by Roxy Mews
“Feisty, aren’t you?” Magistrate Winters stood and handed her a card with a ball chain attached. “You get debriefed tomorrow at 8:00 a.m. If you think I have false impressions of you, prove me wrong.”
He left through the interview room. Paisley watched the idiot interviewee stand at attention like a soldier. He shook the magistrate’s hand. After saying a few words to both men, the magistrate wiped his palm on his pants and left the room.
The Mitchell guy with the earpiece looked from the way the magistrate left to the room she was in. His lips formed the words, “No way.”
Paisley couldn’t blame him for being in shock. She was pretty damn surprised too.
She’d gotten the job.
Chapter Eight
A drop of wine splashed out as Paisley brought the glass up to her mouth. It was a bad idea to drink during the day in a very posh hotel. But when she thought about what she was going to do tomorrow, Paisley needed some serious liquid courage. Or at least she needed liquid “try not to think about it until morning”.
Her strategy of saving her money wasn’t as desperate, since she was now employed.
She tipped five dollars on a ten-dollar glass of wine. But the tip put a little more in her glass the next time. If there was one bit of knowledge she could give the next generation, it was give the bartender the biggest tip possible.
Normally, tipping wasn’t a big deal because it was easy to score at least one free drink at any club to make up for it. That was when she was dressed in much less and it was late in a packed bar.
There was significantly less opportunity at noon on a Tuesday. Paisley realized she probably looked like an alcoholic, but she needed something to do other than sit in her room, and she’d be damned if she’d use the gym.
“Looks like you had a shitty day,” the bartender said as he wiped up the counter next to her.
“It sucked,” Paisley said.
Tucking the rag in his back pocket, he started dusting off the glasses and restocking his station to prep for the rush of respectable people who would be in later. “Did you lose your job?”
She looked at the suit she’d have to figure out how to clean sometime in the next eighteen hours. “Nope. Got one.”
The guy was wearing jeans and a white tee, but he looked like the perfect man to be her impromptu therapist, as he mistakenly asked, “Why is that a reason to sit at a bar in the middle of the day looking like someone shot your puppy?”
“I got a government job, and I’m pretty sure selling my soul to the man is part of the initiation process.”
The guy laughed. “Yeah. I’m not cut out to wear a monkey suit every day. I like the freedom I have being in the service industry.”
This dude understood.
“See? Why don’t more people get that having the ability to go do your own thing is important to an individual’s emotional health?”
He put down the rag and leaned over. “I couldn’t agree more. I’m working on a book during the day, and do this gig at night. The people I take care of are incredible muse fodder. Is there a project you’re working on?”
Paisley could have told him she was working on getting laid tonight, but somehow she didn’t think that was what he meant. She didn’t even have a life goal. Her only mission was to earn enough money to ensure she could fund a night out and a cab ride home. Wherever home would be.
But it didn’t sound like a great calling, so she said, “I’m not ready to talk about my project yet.”
That made it sound like she was a spy or something. The guy was a writer, so he obviously formulated something fascinating to him in his head. He seemed to think they were conspiring on some big secret and kept asking questions about her life.
Paisley got a free drink out of it. She was pretty sure she just became a character in his book. Hopefully that wasn’t against the rules of working for the government.
“Little early to be drinking, isn’t it, Paisley?”
As if her day couldn’t get any better, Robohippie hopped up on to the stool next to her. It took a good thirty seconds of scream cussing inside her head before she responded.
“It’s only too early if I’m drinking alone.” She put another twenty on the bar. “Give us two of something this will cover and still gives you a good tip, ’kay?”
The bartender put down the pen and notepad he’d picked up and nodded.
Two mixed drinks were put in front of her and Robohippie. She was pretty sure she’d gotten more than a cheap drink out of sharing stories with the bartender.
He cleared her empty glass and leaned over to smile his million-dollar grin at hippie boy. “What’s your name?”
“I don’t wish to be a part of whatever you were writing down on that paper.” He sipped the drink. “And I’m not a…what was it you wrote? A lumberjack porno waiting to happen?”
The guy looked over at his notepad halfway across the room. “How did you see that?”
Robohippie pointed to the rounded mirror that the bartender used to keep an eye on the front while getting product from around the corner.
Paisley didn’t get a chance to see the bartender run and hide his notebook from the super-sighted humanoid. She was trying to evaluate the beard and the suspenders. “The lumberjack I can almost see… It’s the porno I’m having trouble with.”
“If you’re asking for a demonstration, I don’t do that anymore.”
Paisley caught his jaw flex and the creak that told her he was grinding his teeth.
“I wasn’t implying you were a prostitute, man. Relax. Drink your free drink.” She thought for a second and grabbed his glass. “You know what…never mind. You’re being a dick. I’ll drink it.”
He held his hand over hers, and Paisley felt the same electricity she’d felt when she’d grabbed his suspenders. “You’ve had enough, and I deserve to get a little lost today too. Back off, chick.”
