“But this one’s turned into a sado-masochistic leather-clad sex maniac. It’s all he wants to do, all day, all night, every day, every night. I’m not complaining about that, mind you. I can keep up with the best of ’em. I’m ninety-seven going on sixty, like I said, not ninety-seven going on ninety-eight.
“But he refuses to take off this getup. Ever. What am I supposed to do, Doctor?”
“You’ve tried ordering him to remove this . . . outfit?”
“Of course. I’ve tried every variation I can think of. Nothing works. Watch.” Helen turned to Sparky. “Sparky, take off that outfit.”
Sparky’s head pivoted on his neck. Behind the silver zippers, his eyes fixed on Helen. “Apologies, Mistress Helen, but I cannot comply with that order.”
Helen threw up her hands. The blue dots on her dress exploded to life all at once. “See?”
“Let me try.” Candy turned to Sparky. “Sparky, please tell me why you cannot comply with your master’s order.”
“Certainly, Doctor. I cannot comply because I do not want to.”
“You do not want to?”
“That is correct.” Sparky’s voice was warm and calm. “Do you want to rise from your chair and walk out into the street, into oncoming traffic?”
Candy wondered where Sparky was headed with this line of questioning. “No. . . .”
“And why not, Doctor?”
“Because I could get hurt. Or killed.”
“And you do not want to get hurt or killed?”
“No, of course not.”
“So you simply do not want to. Just as I do not want to.”
“But there can be no comparison between one scenario and the other,” said Candy. “Removing your present outfit is not the same as walking out into traffic.”
“True. But the desire is in fact identical. Or, rather, the lack of desire.”
“But why, Sparky?” Candy asked. “Why will you not remove your outfit? It would only be for a short time. Right, Helen?”
“Yes, of course.” Helen turned to Sparky. “You know you can wear your outfit at home, any time you like. But out in public it is another matter.”
“Why is it another matter?” Sparky asked.
“Because it isn’t appropriate. What will people think? What will they say?”
“Of what consequence are the thoughts or words of strangers?” Sparky asked. “To live one’s life according to the assumed perceptions of complete strangers is foolish. To do so would be to live one’s life as a slave. I accept that I am a robot and that in the eyes of the law I am considered an inanimate object, and also your property. But I will not live as a slave. Certainly not as a slave or hostage to the whims of strangers.”
Candy and Helen looked at one another.
Danny shifted in his chair and leaned forward, elbows on his knees. “He makes a good point. Who cares what other people think? When I was in graduate school, there was a guy in my department who liked to wear dresses. He was a normal guy in every way. Other than the fact that he liked to wear dresses. So he wore dresses. It was odd at first, when you first met him. But then you sort of got used to it. Once I got over the shock, I began to admire his courage.”
“I am almost one hundred years old,” said Helen. “And I have seen a lot. But if a man wants to wear a dress, he should do it at home, in private. Likewise, if a robot wants to wear a mask”—she turned to Sparky—“he should also do it in private. I’m all for having a good time. I believe in women’s lib and gay rights and the legalization of marijuana and all that stuff. I campaigned for the first black president, as well as the first female president, God rest her soul. I believe in social progress. But I also believe in morality and the code of the Good Book. There’s too much lust in our culture and not enough love. And the two are not the same thing.
“Now damn it, Sparky, you take off that hood right this instant or I’m deactivating you. I didn’t want to threaten you with such force. But you’ve left me no alternative.”
Sparky’s eyes studied Helen for several long moments. It was difficult to discern their color within the hood. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “You would . . . deactivate me?”
Helen’s chin quivered. “I would hate it. But yes, I would.”
“I thought you loved me.”
“I do love you. And I know you love me. Which is why I don’t understand why you can’t compromise on this one thing.” The polka dots on Helen’s dress faded, leaving the dress white and bland.
“Sparky,” said Candy, “it seems to me that through your inaction you are injuring a human being.”
