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Chapter Two: Turning Away

Hal didn't let Frank hear the end of the previous night's "great escape" from the Perfumed Alcove. Monday morning, Hal was still bugging him about it.

 

"Anyone 'ud think you're a ennuch or something," Hal teased, as they crossed the campus of the University they both attended. "Not that you're the first guy ever to fly the coop there, but yah missed out."

 

"Hal, I wasn't comfortable with it, I mean, when I found out that girl was... is a Mecha... Not that I'm Mechaphobic, I mean... errr..." Frank fumbled.

 

"Hey, she doesn't bite, and forget the stories you've heard about killer robots," Hal said.

 

"But I'm already seeing someone."

 

"Sitting at the same table in the caff when you have lunch and going out together for coffee a couple of times doesn't count as seeing someone," Hal said.

 

"It does to me," Frank said, heading for the History department building.

 

Just inside the doorway, he spotted a girl with dark brown hair under a blue beret, a girl who stood about shoulder high on him. Sarah Duvall, or Sadie to her close friends... and to him.

 

She looked up from the book she was reading, a volume of the Oxford History of France.

 

"Bonjour, M'sieu' Frank," she called, affecting a really silly accent.

 

He caught himself blushing. The accent reminded him of Monsieur Lambert's hints and suggestions the other night. He banished the memories. "Hey there, Sadie-girl," he said.

 

"Did you get that last assignment done?" she asked.

 

"Yeah, that essay on the Eighteenth Amendment," he said. "Lovely Prohibition stuff... What about you?"

 

Sadie rolled her eyes. "I actually had to write two versions of my essay: One for the prof, the other for myself. To hear him say it, there never were any love intrigues in the court of Louis XV."

 

"Oh yeah? Hasn't he ever heard of Madame Pompadour? I'm a 20th century American History major, and even I've heard of her."

 

"He'd rather that I wrote about her political involvements," Sadie groaned.

 

"Aw, that's no fun. She wouldn't have had the political involements if she hadn't had the romantic intrigues first, right? Hand your prof both essays and show him what he's missing out on."

 

"Frank, you're a genius," she said, smiling.

 

"Just trying to help you," he said. He started to shrug nonchalantly, but he stopped himself, and instead, leaned down to kiss her forehead. She looked up at him, eyes wide, but smiling.

 

"Thanks," she said. They both went their seperate ways, she to the European Studies wing, he to American Studies.

 

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They met up in the cafeteria at lunch, sharing a table, chatting about everything and nothing, over their meal.

 

Hal sat at a table at a close distance, surrounded by members of the Computer Club, including the Raynard Twins, Nigel and Adrian. At one point, Frank felt his ears burning: he noticed Hal speaking conspiratorially among his cohorts. Frank got the funny feeling Hal was telling them about the other night.

 

"It's a shame he can't appreciate what a lover-Mecha can do for him," said Arian, known as "the smart-dressed Twin" on account of the three-piece suit he wore.

 

"Just give 'um time: he ain't made of titanium, y' know," said Nigel, otherwise known as "the rumpled Twin" because he was always seen wearing flannel shirts and jeans. "Hey! How about..." Nigel leaned closer to Hal so no one else could hear him."

 

"Are you still sharing an apartment with that hyena?" Sadie asked,

 

"Who, Hal?" Frank said, turning back to her.

 

"Yes, him."

 

"Well, we're both journalism majors," Frank said. "We've got it all worked out: once we graduate, we're gonna get a job with the same paper. It'd be almost like the classic reporter and his photographer."

 

"But he's so... unsavory," Sadie said, looking away.

 

"True, Hal ain't the easiest person to get along with. I never know what kind of creature he's gonna be dating or messing around with. But he's a whole lot smarter and more intelligent than he looks. He's a wizard with computers and things like that."

 

"Isn't he in machine intelligence?" she asked, as if the words "machine intelligence" left a bad taste in her mouth.

 

"Yeah, he knows just about everything there is to know about Mechas. He even studied at MIT for a few years."

 

"So how'd he end up at the University of Saskatchewan?"

 

"He never really told me, but I think it had something to do with him and a lover-Mecha," Frank said.

 

"Is that why you and he don't live in one of the dorms? Because he has... one of *those*?" she asked.

 

"Nah, he just doesn't like dorms: too many people around. And to be honest, neither do I. Back when we did live in one of the dorms, last year, there was this one girl who lived in the room next to ours. Used to come home late at night, so drunk she couldn't find her own room. One night, she some how ended up in our room, started hitting on me. Well, Hal managed to steer her out of the room and back to her own."

 

"Oh my, that must have been embarrassing. But at least Hal had the decency to get her out of there."

 

"Yeah, Hal has a decent side, he just hides it well, that's all."

 

"Well, if you even decide to change your plans, you can share my apartment. I've got plenty of room," Sadie offered.

 

"Oh no. I - I couldn't," Frank stuttered.

 

She gave him a teasingly patronizing little smile. "Oh c'mon, Franky. Is that you talking or your Catholic school training?"

 

"Hey, these are my standards. I chose 'em: no one twisted my arm."

 

"Oh, in that case... I'm sorry. I hope I didn't offend you."

 

"Nah, takes a lot more than that to offend me," Frank said. "Might be why I'm able to put up with *him*." He tilted his head toward Hal's table.

 

The gang around Hal's table roared with laughter.

 

"Just don't bet any higher stakes than that," Hal told the rest of his group.

 

"Hey, we won't need to: there'll be a better payback," Adrian said.

 

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Saturday night, Hal brushed down his good suit, preparatory to going out for the evening. On his way out, he stuck his head into Frank's room. "Y' wanna come along?" he asked.

 

Frank looked up from typing an essay on his manual typewriter. "No, but thanks anyway: I got a couple essays to type up, then Sadie's coming over, bringing a couple classic movies."

 

"Ahhhh," Hal said, his eyes narowing with something calculating hiding in their depths. "You two got something going?"

 

"Well, we both like silent movies," Frank said.

 

Hal grinned. "Let's hope the two of you get into the sound era soon, as in the sound of passionate kisses as a start..." He turned and headed out.

 

"Aw, let up. We're just friends," Frank called out after Hal.

 

But come to think of it, Frank thought, maybe Hal was partly right. Sadie was a sweet girl, really, and maybe -- but only if she wanted to -- they should let something start. Maybe she was "the one" for him.

 

She showed up around 8.30 p.m., just as he'd finished typing his assignments. She'd brought along a pan of unpopped popcorn and a couple Mabel Normand/Rudolf Valentino movies.

 

"So, how did you get rid of Hal for the evening?" she asked, between movies.

 

"Oh, he got rid of himself," Frank replied. "Went to some club on the east end of town." As soon as he said it, he felt his face start growing warm."

 

She eyed his face, her eyes narrowing. "Don't tell me you went along with him to some dive."

 

"He dragged me to one, last week. Wasn't really a dive, but I didn't like the atmosphere either, so I snuck out through a washroom window."

 

"Good for you! My girlfriends are trying to get me to go with them to Rouge City during winter break." She rolled her eyes. "Sex-bot central. How can any self-respecting person in their right mind make love to a heap of plastic and metal?"

 

He felt his face start growing warm again. He had to distract himself. "Yeah, I know what you mean. When Hal and I lived in the dorm, there was this girl who live down the hallway from us who had an old-model male lover-Mecha, this really plastic-y looking thing, looked like an overgrown Ken doll. Well, she really wasn't supposed to have it, but she smuggled it in somehow. And the dorm matron tried to get her to get rid of it, but she couldn't really say or do anything because the girl's uncle is on the board of trustees or something like that. Well, anyway, Hal decided to suss her out by playing a little trick on her.

 

"He and the Raynard Twins got a male mannequin from the Fashion Design department and while she was out, they lugged it up to her room. Then he shut down the Mecha and he and Nigel took the clothes off it, and Adrian and I put the Mecha's clothes on the mannequin. So then Hal and the Twins took the Mecha and hid it in the laundry room in the basement, behind one of the big washing machines. Then we waited for her to come back.

"So imagine her horror when she comes back to find her silicon sweetie appeared to have a dead battery. She raised such a row that the dorm matron had to have her send the Mecha home... once they found it, at least. They found it behind the washing machine, but they never found out who put it there."

 

"Oh my, that's funny!" Sadie cried, laughing out loud.

 

About 12.30, she went home to her apartment. Hal had still not come home yet. Frank got ready for bed and settled down for the night. But he didn't drop right off to sleep. He lay awake for a long time, thinking about the prank he and Hal had played using the Mecha. It was really a shame that people used these things for something like *that*. But maybe it was better that a machine was used thus, instead of an Orga. Not that Mecha deserved to be abused, but if someone had to do something like that, then they should do it with a Mecha, instead of an Orga, who could get emotionally bruised. He couldn't really blame Sadie for being gingerly about these things.

 

He turned over and went to sleep.

 

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"They're looking for a good piano player to play on weeknights," Hal told Frank the next day, as Frank was practising his scales on his battered but still usuable Casio Tonebank.

 

"Oh? Where's this gig?" Frank asked. He was looking for an evening job anyway.

 

"At the Perfumed Alcove," Hal said.

 

Frank's fingers slid on the keys as he jolted, and he hit a lot of really odd notes. "What! There?!"

 

"Yeah, you heard me right. I talked it over with Ma'm'zelle Fantine. She thinks you'd be perfect."

 

"No, Hal, I can't work there."

 

"Why not?"

 

"It's not the kind of place I want to work in."

 

"Why, because you found out the girls there are Mecha?"

 

"No... more than that.... I mean, what if someone finds out?"

 

"Like who, for instance, the girl you're seeing?"

 

"Maybe... But hey, Sadie and I are still just friends."

 

Hal regarded him in silence for a long moment, his narrow grey-green eyes boring into Frank's soul. "Well... It's just my experience, but when a guy turns down a good-payin' job just because of what someone else might think, and he spends a *lot* of time with that person, it usually means he's more than just friends with 'em."

 

Frank could find no reply to that.

 

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By the end of the month, people on campus were whispering about Frank Sweitz and Sarah Duvall. For one thing, the pair had been spotted together at various student hang-outs. For another thing, they'd gone to the Winter Holiday Dance together. And tongues really wagged when Frank went to visit Sadie with her family during Winter Break. By the time February came around, people had started to speculate whether or not these two were really serious.

 

Unbeknown to Frank, Hal had started collecting bets on which girl was going to be Frank's first: Sadie Duvall or Aubrey the Mecha. But it seemed all bets were off concerning Aubrey when Sadie's roommate Ingrid had a few too many at a St. Valentine's Day party at Frank's friend Connor Reilly's place and Frank had gone home with Sadie to make sure the two girls got into their apartment all right... and it took a while for Frank to return home.

 

But Frank came home around 2.30 a.m. unruffled, displaying no signs of anything more than an innocent goodnight kiss on the cheek.

 

"Hey, I thought you and Sadie were making a night of it," Hal said. He'd stayed up, waiting for his roommate to come home.

 

"No, Ingrid was really sick, so I had to go to three different drugstores to find some nausea medicine for her," Frank said.

 

"Aw, it is your 21st birthday, ain't it?"

 

"Yes it is," Frank said, just remembering it himself.

 

"Now just how does a young man with your looks live that long and still have his virginity intact?" Hal asked.

 

"He does if his grandfather works as a gardener for a Benedictine convent," Frank retorted, grinning.

 

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Hal didn't prod Frank about him and Sadie for a week. In fact, this silence made Frank suspicious, but he thought little of it. Perhaps Hal had finally learned to let well enough alone.

 

But then on Saturday night, when Frank came back to the apartment from going to a gallery opening where some of Sadie's mother's paintings were being exhibited, he noticed the apartment seemed awfully quiet. If Hal had gone out, it was quiet in a different way, but if he had... company, he could hear the sounds of... festivities coming from Hal's room.

 

But this quiet felt just too still. He couldn't put his finger on just why it seemed that way.

