The Archaeologist's Mistress

by Jamie MacFrey

  “This what you’re looking for?” she asked me.

  I reached my hand out and she jerked away from me.

  “No, no,” she said. “You told me you had a secret trick to show me in the garden.”

  “So I do,” I said. I looked down at the ring I kept on the middle finger of my right hand. Mari had bought it for me as a gag gift for one Valentine’s Day, but I’d ended up wearing it all the time because it looked nice and no one could tell. There was an inlaid blue jewel, or so it seemed. I unscrewed it from the ring’s mount.

  “Know what this is?” I asked.

  “No…” said Landa.

  “They call it a Shock Stud,” I told her, slipping it into my mouth. There was a dull pinching as the Stud found the center of the tip of my tongue and gave me a mild dose of anesthetic before adhering itself instantly to the surface. I stuck my tongue out to show Landa that the Stud now in place.

  “What does that do?” she asked.

  “Touch it,” I said, or tried to, with my tongue out. Landa giggled, a reached a finger gently out. The second her skin made contact with the Stud she yanked it away.

  “Oh! It’s electric,” she said.

  “Want to play with it?” I asked.

  * * *

  A half hour later I was riding back to Murado’s house in crumpled clothes and the taste of Landa’s pussy lingering in my mouth.

  “Got a lead at widow’s,” I messaged Theed.

  “Good. Tell me tonight?”

  “Neurochip. Going to go see what’s on it.”

  “Don’t be late.”

  “Won’t.”

  I pushed aside Theed’s message and fished the neurochip out of my pocket again, holding it up. A very steady hand had written, in small white ink on the black plastic of the chip, “Isibel.”

  Chapter 5

  T he villa had a pool in it, which seemed excessive given how close we were to the beach. But at least it was quiet. And warm. The sun felt nice on my skin, heating it as I lay back on the beach chair, closing my eyes as I took it all in. The air was crisp and fresh, not like that in New Angeles. I could hear gulls crying. A breeze struck up and I felt it across my arms, and legs, warm and refreshing. My crotch was a little itchy, and I scratched down there, my hand falling to my cock.

  My cock?

  I opened my eyes again and looked down. My glorious breasts were gone, as was my perfect pussy, which had instead been replaced with a humongus cock and a pendulous set of balls. Kind of a shit deal, if you ask me.

  Mirrors lined the walls of the pool area, and I glanced over at one. Hary Xu stared back at me.

  I began to laugh then, staring at the cock Hary had chosen to give himself in the artificial reality. I’d seen Hary’s cock there on the neuro-chair where he’d died. Rigor mortis hadn’t set in yet, but he’d been hard, that was for sure. And nowhere near as big. And yet, here we were, in a world of his own devising, and Hary had chosen to give himself a giant dick. Even though there was no one there to judge the size of Hary’s dick but Hary.

  We’re our own worst critics.

  A splash by the pool drew my attention away from the cock in the mirror, enticing though it might have been to linger. Dark black hair and big brown eyes were staring at me over the lip of the pool. Or looking at Hary, I should say. A lovely pair of slender arms, tanned a golden brown, appeared and crossed themselves on the edge. The head began to rise, revealing a close cropped bob, along with a set of high imperious cheekbones and a pouty mouth.

  “What are you doing over there, Hary?” asked the girl in the pool. She had a kind of thick accent that they would’ve called Mediterranean on Earth, but on Mars gets called Phoenician.

  “Looking at you, darling,” came Hary’s reply. I’d meant it to be played cool, but with Hary’s voice, it came out like a bad impression of Kyle Cochran, the movie star famous for playing tough guys in Martian Westerns. I’m not really a fan, his movies always involve him walking into a bar, hitting on someone who doesn’t want to be hit on, and then getting into a brawl when someone sucker punches him in the back of the head, and eventually leaving arm and arm with the object of his affections over a pile of inert opponents. Real escapist trash.You can’t just fight and sex your way out of everything.

