Chapter 6

41

Set up in the living room, Nita practiced her set for the rest of that day and most of the next. She needed to get a feel for the music, in a real and tactile sense: her sound console was one of the last bastions of analogue technology in the kybernet-run world. Storage had advanced beyond vinyl discs, but the music still needed a jockey.

Low, heavy music pounded through the speakers, through the house, through her bones. It was just the kind of hard rhythm that horny university students loved. Perfect for leading from dancing into a different kind of pounding. By afternoon, she had a craving to invite Alex over.

But then, a certain blonde strode in. Ai had found her rhythm, each step landing on-beat and swishing her knee-length skirt. With a smile, Nita mixed in some orchestral strings, just for her.

Ai danced, and god could she dance. She still moved like a series of snapshots, each gesture connecting one pose to the next. But now, those gestures came more smoothly and the poses were hotter. Before, she would just raise a hand or turn her head. Now her first pose stretched her to full height, full extension of those slender legs, spine arched forward, and hands buried in her hair; the next bent her low, hair drawn aside to offer a clearer view. Her top’s neckline was modest. Her pose wasn’t.

After a long moment, Nita remembered to fade the music out. Even without it running through her veins, her heart had still kicked up a couple of gears. “You, uh, you learn fast.”

Ai smiled as she straightened. “You like it?” Her demure pose, hands folded before her, contrasted with the way she’d been dancing, and so highlighted it in Nita’s memory.

“Anyone with functional eyes would like that dance, Ai.” Nita grabbed her water bottle. Her mouth felt dry after drooling like that. “You’re here early.”

“Am I?” Ai tilted her head. “We only have four hours until my first house party. Are you sure that is long enough to get me ready?”

Nita choked back a laugh. She was just so serious. “We have a few outfits to try out, yeah, but it’s not like we’re putting you in Regency costume.”

Ai’s eyes went distant, probably looking it up. Ultimately, she shook her head. “Regency would not suit me. Are these outfits ready? I need a shower first, but I look forward to getting started.”

Nita happily imagined Ai in the shower. “Meet me in Kaitlin’s bedroom.” She went on ahead.

Minutes later, Ai joined her. Her hair was still damp, a blonde waterfall washing down her back. Her skin was clean, smooth, and almost entirely exposed. After her shower, all she wore were a simple black bra and panties.

Nita sat on the bed’s corner, beside the folded-and-arranged outfits. “Huh. You’re not going with something lacy or kinky?”

Ai looked at herself in the mirror. A hand ran over one silk cup of her bra. “It is comfortable, functional, and I don’t expect anyone else at the party to see my underwear.” She paused. “Is that common?”

“It’d be a more fun party if it was,” Nita said. “I’ve got four different ensembles here. Let’s see what feels good.”

The first to catch Ai’s attention involved a lot of black leather. The pants were a struggle: she got in up to her knees, but then pulled and pulled with little progress. The force of each tug rolled through her whole body. Eventually, she whined with frustration. “Are you sure these fit?”

“I borrowed those pants from Jackie, and she paid good money to have measurements just like Kaitlin’s.” Nita scooted closed, just behind Ai. “Here, let me.”

A little extra pressure slid the leather upward over smooth thighs and firm rear. As a bonus, Nita’s fingertips got a brief, unobtrusive taste of soft skin. The rest of the outfit was easier. The boots’ buckles and vest’s zipper provided more chance to loosen while putting them on — though the latter still stayed halfway down Ai’s chest. It wasn’t meant to go any higher.

Afterwards, she stood before the mirror and took herself in. From bottom to top, she made a dramatic image. The boots boosted her with a few inches of spiky heel, pushing her stance to highlight the curves of her rear and back. They reached up just past her knees, then the butter-soft pants clung to her like a second skin, enhancing the slight tension in her thighs. The vest, strappy but sleeveless, created a contrast between inky covering and pale skin, while doing little to conceal her fit body’s shape. The zipper sat low enough to show a glimpse of her bra’s centre gore, and with it, a full serving of cleavage. Nita could only imagine how much more striking it would be once they had her finished with the right kind of makeup.

But Ai pouted at her reflection and shook her head. “I don’t like it. The lines feel wrong.”

Nita blinked. “The lines?”

