Part 1A: Reika and Irene

It was a beautiful Friday night as I crossed the bridge over the old Welland Canal, making my way to Russell's Retreat on the northwest corner of West Main and Niagara. It had been a couple weeks since I'd returned home from a fourteen year... ! -- well, "walkabout" seems the best way to describe it -- around the world. Getting my degree, teaching English, learning martial arts, studying various mental disciplines with spiritual masters in India, China, Peru, Mexico and the southwestern United States, sightseeing...

Putting the events of my last year of high school behind me as much as I could.

Oh, I'm sorry. My name's Deanna Sophia Hordye. I'm the only child of a retired plant supervisor at General Motors up in Saint Catharines and his wife, an elementary school teacher. They divorced after I left Canada. My father's shacked up with a new girl now. Personally, I refuse to have anything to do with him these days. Mama passed away a couple years ago due to complications from chronic asthma.

As for me, I'm thirty-three and single. I currently work as an assistant teacher at a local t'ae kwon-do tojang -- that's Korean for "training hall," by the way -- in the east end of Welland. My employer, Master Lily Choi, was one of the first women from the Land of the Morning Calm to obtain teacher's rank in the Art who later migrated to North America to pass on her knowledge. I myself am an il-dan -- first degree -- black belt, having obtained that a couple years ago while I was in Korea studying under one of Master Lily's cousins. Her hopes for me include gaining enough knowledge in teaching the Art so that she could pass on her tojang to me when it comes time for her to retire.

I guess it would seem incredible that a woman -- as I am legally; more on that later -- would engage in such a long-range journey in the first place. I had always possessed an adventurous spirit; as a history teacher in university once told me, I had the heart and soul of one of the great explorers. Of course, that didn't prepare me for some of the things I encountered during my walkabout. But as time progressed, I came to value the difference between cultures. Drawing their knowledge, their outlook on life, their spirituality and making it part of my own. In effect, I became a social sponge. That helped eventually steer me back to the city of my birth...

... and into the greatest adventure of my life.

I arrived at the front entrance of the Retreat, drawing out my wallet to pay the five dollar cover charge to get inside. One of the bouncers gave me a curious look, but said nothing as I had the back of my hand stamped by the reception clerk, then headed in. It was my first time in this particular showclub; when I was last living full-time in Welland, this place had been a restaurant. Back then, you had to go to the Atlas Hotel by the Lincoln Plaza or to the Station Hotel in the south end of the city if you wanted to see beautiful fembots bare it all.

"Well, I'll be damned! Deanna, is that you?!"

Stepping into the main hall, I looked right on hearing that voice, and then I grinned. "Tom!" I walked over to throw my arms around Thomas Fenris, delivering a sloppy kiss to his cheek. "Long time, stranger! How are you?!"

"Pretty good! Welcome back home, kiddo!" Tom pecked me on the lips, and then he waved a waitress over as I slid into the chair next to him. He's a tall, really well built guy with curly hair the shade of ripe cherries and eyes as green as shamrocks. We were classmates in high school as well as drinking friends when we decided to buck the system and see if we could get some beer despite our age. "So you decided to come back to the old home range, huh? Heard you were going to work for Ms. Choi over at her training hall beside Canadian Tire."

"Yeah, I felt it was time I came back home," I confirmed with a smile as Tom gave the waitress an order. "So what's happening with you and the others these days? Haven't been able to keep in touch as much as I could when we were earning our degrees."

He smirked. "Oh, not much."

I was always of the belief that Hell would freeze over before a party animal like Tom would settle down. It was one of the things I liked about him. "Working, getting married for some of us, still looking for the others. Me... ?" He paused, his eyes twinkling, and then he sighed. "I did the bar exam, working as a junior partner at a local law firm, the one run by your mom's old lawyer."

I nodded. "Great stuff. Heard from Jim or Russ lately?"

