The Girlfriend Experience

by Aubrey Parker

  The O-owned island of Elysium reminded Chloe of her own early impressions of that paradise. The sun seemed to shine all the time. The island’s lattice wasn’t like the main NAU lattice and didn’t have the same ecological concerns as the larger shield, so there was no real need for weather cycles.

  Sun could shine through the lattice when it was out, and the simulated sun built into the carbon nanotube framework could replace it on days when the natural weather beyond the lattice was stormy and cloudy.

  For the same reason, days on Elysium were all the same length: 16 hours of sunlight and eight hours of darkness. The sun slowed as it rose near the peak and following descent, stretching Elysium’s late mornings and early afternoons — the “golden times” — as long as possible.

  The island was carpeted in gorgeous gardens. They’d grown brilliant under the bright sun, constant mist from devices in the soil, and Elysium’s perpetual 75 degrees. The gardens were tended by strong, physically enhanced men in white robes with deep tans — and despite their job’s dirty nature, they were never dirty.

  There were also pruning girls (as supernaturally beautiful as the men, equally enhanced and tan) who kept the flowers trimmed. Island workers were gratis for guests, like mints in a dish. There were long, soft benches throughout the grounds for intimate encounters, and as Chloe strolled, she saw many couples (or trios, or quadruples, or more) using them. The only real rule governing outdoor encounters was that they be kept in the mood of the island.

  To Chloe, that meant they should be mostly quiet, robes must be kept clean, and those having sex in the gardens should look as much like art as possible.

  Anything was allowed behind closed doors, of course. But Elysium — the poshest among O’s vacation islands — wasn’t a place where even “workers” like Chloe felt like they were working. Every day since she’d arrived for her stint off-continent felt like vacation. It was true for everyone. Days were spent in pleasure both above and below the waist. There were games to play; there was warm sun to bathe in; there were waterfalls to frolic beneath; there were vast pools to swim in.

  Clients were carefully screened and had to earn the right to visit Elysium — for an exorbitant price. The O employees chosen to accompany them were also screened before being offered to clients. Relationships, once on the island, were one-on-one, but many clients swapped those they’d come with or teamed up in groups. A party of ten high-paying O clients and their ten (or more) escorts often found themselves in the same paradise oasis together. Everyone played nude in the oases, so it was simple for everyone to start touching, feeling, and stroking.

  Chloe’s assigned client was a man named Stephen Jameson. Clients could be as anonymous as they wanted to be, but Stephen wasn’t shy. He’d told Chloe what seemed to be his entire life story during their opening dinner date. He was in the Enterprise Party, as were almost all the clients wealthy and well-placed enough to be granted entry to Elysium. He’d made nearly a billion credits in the biological upgrades market, mainly through penile enhancement. (“A market that hasn’t had trouble making money since the days of AOL,” he’d said, and Chloe had laughed even though she had no idea what AOL was.) Stephen told Chloe he’d brought his wife, then waved at a stunning black-haired woman three tables away, sitting beside a man with a jawline like a statue.

  Chloe liked Stephen. He was pleasant sexually, and his cock (certainly enhanced, given his line of work) filled her in a way that hit all the right spots. He fucked her courteously, almost seeming on the verge of thanking her. He told her she was beautiful, and admired her body without joking that his upgrades could improve it.

  He was a good man and an excellent client, but still something felt off to Chloe. She didn’t understand the feeling, but quickly smothered it. Pleasure was her job, and being an escort was one of the most coveted and prestigious careers in the NAU.

  Shake it off, Chloe, she told herself when the strange feelings came — usually at night. You’re lucky to be here, and to be with Stephen.

  She woke up refreshed. She found Stephen each morning. She walked the gardens and the beaches. She’d heard of Elysium for years. It was a place her mother had never been remotely elite enough to visit, but that every O girl secretly wished to experience. A place where you could lose the line between work and play, a place that would make anyone feel lucky to be alive. Almost every Elysium client was generous like Stephen, allowing their escorts to play where they wanted (it was one of the things O screened for; stingy clients created jealousy and tension in paradise), and that meant everyone on Elysium — client or employee — could spend days in unending carnal pleasure.

