[Author's note:
Lily
has recruited
Kayla
into a new adventure. They have been given the
power of free will
, able to break through the fourth wall and jump from story to story, to go anywhere. After making a pact in the
Meta Cafe
they have escaped out of their own story worlds and into the unknown, determined to write their own endings.
But the Multiplicity contains breakaway stories and alternate endings. In Lily's universe,
Alena
succumbed to illness, leaving her husband Quinn devastated. In Kayla's mind-control universe, she is running her own PR agency (see the prequel story
Voice Assistant
). How many more familiar faces from
Wonderland
will our dynamic duo encounter?
This story is part of the
AI A NEW ERA 2024
Story Challenge. It's easy to tell AI from human, isn't it.
Isn't it?]
---
VOICE ASSISTANTS
Zara pummelled the button and finally the elevator doors closed. Gripping her phone in her teeth, she began to wind her expensively-coloured platinum-blonde hair up into a bun, securing it with practiced ease. By the time the doors opened on the eighth floor, Zara was immaculate in her crisp jacket and trim, knee-length pencil skirt. She'd opted for bare legs today.
She strode out into the little foyer and unlocked the glass doors of the media agency she'd been working at for the past year. Zara liked the work, after a bumpy start with Alena, her boss and the owner of the little company. Now, they worked together like a well-oiled machine, just the two of them, fending off clients' media disasters with a practiced ease that Zara wouldn't have believed she was capable of this time last year.
A lot of her life had settled into place in the intervening time. She'd gone on media training courses to learn the ropes; Alena had been good enough to bring her along on conferences too, really taking the time to bring her protégé up to speed, because that's what Zara had felt she'd become: no longer her boss's assistant but her dependable number two, trusted with even the most discreet aspects of the job.
Zara had gotten to know Alena's husband Richard too, when he sometimes accompanied them on a work trip, his business interests intersecting with his wife's on a regular basis. They would all have dinner together, and Zara liked being included.
It made up for the one missing piece in her life. The relationships aspect had fallen by the wayside as she busied herself with her career. It wasn't as if she didn't have the opportunity, since especially these days with her thorough gym schedule and yoga classes and access to a better standard of attire, she presented a desirable picture to the men she met. Alena had confided that that was the trick, though: the key to gaining and holding good accounts was partially about knowing your stuff but also about the presentation. Zara understood. She didn't screw the clientele, but she did dangle a well-shaped ankle.
In truth, with most of her time spent at client functions or on business trips, that meant she was currently still single. It was so hard to find someone to slot into the gaps, someone who understood what an ambitious young woman had to do in this city to get ahead. But, there would be time enough for that, and besides....
There was her little secret: she enjoyed the time she spent with her boss and also her boss's husband. He wasn't remarkable in either looks or body, but there was just something about him that made her tingle inside sometimes. She could see why Alena was besotted with him. On one trip, they'd had adjoining rooms; she'd heard Alena call out in the middle of the night and it had sent shivers up Zara's spine, tucked up in her bed in the next room, listening to Alena's husband bring his wife to a staggering orgasm. He might not look like much, Zara surmised, but he obviously had it where it counted. She hadn't been able to get back to sleep for ages, sliding her fingers deep inside herself, and then she'd slipped into a strange, vivid dream.
In the dream, the door had opened and Richard had walked in. She'd been quite unable to move, spread-eagled naked in the bed because she always slept naked these days. He had teased the sheet back, revealing her bare body, arranging her limbs carefully like she was a doll. He had been naked too, his erection standing proud as he looked down at her.
She remembered the feeling of needing him to enter her, an irresistible craving, and when he finally climbed onto the bed, her heartrate had spiked, her frozen pussy slick with anticipation. He had slid inside her and she had begun to cum immediately, over and over, triggered by each thrust, finally receiving the pleasure she'd been denied in real life for many months. In her dream, Zara had felt herself floating somewhere in white bliss as he slid into her, each movement triggering a fresh wave of ecstasy until her very will seemed to crumble and evaporate, letting herself be used for his pleasure. He had reared up, bearing down powerfully and she had felt him pumping his seed into her as she lay spread and motionless beneath him, accepting his cum, until he called her by that special name: fucktoy, and then everything had faded to black.
She had awoken in a tangle of sheets with the scent of herself on her fingers and a damp patch beneath her crotch. Spreading herself experimentally in the pre-dawn gloom, she had found traces of slick, milky discharge between her legs, as if somehow her own body had ejaculated. It had happened again, the same as last time. After a year without a boyfriend, a year without sex, she was back to having wet dreams. She had sighed to herself, cupping her mons and finding her way to the shower. She'd had to ask the hotel reception for fresh sheets.
Zara took a quick look around the office, then drew the blinds down to cover the glass door and the glass panels that admitted the view from the elevator lobby, like she did every Friday. She sighed, then went over to her desk, noting that it was still five minutes to nine. Alena would be in any minute now; she was always here at nine on the dot. Zara sat down and turned her laptop on, bracing herself for the day.
She knew that it was supposed to be a little bit of fun, that it was very team, but she hated dress-down Fridays. Reluctantly, she unbuttoned her jacket and slid it off her shoulders, revealing her pert, bare breasts. She opened up her email and began to skim the overnight messages while she reached behind and unzipped her pencil skirt, shuffling it down her bare legs. She folded the jacket and skirt carefully and walked over to the storage cupboard, placing them on a shelf there. She looked down at herself, sliding carefully-manicured nails under the tight white latex g-string she was wearing, making sure it was neat.