Ai ran a hand down her thigh. “The pants. They feel wrong. I prefer...” She considered, then nodded. “I prefer skirts.”

Nita held back a whine. She liked the pants on Ai.

“I do like the boots,” Ai said while she unbuckled them. “Maybe we’ll use them elsewhere.” Getting out of the leather proved easier than getting into it, and she soon had only the panties on her lower half. She held her bent-forward pose as she looked in the mirror. “And the vest is ... pretty.” Still she unzipped it, returning to just underwear.

It had been brisk, it had been functional, but Nita still kept a recording of Ai stripping in front of her. “All the rest have skirts. For next, how about a classic? An LBD?”

“LBD?” Ai followed Nita’s gaze. “Oh. A Little Black Dress. That does sound appealing.”

Getting the second outfit on was much easier. The dress had short cap sleeves and a wide, boat neckline, just narrow enough to hide her bra straps, and shallow enough to show her clavicles and upper chest without cleavage. Instead, it emphasised Ai’s legs: the skirt stopped several inches above the knee, high enough to show the tops of her black silk stockings. The heels on her pumps were less extreme than the boots, but still had a nice effect.

“There we go.” Nita smiled from her perch on the bed. “That’s a nice look.”

“It is pretty.” Yet Ai furrowed her brow as she looked at herself. She swung her hips back and forth, fluttering the skirt and testing the fit. “Though is it perhaps too classic? Would I stand out?”

“You’d stand out if you wore a burlap sack, girl,” Nita said.

Ai frowned. “I would, but not in a good way. Others would be dressed much more beautifully.”

“That’s ... not what I meant.” Nita laughed.

Ai looked at herself shrewdly. Her fingers teased at the garment’s edges — the modest neckline, the high hem. “This is a strong option. But I would still like to see the rest.” Off went the dress, though she was slower to remove the stockings. “These are quite comfortable. What’s next?”

Nita laid her hand on a small, folded pile. “This next one is more clubwear. Great to really move in, no matter how hot it gets.”

Ai held up the top. “It’s rather small.”

Nita grinned. “That’s clubwear all over. Besides, it covers more than that workout gear you were wearing when we first met, right?’

“Marginally.” Ai squeezed herself into it: a cropped tank top which cleaved tightly to the little it covered; contrasted with a skirt that started tight around her hips, but flowed more loosely to halfway down her thighs. Besides those and light sneakers, she was simply bare.

Ai let out an appreciative hum while she looked at herself. Then her eyes closed, and she twisted and twirled through the room, dancing to music in either her imagination or her kybernet. “It feels great, especially the skirt.” She came to a stop, looking at the reflection again. “ ... but as you said, the top is barely more covering than my sports bra. This may put Tony off.”

Nita grumbled inwardly. Dammit, why couldn’t Tony be more cool about Ai showing skin? “This last one is a lot more covering. Oh, but support’s built into the top, so you shouldn’t wear a bra.”

“Understood.”

Nita had expected Ai to at least turn around. Instead, she just unhooked and shrugged off her bra like it was nothing. Nita almost had a heart attack. She’d always thought Kaitlin had a nice chest; now she saw again what an understatement that was. It had been far too long since Kaitlin’s racy freshman year. Absent of clothing, her breasts held the perfect balance: high and youthful, but with enough sense of weight to hint at their natural softness. Her pink areolae were each about the size of a quarter, and her nipples themselves looked like they’d fit perfectly between teasing fingertips.

If Ai even noticed Nita’s reaction, she didn’t show it. All too soon, she had the last top pulled on. Maybe she was just reeling from Ai’s recent toplessness, but Nita’s eyes were drawn first to the ink-black garment’s dramatic neckline. Built-in cups added lift to form deeper cleavage, but that valley, along with Ai’s upper chest, was covered by sheer mesh. At its center, an abstract lace design, evoking the shape of a butterfly or bat, further obscured the skin beneath and made the garment feel more modest despite the neckline’s depth. The sleeves ran all the way to Ai’s wrists, while the main body fit closely from shoulders to hips, showing the curve of her torso. The top paired with moderate-heeled ankle boots and a matching, floor-length skirt with a side slit that exposed most of her left leg. Its fluttery, lightweight fabric played peekaboo with her light skin and trailed in the wake of each movement.

