Wired For Sex: A.D.A.M. Page 2

  It had made him want to do more than smile at her. It had made him want to test the non-military side of his programming.

  It had made him realize there was a huge gap in his programming.

  He was fully versed in the technical aspects of sexual intercourse. He knew every conceivable position from the mundane to the creative and slightly bizarre. He knew every point on her body that could and should be stimulated to give her the ultimate pleasure.

  He just didn't know how to get from point A to point B. He didn't know how to breach the gap from polite acquaintance to lover, but he did know that he couldn't simply walk up to her, smile, and say ‘let's fuck'.

  He was tempted to try it simply because he'd been struggling for weeks to figure out how to pursue it and wasn't any closer than when he'd started trying to puzzle it through.

  He had not, of course. Right up until the discussion between his father and Whitmore, he had thought that his purpose was strictly to monitor security, and he had focused on that, doing his best to ignore the distractions of the many employees of Robotics Inc. around him that had nothing to do with work.

  Whitmore had said that the women wanted to fuck him, though, and his father had suggested that he was flawed because he had not displayed any interest in fucking any of them, which bothered him. He had decided to see if Evie wanted to fuck him. He had worked the scenario out carefully in his mind, but had concluded from the other things he had heard and that had been programmed into him that it would not be acceptable to simply walk over to her and do it. To behave as everyone else, he must wait for an opportunity to be alone with her.

  He had still thought his first step should be to see if he could ascertain if she was receptive to having sexual intercourse with him because the only thing that he was absolutely certain of about the humans was that they were never completely accurate. They had programmed him to carefully assess facial expressions and interpret them, but they weren't good at it themselves, mostly, he thought, because as often as not, they never actually looked at the people they were talking to, or, if they did, their mind was on something else.

  He had thought, perhaps, that Whitmore was right about Evie. When she had looked at him, he had seen a rapid flow of emotions expressed on her face. Color had warmed the tint of her skin, and he knew that was a blush. She had smiled at him, not merely the pleasant, friendly smile she gave everyone else. It had seemed ... different, more than merely friendly, or perhaps it was the way it made him feel that made it seem different?

  Her reaction when he had smiled back had not been at all what he had anticipated, however. The faint, appealing color of her skin had darkened—with embarrassment, he realized. Her smile had wobbled and disappeared along with her bright color, and then she had dropped the folder she held in her hand.

  He had felt—disconcerted, he decided, disappointed, too, because he had decided Whitmore had not meant Evie when he had said ‘all’ of the women wanted him to fuck them, that he had merely been making a generalization about them, a common human practice. Particularly when he had decided the moment he had looked at her when they left the meeting that he could redeem himself in his father's eyes by fucking Evie.

  It was gratifying to learn that what he'd wanted to do for weeks was not only acceptable, but had been encouraged.

  He had gone to help her collect the papers because he knew it was the polite thing to do, but also because he had wanted to see if he could ascertain why she did not seem interested in fucking him.

  And now, instead of gathering more data that could be useful, he was only more confused. He had felt her warmth when he had crouched down to help her, a heightened warmth that told him her skin had flushed with accelerated blood flow. He had detected the faint, musky scent of arousal. He had heard her rapid heartbeat and the rush of her breath, and when she had looked up at him, he had seen that her eyes were dark with desire.

  All of those things had produced the appropriate response throughout his own system so that he had not merely detected the signs of arousal within her. He had felt them himself, a mirrored reflection at first, and then more when she had settled her hand on his leg.

  A good deal more.

  It had heated him so much that he had been almost as alarmed at the rapid escalation of heat and deceleration of brain function as he was pleased to realize all systems were reacting in what was considered a ‘normal’ sexual response.

  But then she had behaved as if she had felt none of the things he was certain he had detected, had not said anything he might interpret as encouragement, and she had not even looked back when she rushed away.

  His body returned to a more or less normal state as he stood pondering the situation. Not entirely normal. He was ... uncomfortable. He looked down at the main source of discomfort and discovered that, although the blood engorging his penis had receded with his disappointment, there was still just enough blood flowing to the member to keep it semi-erect and the counter pressure of his trousers was restricting him enough to cause the discomfort.

  Part of his discomfort, anyway. His heart had not completely regained its normal rhythm, and his body felt as if every muscle was still tensed for action not taken.

  He tried adjusting his penis so that the fabric was not cording him, but touching himself only sent out an unwelcome reminder through his system of what it had felt like to be fully aroused without an outlet for release.

  Still baffled, feeling vaguely angry, both that he was and because he felt, somehow, that he had failed a behavioral test, he left the office, still trying to decide if he had completely misinterpreted the ‘signals’ he had intercepted from Evie and what they had meant if he had. A lot of his continuing confusion lay in understanding why some things were felt but not said. Where was the line drawn between desire and action? Should he approach one of the other women and ask them to fuck, he wondered? Would that be expected? Would it prove there was nothing faulty in his programming? Or would that, again, be a failure because his father and Whitmore would think that he had only done it because they had suggested it?

