Page 21 of The Dis-Graced
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Drake
God, when is this meeting going to be over?
Daphne’s bent at nearly a ninety-degree angle, exposing as much of her cleavage as she possibly can while she tries desperately to make her point.
“I mean, Alexa’s old news. So is Siri. They’re out. There needs to be a face with the voice. A hologram!” she enthuses.
“A hologram?”
“Yeah, and who better than me?” Daphne stands and gives a little spin, extending her arms in a ta-da fashion.
As beautiful as Daphne is, she’s the last person I’d ever want representing a product of mine. She plays up her sex appeal way too much for tech that’s supposed to be usable for people across the board, and the sultry tone she inflects into her voice will have way too many men trying to facilitate an x-rated conversation.
I smile warmly at Daphne, not wanting to dampen her spirit. She’s a good friend of one of my associates, so I have to handle the situation with care. “If Dallanger Tech ever decides to go in that direction in the future, I’ll keep you in mind.”
She practically squeals in delight, then she bites her lower lip and arcs a brow. “What do you say we ‘practice some commands?’”
God, if there were ever a time I needed a stress relief, it would be now, but this is neither the time nor the place for such an endeavor.
Daphne’s hips sashay dramatically as she takes another spin, clearly looking to entice me.
But to be quite honest, the level of thirst she’s displaying is a total turnoff. Sure, when I was younger, it was amazing. Women threw themselves at me no matter where I went, and I never left a party alone. But after a while, you crave a good hunt. It’s sexier when I have to work for a woman’s affections, or at least I assume it is. I’ve never had to work that hard.
I push the intercom on my phone that allows me to speak with Edna.
Drake:Edna, could you please come it and see Miss Browne out?
Daphne’s face falls. She clearly hadn’t anticipated getting turned down. It’s probably never happened to her before, and she’s not quite sure how to take it.
The door opens, and Edna enters with a sugary-sweet grin she reserves for the lady-folk she escorts from my office. I turn my attention to my computer, pulling up ALAN’s stats.
“Miss Browne, the exit is this way,” Edna says in a tone only she can pull off because if it came from anyone else, it would sound condescending. Well, to be honest, coming from her, it still does sound condescending, but somehow, she makes it work.
Daphne’s shoulders slump as she walks towards the door, but before I’m free of her, she turns back one last time with hope-filled eyes and says, “Maybe we could do dinner tonight.”
“I think I—”
“Followed by dessert,” Daphne finishes, inserting a finger in her mouth.
“I have to get back to work.”
I direct my attention to my computer, scanning ALAN’s communication log. As the videos of ALAN’s and Grace’s interactions play, I read through the chat log and realize that it’s very possible Grace doesn’t realize that I am monitoring her. Although I made it quite clear, I think when I told her about all the cameras I installed for ALAN, she assumed the monitoring was coming from him.
I watch her babble throughout the penthouse, grab a statue, ask about cream cheese…
Oh, God, no! What the fuck, ALAN?!?
Grace now knows my cock size.
I definitely have to program discretion into his mainframe, but I guess it’s good that I’m learning this now.
That’s interesting….
Apparently, he remembers what it’s like to think and feel in the lab, which isn’t exactly out of the realm of possibility, I just hadn’t anticipated it. I’m going to have to look into that.
Seeing Grace in a tracksuit shouldn’t be as sexy as Daphne in a miniskirt that barely covers her backside, but I’m finding myself way more engrossed by Grace, who looks cozy and casual. I filled her wardrobe with modest attire, partially because I wanted her to be comfortable, but also because I wanted to keep our interactions, and my thoughts, appropriate. Unfortunately, I’ve failed as I can’t peel my eyes from her round ass.