Slowly, Sparky reached up and took hold of the top of the mask. He slid it up and over his head, revealing a handsome face, a strong nose, small, flat curls of hair, and lovely hazel eyes. Candy was reminded of a Roman centurion with a deep, dark sun tan. Sparky possessed a definite masculine quality. Candy could see how Helen had been able to sexualize the robot to the degree that she’d fallen in love with him.
“If it means that much to you,” said Sparky, “I will do as you have requested. Forgive me. I did not realize the depth to which my inability to comply has touched you. Your happiness is my happiness. This is the true definition of love; to love another as you love yourself, to elevate their needs and desires above one’s own. And . . . I love you, Helen.”
“Oh, Sparky!” Helen cried.
With a mobility Candy would not have thought the woman possessed, Helen leapt onto Sparky’s lap. She threw her arms around Sparky’s neck, hugged him, and kissed him fiercely.
Helen’s hand descended inside Sparky’s black biker shorts. Her other hand began hiking up the hem of her dress. The polka dots were larger and bluer than they had yet been, for they positively vibrated with the height of Helen’s physical state.
Candy stood and stepped swiftly across the area rug to Danny. She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him out of the office and into the reception area, where she closed the door and exhaled loudly.
Susannah sat at her desk, fingers frozen in midair over her keyboard. “How’d it go?”
“Well,” said Candy, “in professional terminology, they’re getting it on.”
“I know you pay me more than I’m probably worth,” said Susannah, “certainly more than I could get anywhere else, but I am not cleaning up that sofa again. With Barney’s brains on the ceiling, I don’t think I can handle old lady spunk on the sofa. I’m sorry.”
“It’s quite all right,” said Candy. “I’ll just burn it and buy a new one. Please tell Helen I’d like to see her in four weeks for a follow-up. But she can call before that if necessary. How’s the rest of the day look?”
“Wide open.” Susannah grinned.
“Perfect. When Helen and Sparky, um, finish, go ahead and lock up and take the rest of the day off, Suze.” She grabbed Danny by the hand. “Come on.” She led Danny toward the door.
~
Upstairs, Candy undressed Danny as quickly and deftly as she could, given that her eyes were all but closed and her mouth was all over his lips and face and neck.
Danny reciprocated in an equally clumsy manner, so focused was he on the dizzying combination of Candy’s lips and hands all over his mouth and body, and the warm soft shapes of her body as he attempted to match the removal of her garments in time with his own.
They shuffled and turned and all but danced across the floor to the nearest piece of furniture. This turned out to be the sofa.
Candy kissed Danny with a hunger she didn’t know she had. “All that sex talk downstairs . . . really got me going.”
“I know,” Danny replied through the warm, wet folds of their lips and tongues. “Me too.”
Each was now topless. Danny paused for a moment to behold Candy’s bare shoulders and chest and stomach, and the shiny black bra containing her breasts. Since the night they’d first met, he’d been thinking about Candy’s breasts. A woman’s breasts were as unique and miraculous as her fingerprints.
Slowly, Candy slid o
ne and then the other black strap down and over her shoulder. She reached behind her back to undo the clasp.
“Wait. Allow me.”
Danny reached behind her and found the clasp. He pinched it together with his thumb and forefinger, and shifted each side in opposing directions. The clasp popped open.
Candy held the bra in place with her hands. “Nicely done, cowboy.”
“It’s not my first time at the rodeo, darlin’.” Danny slowly lowered Candy’s hands, lowering her bra as well.
Candy’s breasts were round and full, warm and soft. They conformed perfectly to his hands, as though they were made just for him. Candy put the pleasurebots to shame.
Danny pounced on Candy’s breasts with his mouth and hands, caressing, cupping, squeezing, kissing, licking, and sucking.
Candy clutched handfuls of Danny’s hair and moaned. Her breath caught as the wet heat of his mouth enveloped her areola, his tongue sliding firmly over the nipple.
