Page 54 of Ezra
“Because I needed that.” She stretches and lingers before relaxing again, almost like the pose is for my benefit. “Let me return the favor...” She reaches for my cock.
But I intercept her hand, grasping it gently as I bask in this moment. “That isn’t necessary,” I reply, and I mean every word. This was far more gratifying than chasing my own release. She’s stunning in her current state. I want to remain here, watchingher like this. Appreciating her curves, the softness of her lean figure, every angle of her face. Slowly, the fog ofwantandpleaseandserveandgratifygive way, and rational thought resumes.
“If you’re sure,” she says.
Disappointment is plain in her voice. She wants this. She wants me. I’m torn. The temptation of surrendering all to her remains, but I’m hesitant. This was a foolish, reckless act on my part. Not because it didn’t bring me satisfaction, or because I pleasured her. I’m quite triumphant sitting here with her in the aftermath.
I’m reminded that this was a stolen moment. One that likely can’t occur again. She’s out of my reach. I’ll never have her.
“I’m sure.” Pushing the facts aside, I rise from the bed. “I’ll be back momentarily with water. You need hydration.”
Katrina snorts and giggles.
“What?”
She waves me away. “You’re so technical.Hydration.”
“Comes with the programming.”
“I know. It’s cute.”
Cute. She’s making it hard to leave her.
Katrina bites her lip, and I wonder if she’s going to ask me to stay. Then she ruffles her hair and sighs. “I’ll take that water now, if you’re still offering.”
Nodding, I head for the kitchen, promising myself that I’ll show more discipline and self-restraint from this day forward.
For my own sake, I have to.
Several days pass, all eventful for Katrina. She spent the entirety of today in meeting after meeting with people in the pro-bionic movement. She spoke to city councilmember RebeccaSchroeder, someone I met during a domestic violence dispute several years ago, and convinced her to attend the gala, even welcoming Rebecca’s husband, Oliver, as a guest as well. Such warmth in Katrina’s discussions was a pleasant surprise to me. She reassured Rebecca that they aren’t enemies and stressed the importance of working together. Katrina was able to secure the attendance of EverFed founder Nicholas Kane and his wife, Sophie, as well.
She meant what she said about changing trajectories.
Katrina then spoke with the dean of Carnegie South University, her alma mater. Unfortunately, that call didn’t go half so well. She was clearly furious when she discovered the college had partnered with BioNex to offer androids to new incoming students, touting it as a perfect way to keep a balance between studying and health. All at the students’ expense, of course, which only means more debilitating debt. The dean didn’t seem to appreciate it when Katrina tersely pointed this out.
She’s had radio and TV interviews and has been hard at work with web designers to tailor the Humanity First image on its official website. Finally, she met with Lucy Warren, a big name in the pro-bionic movement. While Lucy politely declined the invitation to the gala due to her schedule, she did offer a sizable donation of seventy-five thousand dollars to Katrina’s cause.
I’ve been messaging Jayne Rose and looking into leads provided to me from rookie investigators throughout Katrina’s busy day. As the evening progresses, I hear the water running as she showers, and my mind returns to the spider incident. Charlie likes to perch near me when Katrina is unreachable, and I give him a few pats when he asks for them by trilling inquisitively at me.
That night, I was concerned for her safety and nothing else. But now, I recall the way she looked just before she rushedto cover her body, and how her concern for modesty changed when I stole into her room later on, hearing her moaning my name. How her body responded to my fingers deep inside her. I memorized the flush in her face, the noises she made when she came, even her scent.
Over the past few days, I’ve been doing everything I can to keep my distance. Katrina’s subtle hints aren’t lost on me. She leaves her bedroom door open at night. She stalls when she says good night to me, and I reluctantly say good night as well. It’s frustrating how her very presence affects me. How my gratification drive can’t get enough of her voice, her smile, the way she eats her food. Stupid thing. No matter how hard I try to remain reasonable with the facts and evidence I have, a part of me refuses to accept the truth of them and remains in what Deion likes to call la-la land.
If she wasn’t so determined to leave the country behind, I’d want more than this. My own makers couldn’t hope to replicate a woman built as perfectly as her. She’s intelligent, quick on her feet, and can hold her own in a conversation about anything, with anyone. She’s passionate, and she cares about people, even those she disagrees with—and she doesn’t disagree with me, my existence, how I live. If she did, this would be so much easier. My gratification drive latches on to every glance, every word.
But I can’t tell her so.
It would’ve been better if she never told me the truth, now I know that she never viewed me as useless, mindless, or a threat to her own way of life. She can’t stand to see their suffering. She doesn’t say meaningless things to placate people, like many humans do. If she says she’ll do something, she commits to the action with such determination.
Almost like an android, dishonesty isn’t something she’s capable of.
She’s not a storybook villain. She’s been painted with a broad brush, and now she’s changing the narrative.
I only wonder what her family will think when they find out what she’s been up to.
When she emerges from the steamed bathroom, her short hair is tied up in a towel. She’s changed from loungewear to a soft orange autumn floral dress and carries her tablet.
After giving her a subtle once-over when she settles on the sofa, I return to my case notes, occasionally sending messages to my partners to ask follow-up questions. Deion sends me a small novel in text form, complaining.Without you here, this is a circus.
