Best Black Women's Erotica 2 (13 page)

I asked, “I completed your survey—”

“The engineers and scientists have reviewed your comments and complaints and have assured me the problems have been rectified.”

I inhaled. Thought of my responsibilities as a member of the colony's government. I exhaled. Thought of Lujon. “Very good. Monday delivery would be appreciated.”

 

“You want to replace me with a human man.”

Lujon 1 emerged from the packing crate wearing well-fitting jeans and a tee that defined his six-pack.

I silently clutched the white card sent by Walter Ward. There was no sense in denying anything; Lujon had the privilege, by way of mind scan, of knowing my innermost thoughts.

“I do not want that,” Lujon firmly stated. “While the scientists were repairing me, they left me standing in the corner of the room. For hours during the day and all through the night after they had gone home to their families, I stood
alone in the corner. You talk to me as if I'm human.” He paused. “I do not want to go back there again.”

There was no condemnation in Lujon's tone; that came from inside me.

I opened my mouth to justify my actions, but Lujon walked away. I stared after him, trying to discern how he was different, when I noticed I was crumpling Walter Ward's note. I opened it: a generic thank-you note with the date of Lujon's next tune-up. At the bottom of the card were two silver coins that resembled the historic currency of quarters. Script writing beneath the first coin read, “Operational Manual.” The second read, “Manufacturing Specifications.” Beneath both, in Ward's handwriting: “Confidential information.”

Lujon appeared without warning footsteps. “I ran a bath.”

“Thank you.” I glanced down at Lujon's crotch. It grew to life in front of my eyes. Some things, thank goodness, were the same.

Some things were different. Lujon walked away. Was he shunning me? Was he trying to express the human emotion of anger? I had missed him terribly. I wanted him to lift me and carry me to the bath. I wanted him to sit on the floor while I bathed and listen to me ramble. I wanted him to dry me, oil me, fuck me.

Before sinking into the tub, I placed the computer chips from Walter Ward in my visual chip player. I had closed the door, but chose to use the headphones anyway. I cued the operational manual first. Before my eyes, in midair, appeared Walter Ward. He rambled on with operational instructions about the Lujon robot series. I had spoken with him personally. I didn't need to view the chip. I cued the “Manufacturing Specifications” chip. I wondered with a throbbing head why Ward had sent it to me. I couldn't understand half of what the engineer explained. Just as I
was about to turn it off, another man crystalized above my bath suds.

This scientist immediately won my attention when he spoke about the confidential material contained on the remainder of the chip being for authorized viewers only. The man went on to disclose the miracle behind the realism of the Lujon series. The “robots” were only one-half metal and wire. The other half of Lujon was made of flesh—cloned flesh.

“Madison?” Lujon's soft tap countered the bass of his voice.

I jumped, hitting the STOP button. In my haste, I dropped the visual chip player in the water. I hustled to retrieve it before it shorted out.

“Madison, are you all right?” Lujon asked, his tone concerned.

“Yes.”

Lujon glided through the door as I retrieved the player. I opened the cylinder. The chips were melting.

“Damn!”

“Can I help?”

Sucking up the loss, I calmed down. “No, Lujon, everything is fine.”

“I brought you a glass of wine.” He pulled the long-stemmed glass from behind his back and with a dip and flourish he held it out for me.

“Thank you.” I had thoroughly missed Lujon.

“Dinner will be ready very soon.” He disappeared without plunging his huge hand into the water and fondling me as usual.

I gulped the wine and placed the glass on the edge of the tub. Lujon: half human. How did this muck up the laws we were arguing? Should Lujon be classified a well-trained human or an amazing robot? As much as I had enjoyed seeing the rise and fall of his ass as he walked away from me, I didn't care. This changed everything.

What parts are flesh and blood? His beautiful penis? No. He could not have inherited that work of art from any living being. Ten inches long, encased in wrinkled brown skin, topped with a bulbous head the width of a turnip, and shooting crystal-clear cum in a variety of flavors, no penis from any man could become so instantly and continuously erect and could so please me to tears.

