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for a nap in the chamber that had been assigned to her, with Alena promising to return to help her freshen up before dinner. She found no fault with the chamber, and her optimism grew—for the room was clearly meant for a guest and not a prisoner. It was large, open, and airy, with windows shielded by translucent shades of paper (white, of course), and, amazingly enough, a small square tub with warm running water set in the floor of the room.
    She was delighted when the promised “freshening up” turned out to be a full bath in the sunken tub. Alena and another maid assisted her, soaping her body and then plastering her face and neck with a mud-like substance. While Jane lay there, allowing the heavy, aromatic mud to dry (such a curious experience), the two women used impersonal hands to spread a very warm goo over her legs, under her arms, and, strangely, around the apex of her thighs. Jane peeked when something firm was pressed into the warm, sticky substance, and saw that it was a strip of fabric. She shrieked, bolting half off the table, when Alena yanked the fabric away, and then the other maid did the same…and they did this over and over until her body was denuded of hair in those areas.
    At first, Jane attempted to protest and to push their hands off, but they ignored her and guided her back onto the table. She considered ordering them away, but in the end decided it was more prudent to cooperate with these customs of the Amazonians, since she was hoping for assistance and cooperation from them. Nevertheless, the stripping left her skin achy and pink and stinging. What little of the fiery red hair left between her legs was trimmed very short and neat. Alena massaged a soothing lotion—again, with impersonal hands that did not linger—into Jane’s abused skin, then washed the mud from her face with steaming cloths. Finally, Jane’s long, thick hair was plaited into an impossibly intricate mass of braids intertwined with flowers and gemstones.
    Like Zenovia and the other women who were not acting as guards, Jane was garbed in a toga-like gown that fastened over one shoulder with a sapphire brooch and was gathered at the opposite side of her waist by another. One shoulder was bare, and the gown fell in neat pleats from shoulder to waist, and then waist to floor. To her surprise—for all the other clothing she’d seen was white, except for the high chief’s black toga—the gown provided for her was a brilliant sea green, embroidered with blue designs. The fabric was so light and airy she felt as if she were wearing nothing at all—and in fact, since no undergarments had been provided, her breasts were left to hang and jounce freely beneath the gathers of the toga. Her nipples thrust out like two hard points jutting through the otherwise smooth and neat folds of the fabric, and with her every movement, the material slid sensuously over them. The gown fell to the floor in an elegant cascade, and her newly smooth thighs brushed against each other as, barefooted, she followed Alena down a high, arched corridor.
    “Madame,” said Alena when they came to a set of relatively unassuming double doors. Two expressionless guards, female, of course, stood at the outside and opened the doors in tandem to reveal a beautiful chamber that was more cozy and sedate than the ostentatious, high-ceilinged throne room.
    “Lady Hampstead. Please, come in.” Zenovia stood at a desk, but she looked over as Jane appeared in the doorway. “That will be all, Alena.”
    As the door closed behind, leaving the two of them alone—at least as far as Jane could tell; there might be some servants waiting in one of the silk-draped corners—Jane stepped into the chamber and looked around. A low, square table set for two also held a large decanter of red wine and several silver-domed dishes. Low, sofa-like benches lined two sides of the table, meeting at one corner in an ell. There was a large, curtained area in one part of the room, and