Of course, a man couldn’t settle down with a whore and lately Pierce had been thinking about that. Not that he wanted to settle down, of course, but he was getting kind of old for the life he was living right now—always on the run, always hopping from one payday to the next one step ahead of the law and only half a step ahead of the thugs who wanted his hide. It would be nice to find someplace quiet with a willing woman and just relax for a while.
There was another blast outside and he backed up, eyeing the strange shadowy forms of the unfamiliar machinery looming around him in the darkness. The whole place had a weird, chemical smell that he didn’t like one bit. Pierce sniffed the air—vat- grown flesh—that was it. So maybe this factory wasn’t just making sensu-couches or luxury hover-mobiles.
Most of the known galaxy’s sex toys and marital aides were also exported from Osiris. Maybe he’d stumbled into one of those places where they made cybernetic whores for the super rich. Although, how a man could stand to screw something that had grown in a vat of chemicals was beyond him. Pierce wasn’t overly picky about his women—they only had to be warm, willing and friendly—but he drew the line at artificial pussy. That was just going too far, even if a man was desperate.
He stepped backward again and bumped into a long, rectangular box that looked a lot like a coffin. A shiver ran down his spine. He wasn’t superstitious but it didn’t seem like a good sign to find himself right beside a big-ass sarcophagus-looking thing when Shie-lu was trying to collect the bounty on his head. Something in the box seemed to rustle and he jumped back, knocking into another box with his pistol aimed at the first one. He half expected some cybernetic ghoul to rise from the shadows of the fancy coffin and tell him to prepare to meet his maker. There was nothing though—just his own harsh panting in the darkness and the sick stench of vat-grown flesh in his nose.
Relax—stop being so damn jumpy! he lectured himself. There was nothing alive in the shadows of the factory but him and he wouldn’t be for long if he didn’t keep his head. Pierce exhaled deeply, trying to force himself to relax. He ran a hand through his short brown hair and scrubbed his palm over his rough cheeks. His mustache and goatee, which he usually liked to keep neatly trimmed, were getting ragged. If he didn’t get some alone time with a razor soon, his face would be as hairy as his chest.
“Need a shave,” he muttered to himself, slumping against the long rectangular box behind him. “And a shower. And a woman that wants a couple of nights of hard lovin’ to take my mind off this shit.”
“What is it that you require, Mistress?” The voice came from the box he was leaning on. Pierce jumped up and turned with his pistol pointed in the direction of the box. There was an unmistakably man-shaped figure sitting up in it, staring at him. Presumably that was who or what had done the talking.
“Stay where you are or I’ll shoot,” he said in what he hoped was an intimidating whisper. Shouting would be better but he didn’t want Shie-lu and his thugs coming back when they heard the noise.
“I am programmed for any and all functions. What is your sexual pleasure?” the man asked in a slightly robotic voice.
“What the hell?” Pierce muttered, backing away from the box. Could it be that this was a cybernetic whore factory that produced man-whores instead of female ones? He’d never heard of such a thing but he’d been around the galaxy enough times to know anything was possible.
“I can give you any pleasure—even your darkest and most socially unacceptable fantasy will be my pleasure to fulfill.” The cybernetic man-whore-thing continued climbing out of the box and approaching Pierce. “After all, I am a machine so you need not have any shame in divulging your most illicit fantasies.”
“I don’t have any damn fantasies, socially unacceptable or otherwise,” Pierce growled, waving his gun at the naked chest of the thing in front of him. “Now why don’t you just get back in your little box and go back to sleep, you, uh…whatever you are.”
“I am a Companion 2000 built with your personal pleasure in mind. Perhaps you wish to see me in the light?” the thing asked.
“No!” Pierce almost shouted. Nothing says “here I am” like turning on the lights in the place you’re trying to hide. But it was too late—the man-whore-thing made a motion and suddenly the entire factory was blazing with brilliance.
“Much better.” The man-whore smiled at him, showing brilliant white, perfectly even teeth in its handsome face. It was much shorter than Pierce, maybe five-seven or five-eight to his six-four and it had thick blond hair on its head and a smooth, well- developed chest. Also, its pale, perfect body was completely naked.