by Nya Rayne
Her breath quickened, her heart rapped against her ribs, and her hips, her legs, her arms began to shake uncontrollably as an invisible coil buried deep within her abdomen snapped, shooting long, powerful yellow rays of current throughout her body. She gripped the sheets tighter, her body tensed, and she bit down on her lower lip as her hips rose and a spasm of sheer pleasure burst from her.
It took more than a few moments for her body to stop writhing and for her to regain some cognizance of where she was. When she did, she slowly opened her eyes to find him sitting back on the bed beside her, staring down at her.
Phia licked her lips and brought her hand up to her mouth to muffle a soft groan she couldn’t contain. Half-lidded eyes wondered at him. She wanted to ask him exactly what he thought he was doing, but he spoke first.
“How’s your headache?”
She blinked and stared at him. “Headache?” she asked, as if hearing the word for the first time.
“I will assume it’s gone, then.” He pushed back away from her and back to his side of the bed. He looked at her face for a long moment before allowing his gaze to travel the length of her body.
She pulled the covers up to preserve what modesty she had left. “Donté, I…What…You…”
“It wasn’t supposed to be sexual,” he stated matter-of-factly.
If she wasn’t embarrassed before, she was embarrassed now. How was that not supposed to be sexual? How was his touching her in such a manner not supposed to bring her to orgasm? Was he nuts? If he didn’t consider such an act sexual, she didn’t want to see what his idea of sexual was.
Phia watched him slide off the bed. She tried and failed to tear her eyes away from his naked magnificence. Every inch of him was pure, lean-muscled perfection. Wide, round shoulders protected a broad, heavenly chest, which swam down into a perfect eight-pack and dipped into a slim waistline, which began its own slow, seductive descent into an area she didn’t trust herself to take in at the moment. She was a woman with a very vivid imagination, but never once had she imagined any man quite like him.
Phia shook her head and blinked in an attempt to clear her mind as Donté stepped away from the bed. “Where are you going?”
He turned back to face her. “I was going to take a shower. Will you be joining me?”
She shook her head and tore her gaze away from him. She wanted to believe he couldn’t be serious. Somehow, though, she was certain he was. “Oh, okay then,” she blustered, and then went on in an attempt to regain her composure, “We have dinner plans with my mother tonight. So I guess we need to go shopping?”
“Shopping?”
“Yes. You know when you go buy stuff from stores like clothes, food, and toiletries?”
“Toiletries?” A confused expression crossed his face, and then just as quickly it was gone.
Phia could just order whatever she needed for him over the net and have it delivered, thereby avoiding this conversation and the public, but as shameless as it was, she wanted to show him off. And shopping was one of her specialties and something she did with pride and gusto.
“Don’t worry about it. When we go out I’ll explain it all to you, okay?”
He looked down at the floor, and for the briefest of seconds Phia thought she saw a hint of a smile on his face. Before she could confirm, he’d turned and disappeared into the bathroom. The sound of water drew her from her reverie, and she called out, “Donté!” A moment later, he was standing at the foot of the bed, stark-ass naked in all of his glory, gazing down at her. His ice-blue eyes bored holes into her soul. She blushed and forced herself not to look away as she said, “My name is Phia Zen.”
He smiled genially at her. It was the first time, she mentally noted, as he said, “I know. I read it in your journal.”
As he turned and stepped back into the bathroom, she sat there, stunned and confused. My journal? He read it in my journal? She glanced at the nightstand near the side of the bed he’d slept on and groaned. It lay there open and face down, as if he were saving the page he’d stopped at so he could finish it later.
Phia picked up the book, flipped to the front and knew immediately where he’d gotten her name. She then flipped back to the last page he’d seemingly read and nearly died. It was dated August 20, 2110 and read:
Dear LHC,
Well, another day has passed and still I’m holding out hope. It’s stupid, I know, but our country was built on hope, wasn’t it? As usual, my community sisters are pushing me to invest in a personomale. Some things don’t change, do they? I keep telling them I’ll do it when I get a gray hair down there, but for now I have nothing but time. They keep asking me, why wait? I don’t know how to explain it to them. I want to tell them my heart craves real love, and my body yearns for the passion of a real hard body with strong arms and an educated tongue, but they wouldn’t understand. But you do, don’t you? I knew you would. Good and bad news to report: The bad news is my birthday is approaching much too quickly. The good news is I was thinking about purchasing a few hours with a frehore and maybe losing my virginity the right way. What do you think? I don’t know, I’ll think on it a little more, but I’ll definitely let you know how it goes if I do it.
Until tomorrow…
She closed the book, not needing to read the rest. She knew what it would say. How could he read this? How could he invade my privacy in such a way? She slipped from the bed and started around it, the book gripped in her hand. I have to set some limits for him. He can’t think he can do what he wants when he wants, with no repercussions. I knew I should’ve gotten a dog instead. Then I’d be able to rub his nose in it.
Phia wasn’t mad Donté had read her journal. She was more embarrassed than anything else. She had written everything in her diary for as long as she could remember. She wrote about her first day of school, her feelings toward her mother, and how she felt about not having a father. She wrote about the death of her most treasured pets, the one and only time she’d slept with a woman and why she hadn’t liked it, and she’d written about her deepest and most precious dreams.