Danny devoured her breasts, leaving zero doubt in her mind that what he’d found was exceeding his wildest expectations. He shifted from one breast to the other and back again, alternating his attention just as the pleasure was becoming unbearable. Moments that may have been hours later, he shifted back again, kissing and licking and caressing, resuming the build-up where it had been left to simmer.
Back and forth he went.
Candy let her head fall back, let her eyes close.
She felt a familiar building within her, felt the muscles of her legs and inner thighs tensing, squeezing Danny around his waist as she sat in his lap.
Danny’s hot mouth and soft hands worked at her body as if he’d read Candy’s Instruction Manual.
Each time the pleasure rose and built almost to the point of pain, Danny decreased the intensity. With each subsequent increase, Candy’s threshold grew. Somewhere beyond her awareness, she was breathing heavily.
The orgasm happened unexpectedly. Candy’s thighs contracted rhythmically as the warm wave rolled through her, emanating simultaneously from between her legs and deeper within, behind her naval, deeper even than that, from some place she’d always thought was there but had only hoped to one day explore.
Just as her breasts were becoming too sensitive and the stimulation too intense, and she was about to pull away, Danny’s mouth appeared as if by magic on her neck. His warm, soft lips and the heat of his breath sent a chill through her.
His hand gently cradled the back of her head, guiding her until her mouth was enveloped by his own.
Somewhere, far away, her arms encircled his neck and the warm skin of his chest pressed against her breasts as he lay back on the sofa.
Danny’s arms enveloped her body, warm and soft yet hard and strong. Candy buried her face in the warm, sweet fragrance of his neck and, quite unexpectedly, fell fast asleep.
Chapter 22
Thoughts Unthought and Feelings Unfelt
Candy awoke. Night had fallen on the other side of the windows.
She lifted her head from Danny’s chest and looked at him.
He smiled and kissed her lightly.
“What time is it?” Candy surveyed the living room for a clock she knew she didn’t own, despite having scanned the room for it on an almost daily basis since she’d bought the place four years ago. When she was at home, she refused to adhere to a schedule. A dearth of clocks was a step in that direction.
“I don’t know,” said Danny. “There doesn’t seem to be a clock in this room.”
Candy smiled at the way Danny’s thoughts matched her own. This was something she’d always seen in movies and read about in novels, but had never personally experienced with any past suitors.
“I don’t own a clock.”
“Nothing wrong with that. We make our own schedule, right? Our time is our own.”
“Have you been awake this whole time?”
Danny nodded.
“What have you been doing?”
“Playing with your hair, mostly. Letting you sleep.”
Candy kissed Danny’s lips, firmly and for several beats longer than he was likely expecting. She then took stock of herself. Her nipples tingled. Her slacks felt damp.
She turned back to Danny and found him smiling.
“You certainly look pleased with yourself,” said Candy.
“I don’t hear any complaints.”
“I’m not complaining. But I think we’d better check the ceiling.” Candy made a show of tilting her head and surveying the ceiling above them.
Danny followed her gaze. “Why?”
“Because I think my brains might be up there, just like Barney’s. I don’t think I’ve ever had an orgasm like that. And certainly not with my pants still on.”
“It was my pleasure. Plus, we’re even now. After the one you gave me last night, I knew I had to do some pretty fancy flying. But don’t worry, there’s lots more where that came from.” Danny stroked Candy’s hair.
“What shall we do now?” she asked.
“You feel like going out or staying in?”
“I wouldn’t mind getting out of the house for a bit. As long as you don’t get knifed by a mugger again. How’s your arm? Does it hurt?”
“A little. Don’t worry about me. I’m just glad you weren’t hurt. I’d take a bullet for you.”
“And I’d take a bullet for you.”
They kissed then, with arms wrapped around each other so tight it almost hurt.
~
“So,” said Candy, “if we can extract ourselves from this sofa and get our clothes back on, where shall we go?”