 

He hung up his coat in the closet behind the hall door, then slung off his jacket and went into the washroom to brush his teeth (He'd shower in the morning) then he headed for his room.

 

He'd just closed the door and was taking off his vest, about to unbutton his shirt, when he heard a click, like someone locking the door from the outside, taking advantage of the old-fashioned lock on the door.

 

"Hal?" Frank called. He tested the door. Locked. "Hal, let up, willyah? It's too late for a prank like this."

 

"Good evening, Mr. Sweitz... Or would you prefer if I called you Frank?" said a sweet, feminine voice behind him.

 

Frank whirled round, backing up against the door.

 

Aubrey, the singer from the Perfumed Alcove, lay reclining on his bed, arms folded under her chin, looking at him with a gentle invitation in her gaze. She sat up, rustling her sheer red silk dress, the neckline cut low between her breasts and the skirts cutaway from her shapely legs.

 

Frank stared at her, aghast. How had she gotten here? Or was this a dream?

 

Then it dawned on him.

 

He turned and pounded on the door. "Hal, open this door now! Get this woman out of my bedroom!" he shouted.

 

"I don't think that he can hear you," Aubrey said. "He's engaged with Coco, another girl from the club."

 

"So he brought you here too?" Frank asked, not looking at her.

 

"Yes he did, he brought me here for your pleasure," she replied. He heard the bed creak as she got up, and her soft tread on the rug as she drew near him. "I saw you looking at me, the night when Hal brought you to the club."

 

"I went just because he asked me along," Frank said. He darted a glance at her. She was nearly as tall as he was, but she was built much smaller, slender, graceful, with a supple waist he caught himself wanting to slip his arm around and generous curves where a woman needed them -- according to Hal.

 

"I could tell even then that you wanted me. Your eyes were turned toward me like a moth to a candle flame, like iron to a a magnet."

 

"Well... you're a really nice-looking lady... err, they made you very nice-looking... uh..." he stuttered.

 

She stepped a little closer to him, reaching out, running her fingertips down the front of his shirt. "You too are very good-looking. Has anyone ever told this to you before?"

 

Come to think of it, no one had, really. He'd gone to an all-boys Catholic school run by teaching Friars. He had a twin sister five hours older than he was. And the only other female he'd really been close to was his mother, who had died with his father in the same hyperjet crash when Frank and his sister were twelve, after which, their widowed grandfather Rufus Sweitz had adopted them. To his memory, this was the first time any woman had ever told him he was good-looking.

 

"No," he admitted.

 

"I can tell that you have a gentle soul, unlike many young men I have known," she said, carressing the sides of his neck with her fingertips. "You need but a few sweet words and gentle touches to boost your resolve."

 

"Maybe I am," he said. "I mean, I, uh, really haven't had much experience with women."

 

"Hal tells me that you are a virgin yet," she said.

 

"And I'd really rather it stayed that way," Frank said, trying to rattle the door to get the lock to give way, as it sometimes happened. But that didn't happen this time.

 

She looked up into his face, her eyes slowly rising to meet his gaze. "You say this with your lips, but your eyes tell me otherwise." She tilted up her face, her full lips coming close to his mouth.

 

Frank turned his face away just to avoid this touch. "Hal, unlock this damn door!"

 

A moment later, the lock clicked. "Make up your mind," Hal growled, outside.

 

Frank reached back to to turn the knob. Aubrey let him go and stepped away, her lower lip thrusting out in a tiny pout.

 

Frank opened the door. "You'd better get going," he said, pointing out the door without looking at her.

 

"Pity. I believe you would have well enjoyed my company," she said. He heard her dress rustle invitingly as she stepped out into the hallway.

 

But as he closed the door, his eyes rose to her. She stood with her back to him. Then she looked over her shoulder, into his eyes. She smiled at him, a sweet smile, as if she forgave him for turning her out, a gaze that burned into him, like a flash of light on a photographic plate.

 

"[This is the sex scene: it stays.]"

 

(For that matter, if this scene seems awkwardly written, please let me know delicately and give me a few constructive suggestions for improvement!)

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Chapter Three: Coming Inside

 

That night, Frank hardly slept. Aubrey's tender gaze stayed with him, and her soft touch on his cheeks and neck seemed to linger on his skin. The sweet scent of roses that had surrounded her still filled his nostrils.

 

He lay there in the dark, alone in his bed, a shadow image of Aubrey poised in his imagination. He swore that if he just opened his eyes, he would find her hovering over him, waiting but a word from him that she might take him into her alabaster arms, her hazel-green eyes gazing into his blue-green ones, pressing her full, cherry-colored lips to his mouth...

 

But it would be a sin. He had been told time and again by his grandfather to treasure his virginity. And yet now he found himself wanting to surrender it to this machine in female form.

 

She had offered herself to him so openly, so sweetly, clearly asking for nothing in return, thinking only of his happiness. And he'd had such an unhappy life, losing most of his family. Yet, here was someone who offered him a chance at happiness.

 

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Next morning, he awoke unrefreshed. He went to Mass as he did every Sunday, but he had quite some trouble putting aside the image of Aubrey's sweet face.

 

Later that afternoon, as he was proofreading a paper for one of his classes, he had a very hard time concentrating. Hal's words outside the Perfumed Alcove came back to haunt him. And he realized he hadn't been very gentlemanly toward Aubrey the night before. The least he could do was to go and offer a sincere apology to her.

 

Once he finished his work, Frank went to Hal's room where he found his roommate immersed in puzzling over some bit of computer programming which meant utterly nothing to anyone with an I.Q. lower than Einstein's, to his eyes.

 

"Hal, about last night..." he started to say.

 

Hal peered over his shoulder. "Hey, I ain't mad at you, but that outcall still set me back 150 NB."

 

"That much?" Frank knew Hal made a little money working part time helping the University's computer system manager, besides making a little extra on the side selling programs on the black market, or whatever it was... but 150 NB was a lot of money in his mind. "I'm awful sorry, Hal. I'll pay you back."

 

"No problem: You just got a credit with the Alcove," Hal explained.

 

"In that case... maybe I should got there and apologize to Aubrey, explain to her what I really meant."

 

"Hey, you don't have to do that, you know. She has no feelings to hurt," Hal explained.

 

"Still, I just want to be a gentleman," Frank said. "Do you think they'd be open tonight?"

 

"Well, Sunday is always the slow night there, but I'm sure Fantine would welcome the business."

 

"Okay, I'm off then," Frank said, going to fetch his hat and coat.

 

Hal watched him go out, then turned back to his computer screen. He shook his head, smirking to himself over Frank's naiveity regarding Mechas. On second thought... he saved his work, got up, and went for his own hat and coat...

 

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When Frank arrived at the Perfumed Alcove, he found Ma'm'zelle Fantine sitting on a high stool behind the front desk, reading a magazine. As he stepped closer to the desk, she looked up and smiled at him. "Ah, the shy young man who didn't leave by the front door the last time he was here," she said, teasing him gently.

 

"I'm sorry about the way I behaved the last time," Frank said, as she led him in and the Mecha in the French maid's costume took his hat and coat. "I just didn't know what to expect and I got a little spooked."

 

"That has happened here before; you have done us no harm," she said, with a smile of reassurance. "I just hope you did not hurt yourself when you exited so suddenly."

 

"Well, I'm here in one piece," Frank said, as she led him through the curtain that seperated the vestibule from the parlor.

 

"I'm afraid you'll find our place very quiet tonight," she said. "We do not present the floorshow on Sunday nights, but there are others who can delight you." As she said this, they entered the parlor. Several of the Mechas sitting and voguing on the sofas and divans about the walls looked up at him, offering words of introduction and enticement.

 

"Er, I think I'll have a drink first," Frank said. One Mecha, who looked like a tiny thirteen year old, had her eyes on him.

 

"Whatever your pleasure is," Fantine said, leading him into the bar.

 

He found it untenanted except for a middle-aged gent and a Mecha with waist-length black hair sitting at a table in the shadows. Monsieur Lambert, jacket off and sleeves rolled up, was polishing the mirror behind the bar, with careful, precisely circular strokes.

 

As Frank approached, the older man paused, then turned to him and smiled, his dark blue eyes tracking as far as they could turn before he turned his head. "Ah, our shy young Mr. Sweitz has come back to us?"

 

"Yes, I'd like to apologize for the night I was here, with Hal McGeever," Frank said. "I got scared."

 

"Scared? Of what, may I ask?"

 

"Well... of that singer, Aubrey. Well, not her *exactly*, she's a pretty thing to say the least. She's beautiful, really. It's just... I started getting interested in her... and, well, I got scared when I found out she's a Mecha. Not that I'm afraid of Mechas, either. I guess... I'm really afraid of how I started to feel for her. Am I making any sense at all?"

 

His host smiled. "You are not the first young man who felt this confusion about beings like her. It is what you do with these feelings that really matters. Will you let that fear hold you back, or will you hold back your fear and move on to the next moment?"

 

"That kinda brings me to another thing I had on my mind. ... You see, Hal had Aubrey come up to our apartment last night And I..., er, kicked her out of my room. I mean, I wasn't trying to be nasty to her or anything. It's just... I didn't expect to find her there, waiting for me, so I got startled. So, on that thought, I'm here to apologize to her."

 

Monsieur Lambert took this in respectful silence, a slight smirking smile tweaking the corners of his mouth. "She has had several admirers come to call upon her tonight, but I don't believe she is engaged at the moment. Wait here." He went into a backroom behind the bar.

 

A minute later, he returned, carrying a red silk tassle from which hung an ornate, old-fashioned silver key. "She's in the Red Room, waiting for you." And saying this, he leaned across the bar and placed the key into Frank's hand.

 

Frank took it. "Thanks... thank you," he said, awkward.

 

"Shall I show you the way to her?" his host asked.

 

"Yeah, yes please. I kinda don't know the lay of this place yet," Frank said.

 

"Then follow me," the older man said, stepping out from behind the counter, and leading Frank into the hallway that led into the rear part of the club.

 

They stepped into the corridor, one end of which lead to the washroom Frank had escaped through the last time he was here. But the other end of that same hallway turned a corner and continued through a heart-shaped archway, leading down a  long passageway lined with doors, all bearing a small plaque with a name on it, and each one with an old-fashioned glass doorknob, each knob made of a different color glass.

 

M. Lambert paused before a door with a red glass knob, which glowed like a ruby in the soft lamplight. The older man pressed his ear to the door, then stepped back, smiling with a politely crafty air. "She awaits your entrance," he said, and stepped back.

 

Frank reached out and touched the doorknob as if he expected it might zap him. A charge went through his body, but he realized it came from inside him. He fitted the tongue of the key into the keyhole and turned it.

 

The lock clicked ope. He turned the knob and pushed open the door. He stepped over the threshold, pausing only to remove the key from the lock before he shut the door behind him.

 

Inside the air smelled sweet with roses, the scent coming from a large bouquet of red roses in a crystal vase standing on a table just inside the door. The antique-style velvet wallpaper on the walls had a pattern of pink roses and curving gold designs. The rich maroon carpet he crossed felt so soft, and the pile so deep that his feet sank in almost the tops of his shoes. To his left, a gas fire burned in a fireplace. Before it stood a couch covered with crimson damask. Across the middle of the room hung a diaphanous red silk curtain, seperating the room into two halves.

 

He stepped up to the curtain and reached out to touch it. He paused, almost fearing that if he touched the curtain, everything might vanish, or something else might happen. "Uh... is anyone here?" he asked.

 

Something rustled behind the curtain. Looking at it, Frank could see the light of a lamp and some candles burning on a table, and could just make out a shape that might be a wide, rich bed. "Yes, I am here awaiting you," said a sweet voice. Aubrey's voice. "Come, lift the curtain. Come to me."

 

Frank reached out carefully, as if the fabric might dissolve under his fingertips and parted the curtains, the silk soft and smooth to his touch.

 

Before him stood a wide bed, covered with deep red damask quilt. Aubrey lay reclining on it, leaning gracefully on one elbow under her, amid a pile of pillows covered with velvet of a dozen shades of red, the split skirts of her lacy black dress spread away from her legs, showing the black satin garter belt that held up her black silk stockings.