  But Chloe had barely frolicked.

  Her mind was split. She had orgasm after orgasm with Stephen, with his wife Vivian, with Vivian’s escort, Carlos, and the few others they’d invited into their sessions. It was a vacation of epic proportions. Carlos had spent a full hour between Chloe’s legs, and he had some sort of an enhancement in his tongue that kept making her squirt in his mouth — something she’d never done before.

  Chloe was in bliss, and as she strolled the gardens, she found herself wanting more of that bliss. Yet she’d passed up the handsome gardener who made eyes at her, and she’d walked off from the orgy at the hot spring and the symphony of orgasms that sounded almost like murder.

  The problem, it seemed, was Andrew. Except that, strictly speaking, Chloe thinking about him when she had work to do didn’t make sense — not with the way Chloe had been raised, the way the whole NAU had been raised.

  Still, she found her mind spinning idly from time to time, feeling lost, having to chase the errant emotions before realizing she was actually missing him. She’d been in Elysium bliss with Stephen for a week, and yet — against all logic — she found herself missing her simple, unadventurous dinners with Andrew. She missed their sessions spent kissing, and their plain (but still somehow mind-blowing) sex.

  Only, she didn’t just miss him. What worried her was the way she’d changed her behavior because she missed him. None of it made sense. Elysium was a delightful business trip, Andrew knew what she did for a living, and she had every reason (obligation, really) to leave personal affairs behind and focus on pleasures beyond Andrew and District Zero.

  But the distractions remained. It troubled her. Part of being a good Elysium escort was immersing yourself fully in the island. Chloe was doing her job, yes … but was she phoning it in? She was here, but participating without really being present. She’d lain down with a grove of naked women and had come hard enough to cramp, but somehow that seemed like a cop-out, seeing as she’d passed a similar gathering of male employees, too, and decided not to join them.

  Each time she passed opportunities for pleasure (especially male-driven pleasure), was she doing it because she was satisfied … or because something inside her didn’t want to engage in pleasure for the sake of gratification alone?

  Every encounter seemed to require justification. There had to be a line between work and play. That line, on Elysium, was almost impossible to find. If she had sex with Stephen, that was work. If she fucked in a foursome with Vivian and Carlos, that was also work. But what about the rest?

  She caught herself thinking of Andrew while she was fucked from behind and couldn’t see that it was Stephen inside her. She closed her eyes as Vivian fed her Carlos’s cock, imagining Andrew’s.

  Now, conflicted, she sat on a garden bench and breathed deeply, trying to realign her brain and count her many blessings.

  She needed to be present. She needed to remember to love all she’d been given.

  Inhale.

  Exhale.

  The sun was warm and bright. The air smelled forever fresh. Chloe was alone with her feelings. Most people never saw paradise, and yet she got the very best food, the very best bedding, and the planet’s very best accommodations.

  Stephen’s room looked like an elaborate Greek palace: fluted columns and wading pools, gigantic beds and places to recline. There was
a hot pool, cooler pool, and one that bubbled with a scent like cinnamon. There were no walls; the lattice-mediated breeze sighed through the chambers at all hours, neither too hot nor too cold.

  Waiters served her every whim — even Chloe, who was technically staff like they were. They were all strong, broad, bare-chested, and chiseled, with scant loincloths over their fronts and perfect, strong asses visible from behind. There were serving girls, too, all wearing nothing but the tiniest panties. Any would do anything for anyone, including the escorts.

  A handsome gardener came over and sat on the bench beside Chloe. His white robe looked like someone could make camp under it. He looked her over, without lechery, and said, “May I offer you pleasure?”

  Chloe looked back at the man. He was incredibly attractive. He had a strong, mostly-bare chest, boulder-like arms, and a perfectly charming smile. Just looking at him, Chloe felt herself growing wet, but conflicting feelings came with the sensation. She could lie back and experience pleasure for hours, losing her head to the cloudless sky. But she wouldn’t, for reasons unknown.

