Chapter 3

It took Desireprint a little over a week to process Marlowe’s profile. The AI had chewed through the saliva sample Gideon lifted from her glass rim, the casual audio snippets of her voice during party small-talk, the backyard security footage, and—most crucially—the multiple hidden cameras in the pool house, including the tiny upward-facing lens in the shower drain that captured every shift of her hips, every bead of water tracing her skin. The thorough background scrape Gideon always paid extra for had run its course too: old cloud backups, deleted social posts, cached partner chat logs, behavioral modeling from social patterns, even DNA-linked pheromone and gait predictions for arousal tells. Most of the answers were probability guesses—cold, clinical extrapolations from fragments—but once they appeared on screen they felt like truths carved in stone.

A quiet Tuesday evening. The house was silent except for the low hum of the AC and the faint blue glow leaking under the door of Gideon’s private office. Blinds sealed, soundproofing engaged, do-not-disturb absolute. Isadora was already in bed, scrolling her phone, assuming Gideon was wrapping up “some last emails.”

The encrypted overlay chimed softly. “Profile generation complete. Marlowe Santos.”

Gideon opened it.

First came the naked 3D model—photorealistic, stitched together from every angle the cameras had stolen. The shower drain cam had delivered flawless lower-body detail: labia minora slightly protruding, the left side longer than the right, color deepening toward the edges when blood flow increased (a mid-shower adjustment freeze-frame showed the subtle flush). Full Brazilian wax, skin still faintly pink from recent treatment. And there, glinting under the shower light: a small vertical clit hood piercing—barbell with tiny silver balls, the piercing channel healed clean but the hood visibly swollen when cold water hit (video captured the moment her breath hitched). Breasts medium-full C-cups, natural hang, pale pink areolas that puckered tight when nipples hardened. Curves soft but athletic—nurse shifts kept her core strong—ass round and firm, faint tan lines from weekend swimsuits. He rotated the model 360°, zoomed on the piercing again and again, breath shallow as the reconstructed labia parted slightly and the barbell shifted with the motion.