The Future of Sex Page 3

  When her orgasm passed, the Rocker seemed to know. The protrusion retracted, splashing back into its surface like a drop into water. Her ass touched the spot it had come from, and the surface felt firm and cold.

  Chloe met Logan’s shocked eyes.

  “Now you can fuck me,” she said.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Logan had never seen anything like it.

  He’d read Shaw’s resume and her vitals, had frowned at the fact that some 20-year-old glass table girl thought she was qualified to land a top slot in one of O’s elite vacation spas. She hadn’t even been fucking for two years, and had the audacity to capitalize on the legacy agreement, riding on her mother’s shoulders?

  But in flagrant defiance of his misgivings, Miss Shaw had enchanted him immediately. He’d taken in her long, dark hair and medium-sized frame, her lean, flat stomach and beautiful breasts. She’d kept her appearance plain rather than diving into the over-the-top look embraced by so many new girls, and she’d hidden just enough of her smooth, tan body to leave Logan wanting.

  She was, apparently, all-natural. She looked it, too. Specifically, Chloe looked like girls he’d known as a teen. That was the thing about the world’s Chloes: every man had once known — and masturbated while thinking about — someone just like her.

  From that first moment Chloe had seemed to be reading his mind. She knew what he wanted before he could admit it, even to himself. She made his cock rise even as he tried to stay objective. She was demure in the throes of passion and strong when upright. It was as if she was too good for him, which made it so much hotter when she wanted him … needed him. He’d felt fortunate to give her an orgasm that had her screaming through the walls of the chamber. And right now, Logan wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anyone.

  But there was something else about Chloe Shaw, and that thing amazed Logan so much it was almost troubling. She’d never seen a Rocker. The devices were still in prototype. Only O’s top brass, and the eggheads who’d invented them, even knew the Rockers existed. Ever since the Six had tasked Logan and the other testers with choosing the company’s escorts, a Rocker had handled the testing. Even the best girls (those who were, in the end, accepted for spa jobs) laid on the things like furniture. A few pressed buttons, but if you weren’t positioned just right, an intelligent device like the Rocker wouldn’t respond.

  But Chloe had summoned the proboscis, used it properly, and done it as if she’d been using a Rocker for years. She’d known precisely where the external nano spray would be, and how to use both internals and externals to establish harmonics. And while she was coming, Chloe had known where to grip — as if fully aware that the Rocker would offer handholds, and apply pressure to the nerve clusters in her hands to heighten her release.

  Yes, Chloe Shaw was quite the interesting candidate. Twenty or not, inexperienced or not, Logan had craved her well beyond his requirement as a tester.

  After the proboscis retracted and Chloe lay spent on the Rocker, she looked up at Logan with her blue-green eyes in a way that suggested that now, after the preliminary play, she was willing to be helpless beneath him.

  And Logan, who liked a girl to push back, felt himself ready to take her.

  Her look was aroused and pleading. “Now you can fuck me,” she said.

  “You want me to fuck you.”

  Her eyes still on his: “I need you to fuck me.”

  Logan’s balls hugged up against him. His cock was a slab of stone, its tip dripping. He moved to unzip but she pushed his hand away and freed his shaft. Her hands were on it, stroking.

  “Put it in me,” she said.

  Chloe Shaw was all his. She was floppy and spent, looking down at him as he rubbed the tip of his dick against her. He swabbed a handful of juice and wiped it on his pant leg. Then he pushed his slacks the rest of the way down and straddled her naked body as she lay back on the Rocker.

  “How bad do you need it?”

  “Oh God, I need it,” she said.

  He slipped his tip in. She gasped.

  “Tell me you want it all.”

  “I want it all,” she whispered, her eyes never leaving his.

  Her chest heaved, perfect tits full with nipples erect.

  He slid his cock into her pussy, up to the hilt. She was unbelievably tight. He looked down at her face again, inhaling her. Then he looked down, watching himself glide in and out.

