gritting her teeth, she sat down on the floor in front of Rachel. They were both in front of Anya's cell, because it happened to be near the middle of the row; Rachel was facing towards the back wall at the end of the aisle. The Amazon sat as far from Rachel as she could, but at another word and gesture from Boris, to which she responded with silence but an angry glare, she scooted up closer. Boris continued directing her, and she opened her legs and put them on either side of Rachel's waist, sliding her left leg underneath Rachel's right while keeping her right leg over Rachel's left. She made a low growling sound in the back of her throat and refused, for a moment, to continue following instructions, shaking her head, but at a gruff word from Boris, no doubt a threat, she moved still closer. Rachel instinctively started to back away, but Boris said immediately, "You don' move." Rachel, not wanting to touch the other woman, kept her arms out to her sides. Her eyes widened and her lips tightened as the Amazon slid her crotch right up against Rachel's, their labia in direct contact. The Amazon refused to make eye contact with Rachel, her face quickly going red.

Without looking behind him, Boris put his hand back towards the other guards and said a single word. One of the guards plopped a padlock into Boris's hand, as if Boris were a surgeon requesting a hemostat. He squatted down and slid his hand between the two stomachs, causing both Rachel and the Amazon to gasp and suck in a breath. He slipped the padlock's shackle through the links in front of both their waist chains, and clicked it closed, making it impossible for them to back away from what to Rachel seemed an unimaginably intimate contact with another woman. Obviously she had chosen, on occasions in her past, to take this position with a close male friend -- okay, in that situation you'd call him a lover -- but never had imagined doing it, or wanting to do it, with another woman, and doubly not one who was a complete stranger. Rachel was sure her own face color matched the Amazon's -- her face throbbed, and felt on fire.

Boris reached back with the surgeon gesture again, and retrieved two more padlocks, using one to lock Rachel's ankle cuffs both to each other and to the back side of the Amazon's waist chain, and the other padlock to do the same to the Amazon's ankles behind Rachel. Speaking to the increasingly embarrassed Amazon once more, he had her put her right arm over Rachel's left shoulder, and slide her left arm under Rachel's right armpit, and then with two more padlocks put in his palm by one of the guards, Boris locked Rachel's handcuffs to each other and to the back of the Amazon's collar, then secured the Amazon's wrists to the back of Rachel's collar.

Rachel and the Amazon automatically leaned back, to avoid touching breasts. To Rachel it seemed completely unreal, being trapped in an intimate full-body hug with another naked woman.

Boris stood up, wiped his hands as if he'd finished nailing up a new shelf on the wall of the den, and spoke two words, followed immediately by, "Now kiss." The two English words were probably a repeat of what he'd just said in Russian.

Both Rachel and the Amazon spun their heads to look up at him, the Amazon with her teeth bared and her breath racing in and out through them. Rachel discovered it was possible for her own face to grow even hotter than it had been.

Boris said nothing, but merely raised his hand to rest it on the whip curled up by his hip. No words in any language needed.

The Amazon looked at Rachel at last. Making a thin, furious line of her mouth, breathing very hard through her nose, she moved her head forward just slightly. Rachel leaned forward enough to meet her halfway, both of them jumping slightly as their breasts finally were pressed together. The Amazon briefly touched her tightly closed, unmoving lips against Rachel's.

Boris made an exasperated sound. He spoke irritably to the Amazon, then said, "Make good kiss. Like lovers. And don' stop. We will say stop."

Rachel whimpered once more, and looked helplessly at the Amazon. She realized she was shaking her head, but wasn't able to stop it. The Amazon, her teeth gritted tightly once more, screwed her eyes shut tight briefly. She opened them and looked at Boris, and he patted his whip once more.

Letting out a growl again, the Amazon leaned forward, her lips parted this time. Just get it over with, Rachel told herself. I have to do this. She met the Amazon's mouth with her own, softly, and began moving her lips against the Amazon's, gradually opening her mouth wider.

All Rachel could think was: I'm kissing a woman I'm kissing a woman I'm kissing a woman. She was appalled that anyone would force her to do such a thing. Rachel had kissed Mandy the day before, but that was understood by both of them to be a life-saving necessity, with no romantic component at all. There was no romantic component here either, but both women understood the need to make it appear as though there was.