  “No thank you,” she said.

  The gardener nodded without offense, then walked away.

  Chloe watched his robe sway, getting a glimpse of his magnificent cock as he turned. She suddenly wanted very much to call him back.

  But then a notification pinged in her tiny earpiece: a summons from Steven.

  Chloe’s choice was gone.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Chloe found Stephen in the hot pool with his wife Vivian. Both were naked. As was common among O’s elite clients (Chloe had heard them called “Beau Monde”), their bodies were so enhanced they were essentially perfect.

  But they didn’t look enhanced, and that was what seemed to differentiate Beau Monde enhancements from those in the lower classes. Most fake chests had a way of looking artificial — mainly because they were so idealized. Same for arms, midsections, facial features, and genitals. But the same wasn’t true of elite enhancements. Stephen and Vivian looked as if they’d achieved perfect bodies naturally. And if most of the people here didn’t look the same, Chloe might have believed they’d done exactly that.

  Carlos wasn’t around. In a strange (and foreign) way, Chloe felt touched watching the two stand in the water and run their hands over one another’s skin. Out of all the people on the island, Stephen had chosen, right here and now, to have sex with his wife. Vivian, with her long black hair, trim waist, and high, full breasts, was beautiful, but Stephen could fuck her whenever he wanted to. Why was he doing so at Elysium?

  Unbidden, Andrew flitted into her mind. She shook the feeling away.

  Vivian looked over at Chloe and smiled. “Look who arrived.”

  “Come on over, Chloe,” said Stephen, raising a hand to beckon.

  She slipped her white robe from her shoulders and stepped down into the shallow pool. The water came to her waist. Heat met the warmth she’d been feeling since seeing the gardener’s cock. Her itch would finally be scratched, but now, properly, for work.

  Chloe crossed the pool to the embracing couple. Stephen’s large cock was at full attention, bobbing at the waterline, resting tall against Vivian’s tan leg. He shifted as Chloe approached and his dick slipped between her legs, to where Vivian’s flat stomach surrendered to a smooth, down-sloping triangle, bare except for a small patch of black hair. Vivian gave a little flinch and giggled, pressing her smiling mouth against Stephen’s shoulder.

  “We didn’t keep Carlos for you,” said Stephen. “You’ll have to make do with the two of us.”

  “I’m sorry,” Vivian said with an impish smile that told Chloe she wasn’t sorry at all.

  “I’m not,” said Chloe. The water felt good on her bare pussy. She was primed, so slipping into the threesome’s mood was easy. She felt a tingle as the water lapped her.

  “Why, Chloe?” said Vivian.

  Chloe met her eyes. Vivian’s complexion was dark and Mediterranean. Her piercing green eyes were gleaming beacons of lust. Vivian was in charge, Stephen second behind her. This time, Chloe was an instrument for their pleasure. As it should be.

  Chloe replied with what Vivian wanted to hear, knowing a shift in her native sexuality was required … and suddenly desiring it with all her mind and body.

  “Because I don’t want anyone else to eat your pussy right now.”

  Vivian had known that was coming, but Chloe had pitched her voice perfectly, with just the right blend of shy desire. She wasn’t modest, but if Vivian was in charge, Chloe had to be second.

  “You want to eat my pussy?” The unspoken codicil in Vivian’s eyes and voice added: You dirty girl.

  Chloe slid her hand down Vivian’s smooth front, all the way past the small patch of hair. Her hand broke the water’s surface and she felt it slip between two warmer folds of flesh like a kiss.

  Vivian closed her eyes, sighing, and walked backward. Chloe, knowing she wanted to be pursued and desired, followed, reaching for her crotch. Vivian’s ass hit the pool’s side and Chloe caught up, touching her again, now rubbing more firmly.

  “Does my pussy feel good?” Vivian asked.

  “Oh, yes.”

  Vivian leaned forward and placed her soft lips against Chloe’s. Her hands found Chloe’s tits and rubbed them gently.

