If you like sweet drinks, the Washhouse in Manchester, England is the place for you. It looks like a tiny laundromat.
Only 3 washers. The big one is the door.
You’ve got to call to make a reservation or you won’t get in. Tell them you want to book a washing machine, and when you get there, use the phone to call and tell them you’re there to do a load.
The bar is nice, but the fancy drinks are the attractions.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapter 2 (AO3 Link)
You had been assigned and trained your entire life for the moment you were bought, for the ceremony, the Tryst. Expert on sex, love, scents, food, drink, companionship...you never imagined in your wildest dreams you'd be escorted away from all you knew by two gruff Storm Troopers. Maybe there was hope, maybe it had all been for nothing. All you knew is that you needed gin, and you needed it right now.
You read the card again, betrayed by your emotions. It was heartfelt and also robotic. And...kitten? You didn't know why gravity left your belly about this man you’d never seen nor met before, but you welcomed the feeling. Eyeing the gift as if it were a trap, you went for it. Unwrapping gifts was not foreign to you as suitors came by in masses, gifts in tow, praying they could buy the loyalty of a courtesan. You enjoyed the game, it was a little sad that you belonged to someone you didn’t get to play with.
The paper bound to the gift box ripped easily, the sound of it tearing into the eerie silence of space. You lifted the lid of the box to reveal more gift wrap. As soon as you peeled it away, you were graced with the sight of ivory lace, straps, fabric. You lifted the piece from the box and held it up in front of you. It felt luxurious and smelled of black currant and vanilla. Lingerie was your forte, and you relished in each and every fiber of this new prize. You smiled to yourself, this Armitage fellow was certainly a gentleman, and wealthy at that. You bit your lip and walked around the bed, laying the garment gently against the comforter.
Just as you had hoped to lie down and sort through your thoughts, the doors whirred open and a woman in all white appeared at the door of the room. Her steps were light and nonthreatening, but she was quick.
“Inoculations, madame,” she squeaked, “it’s required.”
Your feet carried you towards the woman, glad there were no steely cold hands gripping your arms and guiding you through the ship. You exited the room, walking down familiar bland hallways until you reached the medbay.
“Sit please, I will begin at once. You require a chip, which arm do you prefer?” She snapped on gloves.
“Uhh...a..chip? I’m not su-”
“It is required, of all of us. People complain less when it is the left arm.” She grabbed your wrist as another worker in the medbay approached with an medical device in his gloved hand. She swiftly retrieved the device placing it against your forearm. There was a small hum in the machine when you quickly felt a searing pain. You squirmed to get away, hissing through your teeth when the gentleman who gave her the device placed his hands on your shoulders, steadying you. You looked to anyone, eyes wild like an animal who had just been led into a trap. As soon as the pain came, it was gone.
When the woman removed the device, you held your forearm up to examine it. There was a blinking light beneath your skin, turning all the colors of the rainbow in tune with your heartbeat which had certainly quickened with the anxiety of your situation. You felt a tear escape your right eye, quickly wiping it away and returning to your normal composure.
Everything had happened so quickly. You were starting to truly feel less than the specimen you were only hours ago in the warmth of your flat. The confusion you felt about your treatment sent a small ache to your head, or maybe that was the foreign device you’d just been assaulted with.
“Is that all, miss?” you breathed.
“Afraid not; however, my job is done here. They are waiting for you in gynecology.”
You felt sick. You absolutely abhorred the gynecologist. Throughout your training, you had been examined once every 3 months; wrung through each and every medical procedure you could think of. Your womb ached at the remembrance of your intrauterine device placement, the barbarity of the whole procedure ringing through your nerves. You let out a shaky breath as another woman in all white appeared around the corner, beckoning you toward her. You stood and followed, preparing for the worst.
When you rounded the corner, the woman was waiting outside a room with her arm outstretched towards the private room. You squirmed a bit, you were quite laced up to be in this position, garter belt strapped to your waist like a weapon. You were instructed to remove everything below the waist, given a few moments alone. You sat on the cold medical bed going over all the questions you were going to be asked in your head, relishing the last few moments alone. When the woman entered, she shut the door without saying a word and washed her hands.
“Don’t be afraid,” she said sweetly, “I promise this is just a standard checkup.”
When she turned around, she was smiling at you in the way someone does when they feel helpless pity. You smiled back, relaxing a bit.