  It wasn’t about the mechanics. It was about the mind. That was what O understood, that no one else did. It didn’t matter how well you got fucked from the waist down, because ultimately parts were parts. The best stuff happened in the mind — in how you imagined what you were doing, and what it all meant.

  Chloe’s short-nailed fingers ran through his hair. Logan moaned as pressure swelled in his balls and her fingers caressed his scalp. But after a second, he realized she wasn’t just petting him. Chloe had found the Rocker’s sensors. She’d placed one near his temple, exactly where it was supposed to go.

  “What is this?” he asked, already knowing.

  The Rocker rolled and gyrated below them. Chloe was breathing heavily, her muscles clenching as he filled her. She reached for her own head and placed a sensor on herself.

  “I don’t know,” she said between thrusts.

  “What will it do to us?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She pushed one of the intuitive controls — biofeedback sensors that a casual user wouldn’t know were there. Immediately, Logan’s cock felt fuller and thicker. He needed to come as a biological necessity, but the orgasm wasn’t coming. It continued to build as the neural augmentation outputs did their job, stimulating his brain’s pleasure centers.

  Chloe’s sexy body and face writhed below him as her own outputs activated. She gasped, then reached around his body and pulled him close, mashing them together, grinding her hips against his, their congress wet, slipping and sliding as his cock plunged deep.

  “Oh God,” she moaned.

  Logan had never used the stimulators, though he knew what they were. No other applicant had ever used the Rocker as anything more than a piece of uncomfortable furniture. Now, as the small device lit his neurons end-to-end, hotwiring his brain like a 20th century car, the feeling was almost unbearable.

  Almost.

  It was like having an itch you couldn’t scratch … except Logan knew he could scratch it if he kept going, and that the resulting orgasm would nearly cripple him. In a good way.

  Chloe breathed more heavily, then came again with Logan’s cock inside her. She reached up, clawed his chest, wiggled and thrashed as the Rocker intuitively moved beneath her. Her juices covered his cock; her pussy gripped his shaft.

  It was too much. Her tight pussy milked him to orgasm and, with a bone-crushing heave, he came inside her, filling her so full that his seed spilled out and ran down the Rocker to puddle on the floor.

  Still Chloe came harder — again and again in one rolling climax.

  Logan continued to thrust, the sensor still feeding his brain. And then, impossibly, he came again, feeling his balls jitter as if in surprise, until they ran dry.

  When Logan pulled out, his cock felt heavy like a brick. What seemed like a gallon of semen rolled out of Chloe’s pussy in waves as she pulsed with aftershocks.

  A moment passed, then she looked up at him and asked, “What now?”

  “I’m not sure,” Logan said. “Nobody’s ever gotten this far.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  “She’s unpracticed.”

  “All instinct.”

  “But she knew how to use the Rocker. She intuited it.”

  “Someone leaked. It’s the only way.”

  “I’m telling you: She figured it. We should take a chance on her.”

  The other members of the Six looked to Alexa Mathis, waiting for her to weigh in. The paused holographic recording of the new girl’s session with the tester was projected above them.

  The room’s edges were lined with glass-fr
onted booths and naked people either screwing or masturbating inside them: six chambers for six members of the board, each cell curated by one member. The room was stuffed with sex inside and out, but the board members were dressed in expensive formal wear, assessing pornography like a spreadsheet.

  “Alexa?” said Benson Young.

  “I’m thinking.”

  Benson sat back. His wife Charisma did the same beside him. Two peas in a pod. The Youngs were in their fifties and looked it, having opted out of aesthetic enhancement because they said the human body was beautiful in all its shapes, ages, and sizes. Alexa, who liked Benson and Charisma, thought they were hypocrites. Of all the groundbreaking erotic cinema the Youngs had ever produced, not a single one of their female performers had ever been over thirty-five.

