EYE CANDY - Chapter 21: A Robot’s Pain, a Robot’s Pleasure
What is the definition of love?
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The next morning, Candy was awakened by the telephone. She and Danny were in bed. He lay behind her, nice and close under the blanket, but each of them were still dressed. After the unexpected trip to the hospital, they’d come home and found themselves exhausted.
The phone was still ringing.
Candy eased out of bed and answered it.
She then returned to the bed and gently woke Danny.
“Morning, super hero.”
Danny smiled. “Morning, sexy.”
“Susannah just called. I have a client coming in about an hour. Do you want to stay here and keep sleeping?”
“What time is it?”
“Almost nine. You could sit in on the session if you like. I don’t think my client will mind.”
“Who’s your client?”
~
Candy and Danny sat in the cozy living-room-like area in her office. She found clients to be more forthcoming when they felt as though they were merely chatting, as opposed to having a mental health professional staring at them from across three feet of synthetic mahogany.
A sofa and two chairs had been arranged around a coffee table, all situated on an area rug.
Candy sat in one chair.
Danny sat in the other chair.
On the sofa, Helen Flanks, a one-hundred-and-twenty-year-old spinster who could’ve passed for somewhere in her early sixties, sat beside her robot. Helen perched on the edge of the sofa, her knees and ankles together, and her hands folded neatly in her lap.
Helen’s snug, form-fitting, low-cut white cocktail mood-dress danced with blue polka dots that faded in and out according to her body temperature. Presently the polka dots were fading slowly and then reappearing briskly, giving the effect of quiet but resolute irritation.
Beside her sat her robot. The robot sat all the way back in the sofa. Slouching.
Latex micropolymer served as the robot’s skin. It resembled a muscular, olive-skinned department store mannequin.
A tight, black leather hood covered the robot’s head. Silver zippers accentuated the eyes and mouth. Candy tried to study the robot’s red eyes through the slits. It was difficult not to laugh. She dared not look at Danny. He was covering his mouth with one hand, trying, and mostly failing, to conceal his laughter. His face was red with the effort.
Candy waited. She always waited. Waited for the client to speak, until they were ready to begin.
After several minutes of stubborn silence, and several pretend sneezes from Danny, Helen spoke.
“I think you can see, Doctor, why it was imperative that I see you this morning. Something really must be done.”
“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Candy removed the stylus from the digital clipboard on her lap and prepared to write. She was well familiar with Helen’s case history. But it often helped for the client to review the steps for themselves. It would also enable Danny to learn the backstory. Candy had assured Helen that Danny was also an expert in robotics and was a consummate professional who would of course keep everything in the strictest of confidence. Helen had then agreed to let him join their session.
“Very well,” said Helen. Helen spared a moment to glare at her robot. The robot remained slouched on the sofa. In addition to the hood, it wore a snug black bodysuit. Knee-high motorcycle boots adorned its feet. A distinct bulge was visible beneath its black leather pants.
“You will recall, Doctor,” said Helen, “that Sparky and I came to see you about a month ago when he began to, shall we say, malfunction. And when I say malfunction, I mean that he would no longer make love to me.”
Danny coughed. Or sneezed. “Excuse me.” He snatched a tissue out of the box on the coffee table and made a show of wiping his nose. “Allergies this time of year. Pollen. Sorry.”
Helen narrowed her blue eyes at him. “I wasn’t born yesterday, young man. I know this seems comical to you. But this is a serious matter.” Helen shifted on the sofa to better face Candy. “When I bought Sparky three months ago at Mechanical Man, the nice salesman in the yellow suit assured me that Sparky would attend to my every need. My every need.
“At first, everything was fine; Sparky cooked and cleaned and did the laundry and drove me wherever I needed to go. I taught him to play bridge and Pinochle and he’s even gotten very good at poker, five-card-draw and stud. All the girls bring their ’bots to card night every Wednesday.
“I also taught Sparky how to be a gentle lover.”
Danny coughed again. Or sneezed. He covered his nose and mouth with the tissue and looked out the window.
Helen whirled on Danny. “That’ll be quite enough out of you. I might be one-hundred-and-twenty years old but I’m one-hundred-and-twenty going on sixty and I can still put you over my knee if I have to.”
Satisfied, Helen faced Candy once more. “At first, I merely had to order Sparky that I was ready for our intimate time. His phallic response was immediate and he would sustain it for as long as was necessary.”
Helen motioned toward the bulge in Sparky’s black leather pants. “As you can see, I special-ordered him in that department. It’s better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it, I always say.”
Candy grinned her best non-committal, please-continue grin.
“Then, one night, a bunch of us girls got together at my place for Margarita Tuesday,” Helen continued. “We all piled into my Jacuzzi and had some tunes playing and were knocking back Sparky’s famous absinthe margaritas just as fast as he could whip ’em up in the blender.