At least she knew he could get a buzz with her. Coral could swallow alcohol if she had to, but it was a waste of perfectly good booze because Coral couldn’t get drunk.
“You don’t get to call me chick unless you share your pecker.” Paisley laughed, because she was pretty buzzed, and she thought that pun was hilarious.
Instead of laughing or being offended, he just stared.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m evaluating the situation.”
She huffed and he did some strange inhalation making his jaw click.
“That doesn’t answer my question.” She drank more.
“I’m trying to decide whether or not to discuss personal data with you.” He knocked back the glass, and swallowed his drink in one gulp, ice and all.
“You wouldn’t even tell me your name.” She sipped hers. It was only noon. “I doubt we are on a personal info level.”
“You were naked and climbing on top of me last night.”
Paisley looked and sure enough, the bartender was visible in that big curved mirror, listening to everything they said.
“This is going to end up as a sex scene in the bartender’s book,” Paisley said.
“Did you wish it to remain fiction?”
“Robohippie, you are making my head spin.” Paisley thought about the words she just said out loud. “Not that making my head spin is all that difficult right now, but still.”
“Please, you’re only at point oh five. I tested your breath. You’re not drunk. And did you just call me Robohippie?” he asked.
He tested her what?
Paisley tried to scoot away. “I didn’t mean to say that part out loud. That’s what I call you in my head. But since you won’t tell me your real name, it’s mostly your fault.”
His lips stretched in a smile and Paisley found she couldn’t stop staring at them for some reason.
“What did you ca
ll Ben?”
“Who’s Ben?”
“He’s my roommate, remember? The guy that helped you climb off me when you were naked and oiled up.”
“You keep bringing up the naked part.”
“It was the highlight of my day.”
Paisley couldn’t tell if the guy was hitting on her, or just honestly trying to explain he enjoyed being climbed on. He was mechanics, so it made the usual clues even more difficult to extrapolate.
So she decided to just flat out ask. “Are you hitting on me in attempt to have sex with me?”
Robohippie laughed. A full belly laugh, and even though it was probably at her expense, Paisley laughed with him. She couldn’t help it. Three days ago, she had been working as a maid in the royal palace. She figured she’d be there for the foreseeable future without anything interesting happening at all. Other than the occasionally kinky rendezvous if she met someone fun at the clubs, of course.
Now here she was having a conversation with a mechanical being who was applying for human status, thanks to her former roommate having an orgasm and being declared mentally sound and capable of human emotions.
Life was strange. The strangest thing being that she was wearing a suit. She was going to become a government bureaucrat and she really didn’t feel all that bad about it. Working where Coral fought for the rights of robotics who had advanced thanks to recent technology would be great. Not scrubbing toilets or having people look down on her would be great. Being able to help do something that would make a lasting impact on society was the scary part.
Paisley wasn’t used to being responsible for anyone but herself. Working with Coral on paperwork for individuals who were handing their existence over to be judged for self-sustainability gave her severe performance anxiety. There was only one part of her life where Paisley didn’t have performance anxiety.
She could make a grown man weep with pleasure. No matter how crazy her life became, she enjoyed taking that power over someone else. She reveled in taking care of them the most intimate way in existence.
She reevaluated Robohippie. Then she started asking grossly inappropriate questions that were sure to add to the bartender’s latest novel.
“I know one part is definitely visually appealing and I felt that you have some physical response to me. But how much of your physique is humanoid?”
Her suspender wearing comrade lowered his drink and tried to evaluate the situation before he answered. “Why are you asking?”
“Because if you were flirting with me, I want to know if you were just being a tease or if you could follow through.”
“I was flirting with you. And I can follow through, but you weren’t supposed to be interested.” He frowned at the bartender, who retreated further behind the wall. “You were supposed to be offended and huff off in that cute way you do.”
Paisley was about to ask how many times he had seen her huff off, but she remembered at least two off the top of her head just from the balcony incident. She took the cute part as a compliment and moved on. “You shouldn’t wave sex in front of a sex-starved woman if you aren’t going to follow through.”
“I somehow doubt a woman with your breasts and stunning skin is hurting for male company in the bedroom.”
“Just because I’ve had sex recently doesn’t mean I don’t want more.”
“No. I guess it just means that it wasn’t any good.”
Paisley leaned back. “I’ll have you know, all the guys I have ever been with walk away extremely satisfied.”
He leaned forward until he invaded her personal bubble to the point of it popping and dripping down her insides. His breath was warm and smelled like the cinnamon in the drink they’d had. “If it was with a real man, he would have satisfied you. And trust me, if you had been with someone like me, neither one of us would be able to walk.”
Paisley could really use an excuse not to walk. There was a lot of responsibility and important shit on her shoulders at the moment, and she couldn’t think of any reason not to blow it all off. She didn’t start until tomorrow. She could do totally inappropriate things with a certificate of humanity applicant this afternoon and still have time to recover.
So she did.