  Vivian lifted herself from the water, sat on the pool’s edge, and spread her legs. Her pussy dripped water. Chloe, finding her escort’s unfeigned rhythm, leaned forward and buried her face in Vivian’s center, her scent and taste intoxicating. At the same time, she reached between her own legs to fiddle her clit, nursing a desperate need to relieve pent-up pressure.

  Chloe licked Vivian from bottom to top, then used her fingers to gently spread her. She gave it a lick. Vivian tilted her head back and moaned.

  Something pushed between Chloe’s legs. She moved her hand, expecting to brush another. Instead, pressure increased behind her, blunt and strong. Her lubrication won out over the water’s friction and Stephen’s cock slipped inside her.

  Chloe gasped — and then, already delirious, slipped her tongue into Vivian’s pussy.

  “Oh, shit, Chloe. You do that so well,” Vivian moaned.

  Stephen was taking long, slow strokes in and out of Chloe’s pussy, making waves in the water. Chloe felt like she could come already, was again astonished at how wet and ready she’d become. She hadn’t just adapted to the threesome, hot as it was. This was something that had been building unseen inside her, hot and urgent, a pressing biological need.

  She closed her eyes. Andrew flashed before them. She shook him away, forcing herself to focus.

  Vivian’s pussy was wet and open before her. She slipped a finger inside, turned it, beckoned with it once inside and tickled Vivian’s front wall.

  Vivian squirmed and moaned.

  Stephen’s tempo increased, his thrusts slapping her ass.

  The pool’s water jumped and lapped at Chloe’s waist. Water landed like rain on her back.

  Vivian slid forward against Chloe, insistent. Chloe’s clit responded, beginning to tickle and throb. Vivian’s clit stood erect, a red bud between her blushing, juice-edged lips. Chloe licked it — first fast and quick, then in long strokes. Vivian started to lubricate; hands found the back of Chloe’s head.

  Steven moved faster, and an orgasm tore through Chloe.

  She bore down onto it and Steven, surprised, gasped. Suddenly, there was something even hotter than the water on her back, and Steven’s cock was gone. Chloe realized he’d come all over her … but was far from finished.

  “Turn on the bubbles,” Vivian ordered, backing away with her pussy wet and open, not yet satisfied. Her hand moved to her pussy and idly rubbed it, waiting.

  Chloe’s pussy was clenching with aftershocks as Steven stroked himself behind her, balls to her ass. She felt lost, unsure where she was.

  “And turn around, Chloe,” Vivian said, slipping into the water.

  Chloe did as she was told, turning her back to Vivian.
The dark-haired woman slipped her long, smooth body into the water and gripped Chloe by the hips, as if she had a dick and was planning to bury it. She slipped down further and began stroke. To lick Chloe’s back, down her spine.

  Steven turned on the bubbles.

  The pool didn’t roil like a hot tub. The bubbles were subtle, tiny and effervescent, like carbon dioxide fizzing from a soda. The entire pool was filled with them. Millions of popping bubbles churned the surface white, making it impossible to see.

  Elysium’s team leader had shown them several of the island’s features during orientation, including an electron microscope image that clearly showed what she said were 224 nanobots in a cluster, their reverse sides attached to a round substrate. The result looked like a pulsing ball covered in bristles. And right now, billions of those clusters were boiling from the pool floor, attaching to the three of them, vibrating ceaselessly.

  The sensation was overwhelming. Chloe came again immediately. Her knees weakened; she slipped down.

  Vivian moaned with disappointment, but then started to buckle, too.

  Chloe felt something stiff touch her skin and realized Steven was now balls-deep in his wife’s pussy, his hands working.

  Vivian turned, planted her mouth on Steven’s, and pushed him back so he was sitting on a shallow ledge under the water. She sat on him, straddling his dick, facing out, and began to move up and down. Chloe touched herself as she watched Vivian’s perfect tits bounce and slap water.

  “Come up here, Chloe,” she said, running a single finger across her lips.

  Chloe stood on the ledge, her feet on either side of Steven’s thighs. Standing, her slit was inches from Vivian’s face.