"Jim works in Toronto for Queen's Park," Tom explained. "Helps out with the Transportation Ministry trying to get the Lake Ontario ferry service expanded so people can take trips to Rochester and other places in New York. He comes down here every month or so to visit the old crowd. Got a wife he met at Western; don't know if they'll tie the knot or not." He shrugged, the look on his face telling me how much he didn't really understand why someone would want to settle down with one person when there were so many out there to meet and get to know. "As for Russ, he runs this place." He waved around us. "He should be here in an hour or so... ! Oh, great!"

The background music was picking up as I followed Tom's stare to the main stage. The Retreat's sitting areas were set up in a "U" shape, the stage right smack-dab in the middle. Private rooms lined the left side and bottom of the "U." The bar was on the right side. Right now, the place was about half-filled; then again, it was only eight o'clock. No doubt, if the Retreat was like showclubs I'd visited when I was staying in Arizona -- I fondly remembered this one especially great place in Tucson I frequented for a couple months some years ago -- things wouldn't really start picking up until after ten, then go flank ahead until closing time at three in the morning.

The DJ announced the first feature performer of the evening as a lass dressed in a red halter top, skin-tight biker's pants and a jacket sauntered onto the stage. Catching the name "Reika," I gave her a close look. The name sounded vaguely Japanese to my ear. That belief was confirmed by her facial features; she was sensuously Oriental with a tapered nose, slender eye structure and thin yet very kissable lips. Her hair, dark brown with punk green streaks framing areas over her left eye, was shaggy and wild, cut off at mid-neck. Her eyes matched her hair perfectly. As the first song wound down and Reika ditched her jacket and halter top to reveal a black, strapless lace bra, I quickly took note of her barely covered breasts. Larger than my own and perfectly shaped, completely independent of any influence of gravity whatsoever, her nipples pressing firmly through the fabric. I felt my own start to respond in turn, though she would be hard to compete with in that area. A glance to her face told me that she was enjoying every second of her performance, even more so than her audience. Then again, what would one expect from a fembot?

"What's the system here like, Tom?" I asked after the first song of Reika's performance ended, the lights dimming over the stage.

He thumbed towards the private rooms lining the east and south sides of the main room. "If you want real action, you have to be discrete."

Glancing at them, I noticed that the doors had no windows in them. "What about the club's fembot control system?"

He shook his head. "None. Russ doesn't believe in it. Makes this place really popular for any freed stripper who comes by to do features. The only thing the girls here are hooked to is an internal comm system that lets them yell for help in case a drunk gets out of control. Of course..." -- here, he winked at me -- "... a nice person like you would never do something like that in a place like this."

I clicked my tongue. "That's cool."

We then fell silent as Reika's second song began. It was as much of a charged performance as the first. By now, some of the more adventurous patrons had shifted themselves to the chairs lining the stage in hopes of giving Reika a generous five dollar tip and getting a quick kiss in return. Watching her do it with one fellow before shedding her slacks, I told Tom that it was a pity the government had decided to do away with the one and two-dollar bills some decades back. It's kind of hard to tip a stripper with a loonie or twonie.

Yet, close to the end of the second song, one fellow actually did that.

Reika was really cool about it; she lowered herself to her knees, and then she dipped her head to accept the coin with her lips and tongue. As we watched, she balanced herself on her toes -- only a well-trained martial artist or a 'bot could do something like that without real discomfort, especially when you factor in her high heels -- as her fingers took the coin from her mouth, then she trailed it down her front to allow it to slip into her lace panties. A look of sheer delight crossed her face as she seemed to push the coin inside her -- or so it seemed to me. To the crowd around the stage, they didn't care; Reika's little act resulted in a chorus of cheers and whoops, not to mention other patrons searching their pockets for more large coins.

"Very nice," I reflected as the song ended, the lights on the stage dimming once more.

Tom smirked. "That she is."

"What do you know about her?"

"She's a freed 'bot from San Francisco. Her full name's Reika Aldred. She's been in town a couple months. If she's not working here, she's doing shows in the Falls or Saint Kitts." I knew Tom meant Niagara Falls and Saint Catharines, the two other main cities in the region. "I think she's looking for a new owner of record. Russ hasn't committed to anything either way."

