Chapter 16

Earlier that morning:

Alfred had a problem. Roger Grainer’s little VTOL was unstable as hell. Its autopilot required a constant connection to a dedicated mainframe. The bandwidth for that connection took a major hit every time Alfred checked in. If he were to keep Roger in the air, he’d have to take the mainframe’s place and fly the damned thing himself. He needed help.

>define an avatar.

What the bloody hell was an avatar?

>avatar [skill]/[objective], [name]

<avatar pilot/keep roger grainer alive and occupied, fortis

>done.

Shortly after the turbocopter leveled off, Roger’s mobile phone pinged. He checked the incoming text message. Finally, a reply from his agent, David Grant.

From: David Grant

The prince has agreed to buy both.

“Ha!” Roger barked. Instead of losing money from canceling the transaction, he’d show a considerable profit. The tension that had gnawed at his belly drained away.

Ten years ago, after purchasing his redheaded pet, he thought he’s made a terrible mistake. The peddler who’d bred her had promised she’d “bond” and become his willing mistress. Well, the bond had taken a lot of work. He’d spent months making love to the med-addled little bitch.

All that effort paid off. After the little bimbo came around, Holy Jesus, did she ever perform. Without prompting, she’d crawl to him on her hands and knees, begging for it. The things she’d endure to get it just blew him away. He’d had to strain his imagination to find new punishments.

His pet had continued to please for the next six or seven years. Then things began to change. It might have been her age, or it might have been too many trips to the basement, but his compliant little dumpster became hard. She’d still take everything he dished out. But with a passive-aggressive resistance that refused to make the little slips he needed to justify her punishments.

He tried beating it out of her, but no matter how severe the punishment, it only seemed to strengthen her. The situation had him at wit’s end until David called to pass along a message.

It seemed one of the unsuccessful bidders for his toy girl retained an interest. The anonymous person, who Roger learned was a Saudi Arabian prince, asked if she were available for purchase. Surprised at the inquiry—because what kind of man wanted a used female—Roger replied she was not, but he would entertain a serious offer. Between the ever-increasing offers and counteroffers, questions and answers passed back and forth.

“Was she still as beautiful?”

“Does she enjoy pleasing her master?”

“Is she self-assured and possessed of a sparkling wit?”

Roger replied to each question, but in all honesty, the prince creeped him out. Who wanted a self-assured female, human or genie? And what the hell was “a sparkling wit?” Wines sparkled, well-polished cars sparkled in the sun, but a female’s wit? He replied, “Like the finest champagne.” The prince’s next offer was astronomical. Roger accepted the offer, and their agents began negotiating the details. Most interesting was the prince never asked about the girl’s loyalty gene. It had been one of her most promoted features. Did he not care? Most disturbing was the possibility the prince knew something that Roger didn’t. Still, all through the final negotiations, her loyalty gene never came up.

Everything continued as planned until yesterday. Roger had arrived home to learn the little minx’s hidden secret. Well, not so much hidden, but the ditzy thing hadn’t a clue she was pregnant. The surprise on her face when he figured it out still made him chuckle.

He’d called David right away, and they reviewed his options. The prince had already signed the contract. Breaking their deal would cost a small fortune in non-performance penalties. That’s when David earned his commission. The sale was for one genie, not two. The prince could wait until after the whelping or buy both.

The prince decided to buy both.

Not only did he want both, but he also wanted them right away. His personal aircraft would arrive tomorrow. There would be enough time tonight for Roger and his toy girl to stage a little farewell party. The contract specified the merchandise would be undamaged and in good working condition. It didn’t say “unused.”

Now that all the decisions were made, what remained was the oddest damned thing—a nagging sense of impending loss. Almost as if someone he cared for were leaving. To hell with that. Roger exhaled and willed his muscles to relax. There was time tonight to indulge himself. In a week or two, he’d have a new girl to replace the old. David had mentioned a new type of toy girls coming to market. Supposedly raised without any knowledge of men or erotic games. Imagining the first time with a true innocent made his pants tight.

That’s when his turbocopter wobbled. The aircraft rolled and pitched like an inflatable raft in a pool. Then, the little demon spawn of an airplane snap-rolled until it was upside down. Bits of trash, a few loose coins, and the contents of his travel mug ended up on the inside of the canopy.