Ai spent a little while adjusting herself, making sure her chest sat just right in the cups. “I do like this touch. This is the best of the four tops. But...” She extended her left leg to the side, drawing it out through the slit. “This skirt will either get in the way, or expose too much. The boots feel plain after the shoes of the first two.”

Once more she undressed, this time down to her panties. They spent the next minutes in silence: Nita speechless and Ai thoughtfully prowling between the outfits.

Then Ai swooped in. “I like this, and this one, and these, and these.” Each time, she plucked something from a different outfit. Once her collection was complete, she tilted her head to look at Nita. “Can I mix and match like that, or will it cause compatibility problems?”

Nita laughed. “It’ll be fine. These are clothes, not electronics.” She surveyed the choices. “Yeah. That’ll be a good match. Let’s get you dressed and made up.”

It took a while to get all the details just right. When they were done, Nita just had to wolf-whistle. “I’ll need some images of this.” For her own purposes, but also: “Kaitlin should see.” She held up her hands and closed one eye, fingers framing the picture her kybernet would take. “Smile.”

Ai responded simply: hands folded in front of her, smiling in her small way.

Nita laughed, shaking her head. “Come on, you can do more than that! Pose like...” Something occurred to her, and a grin spread over her face. “Like you’re dancing.”

That gave her the point. Ai’s smile relaxed, showing a different energy in the eyes — not quite like Kaitlin’s vibrant expressiveness, but less formal than Ai’s usual. She danced to slow music that Nita couldn’t hear, holding each pose for longer. One with her fingers in her hair, drawing it forward to fall across and highlight her chest; another with her stance spread and body bent, her arm crossing her bust to keep the eye instead on her legs. She twirled, swung her hips — and Nita caught the moment when her swishing skirt was at its highest, flashiest arc.

Nita lowered her hands. “I’m keeping these pictures. I wonder if your ‘sir’ will look half as good tonight.”

42

Tony was at home, neck-deep in optimising the projector’s programming, when a notification chimed in his head. (Schedule reminder: house party in one hour.) With a grunt and a thought, he dismissed it.

A moment later, it chimed again. (Sir?)

A blush rushed to his cheeks. He’d forgotten: his ‘automated reminders’ had Ai behind them. “Shit.” He started a kybernet call. (Sorry, I... ) He looked down at himself. He was still in the same casual clothes he’d worn to university. (I’m getting ready right now. I’ll see you there.)

Ai laughed, warm and light. (I look forward to it, sir. Nita and I will be waiting.)

He breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t upset. As he came to his wardrobe, he paused. (How should I dress for this thing?)

(Something nice, but not too nice, ) Ai said. (It’s a nice house, but still only a house party, nothing formal.)

Tony stalled out, looking over his hanging shirts. (Could you be more specific?)

(I was not loaded with fashion advice algorithms, sir.) Her tone almost sounded like a tease. Could she tease?

(I want to hear what you think, ) he said. (Not your algorithms.)

Ai paused. (I am my algorithms, sir. My SOUL is composed entirely of my adaptive programming.)

Tony kicked himself. Over the last weeks, he’d forgotten that Ai was, fundamentally, an AI. (Then just ... take a guess. Can you take a guess?)

Ai was quiet for a long moment. Then: (The black button shirt. No tie. The ... PVC pants. The ones with the orange stripe. And sneakers.)

Tony plucked each one from the closet as she spoke. (What are you wearing to this, anyway?)

(You’ll see when you get here. See you soon, sir.) With that, she disconnected, leaving him privacy for his shower.

43

Tony hadn’t expected a ‘house party’ to happen on Daedalus Isle. ‘Nice house’ was an understatement.

He remembered when the Isle was first constructed, when he was a kid. The forming process had fascinated him, but he’d never come to see the finished product. For one thing, mansions like those were well outside his and Kaitlin’s league. They could afford payments on a Muse; she could take an occasional vacation, with employee discounts. The people on Daedalus were on a whole different scale of wealth.

And they weren’t shy about showing it. The streets weren’t literally paved with gold, but the induction roads charged his car faster than plugging into his garage. Each driveway he passed was wider than his entire building.

