The Future of Sex by Parker Aubrey

Author:Parker, Aubrey [Parker, Aubrey]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: EROS
Published: 2017-05-16T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIVE

The man in the dark blue suit eyed Chloe like meat. “Do you know how much I’m paying to be with you?”

Sitting on the bed, she shook her head.

“Nothing. You’re a freebie.”

The man paced a half-moon around her, raising one arm and then the other to remove an expensive-looking pair of cufflinks. He’d grown up poor. He’d made his fortune himself. But he’d done it before the NAU, before Mexico and Canada had merged with the US, before the parties had formed. So while he’d done things a modern-day Enterprise member would do, he’d done them back when such a person was called a “capitalist.”

Chloe could see it all, read it on his face and in his eyes and in the way he used his hands. A huge percentage of what a person said was communicated nonverbally, but Chloe had realized long before that she could read those silent words as if they were written on one of the screens above the city.

The man removed his jacket, draped it over a chair, then peeled off his tie before methodically unbuttoning his shirt.

“You’re so damn green, that they let me ride you for free. Usually, a fuck at a place like this will set you back a hundred thousand credits or more. They don’t want me angry, see. They figure I’ll accept a fuck as a fuck, and won’t be pissed off if you’re terrible because I didn’t pay. What they don’t understand is that for someone like me, a hundred thousand credits is a squirt of piss. I want to pay, because I know I’m getting something worth paying for. Someone poorer might clip coupons for pussy. But time matters so much more to my life than money. If you’re terrible, I will be angry, and resent O for insulting me with their little perk … a perk of someone not ripe enough for prime time.”

The man had an older sibling, probably a brother, who had bullied him mercilessly. He’d never had a girlfriend growing up, but had desperately wanted one. At least one girl had laughed at him in public, and Chloe had a sneaking suspicion he’d peed his pants (again in public) when she did. This event had earned him an insulting nickname that had followed him until he was maybe eighteen.

And, despite looking thirty, the man was at least sixty-five. Chloe could hear anachronisms and vocal inflections which belied his age. He looked around a room like a man who has spent far longer than three decades looking around rooms. Older men knew they were mortal, regardless of whatever insanely expensive rejuvenation treatments they’d been able to buy, and that awareness appeared in the way they took steps and absorbed their surroundings.

His arms and chest were cover-model lean and his face was handsome, but despite appearing totally natural, Chloe could tell it was all the work of nanobots. His muscles were too new; they lacked the subtle appearance of muscle maturity that a man of even thirty should have.

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