Lenny cast a desperate eye about the room. They were all watching her. With the exception of the slumbering workmen of course. She knew that she must do something fast!
With a sudden writhing of her perfect body, the blonde woman on the strange little sex machine rammed the plunger up into her womb – the entire foot and a half of plunger throbbed with mechanical delight. Lenny's face turned white, and her mouth contorted into a wide cavern.
Cubbings marveled at the beauty of this woman. Even in the throes of sexual agony she managed to remain pretty, yes, that was it, she was the prettiest woman he had ever seen. Even at the moment of climax.
Lenny screamed as loudly as she could. To her, it was a scream of anguish, for it was obvious to her now that the machine could not completely fulfill her needs. But to the eagerly waiting Cubbings and McClain, the scream was the pronouncement of their ultimate success.
"Aihhheeee!" Lenny cried out.
She screwed her open, needful cunt down onto the machine with horrendous energy.
Cubbings came all over the control board. His hot come splattered across the dials and flashing red lights.
His head fell in happy exhaustion.
He was too pooped by his experience to take account of the dials. If he had, he would have seen that the dial marked "Orgasm Meter" remained completely motionless.
Lenny was a quick thinker; she could feel nothing new in her hot, wet vulva. That meant that she had not fooled the Xylotrope itself. It continued to pump at her energetically, holding back its release of the artificial sperm until the moment its computer system told it that Lenny was climaxing.
McClain was decorated by a broad, gloating smile. But he was watching her with a renewed doubt. True, she showed every outward sign of climax, but he sensed that something was missing. In the extravagant pride he had experienced at her first screams of fulfillment, he had lost track of the sense-data he had been so carefully noting down.
Now he turned his eyes toward the control board. Perhaps, he thought quickly, perhaps I had better check the dials myself. One could never be too careful in this business.
Lenny saw his move. A surge of deep fear flushed through her body. She remembered that Boss Carl had threatened to kill her if she did not pass his final test. If the stakes were that high, she reasoned desperately, wouldn't Masters McClain do me in if he suspected treachery?
Of course he would.
She turned completely pale. All of her sexual excitement seemed suddenly conquered by that most human of emotions – fear. A horrid shudder drove through her body to the very core. For an instant, her heart stopped beating completely, then it raced madly ahead in terror.
The omnipresent computer read this data as it was transmitted back through the Xylotrope. A whirring of gears and gauges commenced immediately.
It did not take long for the result to be determined.
Within a hundredth of a second of her physical reaction, the dials on the control panel registered their verdict.
With a rough gesture, Masters McClain shoved the limp body of the exhausted Cubbings aside. He peered intently at the meters.
First, he noted in his book the exact time that the red warning light appeared on the center panel. Then he read and transcribed the readings on the heartbeat graph, on body temperature, and on probable blood pressure.
Finally, his eyes turned to the meter marked "Orgasm Meter."
A lewd smile crossed his face as he saw the direction in which the indicator pointed. He had designed it himself to read either: NO ORGASM. PARTIAL ORGASM. COMPLETE ORGASM. Or, SUPER ORGASM.
Aha, he thought to himself with an evil surge of triumph, computers do not lie!
CHAPTER EIGHT
As most men of science would tell us, the computer cannot lie. Of this fact, Masters McClain was completely sure as he hulked over the control panel.
What he had perhaps forgotten in his desire to flatter his own ego, is the other simple truth about the computer.
Like most machines designed by men to do tasks that were originally performed by men, the computer is capable of only one truly human feat. That feat is the performance of the mistake. It is significant that some scientists and their machines are prone to make these two mistakes simultaneously. Such was the case with McClain and his control panel.
The Orgasm Meter had interpreted the fear-stimuli as being orgasm-stimuli.
Thus, as he bent over the control board, Masters McClain saw that the needle of the Orgasm Meter pointed to the category: SUPER ORGASM.
Busily, McClain noted all the pertinent data into his little book. The stoppage of the heart for an instant, the increased heartbeat after resumption, everything!
Both, he and his machine, had been completely fooled.
The quick-thinking Lenny Morgan, however, was a bit more difficult to trick. She had watched with horror as McClain craned his tiny body over the control panel. She had expected to be found out and exposed for what she was – a spy from Carl Industries Incorporated.
But the sudden, exciting release of the hot syrup solution into her cunt gave her all the data she needed. The machine was as truly stupid as it was unsatisfying, she mused proudly to herself. It had given itself away by a simulated male orgasm.
With a disguised disgust, Lenny let the device fall to the carpet. The insides of her thighs still glistened in the dim light with the juices of her intense desire.
"Yummm, umm," she moaned falsely, "that was the most beautiful thing in the whole world, Mr. McClain."
McClain whirled toward her, suddenly saying, "Like to do it again, baby?"
Lenny was taken aback, did this man still suspect something? Then she saw him consulting the back pages of his little notebook. Of course, she said to herself, that's all it is. He obviously had planned out a set of questions to ask her in advance.
What would the proper response be? she wondered, letting her hands slid down the smooth, desirable flesh of her shapely thighs.
"I sure would," she replied reverently, "sometime, but right now," she fell back in a fake swoon, "right now, I'm just too pooped. That little bugger really works a girl over."
"Wonderful!" McClain was overjoyed, "that's just wonderful Lenny, you've got the job. Report to my office tomorrow at seven o'clock."
"In the morning?"
McClain smiled indulgently, "No, of course not, I know you love a little night-life. Seven in the evening will be just fine."
With that the small man beckoned to the workmen who proceeded to wheel the machine from the small, padded room. In a moment, Lenny lay alone on the carpeted floor. Only the exhausted Cubbings was in the room, and he was sprawled out on the carpeting in a dead sleep.
Lenny cursed her luck. She was still red-hot from the stirrings of that diabolical plunger in her snatch. What she needed right now was a man.
She stood and began to look around for some clothes. There were none. All of her clothes had been taken away by the workmen, whom the fussy Masters McClain had instructed to clean the place thoroughly before they left.
"Bastards," Lenny cursed violently and kicked at the wall.
Cubbings rose reservedly from his place of sleep.
"Pardon me, Miss Morgan, but…"
Lenny turned to him quickly, she was startled, having thought him completely dead to the world.
"Uh, nothing is wrong, really, but I don't have any clothes here. The workmen seem to have taken them away."
"Oh, of course, how stupid of them, my dear." Cubbings seemed to have more trouble with his voice control in this exhausted state. "Why don't I lend you my raincoat?" he blurted.
"Thanks, buddy," she said distantly.
Lenny took the raincoat and wrapped it around her shoulders. It was not the safest kind of attire for riding the city subways, but it would have to do.