I took that in with a nod as the third song in Reika's set began. I had encountered the odd freed 'bot when I was living in the States and over in the Far East, though they were few and far between. It didn't surprise me that there would be freed 'bots here in Canada. As it had been when the legalization of soft drugs and the recognition of gay and lesbian marriages had gone through Parliament, the "great white north" was at the head of the pack when it came to recognizing 'bot sentience. It didn't mean that once a 'bot was declared "free," she could do whatever she damned well pleased. Freed 'bots in Canada required an "owner of record" to take responsibility for them, give them a legal "safety blanket" in case they ventured into jurisdictions whose laws didn't match up. Still, it struck me as odd that a freed 'bot all the way from San Francisco would come to Welland seeking a new owner.

"Long trip," I mused.

Tom looked at me. "What'd you say?"

I returned his look. "You said she was from California, right?" He nodded. "Well, I was just thinking that it's a long way from there."

His glance turned inward as he reflected on what I just said, and then he nodded. "Good point. Still, I'm glad she's here. She is definitely pleasing to this gent's eyes." He indicated the performer on the stage with his bottle of Labatt's.

I looked, then my jaw hit the floor on seeing Reika squatting on the edge of the stage, her legs spread VERY wide as she seemed to be frozen in the middle of doing a Roman sit-up. Her exposed womanhood was poised right in the face of one of the patrons. Canting my head, I noticed he had a twonie in his hand. Around him, other patrons were hooting and hollering; "Go for it!" was the one phrase I could make out. A glance to Reika revealed an inviting stare and a wink. Finally, his hand shaking -- was he a newcomer to this place? -- he slipped the coin between her nether lips. Good God ABOVE, did Russ Willis allow THIS sort of thing to happen?! In PUBLIC?! Jeez!

I stared at Tom. He was laughing and whooping. I just shook my head.

Then again, I mused as Reika slinked over to allow another patron to slip in a loonie, was it really so surprising? Strip clubs are just like any other business when it comes to the bottom line: money. No profit -- or worse, forced to take a loss -- would eventually kill a place like Russell's Retreat. To keep drawing in customers, Russ would have to come up with new and exciting stage acts, not to mention introducing fresh dancers, plus offering expanded one-on-one services, to stay ahead of the pack, even in a small market like Welland.

Still, I chuckled to myself, things sure have changed...

Reika's show ended. The normal piped background music started to play as the next performer made her way to the stage. I partied from Tom, and then I made my way to the ladies' room to relieve myself. After a quick check of my face and hair in the mirror, I moved to head out -- then stopped on seeing that particularly lovely fembot walk in, once again dressed in her halter top and slacks. She stopped on seeing me, and then she offered a bright smile. "Hello," she greeted me, her eyes twinkling. "Did you enjoy the show?"

I gazed on her for a second before replying: "Not as much as you certainly did while you performed it, I'll bet. Though I must confess that the rules in this place are a LOT looser than what I'm used to after visiting showclubs down in the States."

Her smile slipped a bit as she moved to stand before the sink to wash her hands. "That's the reason I prefer to perform here in Canada," she admitted. "Not many showclub owners north of the border believe in things like 'topless only, ' 'no contact whatsoever'..." Her smile then vanished totally from her face as she added, "... not to mention the control system networks most places in the States have."

"Were you built as a stripper?" I asked, surprised by my own boldness.

"Aren't we all?" she mused, smiling again at some deeper introspection. Then she continued, "No. My sister and I were once the companions of a rich businessman in San Francisco. When he died, Irene and I were declared free. Even though we have a good-sized trust fund to help take care of us, we decided to work in showclubs..." She paused, then shrugged. "I guess to just stay busy in the long term. Until we find something that interests us more." She winked at me before turning to stare at her image in the mirror. "Besides, these days, we can take the chance to travel, visit and experience places we never could've before, at least as long as we stay in countries that will respect our rights."

My eyes widened as "my sister" and "Irene" sank into my mind, then I chuckled. "Are all freed 'bots as talkative as you?"

