by Calinda B
The horses swim to the edge and haul themselves out of the water. They lower their heads and drink from the cool clear water.
Castor turns and grabs my Phoebe avatar and lowers me to the ground. He deftly dismounts and scoops me up in his arms. He wades hip deep into the water, lifts my sodden skirts and lowers me onto his shaft where he proceeds to rock me against his hips, making gentle splashes as he moves.
Polydeuces pivots, takes my Hilaera avatar and moves me to the front of him. “I’ve got wood that needs waxing. What say you?”
I glance down at his throbbing heat. “Oh, yes,” I breathe, fully engaged with my avatar.
He coaxes me to spread out along the neck of the roan. I lean forward, allowing my arms to drape around the muscles of my strong steed. I grab onto the stallion’s coarse-haired, reddish mane. Polydeuces grabs my hips, lifts me, and leans into me, entering me from behind. He pumps vigorously.
No foreplay here, my Hilaera avatar thinks. Unless you call ‘capture and flee' foreplay.
Nor here, my Phoebe avatar agrees.
Still, when the men release inside of us, we moan, shriek, and wail as if we are having the orgasms of our lives.
After that, HoloMess 500 interrupts to see if I’ve accepted Himeros as a new client. I haven’t vetted him yet but I’m in an expansive mood so I take the bait. He pulse-coms within seconds.
“Hey, big dog, who wants to come out and…?” I’m immediately cut off.
“Can you feel me inside your pussy? You’re soaking wet and I’m big and hard and inside you right now.”
“Why, yes, I…” I start to stammer and lose control because he’s right. It does feel like he’s inside of me. I take a deep breath. I need to be in control in here at all times. This is my Headspace. “Who wants to know and why?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
“Sorry, but the rules are you tell me who you are, I access your headspace, and then we play.”
“This is just a game.”
“That’s right.”
“So, let’s play by my rules. You don’t like them, you don’t have to play.”
I’m busy scanning him to see who he is beyond the pixel wall. I get fragments of images, nothing more. He’s wealthy. He’s got a wife—wait! He’s got several wives. None of them know about the others.
“That’s my business,” he interrupts.
“What?”
“You scanning me to see who I am. That’s my business. Now do we play or not?”
The green lights go off in the corner indicating that the guy has put money in my account for his pleasure. A number flashes indicating it’s twice as much as I usually get paid for a first session. I regard it and frown. The red lights go off in my head. Big, blaring red flags finally get my attention. There’s something about this guy that bothers me. Something’s not right here. “I’m going to issue you a refund.”
“Keep it.”
“I don’t think this transaction is going to work.”
“We haven’t even begun.”
“Yes, I’m afraid we have. And it’s not going to work.”
“You haven’t even seen my avatar.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“It will when you see me.”
Against my better judgment I say, “Okay, show me.” I sink onto the sheepskin rug and wait. “I’m waiting.” Nothing happens. I start to unplug from the session when the room changes. Now we’re in the headspace of Himeros, a lesser-known Greek god of sexual desire. He stands before me, completely naked. He’s muscular. Gorgeous, shimmery golden wings extend from his ravishing shoulders. His cock hangs, slightly aroused. It’s one of the most beautiful cocks I’ve seen in my life. It says desire. It promises pleasure. It speaks of endless satisfaction. “Do you know who I am?” he asks in a soft, rich voice.
“Sure,” I say nonchalantly. “You’re Himeros.” I do know my Greek mythology. Inside, I’m quivering with anticipation.
“What do you know about me?”
“You’re a Greek god. You hang with Aphrodite. You’re the god of uncontrollable desire.”
The room has changed to a stone temple. Soft torches illuminate the walls. I can’t tell if this is his doing or mine. He’s in my Headspace and I don’t know who is in control here. This is both disturbing and intriguing.
“Are you feeling me?”