She ran through some questions, examined your heart and lungs, checked your reflexes. You discussed birth control and any previous conditions. Once she performed the pelvic exam to verify your birth control, she sat back and looked to you as you situated yourself once more.
“He’s not a bad guy, you know. He’s got a temper, a bit peaky at times...but he’s actually quite nice to us here. I’m confident you will be fine while he’s away, just keep away from the command center…”she confided.
“Thank you...what’s wrong with the command center?” you asked.
“Well, there are some officers there who could...well, i shouldn’t say too much but….just don’t wander anywhere near there. My name is Evylyn. If you should ever need anything, just ask for me. Oh! I almost forgot, General Hux would like me to give this to you, in case you can’t find anyone to show you around.” She handed you a sort of metal block, the weight of it pulling your aching forearm downwards. She pressed a small button on the top. It lit in a blue hologram of the ship with an option for directions as well as all the ships spaces and amenities. Your eyes lit up as you twirled the hologram, a rainbow dot flashing in the medbay portion.
“That’s you,” she pointed at the blinking dot. “General Hux has given you access to many amenities not available to faculty or other officers on this ship, including more private dining and drinking areas. Your chip will allow you entry into these spaces, including your private quarters. He hasn’t given me a time when he will be back, but I am certain he will contact you with this device whenever he is available to do so.” She smiled at you once more, “is there anything i can help you with before I release you?”
You huffed, “I could sure use a drink, Evylyn.”
“Ah, I imagine it would be as easy as asking the map,” she winked. She stood, placing your report next to a computer. “You’re all set, don’t hesitate to call on me if need be.” She smiled one last time, and exited the room.
You sighed, pressing the small button on the metal box. The room was cast in blue as you tried to find a directory to anywhere you could get a drink. The layout of the dining quarters didn’t support a bar, and neither did the galley. You whispered, “where the fuck can I get a drink?” The hologram zipped through its own directory, searching the map room by room when it landed on a space with winding stairs. It blinked as if to answer your question. You smiled, feeling hopeful that this may not be the worst place to be.
You quickly dressed back into your lingerie, strapping everything together as perfectly as you had before you left your planet. After fixing your hair in a small mirror, you exited the room and the med bay entirely. You entered the passageways, feeling a slight draft tickle your calves. The click of your heels muffled by the sound of marching in the near distance. The marching was closer as you tried to head back to where your room was, a bit anxious you might encounter more storm troopers. And you did.
As you rounded a corner, there was an entire detail of troopers with blasters marching behind a masked officer; a tall, broad man whose mask contained illuminated cracks which were stark against his all black uniform. Your eyes widened and you turned to pursue a different route, hoping to avoid running into them. You kept walking calmly, turning back to catch a glimpse of them once more. As they rounded the corner in the opposite direction, the man in all black had his sights on you. He kept his gaze on you until he had completely turned the other direction, never breaking composure or step. You turned your head forward once more, furrowing your brows. Maybe this is the type of person Evylyn wanted you to avoid. You shook the thought and continued forward, hoping to find a way to get back to your room.
Deep Ellum về đêm đẹp và buồn, giống như việc bạn rảo bước trên những con đường Paris một mình vậy, lúc nào cũng có những lối rẽ dẫn ra những con đường nên thơ và ngập tràn cảm xúc. Bạn vui vì có quá nhiều sự lựa chọn nhưng cũng đồng thời thầm thương cho cái quyết định của chính mình. Bạn có thể chọn những con hẻm tràn ngập ánh điện, những dòng người xa lạ cười nói xung quanh hay chỉ đơn giản là những hình vẽ graffiti đầy trên tường.
Những quán bar ẩn nấp đằng sau tấm bình phong, những âm thanh náo nhiệt của cuộc sống sau nửa đêm. Trên con đường Elm huyền thoại, bạn có tất cả. Nhưng bạn không bao giờ lường trước được rằng cũng chính trong giây phút đó bạn thật sự cô đơn và nó chỉ đơn giản bắt nguồn từ quyết định của bạn.
Bước vào tiệm cắt tóc High & Tight, tiếng nhạc sập xình đằng sau bức tường mẻ lỗ chỗ đã báo hiệu cho tôi biết là đây không phải chỉ là một tiệm cắt tóc thông thường, đây là quán bar về đêm cho những hipster thích hoài cổ. Vừa thấy tôi từ ngoài cửa, anh chàng đang cắt cho một vị khách duy nhất trong đêm hướng mắt về phía tôi:
“Hey, Chào cậu. Cậu khoẻ không?”