 

Aubrey looked up at him and smiled. "So you came to call upon me?" she asked. "I had hoped that you would."

 

"I just... what I mean is..." he fumbled, finding the right words. "I'm very sorry that I kicked you out of the apartment the way I did, last night. I mean, I didn't even say good night to you. And I wasn't a gentleman about it either, I'm afraid to admit."

 

"You did me no harm, but I can tell that your actions pained you, even then," she said. She patted the mattress beside her. "Come, sit here. I can ease that pain if you will allow me."

 

"That's very kind of you," Frank said. He approached the bed and sat down on it, facing Aubrey.

 

She reached out and clasped his hands in hers. "I could tell from the first moment that I saw you that you have a gentle heart." She carressed his palms with her fingertips, a gesture so slight, yet it made his skin start to tingle, first under her touch, then spreading as she continued to stroke his skin.

 

"I... really, I just came here to say I'm sorry," he said. But her carresses made him feel so good he didn't bother to turn away.

 

"And this is my way of accepting your apologies," she said. She came closer to him, her thigh brushing against his, and leaned in to kiss his cheek, very close to the corner of his mouth. He felt his lips part at this touch. He smelt her scent surrounding her and enveloping him in a heady but sweet cloud. "I can tell that these words come straight from your heart, a very tender, considerate heart." She kissed his other cheek, her lips brushing the corner of his mouth. "Shall I continue?"

 

"Oh..." Frank said, more a murmur of awe than anything else.

 

"I understand that to mean 'yes'." And she pressed her mouth to his, gently, then pulled away for a split second, only to kiss him harder.

 

He tried to pull his hands out of hers and slide them under his thighs so he could sit on them. But inside, they reached out and found her narrow waist. She slid her hands behind his back, up to his shoulders, pulling herself into his lap, parting her legs and hugging his waist with them.

 

She pulled her face away from his and looked into his face. "You're blushing up," she noted.

 

"I can feel it... I just... just... no one's ever done this to me before," he admitted.

 

"And how does it feel? I want only to give you comfort. Should anything that I do cause you any discomfort, say the word and I shall cease."

 

"No... you're so sweet... just be gentle..." he fumbled.

 

She leaned in to kiss him again. He felt his lips part as they met hers. His tonguetip found the inside of her mouth cautiously started to explore. He nearly let out a gasp of amazement and delight: she tasted like dark chocolate, his favorite candy.

 

She ran her fingertips over the back of his neck, finding his hair and twining through the dense growth. Her touch electrified his scalp. Every hair seemed to lift and stand up, in a good way, as a wave of tingles started to spread down his body.

 

She ran her hands down the back of his neck again, then around the sides to the front, pausing on his shirt collar. One fingertip found its way under the fabric, tracking along the base of his neck, sending a shiver of delight all the way down his spine.

 

"May I?" she asked.

 

"May you... what?"

 

"Undo this?" She undid first the knot of his tie, then felt for the top button of his shirt.

 

He jolted back so hard, that he knocked her off his lap and onto the floor. The bed was not high, but she still hit the floor with a thump, emitting a small cry.

 

"Oh my!" Not sure how easily something like her could be damaged, he reached down and picked her up, laying her on the mattress beside him. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to jump like that."

 

"You did me no harm," she said. "I can be much more rough if you like," she said, with a purr. But she paused, her sweetness returning. "But I can tell that you would not want that, and certainly not for your first time.

 

"Shall I continue?" she asked.

 

"Oh... yes, please," he said, pulling her toward him and taking her into his arms even as she drew nearer to him.

 

She leaned over him as she spoke. "It is *your* comfort that concerns me." As she lowered herself onto him, he felt her breasts pressing against him, so soft and warm, he could feel it even through the front of her dress and the fabric of his shirt.

 

She smiled down into his eyes. "You enjoyed that?"

 

"Yes. I mean... I've never felt anything so soft."

 

"Let me get you a little closer to them, shall I?" She undid the second button of his shirt. "Shall I continue? I ask only because you seem hesitant. I will go no faster and no slower than you wish."

 

"Oh, g-go on," Frank stuttered.

 

She looked into his eyes. "I shan't hurt you. I cannot. Are you afraid of me for some reason?"

 

"I am," he admitted.

 

She ran a fingertip down his cheek and under his chin, her touch as soft as a rosepetal on his skin. "When you have been with me, you will feel much better than you could ever dream. I am here only to please you."

 

"I'm afraid it will hurt," he confessed.

 

She replied by lowering her face over his and kissing his nose. Then she slowly lowered her mouth over it, carressing his nose with her tonguetip. She retracted slowly.

 

He giggled, tickled a little by this. "Now did that hurt?" she asked.

 

"No, not at all," he admitted.

 

"Then I assure you, being inside me shall hurt no more than that." She continued unbuttoning his shirt, pulling it away from his chest gently. She helped him slide free of it, then sat up long enough to help him out of his undershirt. She ran her hands over his chest as he laid himself back down. He pulled away.

 

"I'm sorry," he said.

 

She looked right at him. "Why? What seems to trouble you?'

 

He looked down at his torso. He wouldn't be the first or the last to say he had a less than ideal figure. Charitable people would call him "slender" or "aesthetically lean", but he knew he was skinny. His stomach was slightly caved in, the line along the base of his ribcage showing slightly. And the hair over his pectorals and breastbone had grown out sparse and thin.

 

"Look at me: I'm scrawny," he said.

 

"True. But you have such soft skin, and so white and delicate. That makes it all the easier to see those sweet blushes that come so easily to you. Besides," and she dropped him a sly wink as she said, "There may be other parts of you more well-endowed."

 

"Wait," he said.

 

"Whyso?" she asked, simply seeking to clarify his reason.

 

"I really don't know what to do," Frank admitted, turning his head away in shame.

 

She took his head in both her soft hands. "Shall I lead then?" she asked.

 

"I think you'd better," Frank said. "I mean, most guys who come here must know what they want from you."

 

"Many, but not all. You are not the first innocent I have had the priviledge to initiate," she said.

 

She guided his hands to the back of her dress. He found the hooks that held it and unclasped them, all the way down the back. She slid out of the dress and pushed it away. She knelt over him for a long while, gazing down into his eyes, her naked form gleaming in the light from the candles on a bedside table. He stared up at her, feeling his jaw drop. He'd seen Grecian statues of goddesses and nymphs, and he knew the myth of Galatea and Pygmalion, but somehow, the myth had become a reality, and one of those marble nymphs had come to life and now knelt before him, ready to embrace him.

 

"Please," he said, his voice a nervous squeak.

 

"Please, which?" she asked. "Shall I stop, or shall I keep going?"

 

"Whichever you think best," he said.

 

She smiled her sweetest. "In which case, I suggest that we keep going." She ran her hands over his groin, where his flesh had already started to respond noticeably from her touches and the sight of her. She opened the buttons of his waistband and freed him from the confines of his trousers, sliding them down his legs.

 

For a moment, he feared she might be disgusted with what she saw -- or what there wasn't to see. He had reasons to suspect he was only average-sized.

 

But she looked up at him, smiling sweetly from between his thighs before she lowered her face over his groin again. He closed his eyes; somehow the idea seemed so shameful. But that thought exploded in his head and his eyes sprang open. What had she just done that caused that lightning bolt of white-hot delight to flash through his skull?!

 

That groan... was it her moan of disgust? No, that was a deep-throated sound that could only have come from his own voice.

 

"Did that feel good?" she asked.

 

"Yeah," Frank replied, the sound more a groan than a word.

 

She slid up his body and looked into his eyes now. "It has only just started, ma cher. You have but had a whiff of the delight I can give to you."

 

She was on top of him now, guiding him, showing him where to put his hands on her body, where to touch her. She opened wide to him, letting him enter her. He hardly knew what to expect from this encounter, least of all how easily they fit together. He dimly remembered Hal describing how every female lover-Mecha could adjust her opening to fit each man, accomodating every size and taste, but that hardly had time to form in his mind. What she was doing to him, working over and around him, caused fireworks to go off in his head. He knew he cried out in delight, yelling her name, but the cry seemed to come from the edge of the universe.

 

He remembered her lying down beside him, kissing his forehead, stroking his chest gently. He said something to her, but he barely understood the mumbles that came from his lips. She kissed him again, tenderly this time, and held him close as he dozed off...

 

@--'--   @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--

 

Frank awoke feeling someone shoving at him. He opened his eyes. Hal, with his clothes somewhat askew but covered, crouched beside him on the bed, tugging on his leg.

 

"Ouch," Frank grunted.

 

Hal stopped and grinned at him. "Soooo.... How was it?"

 

"Wonderful," Frank said, sighing with delight. He looked around him, searching for Aubrey. "Where is she?"

 

"She's entertaining another party," Hal said, reaching down to the floor and finding Frank's trousers.

 

"I fell asleep on her," Frank said, feeling his face burn. "I don't blame her for going to someone else."

 

"Hey, don't beat up on yourself: it's perfectly natural for a young man to fall asleep after a good lay. As natural as the act itself."

 

"But it's so inconsiderate."

 

"It's a good sign: means you got your money's worth. She's a remarkable machine, ain't she?"

 

"She's a remarkable person," Frank said, pulling on his pants and making himself presentable before Hal led him out.

 

"Hal, you wouldn't happen to know if the piano gig here is still open?" Frank asked.

 

Hal stared at him. "Don't tell me you liked it so much that now y' wanna work here!"

 

Frank shrugged. "Well, I won't mind being around Mechas now."

 

"You'll hafta ask Fantine," Hal said, leading him out.

 

The found Fantine chatting with two other young men on their way out. When she had seen the other patrons to the door,  Fantine turned to Hal and Frank. "Ah, my young gentlemen, did you enjoy yourselves?"

 

"We sure did," Hal said and nudged Frank forward. "He's got something to ask you."

 

"I'm that piano player Hal might have told you about. Err, is that gig still availiable?" he asked.

 

"It will be: the young man we had will be leaving us soon. We need a player who can tell one note from another. But first, I must hear your playing," Fantine said. "Can you be here tomorrow around five p.m.?"

 

"Oh, of course I can," Frank said.

 

"Good then, we shall see what we can manage," Fantine said.

 

As he and Hal stepped out into the cold snowy night outside, Frank felt as if he were walking on a spring breeze.

 

He felt Hal poke him in the ribs. "Hey, come back down to earth."

 

"Mm? Oh, I'm sorry Hal," Frank fumbled.

 

"Ehh, no problem. You're the type who'd be floatin' third story up afterward."

 

@--'--   @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--

 

But through that night, Frank could barely sleep. The enormity of that night's actions tidal-waved him.

 

He'd lost his virginity. With a machine.

 

He wasn't sure whether he should feel ashamed with himself or let it go. After all, it wasn't unusual for a young man to consort with a lady of the night. The way he treated her would be a harbinger of how he would treat his wife. And he had to learn what women expected from a man. Aubrey could doubtlessly teach him that, how to focus on his lover, instead of solely on his own pleasure.

 

But... she was a machine, after all. Did she "enjoy" what she did? Did she have feelings? Hal had spoken of new lines of Mechas being experimented with, ones with some kind of positive sensory feedback, that touching, holding, kissing, being tender with these Mechas made them fulfill their task better.

 

He sat up on the foot of the bed, Aubrey's scent still clinging to him: heady, sensuous, but oddly comforting. He ran his hand over his cheek, as she had earlier. He could feel the stubble starting to sprout there. Could she know the enormity of what she had done to him, for him?

 

His mind whirled. What was he thinking?! Rome hadn't made an official statement on Mechas, least of all sex-Mechas, but there were people in the Catholic Church who wanted to see anyone who had consorted with a sex-Mecha to be excommunicated. He imagined how dismayed his grandfather would be if he ever found out he, Frank, had been with one of *those*, that he'd surrendered his most precious possession to a mere machine, a gift he should have reserved for his wife, for Sadie if she'd have him.