Rachel moaned softly, understanding that was expected of her, and the Amazon did as well.

Boris spoke again to the Amazon, and said after, "You rub pussies too. You always be good friends."

Rachel heard, once more, that growl at the back of the Amazon's throat. The Amazon began moving her hips slightly, as did Rachel, pressing their crotches together and rubbing, while still kissing.

Rachel could hear Igor returning at last, and saw out of the corner of his eye that he had a dog with him -- a single dog, not the usual two.

Boris took the dog's leash from Igor, and brought the dog towards the two kissing women. Rachel could see the Amazon's eyes widen in alarm. Hers were doing the same.

The dog sat at the side of them, watching both women. Boris spoke, as usual, to the Amazon first, who squeaked in alarm, while continuing the kiss with Rachel, and then he addressed Rachel. "Is special dog. He is teached for special job. He get very mad if you stop kiss."

Oh jeez, thought Rachel, oh no! Are we safe, though? As long as we... he won't bite, if we... oh, God.

The guards, with Igor eagerly joining them, watched the "lovemaking" of Rachel and the Amazon for a time. Then Boris nudged the nearest ones, spoke again in Russian, then said, "We come back soon."

To the intense distress of both women, the guards walked away, across the drawbridge, and drew it closed behind them.

I just have to see if he really means it about the dog, Rachel thought. Doing this is disgusting enough, but if he makes us keep doing it just on a bluff...

She stopped kissing and drew her head back.

Instantly the dog growled and issued a sharp bark, rising up to a four-leg stand and drawing closer, continuing the growl.

Rachel tightened her arms and drew the Amazon closer to resume the kiss, and felt the Amazon do the same, both of them whimpering slightly in fear. Rachel was unsure whether they were also supposed to continue rubbing pussies, but they both did, just in case.

Rachel felt more ashamed, more humiliated, more completely powerless, than she had at any time in her life, the last three days included. There were no guards here to make her do anything; instead, she was being forced by a dog, a dog, to simulate sex with a woman she didn't know. A woman who clearly wasn't any happier about it than Rachel.

They released each other's lips frequently, making soft, liquid sounds. The dog tolerated it as long as it was just for an instant. As with any heavy petting session, it was really hundreds of little kisses rather than a single long one.

Rachel tried to send her mind far, far away. Her body could continue doing what it needed to do. She would be elsewhere.

Gradually, a contented feeling drifted over her. She felt... in a way, happy.

In her detached state, she didn't focus much conscious attention on exactly what her imagination was doing. It was enough that it was taking her away from this place.

But in a careless mental moment, the veil parted, and she saw what she had been thinking of.

Oh, holy shit!! she thought. No, I can't... I wouldn't...

But she couldn't unsee what she had just seen within herself: That she had been contented because she was imagining that, instead of the Amazon, she was holding and kissing Anya.

Reflexively, in her horror, Rachel pushed back from the kiss. The dog, who had resumed his seat, rose once more with an angry growl. In panic Rachel started kissing the Amazon again, rocking her hips, grinding her sex against the other's.

Her thoughts spun and wobbled like a whirling top. I'm not... I know I've been feeling closer to Anya, she said to herself. I know we've been... sort of touching each other, and all that. And it feels nice to have a friend. But I'm not a lesbian! I'm not! I've never in my life looked at a woman and wanted her that way!

But she knew what she had just been feeling. Imagining how soft Anya's lips would feel against hers. Hearing the soft sigh from Anya's throat. Running her hands up and down Anya's back.

And then she remembered that elusive emotion she'd felt today in the window room, while she was standing with Anya, rubbing her hip against Anya's waist. I wanted her! a voice in Rachel shouted at her. I wanted more than just the touching!

Shit! Shit! Shit! It's this place! I'm getting crazy. And it's such a clich‚, isn't it? Going gay in prison?

Oh! Damn it!! I'm getting wet too! Thinking about... Stop that, stop that! This woman is going to think I'm wet for her! Think about women whipped. Think about rape. Think about never leaving this prison, staying here always, never seeing home again. Be angry! Be furious!

Anya, she realized, was a lifeline saving her from dwelling on all the anguish. Such a little sweet sunbeam in a dark world...

Still getting wet! Stop thinking, stop feeling anything. Body on autopilot. No thoughts.