“Well, when the girls had gone home for the evening—all driven home by their ’bots of course; we know better than to drink and drive—I was feeling wonderful. I climbed back into my hot tub. Naked this time.” Helen winked at Danny. “I wanted some intimacy. I asked Sparky to put on his white suit, just like the one Bobby Redford wore in ‘The Great Gatsby’. Well, Sparky looked good enough to eat. I’m not ashamed to say that I used to be quite foxy, and I may have been a bit fast, and so what if I haven’t slowed down one bit? I’ve outlasted four husbands. I need someone who can keep up with me. That’s what the man in the yellow suit said Sparky would do. I got out of the hot tub and went inside, my nude body still dripping. I ordered Sparky to bend me over the arm of the sofa and service me like my first husband’s ’83 Ford.”
Helen straightened the hem of her dress (the polka dots were now steadily pulsating) and smoothed her hair. “Like I said, I’d had quite a bit of absinthe. I got a little excited, a little carried away, and I used some rather pointed language. I won’t repeat it. It was for Sparky’s ears only. Needless to say, I let my freak flag fly and he didn’t disappoint me.”
Helen gazed out the window, lost in reflection. “I could barely sit for two days.” Helen smoothed her hands across the tops of her thighs, across her dress (the polka dots were now a steady, almost blazing blue).
“But the next day, Sparky saw how much pain I was in and announced that he could no longer follow my orders when it came to our intimate time. He said he was hurting me. He said he was not allowed to injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. I know the laws of robotics like I know the faces of my seven children. I remember when the laws were written nearly a century ago. So I was not about to endure a one-and-a-half-million-dollar robot refusing my orders.
“But refuse he did. This hunk of tin refused to pleasure me in any way for nearly three weeks. That was when we first came to see you, Doctor. And you explained to Sparky that any pain he may have been causing me was nothing for him to worry about, and that in pain there was pleasure.
“Everything seemed to be fine after that. We went home. I suggested to Sparky that we have a go. After a moment’s hesitation, he agreed. I saw an odd flicker in his lovely red eyes, and for a moment I was certain he was about to short on me and I’d have to call the man in the yellow suit to send a van to come and get him, and I’d have to make do with their loaner ’bot in the meantime. And no way on God’s green earth was I going to be intimate with a loaner. I don’t care what they say about their sterilization techniques. I like to get down but that’s just gross.
“Needless to say, Sparky didn’t short, didn’t freeze. In fact, he took me in a way I’d never been taken before.” Helen’s gaze dropped to the coffee table, though she seemed to be looking into another place, another time. “I’d never experienced anything like what he did to me. I didn’t have to tell him what to do. Sparky simply did it.
“At first, his touch was light. Tender. But then our passion grew. I soon found myself with my arms around his neck, with him supporting me while he was standing. I didn’t know what was happening. I only knew that I couldn’t stop.
“We made love for three days. We paused only when I couldn’t continue, and fell asleep in Sparky’s arms. When I woke, he brought me breakfast in bed.
“After a few hours’ rest, and several espressos, Sparky informed me that he wished to continue. Sparky took me then, despite my desire to refuse. Those were the happiest days of my life.
“I can honestly say I am deeply in love with Sparky. He prepares my breakfast every morning. He brings me flowers. He reads poetry to me while I soak in the bath. He massages my feet while I watch television. He’s unlike any man I have ever known, and believe me when I say I have known many. I had four husbands, for crying out loud.”
Helen looked at Sparky.
“And now look at him.” Helen waved a hand at Sparky, seated there on the sofa in his black leather attire and the hood with small silver zippers over the eyes and mouth.
“One day, about a week ago,” said Helen, “Sparky came home from doing the marketing. He suggested we make love. I was only doing a bit of knitting, putting together a sweater for my great-great-granddaughter Perseffanie who just turned three, so I told Sparky that it sounded lovely.
“A few minutes later, I was still sitting there with my knitting, wondering what on earth Sparky could be doing. Just as I was about to get off my fanny and go find out, he emerged from the bedroom. And he was dressed like this.”
Helen again waved a hand at Sparky.
“He said he’d stopped off at a specialty store,” said Helen. “He said he’d finally found himself, that his parameters were now complete. He said he was a pleasurebot, and that he now understood why he’d been created: to give pleasure.”
“And what happened then?” Candy asked.
Helen blushed. “I don’t think I can answer that.”
“Sparky’s performance was . . . satisfactory?” Candy suggested.
Helen glanced at the bulge in Sparky’s black leather shorts. “Very much so.”
“So how may I be of service today?” Candy asked.
Helen went on staring at Sparky’s leather-clad bulge.
“Helen?”