During her darkest and loneliest days, she’d sit and write for hours at a time, trying to write away the despondency and the depression that called to her in soft whispers, promising her in the next life all her dreams would be possible. All she had to do was be willing to take the next step: slit her wrists, take a handful of sleeping pills, climb to the top of a nice, tall building and plunge off, or step out in front of a tram at the last minute. It was all in there, every word whispered to her, every promise yet to be kept. Her dark dreams and wanton desires, her heart and her soul, the parts no one knew. No, he had no right to read it. It was a violation of her privacy, which made him no better than a burglar.
Phia stopped short as Donté stepped out of the bathroom, a plush white towel in his hand. He was rubbing at his groin, drying himself. Water dripped from his hair, his elbows, down his hairless legs, to the floor. She stepped back, held the book up for him to see, and questioned, an edge to her tone, “How much did you read?”
He glanced from her to the book. “I’m a fast reader. So, most of it.”
She planted her feet and tried to stay focused, to not be mesmerized by the way he ran the towel slowly across his chest, down his arms, and then through his thick brown locks. “Donté?”
He stopped and looked at her. “Phia?”
“You can’t read someone else’s diary,” she forced out, holding the book between them. “This is private.” He wrapped the towel around his waist and continued to watch her closely, but didn’t interrupt. “The information in here is like my personal thoughts. I wouldn’t intrude on your thoughts or your private feelings, so I expect the same courtesy from you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
He blinked and stepped closer to her. “Yes, but…”
She blinked. Did he just say “but”? There are no doggone buts! Taking a small step away from him, she told herself to not be swayed by the heat of his gaze or the steam rising
off his body. “But what?” She forced herself to maintain his gaze even as his lips quirked into the slightest of smiles.
“You were sleeping. I wanted to know what I was to you. Why I was here and who you were.” He took a small step in her direction. “I did try to wake you before I read it, but you were snoring so soundly I felt to disturb you would have been a shame.”
She sputtered in indignation, “What? I don’t snore.”
“Yes, you do,” he confirmed in earnest. His voice remained casual. “Did you know you also stop breathing for about three seconds every few hours?”
Phia was beside herself. “Gah, I do not snore!”
Donté was unperturbed as he leaned away from her, nonchalantly thumbing his chin. “When a person sleeps, is it possible for him or her to know what he or she is doing or not doing?”
She could only stare at him, her mouth agape and her mind unwilling to believe she was standing here having a conversation with him about whether she snored. Of course she didn’t snore. She’d slept by herself all her life, damn it. If she snored, she would know. Not to mention, she’d shared a dorm room with Ice, who never complained about her snoring. Phia shook her head and turned away from him. “You’re trying to get off the subject of reading my journal, but it won’t work. You were wrong, Donté.”
His arms slipped around her waist, pulling her back against him. She froze. He leaned down, his mouth brushing against her ear. “Is this you being mad at me?”
One touch from him and her armor fell away, leaving her vulnerable. The feel of his body pressed against hers was like burning embers against ice. She could feel the meltdown begin. Phia turned in his arms and frowned up at him. “You should apologize.”
He glanced thoughtfully to the right and then to the left before he tilted his head and gazed down at her. “I’m sorry I heard you snore?”
“You’re a jerk.” She tried to push away from him.
Instead of letting her go, he pulled her closer, a grin on his face. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry I read your journal, but in my defense I really did want to know who you were and what I meant to you.” He released her and took a small step back. “You were sort of narcoleptic last night. So, between that and the snoring, I really wasn’t left with any other alternatives.”
“Did you just call me narcoleptic?” Before he could answer, Phia threw the book at him, which he dodged easily. She turned, prepared to storm out of the room as she mumbled about idiotic companions.
Donté grabbed her arm and pulled her back to him. “All right. All right, no more jokes about your…”
“I swear to the heavens, Donté, if you say one more thing about my snoring…” He chuckled, and Phia decided she could spend the rest of her life listening to it if she’d be so blessed. Before he had a chance to recover, she asked, “Did you figure out what you needed to know?”
He ran his hands through his wet hair and sat down on the foot of the bed. “I figured out your name.” He looked up at her, his eyes sincere, his expression serious. “You seemed lonely. The words you wrote were so dark and…” He hunted for the right word and then settled for, “…heart-wrenching. How could you feel like that in a place like this?”
She wanted to tell him, “Easily,” but she knew he’d never understand what it was like to live in a world where things as simple as companionship and affection were rationed out like precious medicine to a dying person. He’d never understand, because in this world he was the medicine and she and all the other women were the sick. No, he’d never understand what she was feeling when she wrote those words, so she wasn’t going to try to explain it. “What else did you learn?”
“You wrote a lot about wanting romance, and love, and you don’t like personomales, but you never said exactly what a personomale was.” He thought for a moment before he finished, “Your last entry said I was being delivered to you and that you hope…” He stopped mid-sentence and stared down at her. “What am I to you, Phia? What are we? Do you own me?”