  Which, he concluded uncomfortably, was the main reason he was contemplating it, because it had not occurred to him before to test the full range of his capabilities in sexual intercourse before ... except with Evie. He had thought nothing more was expected of him, or acceptable, than to mimic the behavior of those around him so that they did not suspect he was not one of them. All the employees had been working, so he had followed suit. He had not seen them fucking one another around the office.

  He had heard them talk about it, though.

  He had wondered what it would ‘feel’ like when he had emerged from the lab and felt an awakening of the senses he had been given and discovered he found a good bit of it pleasurable. Everything he had heard, their very focus on it almost as if it was the central core of their existence, had led him to suspect that it was the peak of all things pleasurable.

  He had wanted to know what it was like, he realized after a while, but he had thought it was forbidden to him, since his main programming suggested his primary functions were to obey direct orders. He had feared, since he had no experience of it, only his programming, that he would not be able to maintain his façade of being a ‘real’ human, and he knew that would displease his father.

  * * * *

  The emotional ‘high’ Evelyn had begun the night with had plateaued and begun a slow descent toward depression. It had seemed to her when she had rushed home for a quick respite before she pulled yet another ‘all nighter’ that fate had smiled upon her.

  It was her birthday.

  Mr. Johnson had handed her an extremely important file to compile into a report for him.

  And security chief, Adam Mercury was also pulling the late shift.

  It was not until she had hit the shower at a dead run than it had dawned on her that she would be virtually alone in the building with Adam and all sorts of possibilities had immediately presented themselves to her.

 
She was obliged to admit that there might have been a lot more imagination at work than actuality, but it seemed to her that he had shown a good deal of interest in her since the day she had embarrassed herself by coming apart at the seams only because he had smiled at her. She had caught him studying her speculatively several times since.

  Of course, he might just have been trying to figure out why she had been so rattled over nothing more than a friendly smile, but she could dream, couldn't she?

  She decided she could.

  She decided she could do more than dream—for once in her life!

  She was thirty. That realization had depressed the hell out of her, and not just because thirty was not ‘young’ anymore—not that it was old, but twenty anything sounded youthful and thirty something was beyond the blush, no matter how one diced it.

  More importantly, and depressingly, she realized she had almost nothing to show for it. She had no husband, no children—no family at all anymore. She had dedicated her ‘youth’ to the struggle to achieve, and she was still no more than a glorified secretary. At a higher pay scale than the typical woman in the secretarial pool, granted, trusted with far more important tasks, but still just a secretary despite her certainty that she was on her way ‘up’ when she had landed the position as Mr. Johnson's executive assistant three years earlier.

  She had decided as she had showered to freshen up that she was going to make a push to take her life beyond the ordinary. For once in her life, she was going to aggressively pursue something she wanted instead of just looking at it wistfully and wishing she had the nerve to go for it.

  She was going to seduce Adam.

  She wasn't certain where the idea had come from. She had never even contemplated attempting to be the aggressor in any sexual situation before.

  Unless it was just the fact that her sex drive, ignored and pushed aside for years for ‘serious’ goals, had finally hit the limit of endurance and Adam had pushed her over the edge.

  Or maybe it was just that, now that she had turned thirty, she had woken up to the fact that it was all going to be down hill from here? Maybe it was the fear that she was facing a decline in desirability with every day that passed when she had never exactly been a man magnet even when she was young and relatively pretty.

  Maybe it was just that she was fed up with pining over Adam and doing nothing about it and it had finally been driven home that he wasn't going to take the initiative and she was never going to find out what it was really like to be with him if she didn't go for it. She was going to be stuck with fantasizing and never actually experiencing.

  She decided not examine it too closely.

  She wasn't certain how she was going to go about it, but she decided to ‘arm’ herself with whatever she could to boost her feminine confidence.

  So, instead of a quick shower and a quick meal, she had spent her time primping—bathing, shampooing her hair, shaving everything, slathering lotion over her skin—and then she had emptied her lingerie drawer in search of the sexy bits of lacey under things she had bought and never quite gotten up the nerve to wear.

  It made her feel—revved for sex to put them on. She resolutely refused to look in the mirror to see if it looked as sexy on her as it felt. There was no sense in deflating her ego before she got the chance to put the underwear to the test, she reasoned.

  She topped it off with a short skirt and clingy, scooped neck top she would not have dared wear to the office at any other time and then finished up with a pair of thigh high nylons.

  Checking the mirror finally for the effect, she decided to wear her hair down for a change. Generally, she wore it pulled back in a neat, ‘professional’ chignon at the back of her head, but she thought leaving the dark, wavy mass loose around her face made her look more youthful—more approachable—she hoped.