And when he found his destination, number Six — the house number written out with letters and all — it didn’t just have balloons tied to a mailbox. Instead, coloured spotlights shone into the sky; and as he came close, augmented-reality tags gave him the image of constantly-swirling confetti and runway lights running down the driveway. Just inside, over a dozen other cars were gathered, making the driveway look more like a parking lot — without even considering the several cars the hosts personally owned.

Tony found a space for his two-door. He’d made it just a few minutes late, and the party was already in full swing. He could feel the music while he was still outside, a heavy line that he perceived through his feet as much as through his ears.

As he opened the doors, the music felt like a wall of sound slamming into him. The mansion’s front room was bigger than some nightclubs, with the mood lighting and packed dancefloor to match. Nita and her console stood on a platform against the rear wall, conducting the whole dancefloor. But Ai...

“Hello, sir.” Her voice, as much kybernet as sound, cut through the music. She found him before he had even started looking for her.

She stepped away from the wall, into better lighting, and made his jaw drop. Her hair had been tossed and curled, turned into a mass that licked like yellow flames. Foundation turned her peach skin pale, giving her an ethereal look — and setting off the darkness of her eyeshadow, lipstick, and clothing.

Her outfit barely showed skin. The long-sleeved top hinted at it with its decorated, mesh neckline, but Tony would have to look much closer to get a clear look at the chest beyond. It didn’t demand attention like other necklines, but it certainly encouraged it. The half-thigh skirt could have shown more, too, but black leather covered her legs, all the way to spiked heels. Instead of skin, her clothes used their close fit to hint at the structure of her body, while falling short of skin-tight immodesty.

Yet, it did leave him with a question. “Are you wearing a full set of leather pants under that?”

“Oh, no, sir. These are boots.” Seemingly without thinking anything of it, AI gathered up and lifted her skirt: high enough to show the boots’ top, the tip of the black stocking beneath, and just a glimpse of actual thigh. “Do you like it, sir?”

Tony caught himself staring for a moment even after the skirt fell back into place. That little bit of skin felt so much more significant, contrasted with the full-body covering. “Yeah. The leg—” He caught himself. “The leather is very nice.”

Ai laughed, the sound disappearing under the music, but still showing in her eyes. “Glad you enjoy—” A passing partygoer bumped into her. After a stumbling step, she caught herself with a hand on Tony’s shoulder while he snagged her waist.

Electricity crackled between them at the contact. Her eyes swept him. “You look good, too.”

“I had some help.” He could feel the heat of her waist through the top.

She made no move to remove his hand — and at the same time, kept her own on his shoulder. “Sir, what do you usually do at a party?”

“I usually hide in a corner and maybe play with the dog or cat if they have one,” Tony said. “But you’re supposed to socialise, dance, drink, and just ... have fun.”

Ai’s smile lit a little more brightly. “Would you like to dance with me, sir?”

“Yes.” Tony surprised himself with how immediate, how certain that answer was. He wasn’t usually the type to go on the dancefloor at all, but Ai made it ... appealing.

Nothing more needed to be said. She took him by the hand and led him onto the dancefloor. A moment of anxiety rose in his chest as they got in position, but without a word exchanged, she started leading the dance. Each beat was a pose: fingers in her mane to highlight the curls of her hair, or brushing her hem again to bring the eye to the fall of her skirt.

At first, he just watched. Ai was well worth watching, plus he’d never seen a dance like that before. But he hadn’t come to the dancefloor just to play spectator. During a down-beat, he put his hands onto her sides and started moving with her. She led the dance and he gratefully followed — not by dancing the same way, but by helping her. He held her wrist when she twirled; he ran a hand down her arching spine, to lift her further.

Then a surge in the dancefloor, a swell in the current, forced them more tightly together. It knocked off her rhythm, but he was there, his arms around her, catching her. Her back fit itself to his chest.

He forgot about technique, forgot about the music. She danced with the beat, and he danced with her; staying on-beat was just a side-effect. Every movement came out of his desire to be closer to her, to share in the heat of proximity and exertion. She matched him, blaze for blaze. Every step deepened their sync, and made it so much easier, so much more natural to take that next step...

When the song came to an end, she had one leg wrapped tight about him, and his mouth was barely an inch from hers. If that dance had lasted even a moment longer, he would have already kissed her.

