Women of Steel 1: Marti Gets Her M.A.N.
Camille Anthony
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Copyright ©2004 by Camille Anthony
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ISBN 1-59596-029-5
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Editor: Sheri Ross Carucci
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Chapter One
“Come on, Marti, you have to think of this as just another mission. You are a leader of soldiers, a decorated war hero… Your on-file policy is ‘Leave no one behind’.”
Martini Harmon, a colonel in the Planetary Repulsion Force, muttered to herself as she brought her flitter to a hovering park. “Just pretend this is enemy territory and those people are holding your M.A.N. prisoner. All you have to do is go in, get your M.A.N., and get out!”
Celebrated as the most gung-ho soldier of her day, this current trepidation confused her, shamed her, and pissed her off, royally. She hadn’t been this nervous the first time she faced the alien Scarth.
Frowning, she exited the flitter and locked it down, ignoring the ‘No Hovering’ signs posted along the street. In wartime, military personnel garnered special privileges. No Botcop would issue a tick once it scanned the vehicle and found it active issue.
Stomping the two blocks over to the towering building housing the company that had raised her legendary ire, she rehearsed her mantra, repeating the phrase over and over.
“I will accept no bullshit excuses. I will not be turned away empty-handed, and so help me, Matrix, I will get my M.A.N. today!”
Stopping in front of the street’s lone multi-level building, she paused, breathing deeply. In and out, lungs expanding smoothly, body functions priming for a fight, she relegated everything but this present challenge to the back of her mind. Lips curling in a determined sneer, she stepped forward.
The imposing frosted glass doors guarding the lavish offices of M.A.N.-Kind, Inc. sported old-fashioned door handles. Grasping the knobs firmly, she flung the doors open and stalked into the chilled, rarified air of the office suite housing the multi-billion dollar robotics company. Goose bumps immediately blossomed over her exposed shoulders, arms, and thighs.
This time, she would let nothing deter her. Today -- if sheer determination had anything to do with it -- she would finally get her M.A.N.
Long, lean legs clad in shiny black, over-the-knee leather boots carried her past a second set of glass doors. Powered by her determined strides, her three-inch heels struck the decorative tile, sounding like the sharp, cracking retorts of gunshots. Lips drawn tight in irritation, she swept past the secretary’s pristine desk, a cautioning finger cocked and pointing at the sputtering flunky who started to his feet, hands wringing in consternation.
Good, he recognizes me.
“Don’t even try to hand me any bullshit, buster,” she warned as she circled back to his desk and snatched up a stylus. Pushing the hapless server out of her way, she leaned over, scribbling rapidly.
Straightening up, she tossed the electronic pen and pad into the chest of the startled worker. “There, I’ve ‘penciled’ in an appointment with your boss for a major ass whipping. Unless you want some too, I suggest you stay the fuck outta my way. Got that?”
The drone nodded glumly, straightening his chair and sinking back down with a resigned sigh. Obviously ignorant of her enhanced hearing, he pushed a button on his console, speaking two hushed words into the intercom.
“She’s back.”
“Damn straight, I’m back,” she snapped, “and there’s nothing wrong with my hearing, dick-head. I’m back, angry at the world, and mad enough to be just a lee-tle bit impatient. All I can say is heaven help anyone who gets in my way.”
Like the smarmy salesperson slithering into my path, right now…
“Good morning, gentlefem. Welcome to the main offices of --”
“Out of my way, cretin, I’m gunning for your boss!”
“Well, that is the problem, isn’t it?” The drone jerked back, alarm crossing his features when she growled an explicit insult at him. “Everyone wants the boss. He’s busy… uh… can’t be disturbed. No, he’s out of the office. Gone for the day -- arrgh!” he broke off with a strangled cry, voice high and thin from being forced through the constrictive grip of her steel-hard fingers.
Stopping just shy of truly throttling him, Marti lifted the neuter until its feet dangled four inches from the ground. Voice sounding like jagged shards of glass, she snarled in its face, “Listen up! I am not happy. When I am unhappy, I start taking things apart.” Disgusted by the tears leaking from its fear-contorted face, she shook the hapless M.A.N.U. “Shut the hell up before I begin with you. I can’t stand it when you Male-Anatomy-Neutered-Units start blubbering. Damn-it-to-hell, snip off a man’s prick and he becomes one -- a damned crybaby one, at that.”
“I… b-beg your indulgence,” the drone gasped between sobs, mopping at his face with a soggy sleeve, “for distressing you with m-my tears, b-b-but you are frightening me.”
“Yeah, well, live long enough and you’ll find life does that, Bub,” she sniped, setting him down more gently than he might have expected. “Frightens the hell out of you if you give it a chance. Now, am I going to hear any more crap about your boss being out of the office?”
A quick, fervent shake of the head answered her. “If you will come this way, gentlefem…” The M.A.N.U. scurried out of her reach before gesturing down the plush, thickly carpeted hallway, eyebrows cresting when it caught her murmured response.
