My Virtual Lover

by Madelaine Grant

  “Isn’t that considerate of you?”

  “Don’t be sarcastic. You know I’d have been there if I possibly could. I should be wrapping things up here in a few weeks. Then we’ll take off for a long weekend someplace.”

  He sounded so sure of me—I wanted to bust his bubble. “If I’m available,” I said loftily.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” he demanded.

  No point in having a long distance argument. “Why don’t we talk about it when you return?”

  “Fine. I’m looking forward to it. By the way, I purchased a few pieces of aboriginal artwork. Thought you’d enjoy adding them to your collection.”

  Very considerate. “Thanks, Tony. Can’t wait to see them.”

  And the conversation ended pleasantly enough. Late in the afternoon Peter called.

  “Val, hope I’m not disturbing you.”

  “Of course not, Peter. What’s up?” I was talking to a robot—I needed to remind myself of that fact.

  There was a moment’s hesitation. “Has Trish spoken to you about me?”

  “You mean about your, uh, robotic status? Yes.”

  “Val, I’d like to talk to you. How about dinner tonight? I’m sure you have lots of questions about me. I’d like the chance to answer them.”

  You’re darn right. “Okay.”

  Later that evening Peter arrived at my place. This time he’d brought a long-stemmed white rose. “For peace,” he said, handing it to me. “Are you very angry with me?”

  He looked so contrite; my heart went out to him. “I’m not angry—just confused, I guess. I mean, I never had any dealings with a robot before.” I never made love to a robot, either.

  “We’ll talk over dinner. I’ll try to answer any concerns you may have.”

  We drove to a small seafood restaurant overlooking the river. “I’ve heard their fish chowder is the best,” he said, taking my hand as we headed for the entrance.

  I gave him a quick, sidewise glance. Could Peter really be a robot—albeit an advanced one? He seemed so human … and so damn attractive. I could feel the warmth from his hand traveling to every part of my body.

  “We’ll order first and then talk,” he said. “Shall we start with some steamers?”

  I love steamers. Now how did he know that fact? He was a puzzle. “Great.”

  Peter ordered a bottle of white wine, also one of my preferred vintages. “Now what exactly did Trish tell you?” he asked, settling back.

  I recounted most of our conversation, leaving out my surprised response.

  “Don’t tell me you weren’t shocked.” He gave me an intent look.

  I couldn’t lie to him—even though he was a robot. “You’re right,” I admitted. “At first I didn’t believe her. I thought it was some kind of a joke.”

  He regarded me soberly. “It’s not a joke, Val. I’m the closest thing to a human ever created, but I’m not a human. Before we proceed in our relationship, I didn’t want you to be under any illusions.”

  The waiter arrived and poured some wine for us. I took a long sip before answering. “I don’t know what to say, Peter. I’ve never been in this position before—this is all new territory.”

  “In some ways, it’s new for me, too. I’ve never dated or made love to a woman before.”

  “You mean I’m the first one?” I could hardly believe what I was hearing. He was such an expert lover.

  He nodded, and gave me a tender smile. “The very first.”

  It took a few moments for me to digest this information. “How did you learn to be so good in bed?”

  He chuckled. “With you everything comes so naturally. I seem to know instinctively what pleases you. Perhaps we were made for each other.”

  A trite phrase, but coming from his lips it sounded so right. This whole scene was bizarre. Here I was having dinner with a robot and he seemed more real to me than almost anyone I’d ever met.

  The steamers were served and we halted our conversation to sample those tasty morsels. While munching away, I couldn’t help wondering about a few basic facts.

  “Peter, do you have the same digestive functions as humans? I mean, do you …” I hesitated, wondering if my question was too personal.

  “Yes. In most ways I am identical to a human. There are a few differences, though.” He paused, a serious expression spread over his face. “You have a perfect right to know about those differences.”

  I sensed this was a difficult issue for him. “Look, Peter, if you’d rather not talk about it, it’s okay.”