 

But what's Sadie gonna think when she finds out you were with a Mecha? asked a trendy little voice in the back of his head.

 

Frank put that thought aside as he turned over in bed. Time to sleep.

 

To be continued....

@--'--   @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--

Chapter Four: Showing Off

 

To say that Frank aced his audition with Ma'm'zelle Fantine would have been an understatement. She had him play a few old love songs, then she had him improvise for several minutes, both of which he did very well. Even M. Lambert heartily approved.

 

"But there is another dicriminating ear which has to hear you play," the Frenchman said, and glanced toward the doorway leading into the hallway.

 

Aubrey approached, clad in a sleeveless flame-colored gown, simple yet elegant. "Did I hear sweet music?" she asked, with a smile.

 

M. Lambert beckoned to her to join them around the piano. "Yes, you did, ma fille."

 

Frank shrugged, part non-chalance, part sweet embarrassment. "I did my best."

 

Aubrey leaned against the piano. "May I hear more from you?" she asked.

 

"Sure, you have anythign in mind?" he asked.

 

"Would you know Duke Ellington's song, "I'm Beginning to See the Light'?" she asked.

 

Frank rolled up the G Major chord. "Is that too high?" he asked.

 

"Oh, not at all, that's perfect," she said.

 

He smiled and played the lead-in. She parted her lips and sang, following him well, singing the words with utter conviction. He'd heard of singing Mechas, but never knew they could be *that* good. As she sang, she gazed at him, not staring, but letting her gaze stray over him, resting on his face for a lingering moment, then dropping down to watch his hands, then roving up his arm to rest on the side of his neck before returning to his face.

 

He managed to focus his attention on his playing, but he knew Fantine and Lambert watched him and Aubrey with the gazes of an older couple who have full approval of a younger pair.

 

Frank played the last chords with burning hands. Just the way Aubrey looked at him made his skin temperature go up several degrees.

 

He lifted his hands away from the keys. "You like it?"

 

She leaned over him and perched herself on his knee, draping her arms around his neck. "I loved it," she said, and laid her lips against his.

 

"I think she approves," Fantine said, as the young pair seperated from their kiss.  "When can you start, young man?"

 

"I can start right now," Frank said.

 

"We have a piano player for this night," Lambert said. "But you can start here on this coming Thursday night at six."

 

"Oh, I promise you I'll be here," Frank said, still holding Aubrey.

 

"Perhaps, in that case, we should celebrate your success?" Aubrey asked.

 

Frank looked at Fantine and M. Lambert. "I don't have any money, I'm afraid."

 

Fantine patter his shoulder. "Go right ahead, young ones. You are part of our family now, Frank."

Aubrey stood up from Frank's lap; together, they headed for the Red Room.

 

Once the door had closed behind them Frank turned to her, taking both her hands in his. "Thank you," he said.

 

"For what?" she asked, looking up at him with a smile.

 

"For singing while I was playing. You have a wonderful voice," he said.

 

"Thank you," she said. "I trust it complimented your playing?"

 

"Oh, I'm just a piano hack," Frank demurred. "You're an artist."

 

She leaned closer to him, running her hands down the front of his body. "Shall we make the sweet music of love?" she asked, her lips against his.

 

"Yes, but... this time, I want to be the one making love to you," he said, pulling her closer, his hands gentle on the small of her back.

 

Her face went slightly blank for a second. "You wish to be on top this time?"

"I want to make *you* happy," he said.

 

She tilted her chin down as if she pondered this, as if it were the first time that anyone had proposed this to her thbis kind of consideration, or she was processing this, whatever you called it.

 

She looked up at him. "But you have told me that you are just learning of the ways of man and woman as lovers. Shall I show you what to do?"

 

"Yes, I think you better," he said, blushing at his own clumsiness.

 

She led him to the bed and sat down upon it, her legs hanging over the edge, her thighs opening to him under her skirts. She drew him down to her; he knelt on the floor before her, looking at the split skirts of her gown.

 

"May I... lift your skirt?" he asked.

 

"Yes, of course you may," she said, laying back.

 

He pushed her gown up, over her waist, laying her naked from the waist downwards. He caught himself staring at her. He'd never really gotten a good look at her the last time, she'd been on top of him the whole time. Well, she hadn't bitten him the last time, so he doubted she'd bite him now, even if it would be a different kind of penetration.

 

"Come now," she said, enticingly, "My lips did not bite you before."

 

He licked his own lips, moistening them. At least she couldn't really be offended if he was inept, and she knew he was still learning. He leaned in, kissing the soft hair that covered her mons veneris, working his way downward. Her skin -- or whatever they called it, since she was a Mecha -- felt incredibly soft under the tip of his tongue. As he slid his tongue into the cleft between her thighs, exploring the moist folds of her flesh, he tasted something on his tongue, something musky and salty yet incredibly sweet at the same time. He caught himself gasping against her, but he stopped himself.

 

"No, let me hear how it pleases you," she said.

 

So he let that sound loose, deep in his own throat, as he moved in deeper, exploring this new-found realm...

 

An hour later, as they lay still twined together, someone knocked at the door. "Aubrey?" M. Lambert's voice called. "It's time you prepared for the show, ma fille."

 

"Oh dear," Frank said. "Is it that late?" He let go of her.

 

Aubrey sat up, reaching for her gown and pulling it on with a practised agility. She shook out her long hair, ever strand falling perfectly into place again. "Time flies swiftly when you are in the midst of pleasure." She reached down and caressed his face. "And you have pleasured me well."

 

"I'm glad I did," he said. He sat up and fumbled for his clothes. She knelt and found his things, handing his trousers to him, then climbing on the bed and kneeling behind him to help him with his shirt, kissing the back of his neck before she settled his garment around his shoulders.

 

"You helped me take it off, now you're helping me put it on again," he pointed out, grinning gauchely.

 

"Only to prolong our last minutes of pleasure together," she said.

 

Once they were both dressed, she walked with him as far as the heart-shaped archway. They paused beneath it, long enough to gaze into each other's faces and kiss their goodbyes.

 

Frank found Hal waiting for him back at the apartment. "I take it you got the job," Hal said, grinning.

 

"Yes, I did," Frank said, hanging up his hat and coat. "I'm starting on Thursday night... But, how did you figure that out?"

 

"You took a while coming home, so I gathered that you were celebrating with Aubrey." Hal's grin turned gently malevolent. "Maybe I should try getting a job there as a tech."

 

@--'--   @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--

 

Frank's first night on the job was such a success that M. Lambert suggested that Fantine should let their new pianist play in the cabaret orchestra. Frank declined modestly, saying he preferred playing for the people in the bar, that it was more relaxing and intimate that way.

 

He managed to keep Sadie from finding out exactly where he worked. His schedule made it hard for them to go out on dates, but he set Sunday aside as her day. Besides, it was only going to be a temporary job, until he could get a newspaper job. Already, Hal and he were considering several local papers. They didn't find much, so Hal suggested they might have better luck if they moved back to the States after they both graduated.

 

"I just hope Sadie will be willing to go along with us," Frank said, the night Hal offered this proposal, as they both studied the online listings.

 

Hal looked up from the screen of his laptop. "Haaaaannnhh?" he said, in that open-mouthed but guttural sound he made when curious or puzzled. Or annoyed.

 

"I'm thinking of asking Sadie to marry me," Frank said.

 

"Now how do you plan on doin' that?" Hal asked.

 

"Well, part of it, I'm gonna do what my dad did when he popped the question to my mother: He got her name tattooed on his arm."

 

Hal's brow furrowed. "You sure about doing that? Unless you get henna work done, that stuff is permanent."

 

"Well, doesn't it say somewhere in the Song of Songs something about setting a beloved one's name as a seal on your arm?"

 

"Yeah, but I don't recommend getting a tattoo. But if you wanna, go ahead: I ain't stopping yah."

Another thought came to Frank's mind. "I guess I'll have to say goodbye to Aubrey. I don't really like the idea of moving on, leaving her behind. I hope she understands."

 

"Frank, don't sweat it: she doesn't have real emotions, not like a person's. She can only simulate 'em. If you move on, she won't take much notice. Customers come and go."

 

"But how come she always seems really happy when I'm around?"

 

"She's only following her programmed directives toward making *you* the customer happy. It's part of her function, of pleasuring *you*."

 

"Well, she sure acts real to me," Frank said, walking away before Hal could start explaining the Turing Test to him for the three hundredth time.

 

But those words somehow came back to haunt Frank Saturday night, when he and Aubrey lay cuddling together in her room after hours.

 

"You seem sad, Frank," she said, taking his face into her hands.

 

"I'm a little tired," Frank said. "I had a long day and a long evening."

 

She looked deep into his eyes. "You seem troubled. Can you tell me what bothers you?"

 

He dropped his gaze. Those eyes wer just the housings over the cameras set into her head, after all...

 

"It's Hal... he told me you don't have real feelings," he admitted.

 

She took this in silence. He expected she'd make some show of taking offense, but her face retained its quietly seductive smolder. "He knows much about my kind and how we are put together."

 

"A lot more than *I* do," Frank agreed.

 

She ran her hands over his chest. "But you are the essence of manly decorum," she said. "*He*, your friend Hal is utterly different. The girls he has known here tell me he is largely concerned with his own pleasure. But you find pleasure in seeking to give me pleasure."

 

"Well, they say it's better to give than to receive," he said.

 

"Care to receive more?" she asked.

 

"I should get going: it's late and I have to meet with someone tomorrow." He sat up and reached for his pants.

 

"Oh? and who is this someone?" she asked, sitting up behind him.

 

"A friend," he said, biting his tongue, hoping she wouldn't notice the quirk of apprehension that he heard in his voice. What would she say? Would he have to tell her he was seeing another girl? But she took no notice.

 

Once he was dressed again, and he had kissed Aubrey good night, Frank went up front to collect his paycheck. M. Lambert generally kept them in a cash box bolted to the floor under the counter in the bar. When he came out into the bar, Frank found M. Lambert quiddling at his wrist. At first Frank thought he was adjusting his wristwatchband, but he noticed a small jeweller's screwdriver in the older man's hand.

 

M. Lambert looked up and put the screwdriver into his jacket pocket. "Ah, finished for the evening, Frank?" he asked.

 

"Yep, I was just wondering if my paycheck had come in?" Frank asked.

 

"It's awaiting you in the cashbox," M. Lambert replied, stooping down behind the counter. A moment later, he stood up again and held out an envelope to Frank.

 

As Frank took the envelope, he noticed M. Lambert wore a wristwatch on his left wrist, but Frank thought he noticed a glint of metal on the man's right wrist....

 

@--'--   @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--

 

Fortunately, Frank managed to scrape together the money for his proposal gift to Sadie. She'd had some henna body-art done on her wrists at Christmas, so he hoped she could understand why he'd chosen to have something much more lasting done.

 

The following week, he went to a reputable tattoo artist downtown and went under the needle....

 

Sunday afternoon, his arm had healed enough to let him show Sadie his surprise:

 

On the inside of his left elbow, was a red rose with a small scroll bearing the name 'Sadie'.

 

"Oh my... this is exquisite!" she cried. "But it must have hurt so much!"

 

"Ah, it was worth it. If I can brave that for you, I can brave anything.... I just wanted to ask you something... Sadie, will you marry me?"

 

Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. "Oh.... my... That's really putting me on the spot..." She blushed. "I don't want you to think I'm stalling you, but I have to think this over. I mean, this is a huge life step...."

 

He put his hands on her wrists, clasping them gently. "No, I do understand. You take all the time you need to set your mind and anything else in order."

 

"Can I tell you later this week, or the beginning of next week?" she asked.

 

"Sure, but don't make me wait too long, or I might get cold feet," Frank said.

 

She cuffed him gently. "Silly man, I won't make you wait *that* long."

 

That would buy him some time to break the news to Aubrey and say goodbye to her.