Paisley leaned over and before he had time to move, she placed her hand on his wide thigh to stabilize herself. Her lips touched his and the cinnamon taste amplified on her tongue when she licked him.
She used the leverage to pull herself forward and grip the back of his head. Instead of being surprised, or slow to catch on, like most men, he looped his arms under her knees and in one swift motion, slid her forward onto his lap.
Paisley’s suit skirt wasn’t skin tight, but it wasn’t made to play ride the robot. She heard the fabric tear at the hem. The skirt rode up once it ripped to the side of her hip. She didn’t really care. The bar was empty. She glanced in the mirror at the wide-eyed bartender.
Almost empty.
Sliding her hand from between her leg and his, Paisley used a second hand to try and pull her roboman back for enough air to talk. He wasn’t having it. His arms wrapped around her and, with a hand at her nape and the other at her ass, he slid her forward even further into his grip.
Paisley groaned at the friction against her body. She felt him harden right beneath her pussy, and with hardware like that, even with clothes between them, it was pretty obvious Robohippie’s stogie was ready to smoke.
The alcohol and the heat between them was too good to ruin with the possibility of being arrested for public fornication. Paisley’s eyes rolled back into her skull as he thrust his hips against hers, and she felt that big package throb. No. Throb wasn’t the right word. Holy hell, his cock was vibrating. Paisley felt the pulse bring her clit out of hiding and her happy button went sprinting toward climax at record pace.
The spontaneity and the thrill at the possibility of being caught in public was doing incredible things for her. Not to mention her body was already going into high gear with how that beautiful mechanical cock of magic would feel deep inside her pussy.
Paisley rocked her core over him as he wound his hips in circles, hitting more right spots than she knew she possessed. He sucked her tongue into his mouth and bit. Her eyes popped open at the sudden sting, and then he kicked whatever that was in his pants into high gear and Paisley went off like a rocket. She rode one long orgasm from peak to valley while staring into his intense eyes.
He finally let go of her tongue and dialed back the robocock.
“Let’s adjourn to my quarters,” He nodded toward the back of the bar. “I really don’t want to hear the bartender jack off. With how sexy you sound when you come, I couldn’t blame the guy for doing it, but I’d rather focus on your orgasms.”
Paisley bet her next round of drinks would be made with some top shelf alcohol at no extra charge, but she wasn’t thinking about a buzz. At least, not an alcoholic one.
She wasn’t as wobbly as she wanted to be when they got to the elevator. The walls were polished metal. Not really mirrored, but fuzzy outlines of their bodies reflected back at them. Paisley could see a shadow of her bearded man’s body. His outline was so big it would eclipse her own.
They were on opposite sides of the elevator. She thought about moving over and continuing their kiss, if you could call something like that as innocent as a kiss, but she couldn’t move under his gaze. He kept scanning her body. His eyes moved up and down and a rush of heat radiated out from her skin wherever he looked.
Her pulse increased, and she felt every inch below her waistband throb faster with each pass.
The elevator stopped at three different floors before they finally got to the top. People got on. People got off. Paisley’s body kept being assaulted by this man’s gaze. A couple of the people looked between them or said hello, but Paisley didn’t respond. She could barely breathe by the time the doors finally opened at the top
floor of the hotel.
She couldn’t move. Her afternoon delight had to do it for her. He released the bar he had been resting against and pushed off toward her. His stride was confident and sure. Paisley had seen men who thought they were gods in bed before. She’d had men brag about how she wouldn’t be able to walk for a week, and those men were the ones who usually lost control the second they felt her swallow them to the back of her throat.
Somehow she was pretty sure a robot wouldn’t lie about sex. If this humanoid said he could pleasure any woman to the point of ecstasy…shit. Paisley wanted to see his version of heaven.
He hit the door open button on the elevator to keep them from closing and then did something electrical with his fingers. A vibration went through the whole elevator.
“What was that?”
“I just made sure no one else could move the elevator for a few minutes.” He gripped her shoulders, but he didn’t pull her in for a kiss.
“But someone could still come in,” Paisley said.
“Then let’s give them a show worth watching.”
Paisley felt the room spin as he flipped her around. Her hands pressed flat against the wall as he pushed her up against it.
He pulled her hair to the side and kissed her neck. The kisses turned to nibbles and full on teeth scraping across her skin. Paisley watched her breath fog up the metallic surface across the side of the elevator.
His beard pulled on the hairs at the nape of her neck and did the most fantastic scratchy things to her skin.
She was so lost in what he was doing with his mouth that it took a minute to realize he had opened her blazer and unbuttoned her shirt. That was skill. Then his mouth left her skin to rapidly cool but it was nothing compared to the feel of the cold metal as he thrust his hips against hers and forced her chest and stomach against the wall.
Paisley gasped as her thin bra was no match for her nipples. She was almost worried she’d scratch the surface of the metal with them.
He pulled the fabric of her top down her shoulders, but before she could wiggle out, he spun and pinned her again. Her arms were trapped by the fabric with the way he pushed her shoulders back.