Roger grabbed the control stick, but the aircraft ignored him and dove for the roadway below. The G forces crushed Roger back. He thought he was dead, but the VTOL pulled out of its dive at the last second. The throttle firewalled, and like a barnstormer, they roared above the morning traffic. Faster than he believed possible, the turbocopter rolled and pitched, zigzagging between buildings. A commuter train flashed in the morning sun. His aircraft rolled out and dropped into formation. People stared and waved. Roger didn’t wave back; he was too busy puking. His nightmare ended when the aircraft climbed to a safe altitude and headed south-east.

When the turbocopter leveled out, Roger tried the radio, but the speakers remained silent. Against all the odds, his phone remained inside his suit pocket. He grabbed it and speed-dialed the maintenance hangar.

But whatever craziness affected his aircraft must be in the mobile phone network. Instead of the hanger, the damned phone dialed a local gay party line. Even after manually dialing the number, he still ended up connected to “The Manhole Chatline.”

After their second shower, Stephanie faced the bathroom sink while Jason combed the tangles from her hair. He’d asked, insisted actually, to undo her braids. The tight curls left behind made her hair appear fuller than ever. “Do you like my hair this way?” she asked and peeked at Jason’s reflection in the mirror. They’d only done it three times, and her head swam whenever they made eye contact. His attentive presence and strong hands threatened to rekindle her lust.

Grinning, Jason ran the tines of the comb down her back. “I’ve always loved your hair.” “Ahh,” Stephanie sighed and arched her back. Goosebumps rose wherever the comb touched. She said, “If you’re trying the get me going again...”

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t keep my hands away.”

One of his hands slipped around her waist, those knowing fingertips drew tiny bolts of electricity across her belly, and Stephanie’s breath caught in her throat. “How ... how long will it take to get to your house?”

“With a few stops, we’ll be home in about five or six hours.”

“That long?” Five or six hours before they could do it again was too long. Stephanie spun about and lifted up on her toes. Her original intent was a kiss, but she changed to nipping his lower lip at the last second. She did it fast; all he did was blink. Backing a half step to the counter, Stephanie lifted herself up onto the edge. Jason touched a finger to his lip. He hadn’t figured it out yet. To jog his brain, she hooked him close with an ankle. “Do you think that monster of yours has anything left?”

The glint in his eyes showed he finally got it. Which was good; now she’d get it.

Fortis used the cockpit camera to keep watch on its charge. It had kept Roger Grainer in the air and safe for over three hours. The human released its seat belt and bent to retrieve the empty travel mug from the floor. Curious about Grainer’s intentions, Fortis maintained level flight and waited. Its patience paid off. Grainer opened his pants and positioned the cup below his groin.

The radio calls from the local Air Traffic Controllers had become rather strident. It might provide some amusement to allow some human-to-human interaction. Fortis waited until its red-faced passenger began to urinate into the travel mug, then allowed a radio call through—at maximum volume.

“Aircraft holding at Falmouth VOR, Lunken Approach, over.”

Roger almost dropped his cup when the voice boomed through the cockpit. He recovered and set the odious travel mug back into the cupholder.

After rearranging his clothing, Roger reached for the hand microphone and thumbed the push-to-talk button. “This is Roger Grainer. Are you talking to me?” Nothing, the radio remained silent. Then the human realized he hadn’t released the push-to-talk button. A loud click sounded from the overhead speaker.

“Aircraft identifying itself as Roger Grainer. Press ident and state your aircraft’s tail number. Over.”

Roger’s eyes studied the radio stack, then he leaned forward and pressed a button. “Lunken, the number on the instrument panel is N360RG.” He pronounced it “enn three six oh arr gee”

“Roger Golf, are you in need of assistance, over?

“My name is Grainer, not golf, you moron. Yes, my turbocopter is broken. It went crazy earlier. Now, it just flies in circles. Over.” He added the last bit to mimic the guy on the radio.

“Grainer, Lunken. There’s a foxtrot-alpha-alpha safety inspector here who wants to speak with you. Over.”

At this point, he’d take whatever help he could find. “Can this Foxtrot fellow tell me how to fly this thing?”

Jason took a final look around the bathroom. Other than a sizable pile of damp towels, they hadn’t left anything behind. He wore his freshly laundered clothes and carried the medpatch. Neither he nor Steph wanted to leave it behind. Stephanie met him in the hallway wearing a faded but familiar denim skirt, equally familiar sneakers, and the necklace Jason used to bring her back. The only thing he didn’t recognize was the mint green silk camisole.

All business, Stephanie took his hand and led the way. “I need my suitcase. It’s in the basement. Can Alfred unlock the doors for me?”

“Ask him yourself. I think he likes you more than he likes me.”