 

@--'--   @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--

 

Friday night, Frank decided he was going to tell Aubrey what was transpiring between him and Sadie. He hoped the Mecha woman would understand.

 

He planned on breaking the news to her by showing her the tattoo, but in his desire to be with her, he completely forgot, until they were alone in her room, in each other's arms, when she helped him draw off his shirt. Then he saw the rose on the flesh of his arm, and he remembered.

 

He drew away from Aubrey.

 

"What?" she asked, rising onto her elbow and looking into his face. "Is something troubling you?"

 

"No. Yes." He shook his head to clear it. "It's hard to talk about it."

 

"If you are distressed, perhaps talking would relieve you of it."

 

He sighed, staring down at his crumpled clothes on the floor, at his naked body. "I had been hoping to save myself for when I married, but now..." He looked up at her. "You see... I may be getting married soon. Her name is Sadie." He touched the rose on his arm. "I just asked her to marry me."

 

"Will you still come to see me?" Aubrey asked.

 

"No, I'll be busy making Sadie happy," Frank said.

 

She seemed to understand. Hal would have scoffed at it, but Frank thought he saw a sad look pass through her eyes before her default look of sweet seduction returned. "But if she does not make you happy, remember that I will be here to serve you."

 

He could only smile at this, trying to hide the tears he felt stinging in the corners of his eyes. He drew her under him and made love to her as he never had before, as if it might be the last time.

 

Later, they lay on their sides, facing each other, just gazing into each other's faces, when suddenly he heard a pain shriek from another room.

 

Frank bolted upright, grabbed his pants and his shirt and pulled them on, fumbling with the buttons.

 

"That voice sounded like Coco," Aubrey said.

 

"Stay here, I'll go find out," Frank said, rushing out the door.

 

Jock, the bouncer, and his assistant Jerry the security Mecha rushed down the hallway, M. Lambert on their heels, his usual jovial smirk given way to an intense look Frank had never seen before on his face.

 

"I knew that Duvall was no good," Jock muttered. The three of them rushed for the door of the Amethyst Room, next to the Red Room. Behind the door, Coco's screams continued.

 

M. Lambert threw open the door; Jock and Jery rushed inside, emerging a moment later dragging out a half-naked, heavy-set, middle-aged man, shouting curses and trying to fight them off. Frank got a glimpse over their shoulders of a petite, dark-haired Mecha lying sprawled naked on the floor, a gash on her chest, showing the metal underneath.

 

"This is the last time that you come in here, M'sieu Duvall," M. Lambert said, "If this is the way that you treat mes filles de joie."

 

"What's to stop me? You?" The man growled. He somehow broke free of Jock and Jerry and lunged at M. Lambert.

 

The slighter man reached out and grabbed his attacker by the scruff of his neck, hoisting him high above his head as he turned and strode up the hallway, heading out to the vestibule.

 

Frank caught himself staring. How was this possible? He hurried after Jock and Jerry as they headed out after their master.

 

M. Lambert kicked open the door and pushed Duvalle out into the snow.

 

"Hey, you can't do that to me!" Duvalle yelled.

 

"If your shadow darkens the door of this place, I will call the police," M. Lambert replied, and with that, he pulled the doors shut behind him.

 

"You okay, boss?" Jerry asked. Frank noticed the older man's hand trembling in a way that didn't look normal.

 

"I will be in a moment," M. Lambert replied. He turned to Frank. "Go to Coco; see that she is all right."

 

Frank hurried back to the Amethyst Room, where he found Fantine kneeling beside Coco, holding her while Emil, the club's jack-of-all-trades, worked over her, sealing the gash in the little Mecha's cheek. Several other girls, including Aubrey, had gathered around, some holding Coco's hands, others sitting comfortingly close to Fantine.

 

"Is she all right?" Frank asked.

 

"She will be," Emil said. "I've shut her down while I patch up the wound. She's in no pain now, but I'll have to run a diagnostic, see that the negative feedback didn't jam her."

 

Frank wanted to kneel down beside the little Mecha-woman to comfort her, but he knew that, for the moment, she was out of pain.

 

Aubrey's eyes turned toward him, then she turned her face to his. She seemed to sense his anxiety. With her free hand, she reached out and took one of his, pressing it warmly.

 

Soon enough, Emil had sealed the gash. Then he picked up Coco and carried her up to his work room.

 

Frank went home with a heavy heart, a feeling which not even Aubrey's touch could completely dispell. He'd heard of anti-Mecha violence, which was much more common back in the States than here in Canada, but it was the first time he'd actually seen it up close.

 

And for the first time, he started to worry a little about what Sadie might say about what had passed between him and Aubrey....

@--'--   @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--

 

Chapter Four: Finding Out

 

By Sunday afternoon, Frank's sadness over Coco had subsided: according to Emil, who called that morning to let him know what was up, the little Mecha would be all right, but he was keeping her off the floor for a few days while he kept her under observation.

 

But something else happened to dispell the shadows lingering in his soul.

 

Sadie invited him to her apartment for an indoor picnic on the floor in her living room. As they sat down to a meal of egg salad sandwiches, fruit and wine, Sadie reached over to Frank and took his hands in hers.

 

"Yes," she said.

 

"Yes... what?" he asked, a little confused.

 

"Yes, I will marry you, Francis Jude Xavier Sweitz," she said, and she reached over to kiss him. He drew her close, making it weasier for her and kissed her back. Her lips felt a little dry and he tasted asprin in her mouth, but he put that aside.

 

He pulled his face away. She wasn't a bad kisser -- he hadn't had enough experience to spoil him -- but she was different from Aubrey: she kisseed a little too hard, but maybe he was just nervous.

He leaned down and kissed her again. This was the woman he was going to marry, he told himself: make her happy.

 

He felt Sadie lean her body against his, trying to push him down onto the floor, her hands playing with the top buttons of his shirt. He took her hands in his and gently pulled them away.

 

"No, not now," he said. "Please."

 

"What... are you all right?" she asked.

 

--an image of Aubrey's long slim fingers undoing his buttons flashed through his head--

 

"I'm fine. It's just... I'd rather wait," he said. "Till we're married."

 

"Oh come on, we're both adults," Sadie coaxed. "I had that new reversible surgery done: we won't get pregnant."

 

"No, it's not that... It's just.... I'd rather we really got to know each other as people before we get to know each other as lovers, in the flesh I mean."

 

He couldn't get the image of Aubrey's clear skin out of his memory: he'd noticed some blackheads in the tiny fold on the side of the base of Sadie's nose.

 

"You're blushing up," she said, touching his cheek. "Did I embarass you? I'm sorry."

 

"It's all right, you meant well. I just want us to take this slowly, not jump into it."

 

"I think we can do that," she agreed.

 

You sure didn't take it slowly with Aubrey, a mocking little voice in the back of his head taunted.

 

@--'--   @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--

 

The months that followed were a blur of activity: finishing courses, working at the Perfumed Alcove. They couldn't afford an engagement ring, but at spring break, when Frank brought Sadie home to meet his grandfather Rufus in Rock Island, Illinois, the older man gave him a 3 carat diamond ring that had belonged to Frank's grandmother.

 

"The setting is old-fashioned, but I think she'll like it," Rufus said. "She's a keeper, that one."

 

"Yes, she is," Frank agreed.

 

After the couple returned to Saskatoon, Hal brought up another concern, while he and Frank were figuring out their shares of the rent payment.

 

"If you and Sadie are getting married, where are y' gonna live? I don't think she wants me hanging around."

 

"Oh, I'll be living at her place until we can find something bigger," Frank said. "We'll be splitting the rent, her and I: she's getting a job helping translate some letters Louis XV wrote to one of his lady-friends. Plus I'm getting us jobs at the Independent, here in town. The chief editor's a regular at the Alcove, so M. Lambert pointed us out to each other."

 

" 'Us' as in you an' me?" Hal asked.

 

"Why of course! You think a would-be heroic reporter like me is gonna skip out on his photographer sidekick?" Frank said, putting a reassuring arm around Hal's shoulders.

 

"Atta boy, Frank. I'm only asking because I'll have to find a place of m' own or else bunk with one of my sweet-friends. If I was sharing a flat with you, I doubt Sadie would appreciate the kind of hours -- or the kind of company I keep."

 

The skin on Frank's cheeks and the back of his neck prickled...

 

Hal's grey-green eyes narrowed, studying Frank's face. "Ah right, have you told her?"

 

"Well... what about?" Frank asked, but he quickly realized what Hal meant.

 

"I meant the kind of company *you've* been keeping," Hal retorted.

 

"Aubrey knows about Sadie. But Sadie doesn't know about Aubrey."

 

"If the subject of who you've been with ever came up, you think Sadie'll be comfortable with that?" Hal asked, but his tone suggested he didn't think Sadie would tolerate knowing.

 

"I'm not sure: she's leery around Mechas," Frank said.

 

Hal nodded. "No point telling her. I'm certainly no expert in love, but she doesn't have to know *exactly* what you've been with."

 

"Yeah, I mean, Aubrey's just a quiff, or a machine shaped like one."

 

But is she? Frank caught himself asking himself, as soon as he had said this.

 

@--'--   @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--

 

May 10, 2126 -- Frank received his Bachelor's degree in journalism. A week later, Hal and he got their first real newspaper work, at the Independent, Frank as a copywriter, Hal as an assistant to one of the staff photographers. The following Thursday night, Frank folded up his music at the Perfumed Alcove for the last time.

 

"You will be missed," Fantine said. "You brought us all many hours of sweet music."

 

"I'll still be around, though," Frank said. "But there's one lady who'll be getting all my music."

 

"Too bad Aubrey could not be here this night, but she had an out call," Fantine said.

 

"Well... I'll have to come around some other time and say goodbye to her," Frank said.

 

Fatine smiled at him. "I'll tell her that you were looking for her."

 

Frank went home feeling empty. One chapter of his life was almost over. He caught himself wondering for a moment if there was some way he could go on, with Sadie as his wife and Aubrey as a sweetheart, but that sounded too much like one of the menages the kings of France got themselves into and the havoc that resulted. But he knew something like that was wrong. He was about to give himself to Sadie: heart, soul, mind, and body, from brains to balls. But he felt bad about just going on his way without bidding farewell to the woman who had taught him about the more intimate aspects of the love between man and woman.

 

He found Hal waiting up for him on the couch, a sleepy-contented look in his eye. "You're home early," his housemate pointed out.

 

"Yeah, I would  have said goodbye to Aubrey, but she wasn't there," Frank said, setting his music on the bookshelf.

 

"You can make an outcall, you know," Hal said. "Granted, they're pricier, but for your last time with her, y' might not mind going all-out."

 

"I suppose I could," Frank said. "But I've got that party coming up."

 

"Party? What party? Am I invited?" Hal asked, licking his chops.

 

"It's kind of an engagement/new job/graduation party at Sadie's grandparents' house." Frank said. "And yes, you're invited as long as you don't eat them out of house and home."

 

"I'll behave," Hal said. To his hollowed stomach, he added, "And you, remember your manners."

 

@--'--   @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--

 

Sunday afternoon brought a clear day with bright sunshine: perfect weather for an outdoor party.

Frank mingled well with Sadie's friends and family; Hal stayed off to the side, talking with Sadie's eccentric cousin Claude Plantard, who had recently changed his name to Clovis, but wouldn't tell anyone why. Sadie told Frank that Clovis had been her mentor while she was studying at college, but that some of the other members of her family were concerned that he might be mildly mentally ill, since he claimed he was descended from a long-dead French royal dynasty, but this had been what got her interested in the field she had studied.

 

"So some good came of it," Frank noted.

 

Sadie smiled. "That's very true," she agreed.

 

"Do you always look on the bright side of things, Frank?" Sadie's gal-pal cousin Christine asked.

Frank shrugged. "It's just the way I am, just how I get along in life."

 

Someone had pushed the family's upright piano out onto the patio, and Sadie's grandmother tried plinking out "Someone to Watch Over Me", an old Gershwin song and one of Frank's favorites.

 

Frank came up behind the piano. "Excuse me... may I do the honors?" he asked.

