Passion Model

by Megan Hart

  Before the accident, I’d worked in one of the big plaza mansions that ringed the city. I was a personal hygiene coordinator for one of the residents, one of the wealthiest old men on the planet. I was entirely responsible for his daily body care, from running his bath at exactly the right temperature to choosing the flavor of toothpaste that would complement the day’s planned activities. Once I arrived at the job, I never had to leave the bathroom.

  I was good at what I did, and I was paid well. And more importantly, I enjoyed it. I liked Alfie Zoydman, my employer, and his fetish for fresh breath.

  I’d even, for a very short time, been married. Steve had never come to see me in the hospital. I’d received the notice from his lawyer during my recovery.

  Not a divorce notice. A dissolution notice, instead. He had every right, since I’d been declared legally dead, to dissolve our union. His claim that I was not the woman he’d married stood firm. I wasn’t. Several pounds of wire, batteries and artificial organs proved that. More than fifty percent of my body’s systems and/or parts had been replaced. I was mecho.

  Dissolution meant I wasn’t entitled to take with me anything we’d gained or created together during the marriage. That I might be left destitute obviously hadn’t bothered my former husband.

  I’d spoken to him only once since then. “I’m still the same person, Steve.”

  “No.” His voice sounded tinny through the speaker, and he refused to meet my eyes through the screen. “No, you’re not.”

  What Steve didn’t seem to realize, and his lawyer to care, was they hadn’t replaced all my organs. Some of them were still mine. Including my heart.

  Chapter Three

  I left the office still buzzing with tension. Stim-time hadn’t relaxed me enough. I needed a workout. I hopped a pedtread and mingled elbow to elbow with the crowd.

  There’s something so sensual about the crush of humanity. I don’t mean sexual, which is something else entirely. Sensual. The sounds, smells and sensations of a crowd of humans is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Before my accident and the resulting phobia of going off-planet, I’d been to a dozen different systems. I’d seen alien cultures where smelling someone is considered the highest of insults. Others where speaking directly to a stranger is forbidden. Another in which eye contact could earn you a stint in traveler’s prison.

  No matter what anybody else might say about our rudeness, our crassness, our incredibly lowbrow behavior, here on Earth, being around people is a cacophony of sensations. It’s why we’re the biggest tourist destination in three galaxies, even without the clean air, sandy beaches and resorts the other planets boast. Aliens come here to rub elbows, literally, with humans.

  Just like I was doing now. For a moment, the pedtread shuddered as somewhere along the line a crowd shifted. The vibration barely rocked any of us, just jiggled us enough so an arm nudged a back here, or a leg shifted against a thigh there. I heard a dozen different snippets of conversation all around me. Someone was wearing rose perfume.

  Roses. My fingers clutched convulsively on my bag, where I’d stashed the florb. Declan had sent me roses.

  “Excuse me.” I moved around the man standing next to me and jumped off the pedtread.

  In the second it took my feet to adjust to a nonmoving floor, I cursed under my breath. A couple passing me on the platform gave me an odd look, but I just flashed my tatbadge at them and they continued on without a backward glance. I’ve never really gotten used to how Ops are easily the most visible and overlooked people around.

  I’d disembarked a good four blocks from the spa. I looked back to the pedtread trundling past me, and its cargo of passengers, and decided I’d walk. The exercise would be good for me, and I wouldn’t risk any more unexpected thoughts of…him.

  I sidestepped the hovertaxi waiting at the curb and headed for the raised catwalk above the street. My boots clanged on the metal stairs as I climbed. The walk was only about four units above the street, but the extra height allowed a wafting breeze to hit my face as I walked.

  Below me, traffic puttered without cease and the murmur of voices from the pedtread ebbed and flowed as it moved closer or farther from my metal path. I was the only one up here. For one moment, I paused with my hands on the railing, my eyes closed, imagining the ocean.

  But only for a moment.