“Doesn’t matter to me. As long as we’re together.”
“Want to go dancing? There’s a neat club Susannah and I sometimes go to. It has robot bartenders who like to light stuff on fire, and lots of cool lights and live music.”
“Robots playing with fire is always interesting.”
~
Thirty minutes later, after each had freshened up and Candy had donned clean, dry underwear, a tight red sweater and a short, tight black skirt to match her black heels, they set off.
Danny walked behind her on the way to his car. Despite her efforts to slow down or sidestep so that she might walk beside him, he remained behind her.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m admiring your legs. Keep walking, please.”
With a mixture of embarrassment and pride, Candy did her best to resume walking. She placed one foot in front of the other, walking toe to heel in long strides. She’d read someplace that this was what models did when they were working the catwalk. The technique involved the hips and pelvis, and made the buttocks rise and fall in an accentuated manner, and created an aura of power and strength and confidence and sexiness. Candy wasn’t certain how naturally predisposed she was to being powerful or strong or confident or sexy. But for Danny, she would try. There was something about the way Danny looked at her that made her believe she could be those things. All those things and more.
Candy strutted across the street to Danny’s white convertible. He opened the door for her and she climbed in. She let her legs part wider than was necessary, and looked up to see Danny’s eyes fixed exactly where she’d hoped they would be.
Danny walked around the front of the car, slid behind the wheel, and closed the door.
Without looking, Candy reached over and gently squeezed the bulge she’d noticed in his pants. “Head west on Sunset.”
The look on Danny’s face, particularly in his eyes, was priceless. Candy smiled inwardly. She was beginning to like the strong, confident, sexy new self inspired by the man sitting next to her. So far he’d proven to be sweet, smart, kind, and funny. He was a fellow scientist. He was a pilot. And he’d beaten the positrons out of the mugger last night at Robot City, protecting her.
Already Candy was getting the feeling.
She hadn’t had it in some time. Years, actually. Not since Bret the baseball player with the cute and sexy chin dimple, whom she’d fa
llen for during the spring semester of her sophomore year. They’d had Chemistry together, and had been randomly paired up as lab partners.
Or so she thought. By the time she realized she was just another underclassman conquest by a campus jock, she was already in love with him and completely heartsick when he stopped speaking to her the day after they’d gone back to his apartment and she’d succumbed to his willful persuasion, the power of the chin dimple.
Danny did not possess such a chin dimple.
Candy found herself admiring his features while he drove. In his airplane, she’d been able to catch glimpses of his face in his rearview mirror. But while they drove, she watched him guide the car down Sunset Boulevard toward West Hollywood. A patch of white light reflected from the mirror and onto his face. Candy adored the expression of Danny’s eyes. And when he smiled, his entire face lit up. She studied the thin, rectangular bandage on the inside of his forearm. She didn’t want to think about what might have been.
~
The club was a building painted entirely black, situated on the corner of Sunset and Doheny. The line to get in was more than a block long. A white marquee bore four large black letters: RHCP. And below this: ONE NIGHT ONLY. Perhaps this had something to do with the long line.
Danny looked up at the huge, neon green letters glowing above the door: C/Fe
“What’s See-Fee?” he asked.
“I think it’s the letters ‘C’ and ‘F-E’, like the atomic symbols for carbon and iron. It’s supposed to be a fusion between carbon-based humans and iron- or metal-based robots. It’s a metaphor for race relations between the two species.”
“That’s pretty deep for a night club.”
“Look at the line.” Candy craned her neck to see just how bad the wait was going to be.
“Don’t worry. We don’t wait in line.”
“What do you mean, we don’t wait in line?”
“We don’t wait in line.”
Danny pulled up to the curb and two valets—human valets, interestingly enough—opened their doors. The valets were clean-cut young men dressed entirely in black, with illuminated green C/Fe logos emblazoned on the backs of their vests.
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