Man or Machine: 2 (Body Electric) (7 page)

But even though she knew what was going to happen, she still had to draw in breath sharply, grip the chair harder, when Hal and Dallas moved at the same time and shifted their grips to each other’s cock. It was a coordinated, seamless movement, almost as if they were the same person. They lost no rhythm and from the way Hal moaned and Dallas said, “Ohhhhhhh yes,” Ilsa could tell they had gained a great deal of pleasure.

And then they were kissing. Perfectly matched, of a height, with their hands moving frantically between them.

Ilsa’s hand moved toward the waistband of her jeans. They weren’t watching her. They were fully engrossed in their own world, in the friction and the heat between them, both of them feeling exactly the same thing. And she felt hot, raw, as if she could come with a single touch of her finger on her clit.

But it was Hal. She couldn’t show Hal she was affected. Even though she wanted nothing more than to join these two males. One who she’d shaped and one who had shaped her.

She gripped the arms of the chair again, as if she were tied there, being made to watch. Like Hal had watched her and Dallas. Except he’d been in control. And now they were giving each other something she couldn’t—because Dallas could learn about part of himself from Hal and because she couldn’t let herself touch Hal. Not if she wanted to keep some hold on her hard-won peace of mind.

Not if she wanted to stop herself from loving him again.

As if he could read her mind, Hal tore his mouth away from Dallas’. And looked straight at her.

“What do you want, Ilsa?” he asked. His voice was ragged. She knew from experience he was close to climax.

“I don’t—”

“Do you want to join us?” he asked, his hands still moving on Dallas, their hips thrusting toward each other now.

“I want—”

I want to touch you. I want you inside me. I want both of you inside me. I want to lie between you with one of you buried deep in my pussy and the other thrusting into my mouth. And then change over. I want your hands on me and my breath full of you.

When you come, I want to come with you. So hard, again and again.

And then I want you to kiss me, Hal.

She couldn’t.

“I want you to suck me,” said Dallas. “I want to come in your hot mouth, stud.”

“What do
you
want, Ilsa?” Hal asked again.

Ilsa took a deep breath. “I want you to do that to each other,” she said. And it was true. She did. She wanted to see it.

But she wanted something else much, much more. So much it frightened her.

Hal watched her for another moment. Then he nodded and, moving together, he and Dallas sidestepped to the bed. They tumbled onto it and though it took a minute or two to adjust themselves into the new position without getting tangled up in the wires connecting them, soon they were lying side by side with their heads at each other’s crotch level. Their cocks were harder than ever. Hal’s was reddened from the friction and arousal.

Ilsa kneeled up in her chair so she could see them better.

They opened their mouths at the same time and licked around the sensitive head of each other’s penis. They each put one hand around the base and one hand on their partner’s buttock, shaping long fingers around the curves. And then, as if neither of them could wait any longer, they took the other’s cock deep into their mouths.

Hal groaned. Dallas did too. They were like two pieces in a puzzle as they began to move and thrust together, sucking and stroking, pumping and groaning. Their bodies were urgent and beautiful, their lips stretched, muscles tensed, their balls and buttocks tight. It was one of the most erotic things Ilsa had ever seen and this time she couldn’t stop herself; her hand crept of its own accord beneath the waistband of her jeans. Her panties were soaked, her clit swollen. Her first touch made her hips buck, made a small cry escape her lips, and her second touch was enough to make her come. Her body clenched.

On the bed, Hal and Dallas’ movements became wild and uncontrolled. As Ilsa’s climax was thundering through her and she was pressing her lips tight together so she wouldn’t make any more noise, the men stiffened, tensed, clutched each other. Hal’s eyes were shut tight. Dallas’ eyes glowed brighter. She heard a low rumble deep in Dallas’ throat as the robot, for the first time, shared Hal’s climax.

A fresh wave of pleasure swept through Ilsa at the sight.

And then it was over. Quickly, Ilsa pulled her hand out of her jeans and wiped it on the side of her leg. They wouldn’t have noticed her. They were too involved with each other, or at least Hal had been. Dallas had the ability to collect a variety of perceptions at once though she wasn’t certain if that ability remained when he was experiencing his first orgasm.

Anyway, Hal had had his eyes closed. She was still safe.

Hal let Dallas’ cock slide out of his mouth. Interestingly, it had begun to go soft, the same as Hal’s cock was as Dallas let it go.

“That was fucking mind-blowing,” said Dallas. “I mean, I liked sex before but that was…whoa.”

Hal sat up. He wiped his mouth and smiled.

“Did you enjoy that too?” he asked Ilsa.

“It was very interesting,” she said, trying to keep her voice detached. She was aware her cheeks must be flushed and she was breathing more heavily than normal. She was also aware her right middle finger carried the distinct scent of her arousal. “I assume that you got the data you wanted, Dallas?”

“And then some, baby.”

Hal detached the electrodes on his head. “The experiment was an entire success then. Do you mind my asking what you’ll do with my semen? Just on a scientific basis.”

“My system occasionally incorporates excess moisture. I will process it, use what I can and discard the rest.”

“Sexy.” Hal scooted to the end of the bed and stood up.

Ilsa averted her eyes as he stretched his arms over his head, apparently very pleased with himself.

“I could really do with some supper,” he said.

When Ilsa and Hal arrived in the kitchen, two places were set at the table. A bowl of tossed salad sat in the middle next to a basket of bread and a covered serving dish that was emitting the most delicious aroma. There was a jug of iced water and a bottle of red wine, uncorked, and two glasses.

“Someone was expecting us,” said Hal. He was clothed now. It made it a bit easier on her. But only a little bit.