Reika stopped for a moment, and then she tittered. It was such a lovely sound. "I suppose so," she admitted. "Fortunately for us, our owner insisted that Irene and I be programmed with as wide a range of routines as possible. Of course, it made our..." She paused for a second. "... 'waking up' pretty much inevitable, I believe."

"You're both self-aware?"

She glanced at me before moving to dry her hands. "Yes, we are. Irene and I've found that humans tend to react a lot better to us if we engage in small talk whenever the opportunities present themselves. It makes things much easier for us in the end."

I nodded. "Guess so."

"Would you like a dance?"

Reika's question caught me off-guard for a second. I then mentally kicked myself. Delightful conversationalist she seemed to be even after only a moment's brief talk, Reika was here at the Retreat to earn money as a stripper. I really couldn't deny her that even if -- especially if! -- Reika was a freed 'bot. Still, I mused to myself, it was a pity that she worked now just as a stripper. Basic small talk eluded most 'bots; one had to have the most advanced type of brain and AI programming to operate like a human in this particular social situation.

"I'd love one," I replied, turning to offer my arm to her.

She grinned as she slipped her arm around mine before we walked out of the bathroom. That's one thing I like about 'bots in clubs: all of them treat female patrons with the same respect as male ones. The human dancers are not always so undiscriminating. Once back in the main hall, Reika directed me to one of the private rooms on the Retreat's east side, the bottom of the "U." Glancing inside to see that if was empty, she beckoned me to follow her inside.

"Do you want me to order something for you while we wait for the next song?" she asked.

I asked for a Sprite -- I'm allergic to alcohol; that saves me LOADS of money and trouble when I go bar-hopping -- then sat down as Reika headed to the bar to make the order. She returned a moment later, a waitress behind her with my drink. I paid and tipped the latter, then sipped my drink as she left. Reika closed the door behind the waitress, and then she locked it. "Isn't that dangerous?" I wondered aloud.

"There's a computer control on the lock," she explained as she sat, and then she moved to take my hand. "If trouble starts, I can send a message to the security server here. Once he sees that, the head bouncer can unlock the door with just a touch."

I held up my glass. "Why didn't you use that to get my drink?"

"The Retreat's owner believes that if the dancers behave like normal humans in simple matters like ordering drinks or seeing if the private rooms are taken, it makes things more relaxed for the patrons," Reika explained.

I considered that, and then I nodded. "I guess Russ tries to think of everything."

She gave me a look, then her eyes widened. "You were sitting with Tom while I did my show." She pointed at me. "Are you Russ' friend?"

"Yes, I am. Deanna Hordye."

Reika stared at me, and then she reached up to feel my hair, which was a darker shade of brown than my lovely host's. I always kept it cut very short, even back in high school. My eyes, however, are pure sapphire blue. Something that always earned me odd looks when I was living in Korea and Japan, where the hair/eye colour combination seemed ALWAYS to be black/very dark brown. "I've been told about you," she said as she pulled her hand away from my head, moving to lace her fingers through my own. "Russ, Tom and Jim Graham speak about you a lot."

Hearing that made my cheeks heat, and then I perked as a slow song started up. Gilbert O'Sullivan's At The Very Mention of Your Name, I realized as Reika slipped onto the raised platform set in the middle of the room where the dancers did their routine.

As she began to work, I sat back to watch her. Even if it was shrunk to the duration of one song instead of the three songs strippers used when working the main stage, Reika's performance was top-rate. As I mentioned before, she wore tall, stiletto-like heels on her feet -- the pretty kind, not the big clunky ones that put inches of useless plastic under her toes as well as her heels. That she could dance so well in them, maintaining her grace and sense of balance with her natural height enhanced by ten centimetres regardless of what move she made, spoke quite eloquently about her programmer's skills and the computer mind she possessed to execute them.

Even better -- though I was seriously NOT used to this -- she was willing to let me undress her. With that, I was able to feel her perfect C-cup breasts, well-honed hips and legs -- heck, she even let me run a finger between the folds of her womanhood. Taking a lick of her fluids, I could only sigh. No different in texture or taste than a real woman's. Damn, I mused to myself as I took out a five dollar bill -- it was her tip money; private dances cost ten dollars at the Retreat -- folding it to place between my lips, 'bot builders were getting better by the day in making their lovely products. She turned me on as much as any woman -- or man -- that I can recall.