  She had been buzzing with anticipation when she had arrived back at the office. The security guard that had buzzed her in had done a double take when he had glanced at her.

  It had unnerved her, made her wonder if it was from appreciation or because she looked like she was trolling to get laid. She worried her bottom lip with her teeth for a moment.

  If the latter was the case, was that a good thing or a bad thing?

  Would Adam notice—in a good way?

  She had been so excited through the first few hours that it had taken all she could do to try to concentrate on her work. Her fingers had shaken so badly she could hardly focus on anything beyond her quaking—and the dampness of her panties. She had been determined, though, to finish the report that had brought her to the office and get it out of the way so that she could focus on Adam when he made his rounds.

  And she had succeeded, in record time.

  And she still had not seen a sign of Adam.

  Glancing around the empty conference room when she set the report aside, she realized couldn't think of anything to do to dawdle a little longer.

  She had brought her supper with her since she hadn't taken the time to eat at home, but her stomach was so tied in knots with nerves she could hardly choke down more than a few bites. She spent most of her time crumbling her sandwich and chips into smaller and smaller particles until it finally dawned of her that she was making a huge mess on Mr. Johnson's conference table.

  Feeling weariness descend upon her abruptly, she got up, grabbed a small trashcan, and scooped the remains and the crumbs from the smooth table top. Setting the container aside when she had finished cleaning, she took out the cupcake she had made for herself and stabbed the single candle she had brought with it into the center. A long, disappointed sigh escaped her as she stared at it.

  She was going to spend her birthday alone—again.

  Glumly, she pulled the lighter out of her purse that she had brought to light the candle with and held the flame to the wick until it caught.

  She had just leaned down to set the cupcake on the conference table when she heard the door open behind her.

  She froze, her heart tripping over itself and abruptly thundering in her ears so loudly she had to strain to listen to see if whoever it was had entered the room or merely opened the door, looked in, and gone away again.

  She was too frozen, at first, to realize she had stilled in a completely unnatural position. Slowly thaw set in and her mind assessed.

  She was bent over the conference table as if she was just waiting to be humped. She could feel a breath of cool wafting across her bare buttocks, exposed by her lacy thong and short skirt.

  It took an effort to turn her head to look to see if anyone was still there, and if it was who she hoped it was.

  Adam was standing just inside the door, looking as frozen as she was, his gaze locked on her ass, which she realized abruptly was almost fully exposed by her position since her short skirt had risen halfway up her hips.

  She began to feel cramped from her position.

  She could not decide whether to straighten and approach him or stay as she was.

  Her throat closed at the thought, as if someone had wrapped their hand around it and squeezed, partly with sudden fear and doubt of the thoughts rambling disjointedly around in her mind, and partly with the upsurge of desire that flooded her.

  Apparently becoming aware that she was staring at him, he lifted his gaze as if with great effort and settled it on her face.

  The slight movement unfroze her sufficiently to allow her to straighten. She lifted the cupcake and held it up. “It's my birthday,” she said, uttering the first thing that came to mind. “I was thinking ... I was wondering ... I was really hoping to get laid,” she said baldly even while she cringed inwardly that the seduction scenario she had so carefully orchestrated in her imagination had completely deserted her.

  Chapter Three

  Adam discovered his heart was thundering so loudly in his ears that it garbled most of what she said. He heard the last clearly enough, though, and instantly translated the slang.

  She wanted him to fuck her.

  He
had reached her before his mind had even fully assimilated the meaning.

  His body had completely comprehended, however. It had risen to a state of readiness the moment he had stepped through the door and seen her bent over the conference table, the instant his gaze had homed in on the creamy, rounded cheeks of her ass. His blood was already surging, pounding out a rhythm inside of him in a demand he had no difficulty at all interpreting as extreme sexual arousal.

  Not that his brain had alerted him to that fact. It seemed to have all but shut down, lost the capability of processing anything beyond the urge to fuck—and the knowledge that the security cameras were bound to catch the entire act, but he was only peripherally aware of that.

  She stared at him wide eyed when he stopped in front of her, struggling to assess the situation and her reaction.

  Desire, he wondered?

  Fear?

  She was still holding the lit candle. Grabbing it from her limp hand, he slammed it onto the conference table without even glancing in that direction. A vague awareness flickered through him of heat as his hand extinguished the flame, and an unpleasant stickiness as his hand came down on it, but he was only dimly aware of it. His mind was fully occupied with sorting and discarding various sexual positions.

  Sloughing off the stickiness on the leg of his trousers when he realized all of his senses were registering mutual arousal, he grabbed her shoulders and dragged her against his chest. The softness of her body as it melded against his instantly registered in his mind, producing more waves of excitement but also a warning.

  She was soft, fragile—a human.