“Red’s an amazing cook.” Ilsa took the lid off the serving dish to reveal Red’s special fresh pasta with roasted vegetables and basil. One of her favorites.

“Whereas left to your own devices, you would live on cold cereal straight from the box, without milk. I remember it well.” Hal poured wine into two glasses.

Ilsa had been planning on drinking water. Dallas had gone to the workshop to process the information he’d gathered. It was her first time alone with Hal without him being tied to the bed. She needed to keep her wits about her.

Better than she’d kept her wits back in the bedroom when she’d had to make herself come.

She sat down and took a drink of the wine.

“Red prepared this in the five minutes between your telling her we were on our way down to the kitchen and us appearing?”

“She knows my habits.”

Hal pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. “They cater to your every need, don’t they?”

She chose to ignore the innuendo. “That’s why my father built them. He built them for us. Not for the world.”

He put a serving of pasta onto her plate, then his, and followed with the salad. “I’m surprised you trust me enough to show me the kitchen.”

“I don’t.” She sighed. “I don’t trust you at all, Hal. You’ve broken into my house looking for my secrets. But there isn’t a lot you don’t know anyway and I was hungry too.”

“I notice there are no robots in sight.”

“I have no desire for you to learn any more. They’re keeping tabs on you though.”

The pasta smelled amazing. Since lunch, she’d done all her final checks on Dallas, had sex with him, caught her ex in her closet and watched him and the robot make each other come. It did build up an appetite.

She dug in and so did Hal, who acted as if he hadn’t eaten in even longer.

She hadn’t shared a meal with anyone she wasn’t related to since her father’s funeral. Ilsa ate and tried not to think about this fact.

“Unless I try to escape,” he said after he’d cleared his plate and started on a second portion, “the robots are all under orders to stay as far away from me as possible. Except for Dallas, of course.”

His words brought back a searing memory of what had just happened. “I don’t think Dallas has many secrets from either of us now.”

“Or maybe what you mean is that we don’t have many secrets from Dallas.”

She took a long drink of wine and looked at him askance. “Do you—are you—have you ever done that before?”

“I’ve never met a robot who was advanced enough to have sex with, no.”

“I mean…”

Hal smiled but he took pity on her embarrassment. “I’ve never had sex with a male before either. It was two firsts at once. A glorious experiment.” He held his wine up, observing its color in the kitchen light. “Did you enjoy it?”

“I know
you
did.”

“Yes, but did you?”

“I’m glad Dallas got what he wanted.” She pushed a tomato around her plate. “As his creator, I feel responsible for him. I want his existence to be as rounded as possible.”

“Why did you create him, Ilsa? Aside from being a sex toy?”

“I wanted—” But it didn’t seem right to tell Hal what she really wanted—a companion. Someone she could never lose and who would never die. “Blue wasn’t created with emotions and thoughts but he learned them. I was curious about what it would be like if a robot had thoughts and feelings from the moment he was switched on.”

“Including sexual feelings.”

“It’s all part of being human, right?”

He studied her. She knew he didn’t believe what she was saying and was waiting for her to say more. But she wasn’t going to. It was none of his business what she did with whom. Not anymore.

“Okay,” he said at last. “And what have you discovered?”

“It’s still early days. He’s still discovering himself. Which is something you helped with, so I owe you a thanks.”

Hal filled their glasses again and leaned forward on the table. “What
are
they, Ilsa? They’re not just servants, are they? Surely your father didn’t create these—these wonders, only to sweep the floor and cook pasta?”

“My father and I didn’t talk about that.”

They hadn’t talked about emotion or ethics, she and her father. Their language had been electronics, engineering, programming. On these subjects their communication had been quick, intuitive, almost like breathing. It had always been like that, all her life, but was intensified in the six months they’d had together before he died.

It was a sharing of minds she’d only found in one other person. The one sitting across from her right now.

“But what do you think?” asked Hal.

“I…I don’t think he did. I think if he’d meant them only to be servants, he’d have patented everything he had to invent to make them and then licensed the patents, like he did for the Morgenstern artificial voicebox. I think he’d have tried to help people with his ideas.”

“There could be amazing implications for prosthetics. As only one example.”

“There could be ‘amazing’ implications for industry. It could put billions of people out of jobs. Let alone what it could do to warfare. If the robots can’t think, you can use them for anything you like. I’ve read the science fiction too, Hal.”

“People can choose the right thing,” Hal said, but there was a note of mockery in his voice.

“And how often did your parents, for example, choose the path that was going to benefit humanity rather than themselves?”

“About fifty percent of the time.” He reached for a bread roll and used it to mop up the vegetable juices on his plate. “But that was one hundred percent more than they had to, I suppose.”

“How often do you choose the right thing?”

“Ah. I’m a different case altogether.”

“Anyway,” Ilsa said, “it’s even more important now that the robots have started to think for themselves. We don’t get to choose for them anymore.”

“But what about your robots who haven’t had personalities implanted? Red and…”

“Green,” she answered. There was hardly any point denying Hal knowledge when he could infer it anyway. “They aren’t interested. They don’t have enough volition to choose for themselves, beyond the remit of their daily tasks. It would be like asking a car if it preferred to take the long way home or to discuss Nietzsche.”

“And yet you created Blue’s personality for him. I presume he didn’t ask for it. Were you playing God a little bit there, Ilsa?”

“It didn’t start out as that radical a change. It was a chatbot. I built it so I’d have something to kick around some ideas about philosophy with. Blue did the rest for himself. And then he fell in love with my sister.”