“Do it, or you’re fired,” the Russian said to Marina, his eyes resolute.
“Please, Mr. Molenski… really, this is not professional…”
“Do it,” he said, in a low voice. “Don’t make me ask again.”
The threat in his tone indicated that the consequences might be more severe than just career related. Marina knew more about Molenski’s ‘activities’ than he could ever guess, and she knew what he was capable of. She even knew about the ‘Red Room.’
Oh, what the fuck, it’s just a machine.
“Fine,” she said. “Just this once.”
“Khorosho – good, good, of course. Tell her.”
Marina looked at the pretty robot, who seemed to be following their conversation just like another human would. She took a deep breath.
“Inga, I give you permission to kiss me.”
With her breasts still exposed, the right one still noticeably red from Molenski’s rough treatment, Inga walked over to the personal assistant. Up close, Inga was even more beautiful, and Marina was amazed at the attention to detail, even down to the fine, almost invisible, downy hair on her cheeks.
Inga paused in front of Marina and looked at her in a seductive way, biting her bottom lip.
“Would you like to kiss me now?” she asked, her cheeks flushed with the faintest hint of pink, perfectly replicating the early stages of arousal in a real woman. Marina felt her body begin to respond to the proximity of the semi-naked ‘girl’.
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
Inga moved closer, and her hands grasped the woman’s hips as she leaned in and pressed her lips to Marina’s. Inga’s soft, warm mouth surprised Molenski’s PA and her eyes closed as she began to return the kiss.
A good Catholic girl, Marina had only ever kissed a girl once before, on a drunken dare. The next day she had been ashamed and embarrassed by her behavior but her memory of the sensual kiss and its effect on her had lingered.
If possible, this kiss was even more sensual.
Oh God, she even smells good.
Marina forgot herself a little and her arms circled Inga’s midriff, pulling her closer. Inga responded her tongue darting out and probing the woman’s lips. Surprising even herself, Marina opened her mouth, and suddenly their tongues were intertwined.
While her instincts had taken over to a certain degree, on one level the analytical part of her brain wondered at the amazing ‘humanness’ of the robot she was kissing. Inga’s mouth and tongue, even her saliva, felt and tasted no different to that of any person she had ever kissed.
When Inga’s hands moved to her buttocks, she sighed and, all instinct now, she passionately returned Inga’s kiss and brought one of her hands up to touch her bare breast. Inga moaned into her mouth at the touch.
Molenski’s whisper to Ivan broke the spell.
Marina pulled away, gasping and stepped back, straightening her jacket. She smoothed her hair, surprised when Inga’s adaptive technology kicked in and she mirrored Marina’s behavior, pulling her bra back over her breasts and patting down her hair, seemingly as embarrassed as the human woman.
Marina thought she saw a flash of regret cross Inga’s face, but realized instantly that it was a programmed response. Just like the moan when she touched her. Just like her breathing. Just like the soft flush to her skin. All programming.
She became annoyed at herself for falling into Molenski’s honey trap.
“Will that be all?” she snapped.
“Well, how was it?” he asked, a knowing smile on his face.
“Okay, I guess,” she shrugged.
“Just okay?” Molenski leered, noting her blush and smeared lipstick. “Looked more than okay from where I was standing, don’t you think Ivan?”
Ivan shrugged, looking uncomfortable.
“It was very… realistic,” Marina conceded, not willing to give him more than that.
Her boss gave her a shark’s grin that promised more mischief in the very near future and, not for the first time, Marina thought it might be time to get the hell out of Dodge.
“Go,” he said, waving her off as he stepped up to Inga and groped her backside. “Take the rest of the afternoon off; I have things to do…”
“Don’t forget you are having Mr. Bernstein for lunch,” Marina said, before turning on her heel and heading back into the house.
She was glad to be leaving. Even though she knew that Inga was a machine and the kiss they had just shared was nothing more than a coded response on the robot’s part, she couldn’t help but feel sorry for her on a human level. She had gleaned enough of Molenski’s motives to know that the Genitix machine wasn’t there to satisfy only his sexual needs… if at all.
Molenski watched her go. He had forgotten Bernstein, his most important business partner, was coming for lunch. He really would need to put off his fun with Inga until late tonight.
“Come, follow me,” he ordered the robot and headed back to the kitchen without looking back to check she was following.
“Yes, Dimi,” she said, and fell in behind him, followed by Ivan who tried to keep his attention focused on the back of the robot’s head.
It was going to be an interesting afternoon.
Part 2 – Myfriend
5
Isabella barely flinched when her boss walked into her kitchen followed by a gorgeous, semi-naked girl and a bashful Ivan, who, unusually, didn’t even look her way.
Isabella was well accustomed to strange goings on in the Molenski household and for the most part managed to ignore them. She was extremely curious this time, though, especially when just a minute before Marina had rushed through, red-faced and obviously unhappy.
She watched the trio surreptitiously as they passed by.
The girl, obviously aware she was being observed, turned and smiled. She was clear-eyed, clearly not a drugged-up whore like those Molenski sometimes treated his men to. Isabella smiled back, then turned back to wiping her benchtop, even more curious. She made a promise to grill Ivan at the first opportunity she got.
She was unsurprised when they headed up the staircase in the direction of Molenski’s bedroom. The Russian was also known to treat himself occasionally, and the young girl looked quite the treat. Isabella found herself excited. The fiery Latin side of her loved drama, and if Mrs. Molenski came home while the girl was still in the house, or better still in her marital bed, things could get very dramatic, very quickly.
The Russian paused on the steps and turned to look at her. Isabella looked down quickly, furiously rubbing at an imaginary spot on the bench.
“Lunch will be ready in an hour, yes?” he asked.
“Si, Senor.”
“Good. When my guest arrives, see him to the dining room.”
6
Ivan didn’t complain when Molenski broke their security protocol by opening the bedroom door and going through without waiting for him. They both knew the house was impregnable to all but a small army, but usually it was the boss himself who insisted they never deviate from his rules – his years in the vicious underworld having given him a unique outlook on personal security.
Once in the bedroom, Ivan took his usual place by the door to the balcony as Molenski sat on the bed and began playing with the wafer-thin control tablet. Inga came to a standstill, watching him and apparently awaiting further instruction.
Ivan took the opportunity to look at her more closely. He had stopped thinking of her as a machine. His mind was unable to fathom that anything or anyone that beautiful could merely be a machine. She was perfect, and he was curious as to his boss’s motives.