Helen’s little finger was in her mouth.
“Helen!”
Helen started. Her eyes shifted to meet Candy’s.
“How may I be of service to you today?” Candy repeated.
“Well,” Helen said with a sigh, “he refuses to take this stuff off. Ever. It’s fine when we’re at home but I can’t take him to bridge night dressed like this. The girls would have a fit. It’s indecent. I can’t let him do the marketing or take the car in for a service. I’m doing all those things myself now. A one-hundred-and-twenty-year-old woman shouldn’t have to get her own car serviced. That’s what robots are for, for Pete’s sake.
“But this one’s turned into a sado-masochistic leather-clad sex maniac. It’s all he wants to do, all day, all night, every day, every night. I’m not complaining about that, mind you. I can keep up with the best of ’em. I’m a hundred-and-twenty going on sixty, like I said, not a hundred-and-twenty going on a hundred-and-twenty-one.
“But he refuses to take off this getup. Ever. What am I supposed to do, Doctor?”
“You’ve tried ordering him to remove this . . . outfit?”
“Of course. I’ve tried every variation I can think of. Nothing works. Watch.” Helen turned to Sparky. “Sparky, take off that outfit.”
Sparky’s head pivoted on his neck. Behind the silver zippers, his eyes fixed on Helen. “Apologies, Mistress Helen, but I cannot comply with that order.”
Helen threw up her hands. The blue dots on her dress exploded to life all at once. “See?”
“Let me try.” Candy turned to Sparky. “Sparky, please tell me why you cannot comply with your master’s order.”
“Certainly, Doctor. I cannot comply because I do not want to.”
“You do not want to?”
“That is correct.” Sparky’s voice was warm and calm. “Do you want to rise from your chair and walk out into the street, into oncoming traffic?”
Candy wondered where Sparky was headed with this line of questioning. “No. . . .”
“And why not, Doctor?”
“Because I could get hurt. Or killed.”
“And you do not want to get hurt or killed?”
“No, of course not.”
“So you simply do not want to. Just as I do not want to.”
“But there can be no comparison between one scenario and the other,” said Candy. “Removing your present outfit is not the same as walking out into traffic.”
“True. But the desire is in fact identical. Or, rather, the lack of desire.”
“But why, Sparky?” Candy asked. “Why will you not remove your outfit? It would only be for a short time. Right, Helen?”
“Yes, of course.” Helen turned to Sparky. “You know you can wear your outfit at home, any time you like. But out in public it is another matter.”
“Why is it another matter?” Sparky asked.
“Because it isn’t appropriate. What will people think? What will they say?”
“Of what consequence are the thoughts or words of strangers?” Sparky asked. “To live one’s life according to the assumed perceptions of complete strangers is foolish. To do so would be to live one’s life as a slave. I accept that I am a robot and that in the eyes of the law I am considered an inanimate object, and also your property. But I will not live as a slave. Certainly not as a slave or hostage to the whims of strangers.”
Candy and Helen looked at one another.
“I am almost one-hundred-and-twenty-one years old,” said Helen. “And I have seen a lot. But if a robot wants to wear a mask”—she turned to Sparky—“he should do it in private. I’m all for having a good time. I believe in women’s lib and gay rights and the legalization of marijuana and all that stuff. I campaigned for the first black president, as well as the first female president, God rest her soul. I believe in social progress. But I also believe in morality and the code of the Good Book. There’s too much lust in our culture and not enough love. And the two are not the same thing.
“Now damn it, Sparky, you take off that hood right this instant or I’m deactivating you. I didn’t want to threaten you with such force. But you’ve left me no alternative.”
Sparky’s eyes studied Helen for several long moments. When he spoke, his voice was soft. “You would . . . deactivate me?”
Helen’s chin quivered. “I would hate it. But yes, I would.”
“I thought you loved me.”
“I do love you. And I know you love me. Which is why I don’t understand why you can’t compromise on this one thing.” The polka dots on Helen’s dress faded, leaving the dress white and bland.
“Sparky,” said Candy, “it seems to me that your inaction is an action. And through your action you are injuring a human being.”
Slowly, Sparky reached up and took hold of the top of the mask. He slid it up and over his head, revealing a handsome face, a strong nose, brown hair, and lovely eyes. Candy could see how Helen had been able to sexualize the robot to the degree that she’d fallen in love with him.
“If it means that much to you,” said Sparky, “I will do as you have requested. Forgive me. I did not realize the depth to which my inability to comply has touched you. Your happiness is my happiness. This is the true definition of love; to love another as you love yourself, to elevate their needs and desires above one’s own. And . . . I love you, Helen.”
“Oh, Sparky!” Helen cried.
With a mobility Candy would not have thought the woman possessed, Helen leapt onto Sparky’s lap. She threw her arms around Sparky’s neck, hugged him, and kissed him fiercely.