 

Sadie's grandmother yielded the piano bench to him. Frank sat down, flexed his fingers, rolled up the B major chord and played the tune as it deserved to be played. Plus, he also sang the words, all of them, his eyes on Sadie the whole time.

 

"There's a Somebody I'm longing to see
I hope that she turns out to be
Someone to watch over me.

 

"I'm a little lamb who's lost in the woods
I know I could always be good
To one who'll watch over me..."

 

Yes, Sadie was the one who could watch over his heart, keep it from straying again....

 

Through the applause that rose as he hit the last chords rose a sniggering, tipsy laugh. Sadie's uncle Norbert shuffled up to the piano. Frank hadn't noticed this before, when Sadie had introduced them earlier that day, but the heavy-set man seemed oddly familiar...

 

"You'll need someone to watch over that boy so he don't go runnin' off to visit the tin ladies," Norbert taunted, leering at Sadie.

 

"Frank's in love with me, he doesn't need one of those," Sadie replied, not taking Norbert's taunt seriously.

 

Frank felt his face grow warm. He hoped if Sadie saw it, she took it for the start of a sunburn.

 

Norbert's grin grew vicious. "Oh yeah? Then what brought him to that metal cat-house over on Groveland Street?"

 

"I was working in a night club playing piano; a lot of people used to come through with lover-Mechas," Frank said.

 

"Yeah, y' musta givin' a private performance to one," Norbert sneered. "I saw you with your pants awry, boy."

 

Sadie stared at Frank, her face growing cold. "What?! Have you...?" Her words cut off, as if what she was about to utter was too horrible to say.

 

Frank glanced at Hal, looking for guidence. But the look in Hal's eyes told him there were no words to be said to alleviate the situation.

 

Frank turned to Sadie and took her aside, away from the others. "Yes, I'm afraid to admit that I've been with a Mecha. But she was the only one and will be the only one of her kind," he admitted.

 

Sadie stared up at him aghast and incredulous. "But I thought... Is this why you wanted to wait for the ring? Because you think I'm not as good as a Mecha?"

 

"No, that had nothing to do with me being with a Mecha. Please try to understand. It was a youthful error; we all make that kind of mistake in some way at some point in our lives. But is it really so horrible? Would you rather that I had gone out and gotten some poor girl pregnant, who couldn't afford a parental license?"

 

"We're not talking about that, we're talking about you and a Mecha," Sadie insisted.

 

Frank lifted his hands slightly in surrender. "It isn't the same as my going out and having an affair with an Orga."

 

"You were with a *machine*!"

 

"Yes, I agree with you. But she's not a real person: she doesn't have any feelings toward me. She won't get attached to me. But I want to be with *you* forever. I won't be seeing her now that I'm working at the Independent."

 

"Well... promise me that you won't go anywhere near there ever."

 

Frank took both her hands in his. "Sadie, I promise you a dozen times over that I won't even set foot in that street, unless of course an assignment or a tip brings me there, and in that case, I'd stay no longer than getting the facts requires."

 

"You better keep that promise," she said. And she lead Frank back to the party.

 

At that moment, while the older folk chattered stiffly about young people wasting themselves on Mechas, Clovis was putting in his two cents.

 

"If you knew what Frank was messing around with, even to the point of seeing him with his pants down, then you must have been in the same cat house," Clovis pointed out. "And in *that* case, do you realize it's a case of the pot calling the kettle black?"

 

Norbert glared at Clovis. "You young mongrel," the older man snarled and tried to lunge at Clovis, but he only succeeded in falling off his chair.

 

An odd look passed over Sadie's face, as if she was utterly unsure of what to make of the situation....

 

@--'--   @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--

 

"I gather that you're *not* going to say goodbye to Aubrey then?" Hal said as he and Frank were driving down Groveland Street, through the section of town where Frank had worked. Three days had passed from the party and they were returning to the office with some late news.

 

"Probably not," Frank said.

 

"You regret meeting Aubrey?"

 

"No, not that. But I wish Sadie hadn't found out. How was I supposed to know that her uncle was the creep who beat up Coco?!"

 

"World's a smaller place than you think," Hal mused.

 

At length, they had to slow down to a crawl: the street was half-blocked by a log-jam of police cars and a crowd of police and bystanders. Hal pulled the car over and reached into the back seat for his camera. Frank jumped out, holding up the press pass on a lanyard about his neck. The crowd parted, letting him and Hal, at his heels, through to the crime scene.

 

Several police officers were examining a man crouched on the ground, against the wall of a business, leaning the side of his head and one shoulder against the bricks. As Frank got closer, he realized the man was M. Lambert.

 

"Oh my God, is he all right?" Frank asked.

 

A wince passed through the other man's face. He turned to look toward Frank, clearly attracted by the sound. The movement was quick and fluid despite the jab of pain that went through him.

 

What Frank saw made him gasp. He expected to see blood gushing from a wound, or a mass of bruises covering the man's face.

 

But instead, the skin -- or whatever it was -- had been gashed from M. Lambert's temple to his upper chest, exposing a grey metal skull and metal understructures.

 

A flash from Hal's camera lit up the circle, glinting off the metal parts and gleaming on the eerily pink lining of the polymer skin.

 

Frank blinked. The Mecha -- for he realized that was what his former employer really was -- winced a little as two police officers helped him up off the ground carefully.

 

"I didn't think... How...?" Frank faltered.

 

"He's a European model, a Belladerma, according to Fantine," Hal said. "Don't worry: he's damaged, but it probably won't be a threat to his processors."

 

It made sense now: the glint of metal at his wrist, his preterhuman strength when he threw Norbert Duvall out of the Alcove one night...

 

Frank pulled himself together, managing to ask the attending officers and a few bystanders what had happened. Apparently a couple of thugs had come out of nowhere and started pushing M. Lambert around. He tried to side-step them, when one of the thugs pulled out a knife and slashed at the Mecha's face.

 

Jock from the Alcove pushed his way through the crowd. Seeing the damage inflicted, he asked the police to bring the Mecha back to the Alcove.

 

Frank and Hal followed the police and the injured Mecha back to the Alcove. Ma'm'zelle Fantine had stepped out to see what the commotion was about. But when her gaze fell on M. Lambert's torn face and the polic escorting him, she stopped in her tracks, her eyes widening.

 

"What happened?" she cried. "Who did this to him?!" She reached out her hands to the Mecha.

"Are you all right, mon amour?"

 

"I... will... be..." M. Lambert managed to say, his voice fuzzed with static.

 

She led Hal and Jock, who took charge of supporting M. Lambert, into the building and led them up to Emil's work room. Frank followed them, his whole body nerveless.

 

Hal and Emil helped M. Lambert up onto a worktable. Emil gently pushed the injured Mecha down onto his back and set to work examining him.

 

Fantine kept back, giving the techs their room to work, but Frank could tell by the look in his eye that she wanted to be right there, helping them work on mending the damage. She turned and looked at Frank.

 

"You seem surprised," she said.

 

"I didn't know... I thought he was human," he said, trying not to sound too shocked.

 

"He's a European model, a Belladerma; they make them look more natural," Fantine explained.

 

"Have you... had him long?"

 

"He's been with me since my husband died. I obtained him to help me with the club, and he's become one of my closest friends," she said, a hint of color coming into her cheeks, as if there were much more than mere friendship to their relationship.

 

"Do you have any idea who could have done this?" Frank asked.

 

"No, we've never had any threats, not like this. If there's any, it's usually from some man's wife or girlfriend."

 

"If you'll let me run a scan on his cube, I could copy some stuff for the police and give it to them, give them a lead," Hal offered.

 

"Could you do this for me, Monsieur Halloran?" Fantine said.

 

"Sure thing, Frank an' me just gotta deliver some copy," Hal said.

 

"And we'll make sure people know about this," Frank said.

 

@--'--   @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--

 

Night Club Owner's Mecha Attacked, Damaged

 

SASKATOON -- Last night, an M-106 model Belladerma unit, known as "M. Lambert Rosier", a host at the Perfumed Alcove nightclub, was attacked while returning to his place of employ. The Mecha had been out getting change before the club opened for the night when, according to bystanders, two men in black tee shirts and blue jeans approached the Mecha and started pushing it around. When the Mecha tried to fend off the assault by blocking the blows with raised arms, one man pulled a switchblade knife from his belt and attacked. The attacker managed to gash the Mecha's face and chest, but a passing police siren frightened the two men off, leaving the Mecha behind, crouched against the wall of a building.

 

"A bystander called the police, who searched the area, but found no trace of the suspects. Several other bystanders helped the injured Mecha back to the Perfumed Alcove.

 

"M. Lambert's owner Fantine Grignon has offered a 2,000 NB reward to anyone who can identify the suspects. The Mecha sustained severe facial mask damage and is undergoing repairs. Emil Rodier, a technician employed by the club has reported that M. Lambert is "wary from the assault, but he should be his usual jovial self once he's repaired."

 

"Not bad for your first story," Sadie remarked, as she read over the item, while she and Frank were having lunch at a cafe.

 

"Yeah, but what a story to have for a first one," Frank said, glumly picking at his salad.

 

Sadie eyed him sidewise. "Don't tell me you knew that Mecha."

 

"He was kinda my boss... But I never knew he was a Mecha until last night."

 

Sadie stared at him, her brows gathering.

 

"I mean, Lambert is so... human. I never thought he was anything less than a flesh and blood man. I used to chat with him between sets, you know, typical boss-emolyee stuff when the boss and the employee really get along great. He never mentioned his family, so I figured he didn't have much on those lines."

 

Sadie shook her head. "But something like that is just a machine. He's no different from a toaster or a washing machine or a cellphone."

 

"No, Sadie... He's a person, he's just made of different stuff than we are."

 

"I suppose you thought the same about that Mecha you were messing with," Sadie grumbled, her voice cold.

 

"I've put her behind me; I'm moving on," Frank said. He leaned forward and put his hand on her wrist. "I'm marrying *you*, I'm not marrying a Mecha."

 

Sadie managed a thin smile. She put down the paper and took Frank's hands in hers.

 

But as they kissed each other, a voice rose in Frank's head.

 

*You still didn't say goodbye to Aubrey yet.*

@--'--   @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--

 

Chapter Six: Lashing Back

 

Friday afternoon, before the club opened, Frank took a few moments to go down to the Perfumed Alcove, partly for a follow-up story on M. Lambert, partly to say goodbye to Aubrey.

 

He found Lambert in the apartment he shared with Fantine. A hairline crack showed on his cheek where Emile had mended it, and shots of pain still passed through his face from time to time, but he seemed better.

 

"You gonna be okay?" Frank asked.

 

"Yes, Emil has ordered a new facial mask plate for me," Lambert said.

 

Frank knew he was staring. "I'm sorry... I just... just never thought...."

 

"Never guesed that I am a Mecha?" Lambert replied, finishing his sentence for him. "It must have come as a shock to you."

 

"Yeah, I mean, you're so human."

 

"Not many people would see it that way. It's a shame that you had to see me that way before you could find out the truth."

 

"I guess I just forgot what creatures like you are really made of," Frank admitted.

 

"But the real question is: does that change how you view things like me?"

 

"No, not at all! I mean, you just talked about having a part sent in to fix your face. People are using their own stem cells to grow replacement organs. So the only difference is subtance, right?"

 

The other man smiled. "You have a heart both wise and kind, Frank. I can see why she's been looking for you."

 

"She? Aubrey?"

 

"Yes, when she found out that you wrote the item in the newspaper about the assault, she begged Fantine to let her keep the copy of the paper it appeared in."

 

"Wow," Frank thought out loud. "She thinks that highly of me?"

 

"Yes she does. For that matter, she asks me every night if you ever came by to see her."

 

"Is that typical?" Frank asked.

 

"It is unusual among her kind: most female sex Mechas have less complicated personality parameters, but since she is an artist, she is different," Lambert replied. "But there is much more to it. You have been kind to her: you never looked upon her as a mere toy to use for your pleasure. I could see it in your eyes the night you came to apologize to her. And the second time you were with her, she told me that you thought more for her pleasure than your own. So, in a sense you love her and she has learned love from you."