  The girl in the pool was a fan of the Coch, I guess, because she giggled. Her arms straightened and she lifted herself out of the pool, and I saw she was as naked as Hary was. And tall. Much taller than Hary, a little taller than me. A little shorter than Theed. She had a nice shape to her, if a bit on the thin side. More cinematic, I suppose you could say, than mine. Her breasts were big enough to hold the audience’s interest, not big enough that most people measuring themselves up would come away disappointed. Fewer curves, fewer muscles, more definition.

  Her pubic hair had been shaved into a dark black heart over her pussy which I found a little ostentatious, not to mention a little tiring. Who had time for that kind of stuff? Strips, I could understand. But artful pubic hair meant you had too much time on your hands.

  Then again, it might have been Hary’s doing as well. I shifted looking at her, though whether that was me on the chair in Murado’s house or on the chair in Hary’s fake villa was hard to tell. I reached down to handle my cock, which I saw had begun to stiffen a little, to see what it felt like. To my great disappointment, I didn’t feel anything except it under my fingertips. Maybe there was a faint echo of sensation. It made sense. The reality was created to be viewed by Hary Xu. It was wired to the neurochemistry of someone with a chromosome I didn’t have. There were analogous structures, but the wiring wasn’t the same, and it made sense I wouldn’t have much sensation, if any.

  It made really, really frustrating sense.

  “Oh, feeling playful?” the Amazon girl asked, oblivious to my disappointment, but not to the hardening cock in my hands. At least the part of the brain that deals with arousal is the same in men and women. I could get hard, at least. “You want to play with your Isibel?”

  Ahh, finally. I’d suspected that’s who this was, but the confirmation felt good. I hoped she looked half as good in real life as she did in the created reality. I might have had a chance at finding her. She was the type of girl everyone remembered because no one could forget.

  “Something like that,” I volunteered in Hary’s voice. Play? I wanted to do a lot more than play.

  She strode over to the chair. She had a dark tan going, the kind that made you wonder if they’d cast her out of metal first and then breathed life into her like she was a modern day Galatea.

  A bottle of tanning lotion sat on a short table next to me, and she picked it up before pushing herself close on the chair next to me. She handed me the bottle, then turned her back.

  “Help me out, sweetie,” she said.

  I wanted to suggest that she help me out first, but manners and a strong desire to touch her body won the day for patience. There’s a value in working someone else up before they go to work on you, as I well know, both from giving and getting. I squirted some lotion into my hands, then reached out to touch her warm skin, starting up by the shoulder blades and working towards her neck. She lolled her head when I did, murmuring her approval.

  Her skin glistened as I massaged the lotion into it, working my way down her back, stroking across her spine, until my hands were greeted by the fine curve of her posterior, my hands caressing her full ass, giving them a squeeze.

  “Get the back of my legs,” she said, standing, her legs stepped apart, and she leaned forward, until she was looking at me through the space between her knees, her hands gripping her kneecaps to steady herself.

  I was eye level with her glistening pussy lips, watching as they flexed a little as she bent over, staring as her breasts with their hard nipples hung straight down. A hand moved haltingly towards the back of her thigh, and I realized after a moment it was Hary’s, so it was mine.

  Some people are hoighty-toighty about using artificial reality, so if you’ve never jacked
into a neuro-chair to experience someone’s memories, let me say it’s odd. You’re both in control and not. Memories aren’t things set in stone, and the programs generated from them aren’t either. The programs sort of hijack your decision making while you’re using them, so that you hew as close to the memory as possible. But you can decide to do or say something not in the memory. It’s just unreliable how much control you’ll have. You might think you’re doing everything on your own power, but when you unplug from the chair, you’ll realize you did something that didn’t make sense except to the original holder of the memory.

  In the System Police, if a suspect was being particularly uncooperative, we’d sometimes get a warrant to search their memories, which was always weird. Perspective changed depending on your squad. Major Crime and Murder police tended to hate it. Vice had a blast. Never ever used it in Burglary. Burglars tend to spill their guts, usually to give up their partners and plead their sentences down. I guess it’s true about thieves having no honor.

  Once in awhile I’d be up to strip naked and strap into a chair, which had been an exercise in catcalls after Theed had convinced me to go for gene therapy. And then I’d have some weird times eavesdropping on a suspect’s recollections. So while it was disconcerting to have a cock I couldn’t feel, talking with a woman who wasn’t there, it wasn’t unfamiliar to me.