  But really, that wasn’t their fault. The couple might have been open-minded about beauty (and why not? If people were only beautiful at twenty-five then everyone was doomed), but their company’s customers were not. Some things in porn hadn’t changed since the dawn of cave drawings. In the end, people wanted to watch young, traditionally attractive people fuck, and Alexa of all people understood that the best businesses gave their customers exactly what they wanted most … even if those customers needed to be told what that was.

  Alexa didn’t need to watch it again. Nuances were unimportant; Chloe Shaw had read the Rocker’s operation and function as if it were an extension of her body. Few people knew the device existed, or that it employed highly advanced nanobot prototypes and shifting matrix materials. Its buttons weren’t labeled. Users had trouble with mastery after a week of lessons.

  And, based on Logan’s report, Chloe had mastered him, too.

  “Regardless of whether she’s right for what we’re seeking, she’s insanely intuitive,” Alexa said. “Logan was putty in her hands. She’d be valuable as a spa escort if she can do that with everyone.”

  “She got lucky,” Houston said.

  Charisma pointed at the holo. “Houston, that’s your most advanced toy. A Rocker. You know better than anyone that you can’t get lucky. Maybe when it’s unplugged from the network, a person could get the proboscis to extend and ride it by hitting buttons, but it was plugged in fine. You can see the response curve.”

  Charisma lifted a section of the conference table, which became a screen showing a graph and an unending log feed of nonsensical data. She rotated it toward Houston, her finger on the curve.

  “You care to tell me how this device, plugged into O’s proprietary connection to The Beam — this isn’t the Crossbrace connection, remember; this is the line Quark gave us to beta their new protocol — could possibly respond as it did if Chloe wasn’t somehow asking it to do so?”

  Houston grunted. Alexa watched him, unsure why he was being stodgy. Alexa herself was far from convinced Chloe was what they were looking for, but everyone in the room knew that electronics had been able to read intention to some degree since the turn of the millennium; that had been a staple of prosthetic limbs for decades.

  “So she knew it was an intuitive device,” said Olivia Gregory, the only member of the Six who had yet to weigh in. “Let’s not make that mean more than it actually does.”

  “Because it’s simple and straightforward to command an intuitive device using unknown technology and materials?” Benson said.

  “Not simple, but possible,” Olivia shot back. “There are other technologies she may have used—”

  “Where, Olivia?” Parker cut her off. “Chloe Shaw isn’t Beau Monde. She’s not even fucking Presque Beau. She’s lower-end Directorate, like her mother. She works the tables. She went to a physical school, for Christ’s sake. I’d say her socioeconomic standing places her damn near the line, well down in the lower 99 and away from anything remotely resembling intuitive technology. Xenia isn’t sending people like her prototypes of restricted tech any more than we are. She’s barely been active. Do you think she has a Smart Dildo? If she has a dildo at all, it’s probably one of Houston’s old rubber ones.”

  Houston tittered, finally cracking a smile. He was a large man made for his name, dressed like a southwesterner from the previous century — back when Mexico had been a different country, before the 2020’s spate of global calamity.

  Olivia crossed her arms, pouting. Before they’d formed O — back even before Alexa had used her influence to gather the Six — Olivia had run a chain of extremely profitable brothels catering to highest-end clients. That had been in the forties, while the fall’s aftershocks were still crippling even the North American Union. Olivia’s business had, at the time, been technically illegal. She’d been able to dodge most of the heat because domestic police were so occupied with security issues, but it had still required a fierce, almost savage individualism to stay afloat. More than Parker, Charisma and Benson, Houston, or even Alexa, Olivia had been an entrepreneur from the start — and, of the Six, she was the least comfortable making collective decisions.

  “We don’t have to hire her right now. Not even as a spa girl. But we should bring her back.” Parker looked around at the others. “You all saw the holo. Does anyone seriously object, based on that” — he pointed at the paused recording — “to giving Chloe Shaw a second interview?”

  Olivia and Houston raised their hands.

  “Seriously?” said Charisma.

