Souvenir from Westworld

by

Caution: This Science Fiction Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa, Consensual, Romantic, Science Fiction, Robot, First, .

Desc: Science Fiction Sex Story: There's more than one story to tell about Westworld, where robots entertained guests until something went wrong. And some endings are better than others. A Silver Clitorides finalist. UPDATE: Westworld is being remade for release in 2007 -- but probably not like this!

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Copyright┬ę 2001-2005 by DB.

This story contains Constitutionally protected material intended for adults over 18 years of age in the United States of America, and whatever passes for adult status in other countries. If you are under legal age, acting under legal age, not allowed to view such material in your area, or easily offended, please do not continue. This is not for you.

The only rights granted are to view this story. You are not allowed to reproduce, post, or otherwise redistribute this story without permission, except for non-profit Usenet archiving sites.

To purchase for publication, place on your web-site devoted to this style of fiction, or for permission to link to my posted material, please contact me first at the above email.


Author's Note: I always felt there was more story to be told about Westworld (1973).

A special thanks to Gorgo for his excellent and much appreciated proofreading. All remaining mistakes are mine.


LEGAL DISCLAIMER

Concurrent with the United States Supreme Court decision regarding Campbell v. Acuff-Rose Music, Inc (1994) and the copyright laws of the United States, this is a work of parody. This work is posted freely without any request for remuneration; its only purpose is social commentary presented in an entertaining fashion.


I remember Westworld before the troubles happened. I was fortunate enough be able to go more than once before the Big Crash, and later the Big Scandal. Like too many good things in life, you come to count on them always being there. Then suddenly you turn around, and they're gone.

I've loved westerns all my life. When I was young, it seemed that was all that ran on television. My grandfather taught me to shoot starting when I was six, and I can't say how disappointed I was to find out that among all his guns he never had a lever-action rifle like all the cowboys carried.

Later on I grew up living a couple hours drive from the original Disneyland. Close enough to go once in a while, but not so close that it ever got old. There are other amusement parks in the world, and I've been to many of them. However Disneyland was always the best. I never outgrew my love for either Disneyland, or westerns.

I say this in introduction just so that you'll know that when I heard about the next step in amusement parks, it was only a question of how soon could I schedule a trip. Price isn't much of a barrier these days. I live alone, and I spend my money as I wish. Western World was my obvious first choice to visit.

I'm sure the Old West never had it so good. Here was good water, good food, good beds - good toilets!! - and great adventure. But it was the slower, simpler kind of life that captured my heart.

Yeah, there were bar fights, gunfights, and jailbreaks. And the drink menu consisted of beer or red-eye. But those were just spectator sports as far as I was concerned. Fun to watch, but let someone else participate and do the heavy lifting.

For me, there was riding and walking in the countryside during long, unhurried days. Stalking game and target shooting with the heavy Colt 45 and Winchester rifle I'd picked up the first day. Having a once-a-day newspaper that only covered two sides of one sheet. Walking virtually alone through a small town at night, lit only by gaslight, where the sidewalks were well rolled up by nine. In short, just plain slow-paced peace compared to the outside world. And because I had eschewed the proffered guidebook upon arrival, preferring instead to discover things at my own pace, it took me three days to discover Miss Carrie's.

Western World is such an ideal town, that its likes probably never really existed in the real west. That was just fine with me. And Miss Carrie's was the equally idealized bordello.

I discovered her on my last night, out there on the edge of town. I followed a scraggily trail of other visitors to her abode through the near dark. Inside though, it was warm, bright, and friendly.

Now I'm one to be cautious in new situations - particularly adult ones. When I visit a gentleman's club for the first time, I'll sit quietly in the back until I see how it operates. Yes, there are a lot of things that are the same everywhere, but each place has its own quirks that you can come out ahead for the knowing.

I'm also not someone to jump for the first pretty face that comes by with a smile on it. I prefer to take my time to see the whole menu, before making my choices.

Even in gaslight, the room was bright. A few tables clustered together. A piano being well played by a man (or robot) in suspenders and a bowler hat in the corner. A bar down the front side. And the inevitable rooms in the back and upstairs. Drinks. Girls. Smoke. And Miss Carrie!

