About Sisterland by Martina Devlin Page A

Give your skin to one of my girls to store until you mate again. We want you to feel completely at home here.”
    Constance slid her fingers under her throat and unhooked it. Balancing it in her hand, she considered how its warmth lacked the heat of life. Did Harper brush against it when he whispered his name? It must have felt false to him.
    “What happens to men after they mate, mother? Do they mate again the same night with a different woman?”
    “Let me take that skin, you’re squeezing it hard enough to damage it. No, they only mate with one woman a night. Multiple mating isn’t considered sound practice. Some meets would be able for it, but we like to ensure a meet is at his peak for each mating. We owe due diligence to the women seeking babyfusion. After they perform, meets are taken to a compound at the back of the Tower to eat, and sleep. Meets assigned to my matingplace want for nothing.”
    Constance doubted if Harper would agree that he wanted for nothing here. “I’ve never been alone with a man before. It wasn’t what I expected. There was nothing threatening about him.”
    “Now, now, men would try to overthrow Sisterland if we relaxed our vigilance. The desire to dominate is latent in them, and always ready to rise to the surface. Tonight must have been a pleasurable experience. Well, no harm, we encourage pleasure. It sweetens the pill. But don’t be fooled by your meet – men are riddled with belligerence and greed. Sometimes, they have disarming ways. But they’re tools, nothing more. You must think of them as the spoon bringing food to your mouth, or the tap carrying water to your shower. Speaking of which, I’ll have one of my girls show you to a bathroom. You’ll want to wash the male odour off your body.”

    Next morning, as soon as Constance stirred, she was brought breakfast in bed. The matingplace stewards were treating her like an invalid in recovery. She pecked at fruit, trying to envisage the landscape described by Harper. The trees in Harmony were pruned, while the countryside of Green Hyperreal, just beyond the city, was tamed and tidied. She almost laughed to think what he’d make of their grass, treated so that it never grew more than an inch high and was a consistent colour.
    She fell to wondering if he had any curiosity about her appearance. Probably not, since he only touched her when he thought he was under orders to do it. She ought to go home, she supposed. But how self-indulgent it would be to idle away the day here in the Tower! Why not take the chance when it was offered?
    She looked for her leggings and tunic, and found they hadn’t been brought to her cubicle. Missing, too, were last night’s clothes, although the pumps were there. Instead, another long gown was laid out, and her fingers couldn’t help but stroke the saffron ribbons on its sleeves. She dressed, and swished through the deserted respite room. In the readying room, Tower stewards were clearing away the detritus of the previous night. It was less opulent by day, with food trodden through the rushes. But new rushes were being laid to replace the old. Constance recognised Unity, the greeter from the previous night, who was supervising the work. She looked a little discontented, until she saw Constance and forced her face into a smile.
    “Excuse me, sister. Where are my clothes?”
    “They’re safe. When you leave, they’ll be returned to you. In the meantime, you’ll be supplied with a new gown each morning. I hope you like today’s?”
    “It’s lovely. Does this mean I’m allowed to stay here all day?”
    “Of course, sister.”
    “And tomorrow?”
    “That depends. How many days into ovulation are you?”
    “This is day two.”
    “Then you may stay for five nights. Or you can leave and return, as you choose.”
    “Always mating with the same partner as before?”
    “Yes – you’ve been allocated that particular meet.”
    “Thank you, sister. One more question. How long is a man kept