_Các anh vẫn mở cửa giờ này à?. Hy vọng là tôi tới đúng chỗ- Tôi giả bộ ngạc nhiên và trêu đùa anh chàng.
“Haha, thế cậu muốn cắt tóc hay ..?
_ Một ly thì thế nào?
Anh bạn ra hiệu cho tôi đi thẳng ra phía sau, đẩy bức tường vào lối đi bí mật giống trong những bộ phim thám hiểm mà tôi từng xem. Mọi người đã ở đấy rất đông rồi, tiếng nhạc khá lớn. Tôi bắt đầu thấy lựa chọn của mình có vẻ sai vì tôi không đến đây để nghe những tiếng nhạc sập xình, tôi chưa bao giờ thích thể loại như thế. Nhưng biết làm sao được, Hight & Tight là điểm đến đầu tiên trong cái series về việc khám phá tất cả những quán bar bí mật ở Dallas này mà.
Tôi gặp một gã bartender khó chịu, và hắn thì muốn làm tôi bẽ mặt với cô gái đang đứng cạnh ở quầy bằng việc vòng vo với tôi về sự khác biệt giữa scotch, Irish whisky, và vân vân và vân vân.
Tôi nhập vai cũng khá tốt, giả vờ ngu ngơ và bập bẹ vài câu anh ngữ, mắt tôi mở to như nuốt trọn những gì gã nói. Cho tới khi hả hê vì đã "giáo huấn” tôi về lớp vỡ lòng Whisky, hắn mới bắt đầu tươi cười và quay sang những người khác. Cô gái đứng bên cạnh ở quầy đã chứng kiến toàn bộ, cười ẩn ý
“Cậu dưới tuổi phải không?”
_Biết đâu đêm nay có thể là đêm may mắn của cô thì sao- Tôi trả lời, mắt vẫn đang dõi theo gã pha chế rượu với bộ ria mép gợi đòn và cái mũ lưỡi trai in hình lá cờ bang Texas.
“Emily. Cậu uống gì vậy? ” - Cô ta giới thiệu bản thân và chủ động bắt đầu câu chuyện.
_Tôi cũng chẳng biết, vì trong này ồn quá.
Tôi ranh mãnh nhìn lướt cô gái khi bước khỏi quầy, tiến tới cái bàn ngay gần cửa ra vào. Một mình và nhâm nhi ly Scotch, trong tiếng nhạc lớn và tiếng cười nói của những con người đang giao du xã hội kia. Những con cáo đi săn về đêm. Tôi biết bản thân mình không hề thuộc về nơi này, vậy mà ngay giây phút này, tôi đang ngồi và thưởng thức đồ uống của mình xung quanh những con người hướng ngoại kia. Như một chú cừu đang nhâm nhi nhụm cỏ giữa một bầy sói hoang vậy, lúc nào cũng sẵn sàng chực chờ để có thể vồ lấy và giết chết cái tôi của chú cừu ấy… Ngồi thêm một chút, chán và tôi bỏ ra ngoài. Dạo bước trong thành phố quả thật dễ chịu hơn nhiều, ánh đèn lấp lánh, tiệm sách truyện tranh, những quán ăn tấp nập người ra vào. Tôi cô đơn giữa dòng người tôi gặp trên đường, nhưng phần nào đó là sự cô đơn dễ chịu. Tôi tự khuây khoả bản thân mình bằng suy nghĩ đó, so với việc cô đơn trong những âm thanh ồn ào, những quầy bar và giữa những con người đang hú hét, cười nói trong điệu nhạc.
Trên đường về, tôi đi cùng chuyến xe điện với một đám thanh thiếu niên, nửa đêm và trên toa tàu đặc mùi cần sa, những bộ short, những đôi sneaker, những chiếc mũ bóng chày…
Tôi thấy tiếc cho thế hệ sau này, thế hệ coi Kayne West là hình mẫu của lối sống, những thể loại phong trào mà truyền thông đang ngày càng cổ suý.
Tôi ước phải chi chuyến tàu điện này sẽ đưa tôi trở về quá khứ, chỉ một đêm thôi. Như Gil trong Midnight in Paris. Biết đâu đấy?
The Bourbon and Branch
Disguised doors leading to hidden rooms, a trapdoor to the basement, a detective agency with a mystery, and a secret password that you’ll need in order to get in, it’s no wonder this upscale bar was once a genuine prohibition era speakeasy.