Oh, remember I got raped earlier tonight! The Amazon saw that. She must have. She wasn't busy then. She knows I've got slimy goo inside me from that. She'll just think it's that.

Not if I keep getting wetter! Just stop, Rachel!

Rachel succeeded in blanking her mind, to some extent -- enough, at least. She could feel the garden hoses inside her slow from a spray to a trickle. She did everything she could, to avoid thinking of.... that thing she wasn't supposed to think of.

At last, after... Rachel wasn't sure how long, time enough for a couple of beers, she guessed -- the guards returned. Boris came forward to take the dog's leash. He spoke to the Amazon, and by her reaction, Boris had obviously told her to up her game a little: she tightened her arms and legs around Rachel, pressing her ankles hard against the small of Rachel's back to force their crotches more firmly together, grinding her sex a little more briskly against Rachel's, squashing her breasts against Rachel's, and opening her mouth wider, her lips moving against Rachel's, moaning softly. Rachel followed suit. For the first time, the Amazon pushed her tongue into Rachel's mouth, and Rachel reciprocated. The guards all squatted close by, fascinated.

Finally Boris spoke to the Amazon, and she leaned back quickly from Rachel, her face glowing red once more. The dog growled. The Amazon and Rachel both spun their heads towards him, and the Amazon glared accusingly up at Boris, but Boris held the dog's leash, squatted by him and gently spoke to him. The dog quieted, and let Boris lead him away. Boris handed the leash to Igor, who departed with the dog. Igor returned soon with two dogs, apparently the standard-issue nighttime dogs, and the guards made ready to leave. Boris spoke a few words to the Amazon, and joined the others leaving the room. Boris had felt no need to translate for Rachel: It was clear without his explanation that, though the women needn't feel obligated to simulate sex any longer, they were going to have to stay in this position all night.

Rachel could see the Amazon was furious again -- Rachel expected to see steam rising from the woman's brush-cut head. Together they waited, not looking at each other, while the dogs made their traditional patrol of the aisle, brushing past them on either side, presumably making sure of the occupants of the cells, and at last took up their position at the head of the aisle.

The Amazon kept watching the dogs. Rachel turned her head to watch them as well, in the absence of anything else to look at. Eventually the dogs put their heads down and, to all appearances, took a nap. Rachel wondered whether the guards knew they slept on the job.

The Amazon suddenly turned to Rachel. She spoke in a whisper, but it was a raspy, angry, deadly-sounding whisper. The way the woman nudged her bruised breast with her elbow, Rachel knew it related to what had made the Amazon mad to begin with: Rachel grabbing her breast during the wrestling match. Likely she blamed Rachel for goading her into throwing the punch in retaliation that got her disqualified.

Suddenly another whisper, a soft one, came from Rachel's right -- from Anya's cell. The Amazon, hearing Anya, stopped talking and blinked in astonishment. The Amazon turned her head towards Anya and whispered again, asking a question. When Anya responded, the Amazon looked back at Rachel, started to speak again but closed her mouth without saying a word.

It looked to Rachel as though the Amazon knew, now, that speaking to Rachel was pointless. Anya must have told her that Rachel didn't speak any Russian. The Amazon had certainly heard Boris explaining things to Rachel in English, but may have thought he was simply directing some private taunts to her in her own language.

Rachel looked at the woman, who seemed no less angry than before, but was at a loss to know how to vent, when the object of her anger couldn't understand her.

Instinctively wanting to make peace somehow, Rachel looked straight into the Amazon's eyes and whispered as sincerely as she could, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Maybe, Rachel thought, she can read it in my eyes somehow.

The Amazon gave her a puzzled look, and a slight headshake.

From her right, Rachel heard the whisper from Anya, "Retchell: Prastee meenya pozhalosta. Im soarry." Anya repeated the Russian words very slowly. "Prastee meenya pozhalosta."

Rachel's eyes went wide. As she had suspected, Anya had figured out exactly what the words I'm Sorry meant when Rachel had used them last night. The context made it so easy. And Anya recognized that the same words Rachel had used then, she was saying now to the Amazon. Anya wanted Rachel to know how to say it in Russian.

Rachel, seeing the Amazon had heard Anya but had no idea why Anya was apologizing, knew the words had to come from herself. Okay, thought Rachel, I may not remember the Russian words five minutes from now, but for now I've got them echoing in my head. I think I can get it right.