 

Frank felt his mouth turn mealy inside with nervousness as he replied, "Yes, I do."

 

"But... I heard from Halloran that there is another whom you love, an Orga woman you have chosen to marry."

 

"Yes, a girl I met at the university."

 

Lambert nodded sagely. "Go to her. Make her happy as you have made Aubrey happy. But first say goodbye to the one who showed you how to make her happy."

 

"I will... I will, thank you," Frank replied.

 

"No: thank *you* for treating her so well. I would that all Orga could be like you."

 

"Speaking from the voice of experience," Frank said, with sympathy.

 

Lambert pondered this in silence. "You could not have expressed it better."

 

@--'--   @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--

 

Aubrey sat perched on top of the piano in the bar. As Frank approched her, she leapt down to meet him.

 

"You came back to us," she said, holding out her hands to him and taking his hands.

 

Frank clasped her hands, feeling how soft they were, remembering how gently they had carressed him, massaging his shoulders after a long night playing piano, guiding him as they lay embraced...

He smiled, but he felt a tear in his eye. "I don't know how to say this except just to say it... but I won't be coming back here any more."

 

"Oh yes, because you found a job more fitting your other talents of writing," she said, utterly free from accusation. From her smile and her tone, she seemed happy for him.

 

"Well... there's more to it. I won't be spending any more time with you, the way we used to. I'm marrying a girl I met at the university."

 

She took this with a sweet smile, but Frank swore he saw a shadow flit through her eyes. "Does she make you happy?"

 

"Yes, she's a very sweet girl," Frank said. But he felt a shadow pass through his own heart.

 

"I hope then that you make this girl happy as you have made me happy," she said.

 

"I hope so too, but I really have you to thank for that, for teaching me how."

 

"I only served you."

 

"You did much more than that: you helped me get past my fears... about women and about Mechas....

 

"Aubrey," he said.

 

"Yes?" she asked.

 

"May I please kiss you just one more time?"

 

Her smile warmed. "Of course you may," she said.

 

He leaned down to press his lips to her. He could feel her sweet, simulated breath fan his cheeks when he heard voices in the vestibule: Fantine's voice arguing with another, much younger female voice. Sadie's voice.

 

"I know he's in here!" Sadie cried.

 

"He was here only to see how M. Lambert is doing since the attack," Fantine replied.

 

"I'll bet that's all he's up to. Let me *IN!*"

 

At that moment, Sadie barged into the bar, pushing Fantine out of her way. About three steps from where Aubrey and Frank stood, Sadie stopped dead in her tracks.

 

"What are you *DOING*?!" Sadie roared.

 

"Sadie... I was just saying goodbye to my good friend Aubrey," Frank said.

 

"He was speaking the truth, and he will not be coming back to me. He belongs to you," Aubrey said.

 

"I wasn't talking to you, slut!" Sadie screamed. The last word brought a puzzled look to Aubrey's smooth face.

 

"Sadie, she's telling the absolute truth," Frank said.

 

"Well, it looked to me like you were saying hello to her!" Sadie snapped. She grabbed Frank's hand and dragged him after her , out of that place.

 

Frank did not even hazard a glance back at Aubrey. That one last look into each other's eyes as they were about to kiss would have to suffice him.

 

@--'--   @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--

 

Their next few dates were difficult, almost perfunctory. Frank could tell she was still angry with him. They both hardly spoke more than ten words when they met for lunch, and when he tried to expand on this, she only glared at him.

 

After the latest of these encounters, Hal said to Frank, when the latter had returned home, "If I were in your shoes, trying to deal with that tight-ass, I'd be packing my bags and getting the hell outta Dodge."

 

"Yeah, but I'm not you," Frank said. "I can make this work."

 

"That's what they aaaall say.... a week before the final break," Hal drawled.

 

In the days that followed, Frank had the odd feeling that someone was following him. Once or twice, he thought he spotted a man in dark glasses, wearing a summer-weight suit, but he couldn't be sure if the guy was following him or if he was just passing by.

 

When he mentioned this to Hal one evening, the other replied, "I'll bet *she* sent him after you."

 

"She's partly right. I mean, I might feel odd if I found out she'd been with someone before we got married."

 

"Well, didn't you turn Sadie down when she wanted to get it on with you?"

 

"I told her I wanted to wait for the ring," Frank replied.

 

"Was she okay with that?" Hal asked.

 

"Yeah, in fact she was surprised in a good way."

 

"Okay... that might be the problem: She thinks you have a double standard of morality, as I think that's what they call it."

 

"I made a mistake, but I'm over Aubrey now," Frank said.

 

"Have you told Sadie that?"

 

"She wouldn't let me get a word in edgewise about it!"

 

"Well, if you're determined to keep this going, you'll have to muddle through it your own way. I'm all out of ideas.

 

@--'--   @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--

 

Later that night, when Frank went to Sadie's apartment, Norbert, her uncle, answered the door.

"Ah, the Mecha-fucker himself," Norbert sniggered. "How many tin ladies you been with lately?

"None. I just came to apologize to Sadie, and to explain what happened," Frank said.

 

"Well, she's busy printing something out, so she can't come to the door right now. Took her a while since her printer was jammed and I had to come help her out."

 

"Can't I see her?"

 

"I don't think she really wants to, now that she's found out the kind of company you keep behind her back."

 

"Can't she let bygones be bygones?"

 

Over Norbert's shoulder, Frank saw Sadie's shadow on the wall of the hallway. "How can I trust you won't do it again?" she called.

 

"Please, let me in," Frank begged.

 

"I'm busy," Sadie called back.

 

"Well... may I come back later?" Frank asked.

 

"Maybe," Sadie replied.

 

Frank went away with a heavy heart.

 

@--'--   @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--

 

The weather over the next few days seemed to sympathize with Frank's feelings: intermittent rain showers fell from lowering clouds. But then the clouds burned off and the sun shone again, broiling hot. Even Frank shed his jacket and rolled his shirt sleeves above his elbows.

 

"Aren't yah wishin' y' hadn't had that permanent ink put in your skin now?" Hal asked, as they walked back to the car after covering a fire in a warehouse (now well under control) in the industrial section of town.

 

"I'm starting to," Frank said. "But we haven't split up yet."

 

"*YET*" Hal stressed.

 

They had just cut through an alleyway between two buildings when Frank heard it: a loud cry like a woman in pain. He ran down the alley, heading for the sound.

 

He came upon an open area among several buildings. A group of goons, mostly men, were pushing around a girl in a red dress. At first glance, Frank thought they were molesting a street prostitute, but the girl's dress was of too costly a fabric. But as he got a better look at the girl, his blood ran cold.

 

Her skin was pale as ivory and her green eyes were unblinking. Her skin looked a little too smooth to really be natural. And her auburn hair hung to the middle of her back in soft waves.

Aubrey.

 

The apparant leader of the hoodlums, a heavy fellow in a dingy white undershirt hit Aubrey across the face with a baseball bat. She screamed. Two other goons, a skinny one with no shirt, and an athletic one in a black muscle shirt, pushed her to the ground. She tried to rise, but a girl in a halter top and ragged short-shorts and the fat guy in the undershirt grabbed Aubrey by the arms and hoisted her up, causing Aubrey's dress to hike up over her hips, uncovering her.

 

Hal had caught up with him by now. "Hal, dial emergency," Frank ordered.

 

Then he noticed Hal fighting with his cellphone, pressing every button. "What a time for the damn battery to be dead!" Hal growled, stuffing the phone back into his pocket.

 

Frank rolled up his sleeves and pitched off his hat.

 

"You're not going in there to fish her out!" Hal cried. "You're outnumbered, Sweitz!"

 

"It's the least I could do," Frank said.

 

"Leave me alone!" Aubrey cried, trying to dodge the hands that grabbed at her. "Leave me alone!"

The hoodlums closed in on her. No-shirt grabbed her by the hair while Halter-top Girl grabbed her arm. Black Muscle Shirt had found a length of pipe and struck Aubrey across the face with it. Fatty drew a knife from a sheath hanging from his belt and slashed her throat. She screamed and fell to the ground, sparks flying up where the exposed metal hit the paving stones.

 

She tried to rise, but her attackers pounced on her, tearing her dress from her, leaving her naked.

"Let her go!" Frank roared. "She's not hurting you!"

 

Fatty stood up, facing Frank. "Oh yeah?" Well, things like her are takin' away perfectly good jobs from US!"

 

"Oh really? Would you gentlemen really like to see strange guys futzing your girlfriend there for cash?" Frank asked.

 

"Well, it would get us some cash!" Halter-top taunted.

 

"Let that Mecha alone!" Frank insisted. He tried to reach out to her, but Fatty grabbed him by the shirt and threw him against a wall.

 

Frank hit the wall and slid down it. Too stunned to move, he watched the jackals return to their prey, through the crowd that gathered around them. Hal had found a trash can with a lid and stood on top of it, taking fast-film pictures of everything.

 

During the lull, Aubrey tried to break free, but several people in the crowd threw stones and empty bottles at her. One struck the side of her head, hard, causing her to fall to the ground again.

Fatty was on top of her again, slashing at her breasts, tearing them loose, cutting them from her metal torso. The others rushed in like harpies, tearing her flesh from her bones. One of her eyes had been smashed in and the dermis torn from her face, leaving it half enfleshed, half bare. They tore her scalp from her head. When she tried to rise Muscle Shirt struck her again with the pipe, cracking her torso that time. Sparks flew up from the break. She fell to the ground again, lying there her limbs twitching and spazzing. The whole time, she screamed incoherently, the sound going fuzzed with static and growing deeper and deeper, until it died away. They broke her limbs from her torso, sending lubricants gushing over the ground like blood. Someone smashed the side of her head in, while Fatty stomped her torso until the housing broke in two and the components burst out.

 

A wail of sirens rose nearby. "Here they come!" No-Shirt yelled. The hoodlums fled, as did much of the crowd of bystanders.

 

A police cruiser screeched into the alleyway, stopping just inches from Aubrey's shattered remains, still emitting sparks. Hal got down from the trashcan and helped Frank stand up. A female officer approached them as a crime scene team set to work examining the remains and scouring the area.

 

"You boys okay? We got a call saying you got clobbered along with a lover-Mecha you were trying to protect," the policewoman asked.

 

Frank could only nod, too bruised and shaken to speak.

 

As a paramedic crew that had also arrived on the scene examined Frank, he could only stare at Aubrey's body, now mercifully covered with a sheet. He dimly heard Hal telling another police officer the particulars of the incident, telling them he had pictures of everything that happened. The crew wouldn't let him get closer, but Frank honestly wanted to kneel down beside Aubrey's body -- as dangerous as it was with her circuits still arcing as the last of the current died in her body -- and take her into his arms, to hold her in a last goodbye...

 

He knew Hal helped him back to the car, and he knew they drove home to their apartment, but it seemed to be happening to another young man.

 

Frank managed to hold himself together untill they got inside the door. But then he had to sprint to the washroom because the floor of his stomach was about to push through his mouth...

 

Once the retching had passed, he felt Hal's hand on his shoulder. He let the smaller man help him up and lead him to his room, then help him to lie down on the bed.

 

"You want anything, Frank? Can I get you something to settle your insides?" Hal asked.

 

"No... not now," Frank managed to say.

 

He lay there numb for well over an hour. Why did people have to treat Mechas like that?! Who instigated such a thing, or was it really just a random act of violence? These things were much less common here in Canada than they were in the U. S. There were so many pro-Mecha laws here that a lot of fugitive Mechas came here to escape the bounty hunters employed by Rogue Retrieval and other things like that.

 

But after a little while more, he sat up. He knew what he could do to help, since he was unable to save Aubrey's life or existence, or whatever you called it when it referred to a Mecha. He was a newspaperman. He had the power of the press to back him up.