  When I finally reached the spa, my uniform already clung to my skin with sweat. Twenty years ago, when the city put up the anti-UV dome to keep out the cancer-causing solar rays, someone had screwed up in planning the ventilation system. Consequently, we live in a humid, sticky, artificial atmosphere. It beats waking up with melanoma, though.

  The retscan flashed in my eyes and the door opened for me. I entered another world. Air scented to smell like nothing but air greeted my nose. The temperature and humidity dropped. Only the hushed noise of slippered feet traversing the plush artigrass floor met my ears. This spa, The Mental Break, prided itself on offering its clientele something they lacked in the outside world. Peace. Serenity. A few minutes to unwind before they started punishing their bodies on the exercise machines or in the workout rooms.

  “Hello, Miss Gemma.” Jake, the door attendant, took my uniform as I slid out of it, then waited for my boots. “Nice to see you again.”

  Jake is an asex, having voluntarily undergone the operation after puberty’s hormones had settled down. It was a little unsettling to watch his eyes slide over me without his dick even twitching in response, but refreshing too. Sex is my business, even when it’s a pleasure. It’s nice to get a break from it sometimes.

  There were plenty of spas in Newcity, but I paid extra to belong to A Mental Break because of Jake, and because the spa allowed its members to compete physically instead of having only comgen programs. Today, I really needed to get some hand to hand. Work my body in a way that wasn’t sexual. Get my mind off Declan.

  “Hey, Gemma!” The petite brunette standing by one of the workout rooms waved.

  “Britney. Ready for me to kick your butt?”

  She laughed. “As if.”

  Britney is a rethead, completely into retro. Her era of choice is the 20s. Boy bands, patriotism, low-rise jeans, the works. She’d even changed her name in honor of the decade’s hottest pop princess.

  Once inside the room, she stopped laughing. Without even waiting for me to get settled, she launched herself at my back. I bent low, and she flipped over. She hit the padded floor with an “oof!”

  “Ouch.” I didn’t offer her a hand up. “That looks like it’s got to hurt.”

  “I’m just getting warmed up.” Britney leaped to her feet in a move that always astounded me, then faced off with her hands in a birdlike pose. “I’m going to get totally Neo on your ass.”

  “How many times have you seen that movie, anyway?” I matched her pose, one leg lifted, ready as if to fly.

  “Last count? Five hundred.”

  “Still go to the midnight showings?”

  She shook her head. “Nah. I ripped my Trinity vinyl pants. I’ll get a new pair Offworld next week.”

  “Don’t you ever stay home for more than two weeks at a time?”

  “Are you kidding?”

  She didn’t ask me to go with her, because Britney knew better. I gave her the move she loved to give me before she had the chance to, a little wiggle of the fingers the movie hero made before pounding its villain. “Bring it on, shorty!”

  Aided by the room’s lowgrav function, we met in the air like eagles. Her foot connected squarely with my midsection. Now it was my turn to hit the floor with a thud. Britney didn’t show mercy; she kneed me in the place my kidneys had been. Since they’d been replaced with flexible mesh filters, the blow didn’t hurt me as much as it might have someone without my enhancements.

  “Not fair!” She bounced a little on the padded floor. “You’re enhanced. How’m I supposed to beat that?”

  “You’re not.”

  We fought each other, hard, until the tim
er signaled our turn in the room had ended. The room smelled of clean, exhausted sweat. Britney had thoroughly kicked my butt. Already bruises purpled several spots on my body.

  “What’s with you today?” she asked as we headed for the spa’s after-workout bliss area. “I’ve never been able to beat you this bad. You were way distracted, dude.”

  “I’m not a dude, Britney.”

  “What-eveh.” She waved her hand. “Are you okay?”

  “I need a massage and a soak in the hot tub. Then I’ll be fine.” I hoped I was right. While I’d been able to forget about the florb and Declan while Britney and I had been sparring, now that my body was unoccupied my mind started to wander again.