I was new blood. The girls currently in the room quickly came over to take the temperature of my interest. I was polite, but demurred for now, nursing my way slowly through a couple of drinks. Not that the girls weren't cute. They all were. All young too - or too young - for my particular preference. Most seemed about eighteen, which actually might have been authentic for the real West.

Over time, some new girls came out from the rooms in back, while others paired off with the men and replaced them. I tried conversation with a couple of them, but this didn't seem to be their strong suit. It was mostly like:

"Hi. What's you name, cowboy?"

"Sam, Ma'am."

"Well, Sam. Can it interest you in a little... you know? Some private time? Jus' you and me?"

"Well, maybe. But why don't you sit down here and let's talk a bit first."

This seemed to confuse them. I'd get some variant on:

"Whatssa matter? Don't you fuck?"

We didn't get much beyond that before they seemed to exhibit an imperative to go find another, more willing man to take them up on their offer.

That was fine. I knew I'd get someone in the end - if I wanted her. Until then I was still rating the possibilities.

None of the numbers were frankly that good though. It would just be a fairly impersonal fuck with a nubile young woman of barely legal age - even if she was a robot. Not a bad thing in and of itself, but I've always been the one to take the road less traveled, when I can find it.

And I found it shortly before closing time.

Miss Carrie, the proprietress of this establishment, was the only one I hadn't talked to yet. She'd given me my space. But as closing time approached and things were clearing out, I saw her eyeing me.

She was sitting on the bar across the room, working full-time to facilitate introductions and good cheer for all her customers. I knew I had her attention now, as the only un-serviced male remaining.

I also knew that I could draw her over to me just by holding up my hand and crooking my index finger. But a gentleman doesn't ask a lady to come to him.

I got up and started walking slowly across the room towards her.

I'd actually been watching her out of the corner of my eye all evening. She was bright and lively, more so than her girls. As I approached I could see her face better. I'd put her age at mid-thirties, and beautiful in that older, mature kind of way. Wavy dark auburn hair made her look even better. She seemed a bit taller than her girls, about five feet eight I'd say, but it was very right for her. Sitting on the bar, her long, colorful dress had hitched up above her boots showing some leg. But her bright eyes and smile had my full attention. The rest of her figure looked quite female from what I could deduce. I also noticed she had not gone back to the rooms with any of the other men this night.

By now I was within arms-reach of her.

"Howdy, stranger. You don't look like you've had nearly enough fun tonight yet."

I looked into her clear eyes - eyes that bespoke an intelligence missing from the duller eyes of the other girls - and wondered for a moment if she was also a guest also playing out a fantasy. Then I looked at her hands and knew she was a part of the park. With a more demanding role to play, I wondered if she'd been made more capable than the others here.

"Night ain't over yet, Ma'am," I replied with a smile.

"Then what pray tell do you fancy, kind Sir," she said with a curtsey, which is a pretty neat trick when you're already sitting down.

"I fancy the most beautiful woman here," I replied with conviction.

She looked confused for a moment. It was a look I would come to recognize in the future as appearing each time she was presented with a new situation for the first time. I had not given a definite answer, and she didn't know how to respond to it. But she recovered quickly enough.

"Tell me which young lass has caught your eye, and she's yours for the rest of the night."

That was the opening I had been waiting for. Anything was now mine for the asking.

I placed my hand on her bare leg just below the hemline, and then slid it up that warm, smooth leg while telling her, "You are the one I want tonight."

She went through a major moment of confusion. As I would find out later, absolutely no one had ever asked her to be his date for the evening before.

She went through such a long pause at that moment that I feared I had somehow overloaded her systems. Asking an impossible task that had shorted her out. Her head slowly fell forward until she was looking at her toes before she finally raised it and looked at me with what I swear were tears in her eyes.

Then she said in a small voice, "I wouldn't know what to do."

.... There is more of this story ...

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Story tagged with:
Ma/Fa / Consensual / Romantic / Science Fiction / Robot / First /