"I broke my cucumber already." Pam was looking playfully sullen behind her horn-rimmed glasses. The simulation had me at work again, but given how the last time had gone, I wasn't questioning why this time. She was wearing a cropped biker jacket with a Mercyful Fate t shirt cut up and pinned to the back, a spaghetti strapped tank top a size or two too small under it, cutoff jeans with the top button undone, and cowboy boots. It was clear she didn't have a bra on, and when she lifted her arms the jacket would shift open, showing the top was thin enough you could practically make out individual freckles on her skin through it, and her nipples strained against it. Not exactly normal going to the grocery store clothes, but just an extra slutty version of how she had dressed in real life.
Distracted by imaging how she may have broken the cucumber, I just said, "Oh."
She checked over her shoulder for anyone eavesdropping before saying, "I had it up my ass, and came so hard I completely crushed it."
Stunned, I repeated my earlier statement. "Oh." My cock was raging hard in my pants.
Her tone remained factual. "I had to get my whole hand up there to get it sorted."
"You uh," I took a deep breath, looking at the ceiling, "looking for help finding another?"
"No, I don't think they can really take the kind of use it's going to get, and I wanted to ask for something," she paused, "else."
"Something
else
? You said we weren't doing that."
"Still aren't, but I was hoping," her eyes tried to burn a hole in me, "you would let me cast it."
"Cast it?"
"Yeah. In plaster, so I can make my own." She had one of those grins she couldn't have hidden behind a brick wall.
The only woman in the simulation I had wanted an actual relationship with when I was a teen didn't want that relationship, but did want to hang out. She wanted to fuck me but wouldn't, and now she wanted to make dildos out of my cock so she could masturbate with them. For the first time I felt like the simulation was fucking with me.
"Please Johnny?" She pressed her palms together. "None of the ones at the porn shop were right, but they had these kits, and, just please?"
"Pam..."
Both her hands on the counter, leaning over it with urgency, she interrupted, blurting out, "When it's done, I'll let you watch me use it."
My cock throbbed. I scratched at the back of my head and said, "Yeah. Okay."
"Thank you, Johnny." She leaned further over the counter and gave me a kiss on the cheek. With a smile that was all teeth, she asked, "You work tomorrow?"
"I don't."
"Come over at ten."
"In the morning?"
"Ten in the morning. No more passing out on my couch." A short line was forming behind her.
"I'll be there."
She pointed at me and loud enough the people behind her could absolutely hear, she said, "Bring your dick." She turned to leave and saw the shocked face of the guy in line behind her and flashed me a faux embarrassed grimace as she left.
The night before Ms. June, my high school English teacher, confronted me about what had been happening over the last two days in the simulation. She had caught me in a few compromising situations and even watched me and my neighbor fucking through a window. It was clear to me she was getting some voyeuristic kick out of hearing about it, and I spared her few details. Recounting everything that had happened, I was tempted to confide in her that this was a simulation, and talk about my growing concern with the parts of it that didn't fit the pattern, but I did not. Ginny specifically was eating at the back of my mind, our encounter didn't fit my understanding of what the simulation was designed to do at all. All the other women I had been with in the last two days (and even Ms. June) I had some level regret for not acting on a crush or had felt rejected by when I was a teenager, and the simulation was trying to, "fix," that. I didn't feel any of those ways about Ginny, I barely remembered her from when I was a teen. She seemed inserted into the simulation just to fuck. I had no complaints about that but given that the message from the lab that I got while Ginny and I were having sex was the most alarmed one by far, the conclusion I came to was that breaking that pattern was bad.
After Pam left, the rest of my workday was uneventful, right until the end. I was working on shelving some returned videos when the squeaky wheels of a cart behind me suddenly stopped, and someone said, "Oh Johnny, I'm so glad you're here."
I turned to look, and it was Rhonda, my high school girlfriend's mother. She and I hadn't crossed paths since my first few hours in the simulation. "Oh hey Ms. Carter. How's it going?" She was wearing a not-too short black sundress with a floral design that clung to her thick curves. Her cart had six bottles of wine, and a meat/cheese/veggie party tray from the deli counter. I still had a half erection from talking to Pam, and knew already I was going to be that much more aggressive with Rhonda because of the frustration.
"I talked to Ginny." Her eyes sparked, and she ran a hand through the thick black waves of her hair, the grey streak in the front settling back in front of her eye. "On what she told me, I'm starting to worry that the twice a week you and I agreed on might not be enough." Her face flushed with lust. Although she was keeping up the pretense of blowing me occasionally to keep me away from her daughter, it was clear she meant twice a week wasn't enough for her. This wasn't her playing it cool, it was the same desperation she had the first time coming out a different way.
I played along anyway. "Well, with Ginny's help, I think it should be."
Her face showed a flash of annoyance. "I get that Ginny is... practiced, but this is my responsibility, Johnny."
Another shopper's cart rolled past behind her. When we were alone again, I took a step closer to her, and asked, "What all did Ginny tell you?"
She looked up at me, flushed again. "Enough."
Not breaking eye contact, I softly said, "You think you can compete?"
She nodded softly. "I can try."