  We picked tables side by side and punched in the keycodes for what we wanted. In seconds the massagebots whirred out of their slots in the floor and proceeded to pummel, knead and pound away our aches and pains. There was no way to mistake the sensation of wheels and rubber mallets for human fingers, and I breathed a silent sigh of relief. It wouldn’t remind me of…him.

  “Who is he?”

  Britney’s question startled me so suddenly I jerked on the table, and the bot let out a shrill warning beep.

  “Remain still, please.”

  Britney repeated the question.

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Shut up! You do too. I’ve never seen you act this way before, Gemma. It has to be a guy. It’s not Steve, is it? He hasn’t…?”

  “No.” I sighed. “Steve hasn’t done anything.”

  “Thank God-of-choice. I thought maybe he was coming after you for support again.”

  After my repairs had made me eligible to become an Op, Steve had believed he was entitled a share of my earnings. He’d lost the case. That the man I’d loved and agreed to spend my life with had reduced that love to a credit amount still burned, but not like it used to. Time heals all wounds, I guess.

  “No.”

  “So, spill it!” Britney wiggled on the table while the bot worked on her back. “You’re dating again!”

  “Not exactly.”

  I heard the frown in her voice. “What does that mean?”

  “I pulled in a PSSN-M for a routine check. Took him back to the inspection station, put him through his paces…”

  “And?”

  “And he made me come.”

  She paused before answering. For a long moment all I heard was the thumping of rubber wheels against flesh. “Good for you!”

  “He wasn’t a bot, Britney. I made a mistake.”

  “Damn, girl!”

  I let the massagebot roll me over to work on my front. “I’ve never done that before. Misidentified.”

  “Why did he do it?” Britney sounded as mystified as I felt. “Doesn’t he know that’s illegal? I mean, asking you out is one thing, but fucking you in an inspection station!”

  “He said he had a thing for the women in charge.”

  “Well, who could blame him?” Britney’s massagebot barked out a metal-toned “thank-you,” and slid back into its slot. Mine did the same a moment later.

  “Don’t be so hard on yourself. It does happen, doesn’t it?” Britney hopped off the table and waited while I did the same.

  I sat up on the table, my skin still sheened with oil. “Not to me.”

  She gave me a thoughtful look as we headed for the hot tub. I punched the refill button that spurted steaming water into the two-person sized unit. I didn’t ask her what she was thinking. I knew Britney well enough to guess.

  “Are you going to see him again?”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  We settled into the water with mutual sighs and let the jets pound against us.

  “Why not? He made you come!” Britney leaned forward, getting in my face. “When’s the last time that happened with a real person, not some holo program?”

  I shook my head. “That doesn’t matter, Britney.”

  “How long?”

  “Since Eddie.” I sighed and let myself float, eyes closed. “A long time ago.”

  I felt her hand on my arm. “You should see him again. Off-duty.”

  “He thinks I’m a metalgirl.” I thought of the way his eyes had burned into mine just before he left. “He’s not into mecho.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  I opened my eyes and spoke harshly enough to make her flinch. “Most people aren’t into mecho.”

  She put her hand on my shoulder. “Don’t let what Steve did to you turn you off forever, Gemma.”

  Then she left me alone in the steaming water.

  See him again. How could I do that? We’d committed a crime together, however unintentionally. I’d exacerbated the situation by not reporting it. My reason for dishonesty still bothered me. I hadn’t wanted him to get into trouble.

  I wasn’t so afraid of reconditioning. It meant a training period, a loss of some privileges, perhaps some pay docking. But I wouldn’t serve time. As Britney had said, it happens.

  Declan, on the other hand, would face more serious charges. I’d told him they were harder on civilians because Ops are supposed to know better, but the fact is, any man or woman approached as a Pleasurebot by an Op is supposed to reveal their humanity. Instantly. No clever banter, no sidestepping the facts. Since it was easy enough to prove, they had no excuse for not doing it.

  Unless, like Declan, they enjoyed walking the dangerous line. Anger suddenly rushed through my veins. Who the hell did he think he was? Because he got his rocks off fucking metalgirls, he’d jeopardized my job?