  He downed some wine and twirled the stem with his long fingers. “It’s not easy to talk about, Val, but I want you to know me—no secrets between us.” He paused and fixed me with those deep green eyes. “I’m not able to reproduce, meaning I can’t have children. That’s one dissimilar feature.”

  An element of sadness tinged his voice. I reached out to touch his hand. “Oh, Peter … that’s not very important. You have so many other things going for you.” And I meant it.

  “Thanks, Val.” He caressed my hand. “I also have no past … no roots, as you call it.”

  I pondered his statement. “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “Well, most people know their parents and other kin. I have no family.”

  The enormity of his words almost bowled me over. No family … no parents. Even though my folks lived thousands of miles away, I knew who they were. I knew where I’d come from. How would it feel to have no past? I could hardly imagine it. Tears came to my eyes.

  “What can I say?” I whispered, squeezing his hand. “I never thought about that aspect of being a robot.”

  “Most people don’t, especially our creators.”

  Was there a bitter note in his tone? It’s hard to say. He seemed resigned to his fate and accepting of its limitations.

  “Are there pluses in being an advanced robot?” I asked, hoping there were.

  He brightened immediately. “Oh, yes, many pluses. I have supersensitive abilities such as an extraordinary memory bank. I’ve been programmed to speak six languages fluently and am able to travel around the world with perfect ease. I know the geography and history of our planet from earliest times to the present. I have more physical strength and stamina than the average male—I can run faster, play harder and maneuver my way around many obstacles, both physical and mental. And that’s only the beginning.” He sat back with a pleased expression.

  “Wow. What an impressive list of powers.”

  “On the whole, I come up ahead,” he said. “My abilities make up for my lacks.”

  He was so right. “I’d say so—and I’m really looking forward to our weekend together.”

  “So am I, Val.” He leaned over and touched my cheek lightly with his finger.

  A shiver of anticipation went through me. “I’m even splurging on a new bikini.”

  “Great. Something in peach or pink.” He eyed me closely for a moment. “With your chestnut hair and amber eyes, those colors would suit you best.”

  I did look good in those hues. “You’re so observant, Peter. I should take you shopping with me.”

  “Not a problem. I’d love it.”

  The image of Peter accompanying me on my shopping spree to pick up a bathing suit and some new lingerie caused me to giggle.

  “What’s so funny?” he demanded, grinning along with me.

  “Everything,” I said. “This whole situation. But I’m beginning to relax and enjoy it.”

  “That’s what I’ve been waiting to hear.” With those words, he leaned over and kissed me. “We’re going to have some great adventures together. Now that this robot stuff is behind us, the rest is gravy.”

  “You’re so right, Peter.”

  CHAPTER 11

  The silver plane winged its way across the continental United States and over the Pacific. All I could see for miles was the intense blue of the sea.

  I sat next to Peter in the cockpit marveling at his ease in handling the sle
ek jet.

  “Peter, you haven’t told me anything about our destination — only that it’s one of the Hawaiian Islands. Where exactly are we headed?”

  He laughed. “Don’t ask so many questions. I want to surprise you.”

  “There’s very little that hasn’t surprised me in the last few weeks,” I reminded him somewhat tartly.

  “I know, I know.” He grinned at me, those wicked green eyes flashing desire and a certain deviltry. That’s the only way I can describe his look.

  “You’re a rogue, you know that?” I retorted. “Practically kidnapping me with hardly any clothes.”

  “Now, Val, I did allow you one bag. As you can see, this small jet has little storage space.”

  Which was true. Our two bags fit nicely behind the cockpit. I couldn’t have added much more luggage.

  “By the way, I appreciate your adhering to my baggage rules. I’m sure you’ll have ample to wear.” Again, that wicked grin.

  I flushed and felt the heat descend from my face to my toes. Thank goodness the plane was air-conditioned.

  The jet soared through the clouds at an astronomical rate of speed. Peter assured me this was one of the fastest planes in operation.

  “Do you pilot Steve and Scott around the world?”