They lingered for a moment more, breathing the same breaths, sharing in their heat. When Tony finally withdrew, it felt like ripping off a bandaid. He nudged her back to standing on her own two feet as he stepped away from the dancefloor, getting out of the tight crush and somewhere he could breathe better. “We should get something to drink.”

Ai’s hands tightened on his shoulders as if to keep him close ... but she sighed and nodded.

They found the open bar at the room’s edge. The bartenders shared a uniform: slacks, waistcoat, bowtie. They caught the eye of a barman with dark eyes and short, cropped hair. “Hey there, what’s your poison? We’re all set to intoxicate an army here. We’ve got beers, we’ve got wines, we’ve got hard liquors, the cocktail menu’s written on the side...”

“Anything non-alcoholic?” Ai asked.

That narrowed their choices considerably and took the wind from the barman’s sails. He grumbled as he passed Ai a bottle of chilled water, and still pouted when Tony asked for a plain bottle of beer. Nothing which required flashy mixing.

Tony took a sip, letting the beer refresh and rehydrate him. “No alcohol. Is that part of the, uh, rental agreement?” The agreement for how she lived in Kaitlin’s body. Kaitlin’s body. He held that in his mind.

“No, sir. It’s just a good idea.” She held her water bottle to her brow and let out a low sound. A sigh so pleased it was almost erotic.

Tony almost crushed his bottle. Kaitlin’s. Body. He searched for a distraction.

“So you’re the plus two our DJ wanted to invite.” The host greeted them in a warm, superficially friendly, and familiar voice.

“Rico.” Tony should have known; this house had Matthews written all over it.

Rico looked dressed more for a party-themed photo shoot than an actual party. His hair, tossed and teased in an expensive facsimile of lackadaisical; his white shirt was designed to look comfortable and relaxed, while ‘just happening’ to open a low V over his chest and expose his arms.

“Tony.” Rico didn’t even look at him. His attention was all elsewhere. “And Ai. A pleasure to see you again.” He bowed to kiss her hand. “You look wonderful.”

Ai didn’t know how to respond to flirtation like that, so she didn’t. She just sipped her water while her hand sat limply in Rico’s grip. Tony had to hold back a laugh.

Especially when he saw the confusion on Rico’s face. He unceremoniously released Ai. By the time he straightened, he had that cordial smile back on his face. “Welcome, both of you. We may be rivals, but that’s no reason not to be polite.” His eyes still lingered on Ai. “And it would be only polite to dance with the host for a song, don’t you think?”

Ai looked to Tony. “Sir?”

A flash of protective jealousy reared its head. Rico had already taken Sonia...

No. He took a deep breath. Ai wasn’t ‘his’ to be jealous over. “I won’t stop you,” he told her. A moment of consideration later, she nodded.

Rico’s smile gained a victorious shine. “Wonderful.” He took Ai by the hand. “And do enjoy yourself, Tony.”

He wasn’t sure about that, but he’d certainly help himself. He got another couple of drinks, stronger somethings, and then went wandering away from the dancefloor. A house like that surely had plenty of quiet rooms for him to sneak away to.

44

Dancing with Tony had been glorious. Everything Ai dreamed of. Moving to music already made her feel like part of something greater, like she became an extension of the song. During that dance, she had the same feeling applied in a new direction. In their synchronisation, she and Tony felt like extensions of each other. Like they were one body, one mind, one being.

And she felt a connection beyond that. She felt something that Tony resisted. Attraction. It was in his eyes: he kept his glances furtive, but they lingered just enough to tell her. He saw her sensuality, though he tried not to. It was in his touch: a little extra pressure from his fingers to her body. Even if he only touched her side or her wrist, there was want in those touches. Careful, controlled want, want that he held back, but it still carried the promise of more. A promise that she wanted fulfilled.

Rico was different.

He wore his passions on his sleeve. Even the way he kissed her hand showed his desire, in a way that sent heat racing up her arm. His gaze barely strayed above her neck, meeting her sexuality full force instead of dancing around the topic.

She told herself that politeness was her first and foremost reason to go onto the dancefloor with him. But something about that boldness captured her, swept her up along with him. His rhythm was perfect: even just walking onto the dancefloor, every step was on-beat. Yet, it didn’t feel quite right to say that he matched the song. Something in his demeanour said that the song moved to his beat.