by Megan Hart
“You’re kidding me.”
“Do I look like I’m kidding?”
He took the opportunity to let his gaze move completely along my body, paying special attention to my nipples, which pushed at the navy blue artisilk of my uniform. And then, damn him, when he looked at the junction of my legs, he licked his lips.
“No, officer. You don’t.”
“You know the laws, buddy. All bots have to be registered and licensed…and inspected.” This close, he smelled unbelievable. Something expensive, custom-blended. I could smell him even above the tang of deathsticks and hallucinabars. This Passion Model was high class.
He nodded then, but his dark eyes narrowed. “You think I’m—”
I put my hand on my stunner far less than casually. “Are you going to give me a hard time?”
At my unintentional pun, he flashed me that grin again. “I guess I am. If you insist.”
I made a show of shaking my head and rolling my eyes, but since it appeared he was going to come with me quietly, I just waved him toward the door. God-of-choice, the view from behind was just as sweet. I’ve always had a soft spot in my heart for the PSSN-M. They were built with a quality that seems to have gone by the wayside. Sure, the newer Pleasurebots have been improved. They make the PSSY models with an intelligence to rival any sixth grader, and the CUM 180s can even add and subtract. But when it comes right down to their real function, sex, the first PSSNs have a wonderful quality all their own, lost in the later upgrades. A sense of humor. I guess most people don’t like to laugh while they’re naked.
He tossed a glance over his shoulder as we pushed through the doors to the parking lot. “You sure you want to do this?”
“It’s my job, metalboy. Keep it moving.”
And did he ever. I hadn’t seen an ass move like that since R.I. Op training, when we were forced to undergo hours of simulated stimulation—and even most of the simstim hadn’t looked that good.
“Someone put a lot of money into you,” I told him.
He paused at the edge of the moving tread sidewalk and gave me another of his cocky grins. “Which way do you want me?”
He was asking me which direction I wanted him to take the pedtread, but his sexy double entendre served its purpose. I felt the flush rise along my cheeks. I was going to enjoy this inspection, faulty ignition or no.
“Follow me.”
Using the pedtread, we reached the nearest inspection station only a minute away. Its red neon sign blinked a beacon for us as we stepped off the pedtread and onto the sidewalk. He looked up at the sign, one of the more graphic ones. This one showed a gigantic erect phallus penetrating a pulsating pussy. The neon was old and flickering, giving the simulated copulation a frenzied look.
He nodded toward it. “In there?”
His pretense at innocence was beginning to annoy me. “You have another place in mind?”
He let that liquid chocolate gaze slide down over my breasts and center between my thighs again before he replied. “My apartment, maybe.”
“You know that’s illegal. Get inside.”
He hesitated again, one foot on the doorstep. “I’ve never been inside one of these places.”
For an instant, just a moment, I felt sorry for him. It’s not a Passion Model’s fault if he or she malfunctions. Still, the laws had been passed and I was just doing my job. Better for me to risk a bot going into overdrive than an untrained civilian. I could handle it. Most people couldn’t.
“Inside.”
buy now! Passion Model
Anything You Want
a NewCity story
EXCERPT
* * *
It was the biggest cock Milla Sulay had ever seen. A full ten inches long, three inches wide and made of clear, bendable plaz-foam, it hung next to a neighbor of similar width and girth. That one had an attached, realistically detailed scrotum designed to hold the battery powered motor that provided the unit’s patented thrust-n-grind motion.
“Take them away,” she said to the SRV-S 327 that had shown her to the stateroom. Milla tried to sound bored instead of appalled—or worse, intimidated—by the immense “amenities.”
The servbot couldn’t have cared less. Programmed to obey simple commands to the letter and with an extremely limited intuitive function, the SRV-S 327 would turn down her bed, hang up her clothes or draw her a bath, but it would perform all of those functions because that was its purpose, and not from desire. It certainly wouldn’t make judgments about her bedroom habits, no matter what they were. Or weren’t.
“As you please, miss,” said the servbot in an accent straight out of Olden England. It bobbed its squat metallic body in a parody of a curtsey. “Will there be anything else, miss? Warm bath? Vibro-masturbatory massage? Shall I ring for a Pleasurebot to service you?”
The warm bath sounded good, but Milla wasn’t interested in being vibrated to orgasm by a faceless, rolling torso made of metal and plaz-glass. The Pleasurebot, on the other hand, was a possibility. “Nothing right now. Thank you.”
The servbot didn’t require thanks any more than it had required an explanation. Its internal circuits whirred faintly and it bobbed again on hidden springs, then turned on the gear wheel it had in place of feet and left the room. Milla closed the door and leaned against it with a sigh before looking around the cabin with a grin so wide it tickled her earlobes.
Her first night in her very own cabin, with an entire week ahead of her. A full seven Old Earth-measured days to do whatever she wanted. Milla caught sight of the empty hooks where the gigantic phalluses had hung. Nothing she had planned included self-pleasure. She’d have time enough for that when she got to Selkca and her homesteader’s plot. Years of time, in fact, to make herself come. It would probably be her only choice.
This week, Milla was going to spend every minute she wasn’t eating expensive pastries being seduced, caressed and aroused as often as possible. She intended to make enough memories to last her for the rest of her long, possibly lonely life.
* * *
Also by Megan Hart
All Fall Down
All the Lies We Tell
All the Secrets We Keep
A Heart Full of Stars
Always You
Broken
Beg For It
By the Sea of Sand
Castle in the Sand
Clearwater
Dirty
Hold Me Close
Hurt the One You Love
Naked
Passion Model
Precious and Fragile Things
Ride with the Devil
Stumble into Love
The Favor
The Resurrected One: First Come the Storms
Womb
Unforgivable
Pleasure and Purpose
No Greater Pleasure
Selfish Is the Heart
Virtue and Vice
About the Author
photo credit: Whitney Hart Photography
I was born and then I lived a while. Then I did some stuff and other things. Now, I mostly write books. Some of them use a lot of bad words, but most of the other words are okay.
If you liked this book, please tell everyone you love to buy it. If you hated it, please tell everyone you hate to buy it.
Find me here!
www.meganhart.com
[email protected]