  “For one passenger, this plane is ideal. When it’s the three of us, I use a larger jet.”

  “How did you learn to fly with such expert ease?” I was asking lots of questions, but I couldn’t help my curiosity.

  “I was programmed to fly … simple as that. And now, Miss Curious, if you’ll reach behind your seat, you’ll find a thermal pouch with our dinner. It’s a four-hour flight from New York to Hawaii and I wouldn’t want you to starve.”

  “Oh, Peter, you are considerate.”

  We’d left New York Friday evening after I finished work at the gallery. Trish’s parting words as she said goodbye set the tone for our first weekend together.

  “Don’t give a thought to the gallery or business or anything mundane. Have an adventure that you’ll always remember.”

  Memories. Precious memories, I mused. That’s what this trip is all about. Storing up enough adventures to last me a lifetime. At the same moment, I found myself conjuring up an image of Tony. What would he think about this brash outing with Peter?

  A stab of remorse at my infidelity was soon replaced by anger. He could have prevented this if he’d only been around. No, I wasn’t going to ruin my one chance for exotic travel by castigation.

  Unearthing the pouch, I opened it to find two overstuffed lobster salad sandwiches and two iced lattes. One of my favorite combinations.

  “Peter, you are so perceptive. You seem to know exactly what I want. It’s amazing.”

  “That’s my job, Val,” he said with a serious expression. “To find out what you want and provide it.”

  His answer was both comforting and provocative. I felt cared for and protected in his company. At the same time, I couldn’t help wondering how he knew so much about my likes and dislikes. Had Trish clued him in? Or Scott? Or was he simply a very perceptive man? With those extraordinary powers, he must be able to read my every mood.

  If only Tony had such powers.

  The jet descended rapidly leaving the clouds behind. Since we’d traveled through several time zones, it was early evening when Peter began the final descent.

  “Look out the window, Val. You’ll see the islands any minute now.”

  Sure enough, small landmasses came into view. Strips of golden sand hugged the shores while foamy waves kicked white froth against the dark blue sea.

  “We’ll be landing on Kaua’i in a few minutes,” Peter said.

  “Kaua’i? So that’s where we’re headed.” A wave of excitement flooded over me. “Oh, Peter, look at those cliffs.”

  “That’s Waimea Canyon. It’s quite spectacular. We’ll explore it tomorrow, I promise you.”

  In another few minutes the jet touched ground and we were on terra firma. I wondered how we were going to get around. But I needn’t have given it a thought. A driver with a rugged-looking vehicle was waiting for us.

  Peter shifted our bags to the back seat of the Jeep and handed the plane over to the man who’d met us.

  “You’re good at travel arrangements,” I murmured, as we sped away from the small airport.

  “It takes some planning, but with my background, it’s no big deal.”

  Nothing seemed to be a ‘big deal’ with Peter. There were never any hassles or strife. Relaxed, I leaned back against the leather-upholstered seat, ready for whatever awaited me.

  * * * *

  Luxury — pure luxury. I stood in the middle of our thatched-roof villa and marveled at the décor. White slip-covered furniture and sea-grass floor mats, combined with tropical plants and hand painted tiles, gave the rooms a holiday feel. Sunken baths, outside showers and decks with plunge pools completed the picture.

  “Oh, Peter,” I cried, overwhelmed by the lavish accommodations.

  He came up behind me and put his arms around my waist. “Like it?” he whispered in my ear.

  “Like it? I love it,” I exclaimed, leaning back into his embrace. “Can’t wait to take a swim.”

  “Why wait?” he murmured, his hands slowly moving up to cup my breasts. “There’s no time like the present moment.”

  I’d worn a simple black cotton dress and jacket for the trip. Peter slipped the jacket off and tossed it onto a nearby chair. Then he unzipped my dress and placed his large, warm hands on my bare skin.

  “So smooth. You have the loveliest skin,” he said, easing my hair away and pressing his lips against my neck. He unhooked my bra and slid his hands around to caress my loosened breasts.

