Free The Clones of Mawcett by Thomas DePrima

light cough. Her presence was immediately acknowledged by the three Nordakian women, who stopped what they were doing and nervously jumped to their feet. Each placed her closed right hand against her chest and bowed her head. They appeared to be apprehensive over having been caught laughing about the clothes.
Jenetta walked to the women and said, smiling, “It's alright. I guess they do look pretty funny. That's why I keep them in the suitcases. People might not understand if they were to see them.”
“Only mine speak tiny Amer,” one of the handmaidens said. “Them no unnerstan her.”
Switching to Dakis, Jenetta said, “What I said was, it's okay to laugh at the clothes.”
The three women relaxed, smiled, and all started to talk effusively at once. Jenetta put up her hand to stop them. “Tell me your names first.”
“I'm Vronnesa,” said the one who spoke a bit of Amer, “and this is my younger sister Znanna, and that's my youngest sister Tkusa. We weren't laughing at your clothes, My Lady, only that the dressmaker sewed the arms together on one of the dresses. She must have had too much wine to drink at lunch that day.” The three handmaidens giggled again.
Jenetta smiled. “I think that it was done intentionally. The dresses were intended to restrict movement as much as possible.”
“Then the dressmaker must have been Nordakian,” Tkusa said grinning, and the other girls giggled. “But the clothes all look so new.”
“I've never worn them. I was enslaved by Raiders and they intended to make me a whore in one of their brothels. These were the type of clothes they intended me to wear there.”
Instead of the shocked expressions that Jenetta expected, the girls seemed to accept that as if they heard it every day.
“Where are all your gowns, My Lady? We looked to see if there was something appropriate for the palace, but these dresses were all that we could find.”
“I never wear gowns or dresses, only trousers. But I have a skirt that I can wear as part of my dress uniform.”
“We saw that in your closet, but you can't wear that on Nordakia,” Znanna said shaking her head. “It's much too short.”
“Too short? It extends to the center of my knees.”
“On Nordakia,” Vronnesa said, “your skirts and dresses may be no higher than the width of two fingers above the floor. Only women in the military are allowed to wear shorter skirts, and then only as part of their uniform.”
“Is that fashion, or law?” Jenetta asked curiously.
“It's written in the holy words of the Almuth.”
“So it's religious doctrine,” Jenetta said. “That makes it inviolable on Nordakia. I guess there's nothing of mine that's suitable then.”
“We brought several gowns with us, in case you didn't have something appropriate,” Vronnesa said. “We should be able to make something fit. At least until the palace dressmakers can prepare something for you. I'm glad that you're taller than we were led to believe. Men are so bad at judging sizes. But you'll be able to use your own underwear from the cases.” All three of the Nordakian women giggled.
“I can just use my regular issue military underwear.”
“You'd wear that, when you have such beautiful things hidden away in your suitcases? We can't let you do that, My Lady. Now just put yourself in our hands and we'll have you ready in no time.”
Three pairs of hands darted out and started removing Jenetta's clothes. Despite her mild protestations, they stripped her down to nothing in less than a minute. They must have noticed the large 'slave' imprint and serial number on her chest, but they totally ignored it. Jenetta wondered if they had seen such permanent imprints before, or simply believed that all Terran women were so marked if they didn't understand the meaning. She finally ceased resisting and allowed herself to be dressed in sexy underwear from one of the Raider suitcases.
Vronnesa opened one of the tall garment bags that they'd brought, and laid a lovely