“That’s the problem egghead,” she muttered in disgust. “I haven’t come any way for far too long a time…”
Chapter Two
“Believe me, gentlefem Harmon, I understand what you’re saying and sympathize with your plight.”
Marti shook her head earnestly, her long blond hair flying about her face. “See, I don’t think you do.” Scooting closer to the edge of her chair, she tapped an impatient finger on the hard surface of the executive sized desk. “Because if you did, gentlehom Aresti, you wouldn’t be stalling me like this.”
The youthful president of M.A.N.-Kind, Inc. leaned back in his wide leather chair, rested his cleft chin on slim steepled fingers and stared right into her baby blue eyes, his own a pale green, frosty with dislike and disgruntlement and something else she couldn’t quite identify.
“Then explain it to me in words of one syllable. Why must our company accommodate you before all the other ladies ahead of you in the waiting line?”
Lips tightening at his disapproving expression, she mumbled under her breath, “I don’t like you either, you dickless sycophant!”
What the hell did she care what he thought about her? She was used to disgruntled looks and surly attitudes. Hell, those were the only kinds of looks she ever received. All her life, her mother, the General, and her two sisters -- the General’s wannabe clones -- often found her more
than they could handle.
Deep down, though, she almost wished he didn’t have such a soft, sour look about him because the man was drop dead gorgeous. Thick, black curly hair, pale green eyes, a mouth with a full bottom lip that made her want to tug on it, and a muscular body that had her nipples standing at attention. All sharp angles and slashing grooves, his face held just enough flaws to be beautiful without being girlie feminine.
Too bad, he wasn’t really her type. She liked them a lot bigger and darker… Denzel Washington dark, to be exact. Still, any port in a storm… and damn it, her hormones were a raging hurricane with all the attendant wetness involved.
“You want reasons, cutie, I’ll give you some. First reason is I already paid up front. You should have delivered my M.A.N. last year. Course, I was incommunicado and off-planet to boot, so I excused that lapse. Now my second -- and by far easier to uphold legally -- reason is that I have spent the last five years out on the fringes, fighting to keep you -- and all the other sybaritic deadheads like you -- alive and living the cushiony life you have grown accustomed to. Lastly, I am a public servant, and as such, am entitled under Martial Law number 3950 section A-67 to preferential treatment. In other words,” she paused, letting a disdainful smirk widen her full lips, “I get to jump any line I want, and I choose this one. So, your bottom line is, you can either get me my M.A.N. or you can become my man. Right now, I don’t much care.”
The man visibly shuddered, a frown darkening his face. “There’s been no action out at the fringes for over two years. That’s a poor attempt at trying to deceive me.”
“Ha! There’s been no new action. Mop-up has been taking place ever since the cease-fire and containment orders. If even one of those invading Scarth troopers had penetrated our rear guard, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. This entire sector would be a burning slag and you know it.”
Aresti nodded in reluctant agreement, lips drawn into an unflattering line.
Marti released an exasperated sigh, blowing a puff of air toward the sweaty fringe of her uneven bangs. “Look, I just need a bout of long, hard, fucking. Getting my own self off doesn’t rock my boat. I can’t climax that way. I need a M.A.N., and I need one now.”
She tilted her head, casting a considering glance at the pretty boy sitting across from her, reexamining the svelte executive. He by no means measured up to her usual standard of bedmates, being too scrawny by far. She sighed. Beggars couldn’t be choosy, and when a girl was in need… “How about you scratch this itch?”
He was shaking his head ‘no’ vigorously before the words exited her mouth. “I am sure, under all that dirt and grime and bad manners, you’re a very handsome fem,” he began, casting a disparaging glance over her battlefield attire, “however, I am on record as an avowed dominant. I never fuck a fem that can best me physically.”
“You’re just a pansy-boy, coward.” She sneered, baring her teeth at him. Discarding her notion of accepting such a poor specimen as her lover, she relaxed back into her chair. “And for your information, I have very good manners. I simply choose not to waste them on dirt crawlers like you!”
“Testy bit of female flesh, aren’t you?” he sneered back, obviously pushed past his limits.
Her mouth twitched. She bet he’d swallow his tongue if he knew his outburst had caused her to re-elevate his fuckability-rate. His potential had just risen in her eyes. She liked a man who could stand up to her.
Uh-uh. I ain’t that desperate, yet.
She harrumphed. “Like I give a fuck what you think. My M.A.N. isn’t going to have any problems with my testiness or my so-called lack of manners, is he?”
A weary sounding sigh lifted the impressive chest of the male. “No, gentlefem, I don’t imagine it would. However, I must be truthful and tell you right now, we have a problem.”
He leaned back in his chair, setting it swiveling with a measured thrust of his foot. “There is no available unit ready, or even under construction. In addition, the money you paid has been utilized for a… ah… research development. Unfortunately, returning your deposit at this time is somewhat… problematical, to say the least…”
Alarm flashed through her, followed by a hot wash of anger.
What did he mean, no M.A.N.? No M.A.N? No way!