And his ass…. His ass was definitely made of human tissue. Solid, high, and dimpled, it was surely human—I had squeezed it enough to know.

Abdomen? The six-pack was as hard as a steel plate, as soft as a pillow. I didn't know about the abdomen.

Thick, corded arms. Strong legs. Huge hands. Shimmering skin. Clairvoyant eyes. Infectious smile. Cotton-soft hair.

My head spun, trying to figure it all out.

I emerged from the bathroom dressed in a purple silk gown that grazed the top of my feet. I followed the delicious aroma of dinner into the kitchen, observing Lujon's work as I went. My apartment had been transformed into a middle-level showplace. The washer and dryer hummed in the distance. Candles burned in the living room, filling the apartment with a fragrance of cinnamon.

Lujon busied himself in the kitchen, never venturing far, while I ate dinner. I rattled on about my day and every event that had occurred while he was away. He folded clothes at the dryer, glancing over his shoulder from the laundry room. Always showing me I was the center of his attention.

“Would you like to watch television?” Lujon asked after clearing my plate.

“I would. Watch with me.”

Lujon settled on the sofa, one leg outstretched along the back cushions. He swallowed my hand in his and tugged until I sat between his legs. His thick arms wrapped my waist. I let my head drop back against his chest. I had missed him so much.

“You seem different,” I observed, “but I can't put my finger on what's changed.”

“No?” His lips skipped across the top of my head.

A familiar warming started below my navel. “Do you know?”

“Do I know?”

“Yes. Do you know what repairs the scientists made?”

“None.”

“None?” I craned my head around to face him. “They kept you an entire month. Is it possible they made repairs but you're not aware?”

“No.”

“Then what were they doing to you all this time?”

“Changing me.”

“Lujon,” I said, exasperated. “Changing you how?”

“To meet your needs, desires, wants.”

“You were programmed for that the first time.”

“Madison,” his voice dropped an octave, “your needs, desires, and wants have changed.”

“Explain, please.”

Lujon ran his finger across my jaw. His gray eyes captivated me. He gave me an Eskimo kiss before answering. “When I first arrived, you wanted a man to satisfy your sexual urges and live out your wildest fantasies. You now need someone to care for you. You desire a relationship that satisfies your soul. And you want a man to love you more than he loves himself.”

Stunned, I gazed into Lujon's eyes. He dipped his head and stroked my temple. He captured my face between his hands and pressed our lips together. He tugged at my bottom lip until I opened to him. His tongue glided into my mouth and bathed me in magnificence. When he pulled away, I felt dazed and confused.

“Lujon,” I breathed.

Lujon untangled our bodies and carried me into the bedroom. He moved around the room lighting candles and turning down the lights. When he finished, he stood at the foot of the bed and allowed me to watch him remove his clothes. His eyes never looked away. The corners of his mouth hardened with—what? desire?

I didn't wonder if or how he could feel emotions, only if the emotions were specifically for me.

“What are you thinking?” I asked as Lujon strolled to sit beside me on the bed.

“I don't want you to replace me with a human man.” He splayed his fingers on my ankles and began to push my gown upward over my calves. “I can be all and more than any human man could be.” My thighs. “Cook….” My hips. “Maid….” My belly button. “Master….” My breasts. “Child….” Shoulders…. “Lover.” The gown went over my head and pooled on the floor.

“I will make love to you now, Madison.” Lujon pushed my thighs apart and insinuated himself in the opening.

“I will prove to you I belong to you.” He kissed my left breast.

“I will prove to you that you belong to me.” Lujon kissed my right breast. He lingered, applying suction to my nipple that pulled it into his mouth. My body softened, moistened to the swirl of his tongue.

“I will prove to you I am more than metal and wires and circuits.” His hand disappeared between us. I whimpered as he pushed and pushed until all ten inches of his glorious penis filled me.

“I will prove to you that I am your fantasy come to life.” Lujon panted as he worked his hips. On a mission to make me submit, he pumped hard and fast, then as tenderly as the kisses he placed on my eyelids.