She searched his face for any sign he might have been playing with her, but found none. Could he not know he belonged to her? Could he not know he was a personomale, even if he wasn’t truly artificial? Would Dr. Lobush not have already discussed this with him? As she gazed at him, she understood that maybe this was one of the differences between owning a FAP, a PAP, or a HAP. She, or rather, they, got to label their relationship, and not some nameless person at a keyboard.
A surge of bravado raced through her, and she leaned down to him and brushed her lips against his. He pulled her closer, settling her in his lap as he deepened the kiss. His tongue was sweet, his body hard and hot against hers. His hands were familiar, and yet so unfamiliar to her that it frightened her just about as much as it excited her. She pulled away from him, breathless and filled with wonder and longing.
Phia rested her forehead against his. “I did ask for you, and there was a price associated with it, but I don’t ever want to own you if you don’t want me to. I want you to stay with me…to grow with me, because you want to.” She sighed. “As for what we are, I was hoping we could figure it out together.”
A moment of confusion crossed his face before it was gone. He smiled up at her again as his hand ran the length of her back in a soothing motion. “Sounds good, but you’ve got to work on your little problem.”
“What problem?”
“You know the thing you do when you sleep.”
Phia grabbed a thatch of his wet locks and yanked back. “I don’t snore!” He laughed, and she joined in. It was the first time she could remember truly laughing in forever.
Chapter Six
“I don’t know what to say,” Kyra, the inventory specialist, said from across the large glass-topped desk.
Settling back in her chair, Dr. Lobush closed the file she’d been reading, which held the inventory checklist. “Well, have you checked the bins on the loading deck? Once or twice, we’ve been known to forget to bring one in.”
“Yes, and I’ve also checked the register for the purge room. It wasn’t destroyed accidentally. It’s as if it got up and walked away,” Kyra wailed as she wrung her hands together.
Dr. Lobush watched the younger woman run her fingers through her short, spiky pink hair, causing the tiny silver bells she wore on the tips of each spike to jingle for the hundredth time since she’d entered her office with the news of the misplaced personomale. “I seriously doubt it would have walked away. If it did, someone would have reported it by now.”
“I know, which led me to think maybe there’s a mix-up with the paperwork.” Kyra pulled a clipboard from her satchel on the floor beside her chair. “By my calculations, we had forty FAPs in stock fifteen days ago, twenty-five PAPs, and then the new one.”
Dr. Lobush leaned forward in her seat, but didn’t interrupt.
“When I went back through and did my count yesterday, I had records of receipts for five FAPs and four PAPs, but none for the new one.” She reached into her briefcase again and pulled out an LCD wafer. “And I got this in today. It references the X scar on its chest and says its name is Xavier.” She slid the wafer across the desk. “The inventory for the FAPs and the PAPs added up, so the only thing I can think of is, it was stolen and whoever stole it doctored the inventory.”
“That’s quite an accusation, Kyra.” Dr. Lobush read the wafer, mentally noting the date of the requested pick-up and the personal requests, such as the embellishment of the original scar, the eye color change, the tapering of his hair, and the placement of the number 4 to the back of his left shoulder.
“I know, Dr. Lobush, but it’s the only thing that makes any sense.”
“What did security have to say? Did they review the cameras?”
“Yes, there was nothing out of the ordinary. The facial recognition software recorded and displayed each of the personomales as they left with their mistresses. I hate to accuse one my coworkers, but the more I think about it…It has to be an inside job. Who else would know how to ge
t one of them out of here without being seen?”
Dr. Lobush drew her lips together in a thin line as she closed the file and pushed it at Kyra. She hadn’t expected to be found out so soon, and definitely not by such a green employee. Kyra would have to be dealt with if her plan had any chance of working. “I see. It actually makes a lot of sense, but who would do something like this?” She sighed and settled back in her chair. “Having said that, I must say the mere thought of such a thing seems farfetched.”
“I feel the same way, but there are no other possibilities.” Kyra reached into her satchel and pulled out a small LCD pad. “Here’s a list of everyone who was working when it came in. I was hoping you could speak with each of them to see what they know.”
Dr. Lobush took the pad and pretended to skim over the list of names, and employee numbers. Kyra was definitely in the wrong line of work. “Great. I’ll take it from here, then. You get back to work, and I’ll update you as soon as I know anything. Until then, I think it would be best if you keep this conversation between the two of us. If it is someone within the facility, we don’t want them to know we’re on to them, and we don’t want anyone thinking they can’t trust you. With you being so new, earning the trust of your fellow sisters is important, is it not?”
“Yes, ma’am, but if someone is stealing from the company, she should be brought to justice. Don’t you agree?”
“Certainly, and if what you assume proves correct, she will be dealt with, but for now it is only an assumption.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
A rueful smile played over Dr. Lobush’s face as she added, her voice holding a hint of disapproval, “You didn’t tell anyone what you believe, did you?”
Kyra shook her head with vehemence. “No. As soon as I was sure something was amiss, I came directly to you.”
“Good girl. You did the right thing. Get back to work, and if you think of anything else that could be of help, promise me you will come to me immediately. Night or day, it doesn’t matter.”