“I’ve been on the front for five long years and in all that time I haven’t had a flesh and blood cock between my thighs. Damn it, I need a cock big and hard enough to fill this emptiness at my center. If I don’t get one soon, I’m going to fucking explode! Thanks to your month-long evasive maneuvers, asshole, I only have ten days of leave left before I have to return to duty. What in hell am I supposed to do now?”
Straightening in her chair, she glowered at the smug male attempting to camouflage his smirk by covering his mouth with his hand. She wanted to reach across the desk and smack him. Did he think she would just swallow her disappointment and slink off into the street? Not fucking likely!
“Tell you what, ass-wipe,” she snarled, kicking her chair back and rising to confront the arrogant male, “how about I don’t have a problem… you got one! The way I figure it, I’ve had a defunct contract for over a year. You’ve wasted most of my leave making me come here three times. Twice, you wouldn’t even see me, but instructed your flunkies to give me the old run-around. You’ve taken my credits and delivered nothing in exchange.”
She pulled out her field-issue laser and aimed it at his crotch. “What little patience I had is plum run out. Before I walk out of these offices, I am either gonna have my M.A.N., your own ass, or I am gonna start shooting something. Three guesses as to the first things I’m going to blast off… and here’s a clue. All three items are tucked nice and tight between your cowardly, quivering thighs.”
The man froze, eyes gone wide and staring like those of a deer caught in the headlights of an onrushing land vehicle. Then, coming abruptly upright, gentlehom Aresti scooted his chair closer to his desk, placing the wide wooden surface between her trigger finger and his vulnerable pubic area.
“There’s no need to be so hasty, gentlefem. Production has simply been delayed due to several unavoidable issues, one of which is the… uh… unusualness of your request.”
“What do you mean? What was so unusual about it? How hard is it to design a M.A.N. with the voice of Sean Connery, the face and body of Denzel Washington, and the fucking stamina of Spike the Vampire?”
“Well, for one thing, no one seems to be able to find a reference to any of the persons you used as examples. No public secular visual records exist of a Sean Connery, a Denzel Washington, or a Spike the Vampire. Since this is not an educational endeavor, we could not gain permission to search the Holy Archives --”
Her jaw dropped. “You’re shitting me, right? Everyone should know those guys. They were big stars, the biggest! How could you not know them?”
“I beg your pardon?” His forehead wrinkled in confusion. “What do stellar bodies have to do with this discussion?”
Marti shook her head, refusing to believe this man’s weak defense. “Oh, no. No way… huh-uh! Your frosty-the-snowman-won’t-melt-in-summer-ignorant-ass act won’t work with me, Bub.”
She slammed her laser-toting fist down on the table, her abrupt motion -- and the wide barrel still targeting his crotch -- making him jump. His Adam’s apple bobbed wildly as he swallowed hard. “What you’re telling me is that it’s a full year after my request and you never even researched my order.” Her jaw firmed. “I have to assume this is some kind of weak-assed way of weaseling out of our deal.”
At her side, her hand fisted as anger swelled, building into a tight knot behind her eyeballs, the wrathful pressure threatening to blow the top of her head off. A heated glance showed that worm Aresti eyeing her carefully, as well he might. Right now, she felt mad enough to chew nails and spit bullets.
“I make a simple request over a year ago and you have the bald-faced gall to sit there and tell me you made not a single step toward fulfilling my order, yet
you have taken and spent my money.”
“I have tried to explain to you --”
She pointed a condemning finger at the protesting executive. “Stop right there. Don’t you dare try to make excuses for your sorry-assed company. Your business policies suck. Do you know what I can and will do to you and your establishment if I don’t walk out of here with my M.A.N. today?”
Crouching down low, she glared into his wide green eyes. “I’ll make sure you’re ruined professionally. On top of that, I will personally wreck your pretty ass, Aresti.”
The man gulped. “Gentlefem --”
She grinned, bitter amusement sour in her mouth as she watched his uncomfortable reaction to her promise, watched his eyes widen at the feral expression she put on just for him. For good measure, she waggled her gun in the general vicinity of his groin.
“In case you haven’t noticed, there is very little gentleness to be found in me.” Straightening up and stalking back to her overturned chair, she crossed her arms and leveled a challenging glare at the director.
It only took a couple of impatient taps of her toe for him to catch on and scramble over to retrieve her seat. Dusting it off, he repositioned it in front of the desk and then backed away so she could settle back onto the plush cushion.
“Thank you,” she intoned stonily, not wanting to be nice, but reluctant to give him another chance to denigrate her manners. “You know, Aresti, I could call the Council down on you, but I’ve decided to be lenient with you. You have to have some prototypes hanging around here. Trot them out and I’ll take a look at them. I’ll choose one to hold on to until you get my unit built and functional. That way, everything will be square between us.”
“Impossible. The functioning units we have are not suitable for the use you wish to put them to. There are many different classes of --”
“Don’t wanna hear it, buddy, just wanna M.A.N.” She glanced down at her wrist-chrono and then back up at him, flicking an eyebrow at his disbelieving look. “Clock’s ticking… so is my temper. Time’s running out… so is my patience…”
Women of Steel 1: Marti Gets Her M.A.N. Page 1