She looked at the Amazon again, and using the same heartfelt tone she had for the English words, said, "Prastee meenya pozhalosta. Prastee meenya pozhalosta."

The Amazon blinked at Rachel in surprise, then looked steadily at her for several seconds. At last, she gave Rachel a small, quick nod of her head. Apology accepted.

Rachel was glad, but had other things occupying her mind. She was thinking about her latest interaction with Anya.

The physical attraction is part of it, she told herself, but that's coming from something bigger. What's really happening is that I'm falling in love with Anya.

That seemed, somehow, less weird. Rachel had never described herself as being in love with anyone before now, but she understood it to be a connection forged of a million tiny things, all working together. While she had been unable to imagine how she could suddenly feel drawn to another woman physically, she could easily count many of those millions of little things, between herself and Anya, that could grow gradually into love, and perhaps already had.

The more pressing question at this moment, however, was what to do about a night's sleep. Rachel was still sitting upright, helplessly entangled with the other woman sitting in front of her. And she couldn't work things out with her verbally. Neither could speak the other's language, and Anya had surely reached the limit of her ability to act as a go-between. Rachel was not sure there was a single additional word of English Anya knew beyond "I'm sorry."

I should teach her some, Rachel thought.

Back to the main problem. Rachel thought it over. At last she leaned slightly towards the Amazon, who automatically leaned away, as if afraid Rachel wanted to kiss her again. Rachel shook her head, and then aimed a look at the Amazon's right shoulder, thrusting her chin towards it.

The Amazon looked at her a moment, then nodded. Tentatively, as if still on the lookout for any wrong moves, she pulled Rachel towards her, their breasts touching voluntarily for the first time. She rested her chin on Rachel's right shoulder, a move mirrored by Rachel.

Rachel leaned her head against the Amazon's. I think, she decided, this will work.

From the other side of the Amazon's head, she heard Anya say softly, "Spakoinie nochye, Retchell."

Rachel smiled. Context was a wonderful guide to language. What could that possibly be but "good night"? Especially with that last word sounding so much like the Spanish word for "night"? "Spakoinie nochye, Anya. Good night, Anya."

She could hear the smile in Anya's voice. "Goood niyet, Retchell."

Rachel gradually drifted off to sleep, her head nestled against the Amazon's.

Rachel awoke startled, sensing that her name had been called. She was still resting her head on the Amazon's shoulder. She decided she must have been having a dream.

Then she heard it again. "Retchell."

Rachel lifted her head. It was Anya who'd been calling her.

Except it appeared she wasn't. Anya was lying curled up on the floor of her cell, her head down, her eyes closed, and seemed to be asleep. She didn't show any sign of wanting to say anything to Rachel, now that she had Rachel's attention.

Though asleep, Anya was not motionless. Her hips were twitching, and her hands were between her legs. Though the legs blocked Rachel's view of exactly what Anya's hands were doing, the rocking movement and very wet rubbing sound made it obvious.

Rachel smiled. That is so sweet, she said to herself. A week ago, Rachel would have been appalled to know she was the object of another woman's wet dream. But it was somehow different with Anya.

It must be, thought Rachel, that she's spent the whole evening watching me and the Amazon pretend to be having sex right in front of her. Now she's dreaming she's in the Amazon's place.

Rachel was startled by her next thought: It almost certainly will happen sometime. It looks like this is kind of a frequent thing: having a couple of random prisoners, or game losers, have sex with each other. With the limited number of women here, it's going to be me and Anya some night.

Rachel astonished herself with her certainty about her next thought: If that happens, then we are both going to contribute to a puddle on the floor between us that has nothing to do with urine. We are going to express our feelings for each other. And we won't have to fake anything.

As Rachel watched, Anya's whole body suddenly quivered, and she drew three breaths rapidly in and out, followed by a tiny squeak. Then she relaxed, her lips curling into a sleepy smile.

Sleep well, Anya, Rachel thought. Schlafen Sie wohl. No, that's German. What were those words again... Oh yes. Spakoinie nochye.

Rachel whispered it now. "Spakoinie nochye, Anya."

She put her chin back down on the Amazon's shoulder. Sleep caught up with her in a few minutes.