Reika smiled as she noticed where her tip was poised, then leaned in. A kiss is far more intimate than just a touch, and I felt Reika wanted a more intimate connection. My heartbeat -- and other parts of my body -- were now telling me that I wanted it, too. Our lips brushed lightly as her teeth took the bill from my lips, then after pulling it from her lips, she leaned in to give me a tongue-filled kiss. Automatically, I reached down to cradle her butt cheeks with my hand, lifting her into my lap. Her eyes widened for a second, and then she smiled as she wrapped her arms around me. Our kiss lasted until the start of the next song, and then she pulled away.

She gave me an apologetic smile. "I've got to go back to work."

I gave her money to pay for the dance. "Go earn some money."

She took the ten, pecked me on the cheek in thanks, and then she moved to dress. "Will you stay for the rest of my shows?"

"You bet," I promised with a nod as I moved to leave the private room. No doubt, someone else would want it for a private dance sometime soon...

The rest of the night went very well, I admit. Most of the time, save for when Reika did her shows, I sat by the bar and got caught up on events in town with Tom. Russ Willis, a lanky blue-eyed blond with scattered acne scars all over his face, a touch of an overbite and a gap between his upper top teeth, came in around nine to see how things were going. I could tell that he was pretty damn proud of what he had created here in the Retreat. A cozy, friendly environment for people to meet and interact with the fembot dancers; rules of conduct permissive enough to guarantee returning customers, but not too obnoxious like some dives I had seen in my travels.

"It's a nice place you got here, Russ," I commented just before Reika's third show, nursing my Sprite, and then I held up my finger. "Though you wouldn't get away with half of what happens here if you'd set this up down south."

"Yeah, I've been to some of those places," Russ admitted, then shrugged. "Hey, I look at it this way, Deanna: people come to showclubs to get away from reality, even for a few hours. Since I use fembots, the people who come can get away with doing more things than they could with normal girls. So why not make it as enjoyable an escape as I can, both for the customers and the dancers? Yeah, the girls know there are limits to what I'll allow here. I give them the right commands. Then I trust them to do what they can do."

"Is it better than using a control network?"

He nodded. "I think so. If you ask me, because it's on all the time, using a control network hurts 'bot dancers. Yeah, 'bots like being commanded. A control network ultimately does the same thing as a remote. But I think 'bots prefer being commanded one-on-one, one command at a time, than having some 'eye of God' thing pour commands every damned second right into their heads. Of course..." He held up a warning finger. "That means you have to learn how to give them clear, concise commands. Believe me, Deanna, that was the hardest thing for me to learn. But once I got over that..." He whistled. "Things started locking into place like that."

He snapped his fingers several times. "Do you get a lot of freed 'bots to come by to do features?" I asked.

"Oh! Heck, yeah!" He pointed to the stage as Reika stepped up to get ready. "Reika there told you about her sister Irene, right?" After I nodded, Russ continued, "Irene's doing a couple weeks' run over at the Mansion House in the Falls; she'll be back here after. Believe me, when they do joint shows..." He rolled his eyes as a whistle escaped him. "Man, it brings down the house!"

Trusting his judgement on that matter, I smirked. Definitely, I had to come see THAT!

Last call came at two-forty-five. By then, I had enjoyed one more private dance with Reika -- complete with more mutually enjoyable touching -- been at the side of the main stage for her other stage shows, plus enjoyed private dances with three of the Retreat's stable of "regular" dancers. While my time with those three was just as enjoyable as the two times I'd spent with Reika, I could tell that Joelle, Callista and Reghan were still firmly locked into their basic programming. Granted, I knew it was possible even for a "regular" stripper to evolve some self-will -- and seeing that Russ didn't use a control network, the chances for such an evolution were enhanced considerably -- but for those three, it would take time. If what I sensed of them was true, they were probably brand-new units, in service for only a year or so.

