Page 42 of Nolan
My gratification drive is wrapped around Mia’s finger.
There’s something about our conversations, our texting back and forth, that I’ve become addicted to. I’ve noticed it’s hard for me to initiate sleep mode right after she’s gone to bed on the weekends, when she can stay up a little bit later due to not working on Saturdays or Sundays. It’s like I get a second wind. My battery needs charging eventually, of course, but my systems are always raring and ready to go. If I try to lie down on my bunk upstairs in my room or power down in a corner in the barracks, I still won’t be able to fully enter sleep mode. I’m not sure why that is.
It’s been a week since my outing with Mia and her family. Our flirting has leveled up in a way I didn’t anticipate after that date. We’ve gotten into a routine, one I never expected, but now it’s something I need, almost like it was always a part of my programming from the beginning. I’ve learned Mia’s daily schedule without even meaning to. I know that she wakes up every morning, at six a.m. And by 6:02, she’s messaged me to say good morning, if I haven’t sent her a message first.
From then on, we send messages back and forth throughout the day. When I get a call and have to go out on the truck with the Weekenders, I always let her know. She doesn’t fuss. If she worries, she holds herself together well and doesn’t make a big deal about it. She doesn’t clutter my optic screens with messages wondering where I am. And when I shoot her a text when the emergency is over, she answers within minutes, almost like she’s waiting for me. The way I wait for her.
At night, I’ve taken to holing myself up in my own room, away from the barracks. Since I’m not carrying a phone in my hand, I don’t necessarily require privacy. But I like to have it. Especially now.
Mia’s flirtations have taken a very spicy turn, and I am like a fish on a hook, unable to resist.
She sends me selfies throughout her day, but lately in the evening when she’s in her room, she’s started teasing me. A couple days ago, it started with a photo of her lying on her bed, her oversized T-shirt falling off one shoulder, her smooth, bare legs on display. She nearly initiated my cock to full mast, right then and there. But I controlled myself. She’s incredibly sexy, far beyond beautiful. Nothing in nature compares to Mia, and bionic engineers couldn’t hope to replicate her perfection. But I told myself she probably didn’t mean anything by that photo. Showing herself to me, yes. Showing off for me, though?
I could only tell myself that. Then I receive her message this evening.
Dinner is over. Want to see me?
Always.
Sweet or spicy?
Sweet.
This is our ritual, our routine. She always gives me the option of saying spicy. But I’m a good bionic, and I’m not saying spicy until I know for certain she means to really give it.
She sends me a selfie.
Hey, you.
I all but devoured her with my eyes.
Hey, beautiful. Where are you headed now? To bed?
No, not yet. Too early. I’m taking a bubble bath.
Now that is a mental image, one I happily torment myself with. I don’t know why. Mia naked is always an interest of mine, but Mia naked and wet—that does something special to my circuitry, and I cannot control the way my dick, currently at rest in my pants, begins to perk up without my express initialization.
Isn’t it a little dangerous to bring your phone into the bath with you?
My gratification drive aches, my systems yearning for her to be a little less cautious with such an expensive piece of equipment because I don’t want to be away from her, not now, not when I can fantasize about her covered in bubbles and nothing else.
It’s not going to electrocute me. Besides, I’m a pro at doomscrolling in the bath.
Her message is followed by one more. Shorter. But explosive. And I reread it a dozen times over.
Want to see?
All of my processes slow. Because yes. Fuck yes, I want to see. I want to see everything. All of her, in all her glory. My drivers are on the verge of exploding with the very possibility.
But my handlers can access my memory banks on the cloud that’s connected to Belmont County servers. There’s very little I have that’s mine. I have to be extremely careful, especially since Apollo is one of those handlers. I’ve been keeping my interactions with Mia separate, private, on my local drive. Not just to protect her, but to protect me too.
Other people have the privilege of discretion. Why can’t I?
I check my local settings once more to be safe, and then I answer without a shadow of a doubt.
Yes.
Sweet or spicy?