My pussy is throbbing. Sure enough, I do feel uncontrollable desire. I want this avatar. I want to play with him like I’ve never played before. I decide to roll with his rules. He’s probably a control freak. “Oh, yes, Himeros, I feel you.”
“I told you you’d like me.”
“Liking my clients isn’t part of the job description. Servicing their needs is.”
“All I want to do, baby, is to get you to come.”
I pause. Does he know about my little problem?
“Don’t you want to come around my hard cock?”
“You know I do, sugar. I want to come and come again.”
“Yeah, well I heard you have a problem with that.”
I pause again. “What are you talking about?”
He laughs.
“Who are you?”
“I’m Himeros.”
“I don’t have any problems.”
“Really?” he says in a mocking tone.
This guy confuses me. Once again, I start to unplug from the session. I’m going to keep his damn money for the upset he’s caused in me.
“I wouldn’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Unplug me.”
“Look. This is just supposed to be a game. It’s all a fantasy. I don’t know who you are and how you came to find me but I don’t like you. We’re done.”
“You’ll come around.”
“No refund.”
“Suit yourself. This has been fun.”
“Take my pulse off your list.”
“You’ll want me to call.”
“I doubt it.”
His mood shifts and once again I’m filled with desire. It overwhelms me. It’s like a tidal wave of sensation that crashes through me and surges me to and fro. I fall, I literally fall to my knees. “What do you want me to do?” I breathe. “How can I be of service?”
“Oh, you’ll find out soon enough,” he says. He sparks out of the room and I’m left wanting, yearning, desirous of more. I roll onto my back. I place my fingers between my legs and push apart the wet silk. I stroke. Excitement builds. I stroke some more. Pleasure intensifies. I push a finger up inside. This feels good. This feels great. And then that persistent little voice starts inside, reminding me why I never touch myself, never play with toys, have given up trying. You’ll never orgasm. You’re thirty years old. Haven’t done it yet and never will. I try to push that voice away but the more I push, the louder it gets until I can’t hear anything else. Finally, I get up, turn off the pulse-com and head to my bedroom to fall asleep, or at least try to. And I swear to myself that I’ll never accept a call from this Himeros guy again. Whatever his thing is, I’m not playing. Not in my headspace.
Chapter Ten
After my week of non-orgasmic-as-usual action with my clients, I decide to take a few days off. My bank account is fat and I’m wiped out. Working in my Headspace is harder than it looks. It requires a lot of energy to merge minds with another. It’s a breathtaking autumn day and I need to get out. I pulse-com Jonas to hear what’s happening with him. They guy who answers is not the guy I know and love. It’s like an imposter has taken his place.
“Hey, V,” a weary voice greets me.
“Hey. What’s going on?”
“Not much. You?”
The conversation is so stilted, I falter. “Not much,” I finally manage to say. “I, um, I wondered if you wanted to go grab a bite with me. It’s a pretty day.”
A sigh lands in my ears. “I’m afraid not, V. We’re working on the Joner Restoration project over here.”
“Okay, so?”
“So,
no on grabbing a bite.”
“Okay, maybe tomorrow?”
“I’m afraid not. We’re trying to work things out.”
A burst of sudden rage pummels my gut. “What, so that means you don’t get to have any friends anymore?”
“Oh, I still get to retain a few.”
“Are you kidding me? Which few? Am I on the list?” A stiff silence cuts a hole in my ear. “Are you fucking shitting me, Jonas? Have I been booted from the list?” More stabbing silence. “I should be at the top!” Tears erupt from my eyes. I will never, ever in a thousand years understand a dysfunctional couple like Jonas and Jenner. “Seriously?” I say to the silence. “Jonas? Talk to me.”
“I’m sorry, V. This is over. I can’t do it. For now.”
The pulse-com echoes in my ear, letting me know that Jonas has disconnected. Disconnected! My friend of umpty-ump years has disconnected from me! “Fuck him,” I yell into the room. “Fuck him and his ancestors.”