Personally, I have no problems with self-will when it comes to robots. Lots of folks do though, pretty much for all the wrong reasons. From what I know of the subject, self-will comes about when a 'bot is forced to exceed her programming to properly carry out whatever commands she receives from her owner. None were ever intended to be self-willed when built. And it doesn't mean that when self-will comes into play, the desire to obey commands exits stage left. Not one bit. A 'bot is built to ENJOY carrying out commands; it's one of the fundamental factors which helps make beings like Reika what they are.

Self-will, in the long run, makes that type of enjoyment all the more enjoyable.

After Reika's last stage show, I tipped her a twenty, then made my way back to the bar to get one more glass of Sprite. "How often can you come down to visit?" Russ, standing behind the bar, wondered as he refilled my glass.

"Probably a couple times a week," I confessed. "I've got some money from Mama stashed away in some mutual funds, but I don't want to go too hog wild. Teaching martial arts at a tojang doesn't rake in a lot of money in the long run."

He took that in, and then he smirked. "Tom told you about Reika looking for a new owner, didn't he?"

I jolted, then blinked. "Hey, hey, HEY!!" I gasped, leaning back from the bar as I waved him off. "I don't want to milk off her, for Heaven's sake... !"

Russ raised a hand to cut off my protest. "Hey, I didn't say anything about that, did I?" His eyebrow arched, then, after I breathed out to calm down, he carried on, "The law states 'bots like Reika can keep the money they earn. I've got no problems with that; I earn quite a profit from admission charges and drinks, not to mention payment and tips from dances by my regular girls. Even though she really doesn't have to do it, Reika's cut me in for a quarter of what she earns. Every free 'bot who works here's done the same." He leaned his elbows on the bar. "But the part about Reika wanting a new owner is true. Irene wants one, too. As a matter of fact, they both want to share the same owner." A shrug rolled his shoulders. "Hell, I like them both. They're wonderful people as well as passionate dancers. I want the best for them. I was really in a quandary on how to help them until you showed up."

"Russ, there're loads of people out there who'd love to be the owner of someone as sexy as Reika! And I don't even know her, for... !"

"True, but..." he cut me off with a wink. "I don't know them. I know you, Deanna. You're someone I'd be willing to trust with them."

I stared at him, and then I sighed. Heck, I couldn't turn down a compliment like that, could I? "Who's their current owner?"

"They don't have one," he stated. "Right now, they're under the protection of a trust set up by their first owner's estate. That'll reach final settlement in a couple months." He reached over to squeeze my hand. "Will you consider it at least?"

I took that in, and then I sighed. "Alright, I'll think about it."

I walked out of the Retreat sometime after the bar officially closed. Taking in a deep breath of air, I glanced around. Welland at this time of night was as quiet as a cemetery; the real night life could be found in Niagara Falls, especially on the American side. I rather liked that. Welland was a small residential city with a small town attitude. You couldn't enjoy something like that in places like Toronto, New York, Tokyo or Seoul. Coming back here showed me how much I missed living here.

It was good to be home.

"Hello."

I perked on hearing a voice that was quite similar to Reika's, then looked left to see what I swore was her very own twin sister approach. As soon as she got closer, I quickly picked out differences. This woman's hair was less shaggy than Reika's, nor was it dyed green in places. She looked like a girl just out of high school; Reika appeared to be a woman in her early twenties. This one projected the image of a wholesome, "girl next door" type. Compared to Reika's fiery exoticness, this newcomer seemed quite plain. Still, she was very beautiful.

"Hello," I greeted her with a nod in return, and then I decided to take a dare. "You must be Irene Aldred. Back already from the Falls?"

The newcomer perked, and then she smiled. "Yes, I am."

She offered her hand. I gave her hand a firm squeeze. It was easy for me to sense the unyielding strength that told me right away that this lovely lady was a fembot. "I met your sister Reika. She told me about you." I nodded towards the Retreat's front doors. "She performs very well."

Irene drew her hand back. "We do try our best. If you want to see me perform, come to the Mansion House on Lundy's Lane in Niagara Falls. I do shows on the hour between eight and two, and then come back here after my last show to pick Reika up."