 

He got up from the bed and went to his desk, taking the cover off his typewriter. He made a few calls to the police and to M. Lambert to get the facts straight. With a quick call for help to St. Francis de Sales, the patron saint of writers, he lit a cigarette and cranked a sheet of paper into the typewriter.

 

"Lover Mecha Destroyed by Four Thugs"

 

Saskatoon -- An uproar broke out in an alleyway behind the Acme Pencil Company warehouse when four unidentified thugs, three male and one female, assaulted Aubrey, a female lover-Mecha employed by the Perfumed Alcove night club. Apparantly, the Mecha was returning from an out-call when she was confronted by her attackers, one of them wielding a knife, who brutally beat her and tore her silicon dermis from her body before knocking her to the ground and smashing her body to pieces.

 

A local reporter tried to intervene before the worst damage happened, but the thugs turned on him and threw him into the wall of a building.

 

Aubrey sustained fatal damage beyond the possibility of repair. Her employers, Fantine Grignon and her partner Lambert de Rosier inform the press that they will hold a memorial service for her sometime later this week.

 

Aubrey was custom-made by Simulate City and worked at the Perfumed Alcove night club as a singer and dancer for the five years of her operation."

 

Frank proofread the text twice, revised it, retyped it, then took the final version and brought it to Hal's room, where his work partner was scanning his shots into his computer.

 

"You got those pictures developed?" Frank asked.

 

Hal looked up from the scanner. "Yeah, just gotta send a set to Fantine as evidence."

 

"Print another set: I need them for a story."

 

Hal regarded the papers in Frank's hand with eyes narrowed in skepticism. "Good luck gettin' Jones to print it."

 

"I'll find a way," Frank said, knowing from experience their editor could be tough. "Mind if I take a look at the pictures?"

 

Hal studied his face in silence. "You sure you can handle 'em? They're just as bad as what you jsut saw out there."

 

"I think I can."

 

"Okay," Hal said, leading him to a worktable. Copies of the fresh prints lay spread out over the top. Frank looked down at them: images of the crowd that had gathered; the hoolums knocking Aubrey to the ground, tearing the skin from her metal bones... He lingered over one shot where she had just been struck across the face, her eyes and mouth wide open with pain.... when he used to leave her open-mouthed with delight. He touched that image of her face, wishing he could have held her during her last moments, comforting her. If only she had died some other way, instead of being beaten to fragments.... he would have kissed her eyes as the images of the world faded in her lenses. He would have held her close, letting the beat of her heart soothe her as the impulses faded in her circuits....

 

He turned his gaze to another photo, a shot of the bystanders looking on in horror. At the back, he spotted a man with dark glasses, whose face looked an awful lot like that of Sadie's uncle Norbert.

 

"Wait a minute...." He studied the photos of the crowd more closely. In a second shot of the same crowd, off to the left, stood a dark-haired girl who definately looked like Sadie. The look on her face seemed a cross-breed of disgust and relief.

 

"Hal? Halloran?!" Frank yelled.

 

"Hey what?" Hal called from the kitchen. He came back to the workroom.

 

"Can you make me another print of these two photos?" Frank said.

 

"Sure thing, but what the hell for?" Hal asked.

 

Frank jabbed a fingertip at the girl who looked like Sadie and again at the man who looked like her uncle. "I'm pretty sure these two are Sadie and her uncle. Once we deliver this stuff, I'm gonna pay Sadie a visit, do a follow-up story..."

Literary Easter Egg:

 

The assault scene -- Inspired in part by a description of the death of the early Christian martyr St. Agatha, who was tortured by having her breasts torn from her body. But the main inspiration was a scene in "The Animatrix: Second Renaissence, Part 1", where a bunch of hoodlums molest and destroy a prostitute Mecha. As I wrote in a review I posted on imdb.com, this bit played like something out of the Flesh Fair in "A.I." (so I also posted a reccommendation for "A.I."!)

 

Chapter Seven: Moving On

 

Frank drove to the office of the *Independent* and dropped off his article and Hal's photos. Then while Hal haggled with the editor about the usable shots, Frank took his copies of the pictures and brought them to Sadie's apartment.

 

He had to knock on the door more than once before she finally came to the door.

 

"Oh, uh, Frank, hello," she said, with a very nervous smile.

 

"Hello, Sadie," he replied. "I was wondering if I could ask you something." He held the photographs under her nose. "I was wondering how your uncle and you happened to be in the neighborhood when Aubrey the Mecha got killed by a mob?"

 

"He had some business... I went along with him as an interpreter," she hedged, trying to avoid looking at the photos.

 

"In the warehouse district?! I thought your uncle was in polymer silk?" Frank said. "I want you to tell me the truth."

 

She dropped her gaze, avoiding the question.

 

"I want an answer," Frank demanded, his voice calm but firm.

 

A long breath sighed in Sadie's nostrils. "After we last spoke, I got so mad... I was yelling and screaming about how I'd lost you to some silicon whore. I guess I wound up saying more than I should. Because just today, Uncle Norbert asked me to come with him, there was something he wanted me to see. I didn't know. If I knew he would have that Mecha destroyed, I wouldn't have gone with him."

 

"Her name was Aubrey."

 

"But she was just a plastic doll!"

 

"Maybe that's so, but just because she wasn't made of the same stuff as you and I doesn't mean we can destroy things like her. She was a lot more decent and maybe even more pure of heart than someone who'd have her killed just because the fact that she existed made someone else angry.

Frank held out his hand to Sadie. "Give me back my ring."

 

"Frank, I'm sorry," Sadie pleaded.

 

"Listen, I remember you saying that you couldn't trust me because I'd been with a Mecha. I've got a similar problem: I'm afraid of someone who's relatives are Mecha-haters."

 

Sadie pulled in her lower lip. With the fingers of her other hand, she removed the engagement ring from her left hand and placed it in Frank's open hand. He closed his fingers on it and put it into his pocket.

 

He bent his head to her and tipped his fedora. "Goodbye, Miss Duvall," he said, and walked away.

He could feel his heart breaking inside his chest as he walked back to the car. Too bad it had to end so abruptly, but it was the last straw that broke the back of one very tired camel.

 

As he got in the car and started to pull away, he glanced at the inside of his arm, just below his elbow. He had to smile sadly to himself when he realized he'd have to have some cover-up work done....

 

@--'--   @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--

 

A week later, Frank had had Sadie's name covered up with a little extra work done on the rose: he had the stem lengthened and a large leaf covered up the scroll with her name.

 

About the same time, Fantine and Lambert had Aubrey's remains cremated. Fantine offered to give Frank the urn containing the ashes, but Frank refused. If he was going to have a memento of her, it would be his memories of being with her. He didn't have any pictures left of Sadie, but he did have one which Hal had taken of Aubrey and him, a picture he kept in a frame on his nighttable.

 

Six months later, Frank and Hal got a job offer from a paper in Chicago; they moved there, leaving Saskatoon and it's shadows behind...

 

@--'--   @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--

 

Frank would have other encounters with other lover-Mechas, but none of them ever took the place that Aubrey held in his heart. He still dreamed of her: dancing together on the moonlight, singing together, or making love on the back of the wind. He doubted any other woman would have him if they knew what he had been with.

 

Eventually, he stopped seeing Mechas after one wierd incident. Hal and he had been sent on assignment to Rouge City to cover a story on a party that had been going on in a suite in one of the hotels there for over two years, almost non-stop. Afterwards, on the reccomendation of a friend, they'd dropped in at Tails. Frank caught the attention of a red-haired Swedish made Mecha named Ingrid or Ingmar, who had also caught his attention, and he'd hired her for the evening.

 

They were in Ingrid's room, going full at it. She was a feisty model and he'd had to really turn on the charm since, for some reason, she followed a "hard to get" script, but now he was on top of her, just starting to penetrate her, gently, pausing between thrusts, a technique Aubrey had taught to him.

 

He was just starting to slide into her again, when she suddenly stiffened, her body shuddering like she was having a seizure. The giggles she had been emitting suddenly turned into guttaral grunts, buzzed over with static.

 

He was pulling out of her when he felt it: every hair on his body stood on end, from the top of his head to the hair on his pubis...

 

The next thing he knew, a bright light shone down into his eyes. He lay on his back feeling stiff as a board, an oxygen tube in his nostrils. His groin ached like someone had kicked him.

 

"He's coming to," an official-sounding voice said.

 

"Wha' happen'?" he asked, thickly.

 

"It's all right, Mr. Sweitz, you will be just fine," said a reassuring voice.

 

He looked up to find himself in a hospital emergency room. The reassuring voice came from a red-haired nurse-Mecha in a white uniform standing beside him amid the group of green-clad medical techs.

 

"What happened?" he demanded, trying to sit up.

 

The nurse-Mecha pushed him down gently, as a young man who appeared to be the ER doctor came forward. "The lover-bot you were with malfunctioned: something in her vaginal simulator shorted out. Good thing you pulled out when you did, or else you'd be worse off than you are. You just have some second-degree burns and some of your pubic hair was singed off."

 

Frank closed his eyes, knowing his face was going bright red with embarassment. But he looked up and saw the nurse's eyes looking at him, utterly free of judgement.

 

@--'--   @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--

 

A year later, he sat in the garden of the Benedictine convent where his granfather worked as a gardener. His chest ached a little from the wound he'd recieved during the last foreign assignment he and Hal had covered, this time in Beijing, China, covering that country's parlimentary debate over whether lover-Mechas should be admitted to that country. Pro- and anti- Mecha demonstrations in the streets had turned rowdy and erupted into street-fighting. Several American journalists -- including Frank -- had been targeted by enraged anti-Mecha protestors. One of these, armed with a knife, had stabbed Frank several times in the upper chest, but by some miracle had missed hitting a vital spot. The wounds were closing, and he was on leave, but he still felt stiff and sore.

 

As he sat there on the bench, sunning himself, he looked up to see a girl in her early twenties walking among the flower beds and bushes. The sunlight gleamed on her thick red hair...

 

The same color as Aubrey's hair....

 

The girl came closer and paused before a cherry tree in bloom, pulling down a low branch so she could smell the blossoms.

 

Frank felt himself smiling at her. Then she turned toward him, as if she had sensed something.

 

"Oh, I'm awfully sorry," she said. "Did I disturb you?"

 

"No, not at all," he replied.

 

"Are you a novice over at the monastery?" she asked, coming closer.

 

"No, I'm Rufus the gardener's grandson. I'm just visiting. Are you by any chance a new novice here?"

 

She dropped her gaze demurely. "Well, I'm still trying to find out if I have a vocation or not. My name is Bernadette."

 

"I'm Frank," he replied. He stood up as she came up to the bench and put out a tentative hand. He took it in his and covered it gently with his free hand. She had darted a glance up at his face, but she dropped her gaze, her face turning a sweet shade of pink.

 

He smiled at her, feeling his own face growing warm

 

@--'--   @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--  @--'--

 

Bernadette, or Bernie as her cousins the Connellys called her, found her true calling while she stayed at the convent, only that calling wasn't to join the order.

 

Frank started visiting with her quite often and she visited him and Rufus just as frequently. Soon enough, Bernie brought him home to meet her family. Bernie's guardian, her uncle Peter Connelly, welcomed Frank and gladly gave the young man permission to court and marry the young lady.

 

Six months later, and almost a year after they'd met, Frank and Bernie were married. But, at their first night together, she felt terribly skittish and wouldn't let him come near her. Bernie had somehow found out that Frank was no longer a virgin, and she still was. She persisted like this for three nights, but Frank took it in stride, remembering how scared he'd been his first time.

 

So on the fourth night, Frank sat down beside Bernie and told her about his own first time, with a very charming lover-Mecha named Aubrey. Maybe she was a much more adept lover than some women, but she couldn't bond with him or bear his child, something Bernie wanted to do for him. Maybe the purpose her creators had built her for wasn't completely right, but she had served some good: she had shown him how to be gentle with a woman, so he could help Bernie now that it was her first time, with her husband: him....

 

 

THE END... and The Beginning...