Three kinds of crapper, including one of those French things—squirts water up your ass, or in the case of the ladies, washes their pussy—what d'ya...call 'em?" Bidet," snapped Fiona. "Where's Hack? Where's my husband?" Yeah. Bee day. And a shower big enough for four, and a spa bath. I ain't never been so clean. Good job they got a generator that could run a battleship and enough water to float one."Max grinned at the two women. Their wet clothes had started to steam in the warm, dry, air."You. * * * * * * * *Several minutes passed before I struggled off the bed and started to crawl around the room. There was an en-suite decorated with flowers. On the wash-basin in front of the mirror were a bar of perfumed soap and a new pink toothbrush. Feeling my stomach rebel against the drugs, the electric shock and the situation, I crept forward and vomited into the lavatory. Then I lay on the floor, contemplating a shower. When ‘Ms Curtis’ appeared, I decided, I wouldn’t take this ‘Ask no. More

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