Page 38 of Ezra
There’s a scratch at the door, and a soft trill. The door opens slightly, letting a pillar of light stream in. Charlie skitters up onto my bed and comes to rest on my breasts.
“Are you a spider or a cat?” I remark softly, giving him a little pat as he nestles against me, making little beeps.
Reassured that I’m safe, that no one is going to find me here, of all places, and the most formidable android in existence is just beyond that wall, I give into exhaustion and fall asleep.
I wake with a start several hours later, jolting upright, causing Charlie to beep in surprise and shuffle away before lightly tapping my hand with his front legs.
“Sorry,” I whisper. “Didn’t mean to scare you. I’m fine.” I exhale, lying back on the bed. “It was just a dream.”
A horrible dream. The bombing, all over again, except this time I was trying to stop it. I saw the android responsible, the one in the baseball cap. I opened my mouth to shout and alert everyone to the danger, but no sound came out. My body was weighted like lead, and I was unable to chase him or throw myself on him to stop him. Complete and total helplessness, just before the detonation happened again before my eyes, how I thought it might look.
I’m wound tight. My jaw aches from how hard I’ve clenched it. Sighing, I rise to get myself a drink of water and head to my door.
From the bedroom and the crack in the door, I can see the living room. It’s the middle of the night, the sky black as pitch. It’s still raining, droplets glistening different colors from the neon lights streaming into the dark, shadowy penthouse through the windows and illuminating the outline of Ezra’s body leaning back in a chair pointed toward the couch and affording me a look at him in his entirety.
My eyes widen, and my breath hitches.
He’s removed his coat. His light blue shirt is partially open, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His belt is unfastened, dark pants unbuttoned. But that isn’t what has my attention.
His long, hardened cock is out in plain view. I knew androids have realistic human anatomy, but I’ve never seen one, especially not one like Ezra’s, in all its erect glory. Ezra’s hand curls around the base, pumping in slow motions. His head is tilted back, his lips slightly parted as he works himself.
My mind swims. I’m wide awake now, and molten heat washes over me, settling between my legs. Ezra is a law enforcement assistant. An android. Yet here he is, doing something yet again that’s so entirely human, seeking pleasure—for relief, to alleviate stress or boredom, or just because it feels good, I don’t know.
He looks so sexy as he masturbates, stroking his thick cock in long, fluid motions. I cover my mouth, remembering what he told me—he hears everything. Can he hear me breathe, or the way my heart is racing? I shouldn’t be watching this. He’s a droid, yes, but I feel so dirty hiding here, ogling him. I should return to bed, afford him privacy.
But I can’t bring myself to look away, all too aware of the slickness of my pussy and how wet my panties are as I stare,entranced by this beautiful artificial man as his motions slowly increase in speed. He mimics the quickness of human breath as he approaches release.
Droids can release, I think to myself, oddly disconnected from the discovery I’ve made tonight, too aroused to observe him like a scientist.
He’s so incredibly stunning. His cock twitches, and he bites back a groan, holding himself in place with a few final, slow strokes.
“Katrina,” he pants softly.
I stiffen. My name—he just saidmyname. Was he fantasizing about me? I should be repulsed, but I’m not. I’m flattered. Thrilled. Turned on. I’ve never imagined that mine could be the name a man might whisper as he goes over the edge.
My stomach somersaults. I was wet before, but now I’m utterly soaked as he finishes. He doesn’t produce any cum. No mess to be made. Only bliss.
Something touches my ankle. I glance down as Charlie looks up at me with his beady, glowing orbs, and beeps in curiosity. In the quiet of the apartment, the noise is loud.
Shit.
When I look up at Ezra, he’s zipping up his pants, fastening his belt buckle. His white eyes are open, staring right at me through the crack in the bedroom door.
I back up several paces, nearly stumbling, my heart pounding as I quickly return to bed. I try to reason it all away. Maybe he couldn’t see me in the dark. Maybe he was too distracted, and he couldn’t hear me. Trying to ignore the ache of my body, begging me to pleasure myself in the same way and find similar release, I cover up with piles of blankets and rest my head on the pillow. Charlie returns to nestle against me, trilling softly and petting my arm as though he means to soothe me. I turn on my side, away from the door.
I hear Ezra’s footsteps draw near, lingering outside the threshold. The door creaks, but only for a moment. It doesn’t swing open all the way. Silence. My eyes are shut, and I pretend to be asleep, but that unreasonable part of me wonders if—hopes—he’ll come to me.
He doesn’t.
His footsteps across the hardwood floors fade as he returns to the living room, and I allow myself a sigh of both relief and disappointment. What in the world is wrong with me? Lusting over a robot. My parents, my entire organization, would be horrified.
It takes me a long time to fall asleep again, but eventually, I do.
In the morning, I somewhat convince myself that everything I witnessed was a trauma-induced fever dream, and I’m clearly losing my mind. My stomach rumbles as I change into fresh clothes and style my hair. My phone rings, and I answer. “Hello?”
“Hey, Kitty, it’s Ramsey Feldman!” I recognize the nasally, swift-speaking voice of my father’s most trusted social media guy, the techie Dad relies on to keep the Humanity First website and all his platforms running seamlessly with posts every day. “Do you have a minute?”
“Sure, what do you need?”