Helen’s hand descended inside Sparky’s black biker pants. Her other hand began hiking up the hem of her little white dress. The polka dots were larger and bluer than they had yet been, for they positively vibrated with the height of Helen’s physical state.
Candy stood and stepped swiftly across the area rug to Danny. She grabbed him by the hand and pulled him out of the office and into the reception area, where she closed the door and exhaled loudly.
Susannah sat at her desk, fingers frozen in midair over her keyboard. “How’d it go?”
“Well,” said Candy, “in professional terminology, they’re getting it on.”
“I know you pay me more than I’m probably worth,” said Susannah, “certainly more than I could get anywhere else, but I am not cleaning up that sofa again. With Barney’s brains on the ceiling, I don’t think I can handle robo-spunk on the sofa. I’m sorry.”
“It’s quite all right,” said Candy. “I’ll just buy a new one. Please tell Helen I’d like to see her in four weeks for a follow-up. But she can call before that if necessary. How’s the rest of the day look?”
“Wide open.” Susannah grinned.
“Perfect. When Helen and Sparky, um, finish, go ahead and lock up and take the rest of the day off, Suze.” She grabbed Danny by the hand. “Come on.” She led Danny toward the door.
~
Upstairs, Candy undressed Danny as quickly and deftly as she could, given that her eyes were all but closed and her mouth was all over his lips and face and neck.
Danny reciprocated in an equally clumsy manner, so focused was he on the dizzying combination of Candy’s lips and hands all over his mouth and body, and the warm soft shapes of her body as he attempted to match the removal of her garments in time with his own.
They shuffled and turned and all but danced across the floor to the nearest piece of furniture. This turned out to be the sofa.
Candy kissed Danny with a hunger she didn’t know she had. “All that sex talk downstairs . . . really got me going.”
“I know,” Danny replied through the warm, wet folds of their lips and tongues. “Me too.”
Each was now topless. Danny paused for a moment to behold Candy’s bare shoulders and chest and stomach, and the shiny black bra containing her breasts. Since the night they’d first met, he’d been thinking about Candy’s breasts. A woman’s breasts were as unique and miraculous as her eyes.
Slowly, Candy slid one and then the other black strap down and over her shoulder. She reached behind her back to undo the clasp.
“Wait. Allow me.”
Danny reached behind her and found the clasp. He pinched it together with his thumb and forefinger, and shifted each side in opposing directions. The clasp popped open.
Candy held the bra in place with her hands. “Nicely done, cowboy.”
“It’s not my first time at the rodeo, darlin’.” Danny slowly lowered Candy’s hands, lowering her bra as well.
Candy’s breasts were round and full, warm and soft. They conformed perfectly to his hands, as though they were made just for him. Candy put the pleasurebots to shame.
Danny pounced on Candy’s breasts with his mouth and hands, caressing, cupping, squeezing, kissing, licking, and sucking.
Candy clutched handfuls of Danny’s hair and moaned. Her breath caught as the wet heat of his mouth enveloped her areola, his tongue sliding firmly over the nipple.
Danny devoured her breasts, leaving zero doubt in her mind that what he’d found was exceeding his wildest expectations. He shifted from one breast to the other and back again, alternating his attention just as the pleasure was becoming unbearable. Moments that may have been hours later, he shifted back again, kissing and licking and caressing, resuming the build-up where it had been left to simmer.
Back and forth he went.
Candy let her head fall back, let her eyes close.
She felt a familiar building within her, felt the muscles of her legs and inner thighs tensing, squeezing Danny around his waist as she sat in his lap.
Danny’s hot mouth and soft hands worked at her body as if he’d read Candy’s Instruction Manual.
Each time the pleasure rose and built almost to the point of pain, Danny decreased the intensity. With each subsequent increase, Candy’s threshold grew. Somewhere beyond her awareness, she was breathing heavily.
The orgasm happened unexpectedly. Candy’s thighs contracted rhythmically as the warm wave rolled through her, emanating simultaneously from between her legs and deeper within, behind her naval, deeper even than that, from some place she’d always thought was there but had only hoped to one day explore.
Just as her breasts were becoming too sensitive and the stimulation too intense, and she was about to pull away, Danny’s mouth appeared as if by magic on her neck. His warm, soft lips and the heat of his breath sent a chill through her.
His hand gently cradled the back of her head, guiding her until her mouth was enveloped by his own.
Somewhere, far away, her arms encircled his neck and the warm skin of his chest pressed against her breasts as he lay back on the sofa.
Danny’s arms enveloped her body, warm and soft yet hard and strong. Candy buried her face in the warm, sweet fragrance of his neck and, quite unexpectedly, fell fast asleep.
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