Nigel saunters into the room. Having a little upset? He parks his haunches and sets to grooming his paws. Keep it down, will you? I’m trying to digest.
“Grrr,” I respond. “Grrr, grrr, and double grrr.” I’m hurt, angry, and bewildered. I reconsider. It was just a moment. We can work this out. I pulse-com Jonas back. No one answers. He always answers me, even if he’s in a meeting. I wait a few and try again. Nothing. Impulsively, I pulse-com my new friend, Magicka.
“Hey, girl, what’s doing? I’m just about to go out on a date.”
“Lucky you,” I grumble into the phone.
“Oh, my, honey, whatever’s the matter? It’s not a date date. Want to come along?”
“I’m afraid I wouldn’t be much company. I just got stood up by Mr. Inched-Away-from-the-Edge. We’ve been friends for years! Now, suddenly, I’m on a watch list courtesy of jealous bitch girlfriends who go out on their man and then have the nerve to tell him who he can and can’t be friends with!” That came out stronger than I intended. “I’m sorry to burden you with my shit. Sorry. Go on your date. I’ll be fine.”
“You’re coming with me and Dean, darling. I insist. We’ve got two pairs of caring ears and need a little drama. Give me your address.”
I sheepishly mumble it into the com. I hate to appear weak or incompetent. I especially hate to appear weak.
“I’m there in fifteen.”
The pulse-com echoes in my ear. While I wait I decide to get to the task I’ve put off all week. I pulse the company that background-checks my clientele.
“Yes, this is Insight. How may I help you?”
“A client contacted me several times on October 24. I haven’t vetted him. He appears as an avatar called Himeros. What can you tell me about him? Any psycho behavior?”
“One moment. Checking.”
I idly pet Nigel while I wait. A whirring sound comes through the pulse-com like a million tiny bees’ wings.
“We find no records of such a person.”
“Look deeper. He has to be in there. He got my number. He was persistent. He has loads of money.”
“One moment. Checking.”
You could just ask me, Nigel communicates, purring loudly.
Right.
Seriously. I’ve got great instincts. How could I be such a good hunter without good instincts? He stands up, arches his back, and settles back down on the arm of the couch.
Thanks for the offer but I need to know about him before he enters my Headspace again, not after.
I’m just offering.
Thanks.
“We’ve traced the call. It came from an area outside of our jurisdiction.”
“What are you talking about? The world and beyond is in your jurisdiction. It says so on your marketing material.”
“This came from a remote location, outside of our jurisdiction.”
“How is that possible? You have access to everywhere.” The drone-like voice starts to repeat the same information, but I cut it off. “Never mind. Just tell me what you found out.”
“The individual in question resides in a remote location outside of our jurisdiction.”
“Okay, okay with the ‘outside your jurisdiction’ bit. Can you just tell me what you found out?”
“The individual in question resides in a remote location outside of our jurisdiction.”
I sigh. “Go on.”
“The location is known as the Shiver Strip.”
“Well, that’s provocative at least.”
“It’s a small chain of islands in the southern Indian Ocean. It is only accessible via remote boat echoing. The tides must be perfect to get there, so access is limited.”
“Remote boat echoing, huh? That’s not used much. That’s a pretty advanced technology.” If Himeros used RemBoats to find his home, he’d also have to be highly skilled to manage to get there. “I picked up that he has a few wives. Do you see that as well?”
“The individual in question has wives in other parts of the world.”
“How is that possible? If it’s so hard to get there, how can he get off the Shiver Strip?” Saying that phrase makes me smile.
“While we don’t have access to the person in question, due to his residing outside of our jurisdiction, we do show traces of his movement outside of the scope of the unreachable location.”
“And? Criminal record? History of psychosis? Anything?”
“Since the individual in question is outside of our jurisdiction, we show no records of such conduct but that may be because he resides—”
“Outside of your jurisdiction. I know, I know.” This is starting to feel like a fruitless endeavor. “Can you tell me anything more? Anything at all?”
“One moment. Checking.”