“Tell me,” Lujon punctuated every thrust, “do I belong to you?”

My head fell back on the pillow. “Yes.”

“Do you belong to me?” Thrusts, with a kiss to my temple.

“Yes.”

Lujon made large, then small, circles with his hips. “Do you see me as more than metal and wires and circuits?”

“Yes!”

Lujon wrapped my legs around the indentation of his waist and drilled each word into my psyche by way of my intimate opening. “Cook. Maid. Child. Master—” he gathered my hair in his fist, but never lost the rhythm of his stroke. “Lover—” he buried the tip of his penis deep. I hung onto his hips to keep from skyrocketing to Saturn.

“Madison?” Lujon kissed my lips, my temples, as I rode the waves of ecstasy. “Can you love me as a man?”

“Could
you
love
me,
Lujon? Is it possible?”

“Haven't I proved, by my very existence, that all things are possible?” He nuzzled my perspiration-slicked breasts as he waited for my answer.

“Yes, you have.”

“Madison, believe that I may not be one hundred percent human, but I love you.” His thumbs brushed the arch of my brow. He pressed his forehead to mine and watched me with his smoldering gray eyes. No man—human or machine—could look at a woman in that way and not love her.

I threw away caution. “I believe you, Lujon.”

“Do you believe you could ever love me as I love you?”

“I believe I already love you as much as you love me.”

Lujon's lips found mine and he kissed me into our own private oblivion.

 

 

 

 

Six months after Crystal's separation, her divorce pending, she was ready for a lover to take some of the edge off. Besides, celibacy did not improve her well-being; she knew she didn't lack self-love. What she needed was a man—no demands, just someone to satisfy her sexual appetite. Her only requirements were that he should be a good lover, disease-free, and discreet. Friends suggested the personal ads since she had been out of the dating game for more than fifteen years. After scanning a few, Crystal decided that was not the route for her, but she didn't know where to find the lover she craved. She definitely did not want an intellectual professional; she had had her full of that type. Crystal desired someone wild, adventurous, spontaneous. She had no particular look in mind, but was partial to someone who was toned, with a ready smile.

It was as if Shango walked right out of her fantasy—body solid, always a mischievous smile dancing on his face, and a thunderbolt in bed. He didn't care where they were, or who was around, he would pause and lick her neck in the middle of the sidewalk, put his hand under her skirt at the café where
they sometimes had breakfast, unbutton her blouse and suck her breast in the parking garage, squeeze her behind and caress her thighs when they went walking. He was all over her, and she was always surprised that she never stopped him. In fact, she welcomed these public advances, their unrestricted sexual display. Yet she never took him to her home. Always, they went to his place, which was messy but homey, and there they made wild love that left her exhausted but with such a full feeling that for days after she hardly ate. Tonight was the first time they would make love at her house, and she hoped it didn't mean that she wanted him to be more than her lover.

Crystal's G-string panty rubbed against her vulva. She felt Shango's hands on her thighs, stroking them up, down, and around, and it took all her concentration to keep driving. Didn't he know what he was doing to her? She wanted to fling her legs wide and have him cool her heat, hose her down. She squirmed in the driver's seat. In less than ten minutes she was at her exit. Shango slid off his seat, was on his knees on the passenger side, and was close to tasting Crystal through her clothes. She slapped his hands away, playfully pushed his head from being caught between the steering wheel and her thighs, and told him to hang on, they would be home soon, and then he could ravish her. Once she exited the freeway, she slowed to the speed limit. Shango pouted.

Before the engine stopped rattling, Shango was out of the car and at the door. Safely inside her house, Crystal leaned against the door, breathing hard. Right there she pulled off the bicycle suit, cap, sneakers, and gloves and stuffed them into the canvas bag she had placed by the door for that purpose. She stood with her partially clad body pushed up against the door and used her right hand to caress her body, stroking her nipples, rubbing her hands over and between her thighs, fingering her clitoris through the lacy G-string, feeling her wetness.