Grinning, Stephanie directed her voice towards the ceiling. “Alfred, unlock the doors in the basement, please.”

“Yes, miss, and for the record, I like both of you equally.”

The suitcase was stored in a basement utility room on the far side of Roger’s home dungeon. Stephanie had to drag Jason past the Saint Andrew’s Cross. “I shouldn’t have brought you down here,” she said.

Back upstairs, and down the hallway from the guest room, they passed a door with an elaborate keypad and video display. “What’s that?” Jason nodded towards the door.

“Roger calls it the playroom. He kept me in there for the first couple of years.”

Jason gritted his teeth and kept quiet. Steph’s had enough trouble; she didn’t need to see him explode.

At the far end of the hall, Stephanie stopped and opened a door. The small, windowless bedroom might have once been a closet. It barely fit the single bed, tiny nightstand, and metal garment rack.

“This is your room?” Jason asked.

“It’s where I slept when he wasn’t home.”

Jason made a promise to himself. Life would be better for Steph from now on. He helped fold and pack her belongings. There wasn’t much, just the clothes she’d brought and a few other items. Before zipping the bag shut, Stephanie showed Jason its secret. Hidden inside the lining was a single picture of them together.

Downstairs in the foyer, Jason and Alfred finalized their plans. Alfred would command the cleaning bots to sterilize the mansion’s interior spaces. Then he would wipe every recording of Stephanie from the local and cloud file storage. Roger’s security system would remain functional, but with a bit of Alfred hidden away.

“Alfred,” Jason turned towards one of the room’s video pickups. “Is my truck here?”

“It is parked outside the door,” Alfred replied from an overhead speaker. The mansion’s front door unlocked and swung open.

“Thank you.” Picking up Steph’s suitcases, he stepped outside. As Alfred stated, his F-150 sat several feet away. The front and rear passenger doors opened as he approached. He placed the suitcase on the floor behind the front seat and turned back. That’s odd; Stephanie hadn’t followed.

Since this morning’s activities, Stephanie had rarely strayed more than three or four feet away. The sole exception was when she ran to get dressed.

“Steph?” He dashed back inside and found her huddled behind the open door. Kneeling, he reached out.

Stephanie turned and hugged him. Snuffling against his chest. “I tried, Jay, but I’m not allowed outside. It’s his biggest rule.” Her eyes remained on the floor.

“Alfred, suggestion?”

“Miss Stephanie may need some reinforcement. After all, she’s been living under near-constant coercion for some time.”

“How about some reinforcement, sweetheart?”

Her cheek rubbed up and down as she nodded.

Leaning down, Jason kissed her forehead. Needing more, Stephanie tugged his head down. Her warm lips pressed against his. Time slowed.

Every shared point of contact made Jason want more. I am such a greedy bastard. Stephanie must have felt the same because she twisted to pull him on top as she leaned back. All too willing, he moved with her, and it almost became a race to see who got into position first. The cold parquet floor pressed against his palms as a hot girl wiggled into place beneath him. His one-track mind considered the impact of the unyielding wood floor just before his head smacked into the wall.

The impact snapped him back to reality. He pulled his lips away. “Steph, sweetheart, we have to go.”

With a groan, Stephanie’s eyelids fluttered open. Her pupils were huge.

Pushing himself to his knees and then to his feet, he said, “C’mon, I’ll carry you.” Her extra dense muscles made picking her up a bit difficult. “Close your eyes and think about what I’m going to do to you after we get home.”

Steph squeezed her eyes shut and murmured her assent.

“Mind your head.” It took some effort and not a few kisses to slide Stephanie onto the front passenger seat. “Keep your eyes closed until we’re on our way.”

“Yes, Jay,” she replied breathlessly.

Leaning in, he fastened her seatbelt, but before closing the door, he gave her neck a nibble.

“You’re a rat,” she complained, but her eyes remained closed. Her smile told Jason she wasn’t mad. “You get me started, then leave.”

“After we get home, we’ll set records, I promise.” Jason ran to the driver’s side and jumped in.

After he slid behind the wheel, Stephanie reached across the seat until her hand found his leg. She sighed and visibly relaxed. For the first time, Jason realized this would work.

Once on Interstate 71 North, Stephanie felt comfortable enough to open her eyes. She immediately glued herself to the window.

“I haven’t been outside since ... before.”

“He never took you out?”

“No, never.”

