Robot Adept

She wrestled herself away, managing in the process to slide her slippery breasts almost the full length of his body. “Nay, Mach! Not till we be at the proper place!” What a tease she was! Surely Translucent, if he were watching at this moment, was chuckling.  So it continued through the morning, Fleta always putting him off on one pretext or another, he always yielding with decent grace. Then it was time for lunch, and then for a nap, she claimed. But she kissed him, and whispered in his ear: “Canst see her coming, now?  Needs must we know exactly when.”

He nodded. He fashioned a partial shelter from boughs and ferns so that the sun would hot burn him, though its light was filtered through the water above the dome and really was not fierce. Then he lay down for his “nap” and used a variant spell to separate his spirit again. He floated out to Translucent’s water-brick house—and there she was already! In only a few minutes she would be at the isle.

He hurried back to his body. How lucky that Fleta had had him check!

He stretched as if waking. Then he reached out and caught Fleta by the arm. “Damn it, filly—you have been teasing me all day!” he exclaimed. “Now you are going to get it!”

“Now?” she asked, her eyes nicking about as if searching.

“Any minute now,” he agreed. “Just let me get that cloak off you!”

“Nay!” she protested, laughing. “That were too brief a nap!”

“The hell with the nap!” he exclaimed, rather enjoying the Proton mode of swearing; it had a certain magic of its own. He wrestled with her, pulling ineffectively at her clothing.

“0, here, thou’lt ruin it,” she complained. She drew off her cloak herself. Then she undressed him.  But when he sought to embrace her, she resisted.

“Thou didst teach me thy way, remember,” she said.  “Not like my way, for when I be in heat and care not what member be in me, so long as I be bred. Slow, and with love.”

She was still stalling, for Tania had not yet shown up. But she was also correct: he had to play this scene convincingly, and that meant that sex was only part of it.

He looked into her eyes. “I love you,” he said. There was no ripple around them, of course; this was a line from a play. In fact, this was very like a game in the Tourney of Proton, in which the participants had to emulate a scene of perfect love-making. It was an open question whether two players ever got into such a match randomly.

“And I love thee,” she said, with similar lack of ripple. That was not necessarily cause for suspicion; the splash showed only at truly seminal declarations, and like other magic tended to fade with repetition.  Now he sought to embrace her more intimately, but still she demurred. “Hast forgotten thine own mode of play?” she inquired teasingly.

Was she still stalling, or trying for perfect realism?

He wasn’t sure, but realized she was right either way.  Tania still had not arrived, and regardless. Translucent was probably watching on his water-screen.  Translucent? Tania could be watching it too! Why should she come here physically, when she could learn what she needed at a distance?

He stroked her breasts. Oh, she was well formed! He had seldom really looked at her recently, and now appreciated in a rush how nicely she had shaped her girl form. He kissed them, then moved up to kiss her ear.  “I think we be on stage now,” he whispered.

“Ah, Mach, how I have longed to hear thee say that!” she replied aloud with a straight face. Then she became an animal indeed, hugging him, kissing him, stroking him, rubbing her torso against his, wrapping her legs around him, mimicking the height of passion, human style.

This was the same body he had embraced when Agape occupied it. Now it became confused in his mind, and he feared he would cry out Agape’s name and betray himself.

“Mach! Mach!” she cried, but it sounded like “Bane, Bane!”

“Fleta!” he responded, keeping it straight. Then, overwhelmed by the passion of the moment, he took her, not quite caring in that instant who it might be.  And the guilt surged up as his passion ebbed. He had felt too much.

But it seemed that his demonstration had been effective. Time passed, and Tania did not show up. She must have been satisfied that he was Mach, after she saw his demonstration.

Fleta still lay in his embrace, and he could not tell her to go. He had to be consistent to his role. But what was that consistency costing him? What was it costing her?

Tormented by his uncertainty of feeling, he lay for a time, then drifted into sleep.

Later they woke. Fleta did not look happy, but in a moment she assumed a cheerful expression. “Mach, thou didst promise me a foal,” she said.  He was silent, not certain what she was leading up to.

“Now thou art back,” she insisted. “Now be it time to do it.”

“Fleta, this is no simple matter,” he demurred. Was she serious?