  “You’re being belligerent,” said Parker. “Don’t do that. Asshole moves are for assholes. Alexa brought you into the Six because you’re forward thinkers. All of us are. We’ve disagreed on plenty, but we don’t back down because of fear, or make stupid decisions based on emotion.”

  “It’s not emotional,” said Houston.

  “You’re wrong, so you’re being defensive,” said Parker.

  “Except that I’m not wrong,” Houston countered.

  “You are wrong. You manufacture, but others have always designed. That’s how this partnership has always worked. So why are you trying so hard to be the brains on this — at a time when your imprecision could choke us?”

  “Are you saying I’m dumb, Parker?”

  “Of course not. I just don’t understand the harm in a second interview.”

  “She’s wrong for us, Parker,” Olivia said. “Stop focusing on the fucking Rocker. She doesn’t even have a year working the tables. Trusting our clients with her? Our very best clients? That’s stupid. So she did well with Logan. Well whoopity fuckin’ doo! Can you honestly guarantee she would never do something stupid that might damage our reputation? Just due to her youth and lack of experience? Don’t you remember why Alexa brought us together? Don’t you remember why we started this company?”

  Parker kept his face neutral, but he knew the reason, all right — and under the surface, it was deeper than what the other four knew. Alexa had always been searching; that was what had driven her. She’d searched throughout her time with Eros; she’d planned a global search with Anthony Ross before he’d bugged out and left them holding an empty bag with Turner’s old Syndicate. Even way back in Colorado in the twenty-teens, she and Parker had searched with the first version of Eros’s HALO algorithm, back when a young woman named Bridget Miller occupied the position it seemed Chloe Shaw might now be the heir of.

  So why wasn’t Alexa agreeing? After all these years, had she finally lost her will to search at the most inopportune of times?

  But Olivia, despite being one of Alexa’s oldest acquaintances, barely knew any of this. Alexa had thick armor, almost impossible to penetrate — by friends, or anyone else.

  Olivia continued.

  “O was formed because there was a vacuum the six of us could easily monopolize if we agreed to join hands. The sex industry had no dominant force. Golden fucking opportunity, right? Back before Renewal, before Clive Spooner’s moon base project when everyone got so damn excited. It wasn’t just attitudes toward global cooperation that changed when Clive built that base, you know. Attitudes about sex changed with them, with everything. And then in the downfall and reconst
ruction? It became even more important. Nobody had any pleasure; they were all terrified of gangs and looters and being drowned by the rising ocean. So here we are, after all that, and we could take over the goddamn world. And you want to jeopardize everything — our entire brand as an innovator, as a company that stays 10 steps ahead of everyone else, as a company that only accepts the best of the best, and delivers nothing less, 100 percent of the time — on some girl barely old enough to fuck?”

  Benson and Charisma both opened their mouths, but Alexa was nodding at Olivia.

  There was too much in the air. The conversation was no longer about Chloe. It was about the Six and their wheelbarrows of baggage.

  “She’s right,” Alexa said.

  Parker spun. “Bullshit!”

  “She’s right, Parker. We can’t risk our reputation on one girl who just happened to work a number on one of our testers and a toy. She should never have been sent in for testing.”

  “Goddammit, Alexa. You of all people should be on my side.”

  “Why me?”

  Parker eyed Alexa. The others had roundly mocked her beliefs and Alexa’s never-ending quest, but they didn’t know how deep her rabbit holes went. He’d have to raise the Chloe Shaw problem in private, away from ears that had every right to hear … but never had, and never truly would.

  “I sent her up because she was intriguing,” he said instead, choosing a shallower version of what he’d wanted to say. “Did you hear her answer for why she waited so long to lose her virginity? She was—”

  “Frigid?” Olivia interrupted. “Afraid? Repressed? Starry-eyed and romantic?”

  “Oh, fuck you Olivia. Don’t take your shitty childhood out on us.”

  “Don’t psychoanalyze me, Parker. Save that bullshit for your patients.” Olivia paused. “The ones you don’t brainwash.”