“That’s—” What? Was it terrible, controlling, unfair, or any number of other negative adjectives? “Stef, I have to know one thing. How bad did he hurt you?” She didn’t answer right away, and every second that passed allowed his concern to increase.

“He ... he hurt me nearly every day. Something inside of him is broken. Roger doesn’t just like to hurt people; he needs to hurt people. He made up hundreds of rules and waited, every day, for me to break one. When I’d slip up, he’d punish me. Sometimes it meant a spanking, not a few times, it meant going downstairs. That’s the only way he’d get excited enough to get off. But I wasn’t the only one on the receiving end. If someone stole from him or reneged on a shady deal, he and his goons would take the person to a warehouse and torture them to death. On those days, Roger would be terribly cruel.”

“Sweetheart, there’s a rest stop coming up; we’ll make a pit stop and get something to eat.” Since the trip started, Stephanie alternated between drowsing and watching the other cars.

“We’re going to stop?”

“Sure, I need a bathroom, and you probably do too.”

“But I’m not allowed out in public!” Her voice rose in pitch as she spoke.

“Steph, you’re with me now, and you can do whatever you want.”

“But ... but I haven’t been out since we went to the dance.”

“And after we get settled, we’ll go dancing again.”

“If you say so,” Stephanie said. Although she didn’t sound convinced.

He pulled off the highway and into the rest stop. Fortunately, the light afternoon traffic meant fewer cars, and they parked close to the building. “Here’s how we’ll do this. Hold onto my arm or hand, whichever feels better. We’ll split up to use the restrooms. You wait inside until I’m outside waiting for you. Everywhere else, hold onto me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Jason escorted Steph to the ladies’ room entrance. After she scurried inside, he hurried to the men’s room. When he returned, Stephanie darted out and latched onto his arm. Whenever someone passed close, her grip tightened.

Besides the ubiquitous Taco Bell, this rest stop featured one of the resurgent hamburger joints. They opted for cheeseburgers, French fries, and chocolate milkshakes. Apparently, Stephanie never had a chocolate milkshake before.

“This is so good!” The milkshake surprised Steph so much, she almost forgot her fear about being out in public.

Back on the highway, Stephanie dozed until road construction forced traffic to a crawl. “Jay,” she said, “tell me everything I missed. Did you go to college like you always wanted?”

Mindful to not mention any of his relationships, Jason told Steph about college and how he chose a five-year master’s degree program in software engineering. Then he tried to tell her about his former job without breaking his NDA. The best he could come up with was, “I worked for a defense contractor and developed tools for algorithms.” In a way, artificial intelligence was a collection of algorithms.

“You worked with algorithms?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Jason hedged. “The project was classified, and I can’t go into detail.”

The lack of details didn’t bother her. His current lack of employment did. “And you don’t work there any longer?”

He’d already explained his employment status. “No, they shut the project down.”

“But they’re still paying you?”

“If I don’t break the NDA, my salary and health insurance are covered for a full year.”

It was apparent his answers didn’t satisfy her curiosity. Instead of pushing, she changed topics. “Tell me about your house. I can’t wait to see where you live.”

“It’s a townhouse, but we can’t go there.”

“Why not?”

“The news reporters have it staked out. We’d both end up in the papers if we go there.”

“Jay, what’s going on?”

“Sweetheart, it’s ... complicated,”

Stephanie pounced. “Says the boy who accused his perfect girlfriend of complications.

Perfect girlfriend indeed, “Touché.”

Pleased with her victory, Steph drew an imaginary one in the air. “Perfect girlfriend one, loser boyfriend zero.”

“What’s the prize for winning?”

“I think,” Steph pursed her lips as if in deep thought. “you’ll have to kiss my feet.”

“Oh, OK,” he shrugged.

“You agreed fast enough,” she added suspiciously.

“Yep,” he added an eyebrow waggle.

“I’ll think of someplace you don’t want to kiss.”

“Good luck with that.”

Stephanie huffed primly. “You are a terrible person and a bad influence.”

“Hey, if you’re fresh out of the shower, nothing’s off-limits.” If he hadn’t known Steph wore an unpadded bra, evidence of it just popped into view.

“Why do I think you’re going to corrupt me?” The wistful lilt in her voice told Jason she’d welcome a little of his evil influence.

“Tell you what, after our shower, I’ll end the kisses in all the best places.”

“If we’re not going to your condo, then where are we going?”

“My parents’ house.”

It took no time for Stephanie to point out the flaw. “Tell me they moved, Jay. ‘Cause, otherwise, they still live next door to Mom. It isn’t safe.”