  So when my hands, or Hary’s hands, depending on what you feel like, ran up those beautifully muscled and tanned thighs, it was hard to say whether it was the memory groping Isibel or if I was just caught along in the moment.

  She was certainly responding well to it, one hand lifting from her knees to massage at a tit, squeezing and kneading, then rolling the hard nipple in her hand.

  There was a warmth on my belly and I reached down between my legs, grabbing Hary’s cock. Somehow it’d become erect, and I groaned, looking down at it standing straight up, thick and meaty in Hary’s hands.

  “Oh, fuck, look how hard it is,” I muttered, forgetting that I wasn’t supposed to have thoughts in someone else’s memory.

  “Oh no,” cooed Isibel. “We’ll have to do something about that, won’t we?”

  “What’s that?” I asked.

  Isibel turned around, then bent over Hary’s lap. She took the cock out of my hands, caressing it slowly like it was a small, adored, animal. I couldn’t have let her do anything else, and not just because I was enraptured. She pursed her lips, pressing them against the huge cock between my legs, opening wide enough to envelope the head, then pressing down the shaft, one hand corkscrewing around the part she didn’t have in her mouth, the other fondling Hary’s balls.

  Those big eyes met mine as she bobbed up and down Hary’s cock, the head making her cheek puff as she popped it out of her mouth to flick her tongue along the base of the head, then stroke it down the shaft to the base and back up again.

  “Get up here,” I said, when it became clear she would spend all day sucking cock if I didn’t. It was a gorgeous view, but I felt there was a better one coming.

  Isibel climbed up Hary’s body, and I reached a hand out, cupping her pussy, feeling how wet she was between her legs, and clearly not just from the pool. She moaned, and kissed my neck. Electricity ran down my body, and I could feel the muscles in Hary’s groin contract as well, his cock shifting in response.

  She had a hand between her legs, stroking the length, and she looked down at me with a hungry grin.

  “Someone’s ready,” she said.

  “Are you ready for me?” I asked. I slipped a finger easily inside her wet folds and she gasped. “You feel like it.”

  “Only one way to find out,” she half-laughed, half-gasped as me as I waggled the finger inside her pussy. She pulled on Hary’s wrist, removing it, then lifted his big cock so it was pointing straight at her slit. Biting her lower lip, she sank down onto it, and I watched as it disappeared inside her.

  “Oh, fuck!” she cried. “Oh, fuck, that feels so good, Hary.”

  It looked good, too. Her body was shaking as she began to bounce, her breasts heaving in time to the motion, the soft folds of her pussy flexing as the cock slipped in and out of her, her lower lips hugging the shaft tightly. There was a faint sensation, like the echo of something, just above my crotch where the cock would be. On the plus side, I could feel it on my skin every time her hips settled down on mine, and, with the pleasure centers of Hary’s brain lighting up, mine were beginning to, too. In the deep, distant recesses of my unconscious, I could feel my thighs dampening on the neuro-chair.

  Isibel was getting into it, and even though I couldn’t actually feel a thing, Hary’s body was moving according to its preprogrammed script, hands on her waist, thrusting into her. Her hands were on her head, gathering her short black hair up in a messy pile as she fucked herself back against Hary’s cock, screaming the whole time like she knew it was being filmed. I’m a vocal fuck, I’d be the first to admit, but this girl sounded like she was in the front row of a rock concert and the lead singer was staring at her though the whole first number. I really hoped to God that this was part of Hary’s created reality, and not how she usually was, or the man had probably gone to his grave half-deaf.

  So it was hard to tell, exactly, when her orgasm hit her, but hit her it did, heralded by a hand dropping down to her pussy so she could play with her clit in quick hard strokes using her whole hand. She shook as she came, her body becoming so tense that her entire weight rested in my hands. Then she was collapsing on top of me, nipping at my shoulder.

  “Remember when we went to our special place?” she whispered in Hary’s ear, her breath hot and heavy.