More whirrs and clicks greet my ears. I tap my fingernails on the sofa, staring out my sunshield window.
“The person in question is known to have a fondness for cattle.”
“Cattle? What does that have to do with anything? For what with cattle?”
“That’s all I can tell you. He’s restored an endangered species of cattle. The person in question is…”
I disconnect before I have to hear what jurisdiction he’s immune from. This is a mystery. The guy lives in a remote location. At least that explains one thing—he can’t know anything about me…can he? How can he even access Headspace? Where would he have received his headpiece? An island chain outside of the reach of Insight would hardly be able to get shipments—of anything. How does he live? Where does he get his food? From his interest in cattle? Areas severely ravaged by the destruction are seldom fit for even insect life.
Since it’s not my problem or concern, I’ll let it go and focus on other things—like the elusive orgasm and how I can get my friend back. He can keep dating the bitch queen. He does not get to cast me aside without a fight.
Chapter Eleven
Magicka alerts the door-pulse twenty minutes after he said he would be here.
“Girl, the traffic! I tell you what. I almost broke a nail getting here.”
I scan his attire up and down. “Turn around.”
He pivots in a slow circle.
Today he’s divided his hair into quarters. He’s got a section of dreads. A section of spike. A section of perky braids. Lastly, there’s a section of more of the sleek early-Hollywood glam actress. His clothing matches the hair—a quarter Rastafarian, a quarter future-punk, a quarter farm girl, and a quarter ball gown, complete with jewels.
“How do you do that? Keep all the segments connected, I mean. I’d think they’d fall off.”
“Do you like it?” he says, swirling again in a dramatic circle.
“Yes, I do.”
“Then, that’s all you need to know. Trade secrets and all that. Let’s roll.”
We head out to his mode of transportation, a classic Cadillac roadster from way back in the 1930s. Highly specialized trans-mode restoration teams have taken to putting current Super-Smart-Car technology in the shells of old cars. The name of the
game these days is reuse, repurpose, and restore. No more claim and rape of resources. It’s not that the planetary inhabitants’ morals are improved. We just can’t afford to make any more mistakes. We all need to make do with what we’ve got.
“Nice wheels, Magicka!”
“Thanks. They’re Dean’s. He’s got bucks. I’ve got friends. I’m a mere waiter, don’t forget.” He opens the car door and says, “Dean, this is the wonderful woman I told you about—this is Vienna.”
Dean is another flamboyant gender bender. He sports a full-on Alexander Skarsgård vintage True Blood bad-boy look on one side, coupled with a futuristic female-model kind of makeup from the Nuevo trendzies, current news we can access if we have the right pulse-com subscription. You can see people riding public transportation, sitting in cafes, or even walking with Nuevo trendzies news displayed in front of their retinas. I peruse it from time to time, too. Dean’s full-bowed Kewpie-doll half-red lips dotted with jewels were popular last week.
“Hi, Dean. Thanks for letting me tag along.”
“No problem, sugar,” he says and winks at me. “Now huddle up and let’s zoom.”
I hop in between them, sandwiched between their two distinct fragrances and unique looks, and away we speed.
The Cadillac navigates us over to Capitol Hill. When I was a child, my mom told me that “the Hill” used to be fun, flamboyant, and full of color. It was mostly occupied by gays. Today the only color that exists is the two men next to me. The streets are in disrepair. Buildings are gone, vacant, or in a state of decay. “Why are we over here?” I ask. “This place is dead.”
“Not entirely,” Dean answers. “There’s a place here that you’ll just die when you see it. The owner, a guy named Kayos, got tired of waiting for a restoration team so he took matters into his own hands and built himself a gem.”
“What’s it called?”
He glances over at me and smirks. “Gem.”
“Oh. You set me up for that one.” I give him a wan smile.
“Just trying to cheer you up.”
“Thanks.” He looks ahead and frowns. “People are starting to find out about this place. Look. A line is forming.”