  I must’ve made some angry noise, because the man standing next to me on the pedtread gave me a glance and moved away. By the time I got back to my apartment, I’d worked myself into a near rage. I walked so fast up to the door the retscan almost didn’t have time to register me. I kicked the bottom of the door before it had a chance to open, and let out a string of curses.

  “Is something wrong with my Gemma?” My fairy, Kaelyn, fluttered her wings and clasped her hands together. “Can Kaelyn do anything for her Gemma?”

  As it usually did, the sight of the pretty creature calmed me. I stroked a length of her long, pale hair. “No, Kaelyn.”

  “Food for my Gemma? Drink?” She turned toward the kitchen, and her light gown seemed to float. “I’ve prepared dinner for my Gemma.”

  My desire to rage at the world for Declan’s stupidity slowly drained away. Kaelyn smiled and went to the hook where she kept my robe. Without asking, she held it up for me.

  “Thank you, Kaelyn.”

  The smooth material felt heavenly against my skin. Kaelyn took my crumpled and stained uniform and disappeared with it into the bedroom. Before I had time to make it to the kitchen, she was back.

  “Sit,” she cooed in her musical voice. It reminded me of wind chimes. “I will bring my Gemma something to drink.”

  I hadn’t bought her to be my slave, but that was the role Kaelyn had put herself in. I accepted it because to protest meant she’d dissolve into agonized tears. I couldn’t handle the guilt.

  She wasn’t a real fairy, of course. Kaelyn was Elovenian. I’d picked her up at an auction in District 23, one of the seedier parts of the city. She was half dead, bedraggled, nursing a broken wing. I’d paid way too much for her then, but every cent had proven worth it.

  “Does my Gemma wish her feet rubbed?” Without waiting for an answer, Kaelyn handed me a glass of something hot and knelt at my feet. Her nimble fingers worked the tension in my toes and arches the bots at A Mental Break had missed.

  I sipped the beverage experimentally. Kaelyn tried hard, but she was still little more than a child. This, however, was delicious. Minty and aromatic, with a hint of some foreign spice. I sipped again and relaxed for the first time all day.

  Elovenians are humanoid, though half human size. Their wings have no feathers, but instead are a complicated organ of bone, sinew and gauzy flesh. Something like a bat’s wing, but prettier. Everything about them is fresh and pink and pr
etty, which is why the settlers who first colonized Eloven called them fairies. They can’t fly in Earth’s denser gravity, though their graceful ways sometimes make them seem like they’re floating. Even inside the anti-UV dome, which granted us .0001 percent lesser gravity, they can do little more than flutter their wings rapidly.

  “My Gemma needs to sleep.” Kaelyn finished rubbing my feet. “My Gemma did not sleep last night.”

  “No, I didn’t.” I chuckled at her reproachful glare. “I’ll go to bed right after I eat.”

  The frown turned to a smile of such blazing beauty it vibrated in my heart. Elovenians give off nothing but love, all the time. Treat them with respect and they will shower you with affection in return. That was the reason I bought her. To love me when Steve no longer would.

  “Kaelyn will bring the dinner, my Gemma.”

  She fluttered off to the kitchen and brought back a tray. The smells wafting from it were not as nice as the drink she’d given me. I poked at the plate with my spork. The gelatinous ruby red mass jiggled, then disintegrated.

  “What is this?”

  Kaelyn beamed at me proudly. “Blood pudding.”

  It couldn’t be. Consumption of animal products hadn’t been possible for at least one hundred years. Not for anyone but the disgustingly wealthy, anyway. “What’s it made from?”

  “I had to make some substitutions, my Gemma.”

  I sighed, then tasted it. “Artiberry jelly?”

  “My Gemma doesn’t like it?”

  My stomach rumbled. “I’m sure it will be delicious with some bread and artipeanut butter.”

  I ate the sandwich in the tiny kitchen while Kaelyn fluttered about me and chattered about her day. As I finished the last bite, Kaelyn spun around so fast her wings became a blur.