  A shiver of anticipation ran up my spine. “Should I change into a bikini?” The way things were heading, I had a premonition I wouldn’t need it.

  Under his nimble fingers, my dress slipped to the floor and my bra was tossed to who knows where. “Why bother?” he asked in a husky tone.

  Clad only in panty hose, panties and high heels, I waited for his next move with a fast-beating heart.

  Turning me around in his arms, his intense green eyes appraised me. “I love to look at you, Val,” he said, as he rubbed the pads of his thumbs across the sensitive tips of my breasts.

  His words and erotic touching ignited a hot lick of flame at the pit of my stomach. “Oh, Peter,” I whispered, “you do turn me on — no doubt about it.”

  His mouth quirked in a half smile as one of his hands stroked down and slipped under my panties and hose to rest on my belly, for a moment, before proceeding lower.

  A soft moan escaped my lips as his long, skillful fingers found the small nub under the mound of curling hair. He fondled me with slow, sure stroking, unleashing a wet, warm surge that soaked the bottom of my panties. There was no way I could control the passion juices once they started.

  My hands gripped his shoulders as I stood there trying to exert some control over my runaway lust. Fully dressed, he was calm and collected, master of his desires. The contrast between us only fueled my rapture even as I valiantly strove to stem the rising tide.

  His mouth descended on mine, his tongue probing and exploring my inner recesses as his finger sank into the liquid heat of my core. Like a bolt of lightening between two magnetic poles, my whole body sizzled with a fiery need.

  Peter must have sensed my desperate attempts at restraint. Lifting his mouth from mine, he said quietly, “Val, let yourself go. Don’t repress what you’re feeling. I want to give you this enjoyment.”

  Bending his head, his lips teased the taut nipples of my breasts while his fingers tantalized the throbbing, moist folds of my sex. A lethal combination.

  A deep groan rose in my throat as I capitulated to the raging torrent vibrating through every part of my body. “Peter,” I cried, as the crescendo mounted and whirled me into an ecstatic frenzy, releasing waves of hot, wet spasms that shook me from head to toe. Too marvelous t
o describe.

  CHAPTER 12

  I swam under a moonlit sky, without my bikini. The warm waters of our private pool and the fragrance of the flowering plants lulled me into a dream-like state. Peter swam beside me with long, lithe strokes. Sometimes he’d splash me playfully, waking me from the trance I’d fallen into.

  “Val, you look like you’re sleep-swimming,” he teased.

  “I’m so relaxed; I think I’ll float away.” Looking up at the indigo heavens studded with sparkling lights, I couldn’t help the sense of unreality taking hold. Was this scene real or was I dreaming?

  “Peter, pinch me.”

  “Pinch you? Why would I do that?”

  “To convince me I’m not imagining everything … that this is not part of some invented daydream.”

  He threw back his head and laughed. “Oh, Val, you’re so funny.”

  But he did swim over to pinch my rear — not once, but twice. “There, are you satisfied?” he teased, hoisting me up into his arms. Then he flipped onto his back, with me on top. His firm body held me easily as he lazily floated about. “This is real, Val, although it’s only for the weekend.”

  The short time limit on this holiday was probably wise, I decided. It would make every minute memorable.

  After showering together outside, Peter wrapped me in a thick, soft towel and carried me to a wide hammock set up between two massive trees.

  “Wait here,” he ordered. “I’m bringing us out some dessert.”

  I had absolutely no desire to be anywhere but swaying to and fro in that comfortable hammock waiting for him to serve me something delectable. Every care and concern had vanished from my mind. What kind of dessert would he bring, I wondered, with child-like simplicity?

  He returned with a large tray filled with sliced tropical fruits — mangos, pineapple, papaya — dishes of shaved coconut ice with pistachio cream and tall glasses of cold, minty tea. Sitting next to me on the hammock, he insisted on feeding me delicious morsels of the fruits and ices.

  “You have to save some for yourself,” I finally protested. “I can’t possibly finish all of this.”