  “Yes, but just in case, why don’t you remind me where it is?” I wanted to say. Instead, all I got was “yes.”

  “We’ll go there again soon,” I said, which I had to assume was Hary’s memory, because I usually don’t feel the need to spare a created reality’s “feelings.”

  “Right now?”

  “If you’d like,” I offered, secretly thrilled. Had Hary whisked her off to some secret apartment or something? He shouldn’t have had to sneak around, it was a mostly open relationship, but judging from Landa’s tone, he might have been the kind of guy to have a secret hidey-hole for his mistress.

  “Good,” Isibel purred. She slid forward, and the cock slid out of her, slapping against my stomach, warm and still hard. She reached behind her, lifting it up, pushing it against her asshole.

  “Oh, fuck,” I muttered.

  “Mmm, Hary,” she groaned, as the tip pushed inside her. “Oh, oh—”

  She eased more and more inside her until finally she just pushed back hard, taking it all.

  “Oh!” she screamed. Hary’s hips were moving and she sat up a little, changing the angle.

  “Oh fuck me, Hary. I love that big cock of yours in my ass!” Isibel screamed. “Take me to the special place!”

  Oh, goddamn it.

  Still, it was indeed a special place, judging by Isibel’s face. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her mouth gaping open, her hands running across her body, squeezing her own breasts, weaving through her hair.

  “Oh, oh, yes!” she screamed, her body convulsing. Her pussy was pressed into Hary’s crotch, and I could feel how warm and wet it was as she began to come, shaking around Hary’s created reality cock.

  “Fuck, Isibel,” Hary muttered. It must have been Hary, because I didn’t feel much of anything in “my” cock, but I grabbed her body, holding her waist tight against me. Hary moaned and sputtered, and Isibel cooed into his ear.

  “Oh, it’s so hot, Hary,” she whispered. “Your cum feels so good. Can we go to the real special place again soon?”

  “Sure,” said Hary, stroking her hair with one hand, while he ran the other over her warm skin. I breathed a mental sigh of relief. At least there was still somewhere geographical to fine. I could at least be assured that Isibel wasn’t hiding up her own ass.

  She kissed me, her lips hot on mine, her tongue forcing its way int
o my mouth. I was going to close my eyes, getting into it a little, when the world turned to fuzzy mush, the villa fading like someone had turned a camera lens to far out of focus. I went hurtling out of the created reality, the bright light of the tropical sun resolving into the LED of Murado’s ceiling light.

  “Welcome back to the suck,” said James, sitting at his desk. The monitors had a picture of Hary and Isibel, still tucked together post-coitus, though neither were moving.

  And I was still horny as fuck all. James was in his underwear again. I guess he didn’t wear clothes around the house so much, and my gaze kept finding its way back to the bulge in his crotch. I could see he was rock hard.

  “How much did you watch?” I asked. My fingers found my clit, and I gasped, a little too loudly in retrospect.

  Murado barely comprehended the question, staring as I played with myself.

  “A while,” he said, after a while.

  “Take your shorts off and lie down,” I told him.

  “You gonna blow me again?”

  “No.”

  He was confused, but a beautiful naked woman telling you to get naked with her usually trumps sense, and it worked again here.

  When he was lying down on his back on the floor, I got off the neuro-chair and straddled him, lifting his cock with one hand so that I could impale myself as quickly as possible on it, just as Isibel had initially done with Hary.

  “Oh, fuck, finally,” I sighed as the pleasurable feeling of Murado filling me, his skin hot against mine.

  “Missed me?” asked Murado.

  “No, fuck, no,” I said. “I just needed a cock. Shut up and fuck me.”

  Murado growled and began to pump against me, making me shake as his hips slammed up into mine, hard and fast, causing me to shudder as his cock drove home again and again. I groaned, leaning back to brace myself on his thighs, my back arching, and I began to bounce on him a little, helping him fuck me harder. Murado grabbed my tits, giving them a rough kneading, his fingers pausing every once and a while to pull on the hard nipples that capped them, sending electric pulses down my body. I reached a hand down between my legs, my thighs pushing open wider to give me better access to my clit.