Author's note: Traumatised by being held hostage in the cafe siege, Chloe has chosen a new direction in her life. She gives up her steady boyfriend and stable job to seek out new thrills in risky encounters. Covalent has laid out his plans to make her disappear and Chloe finds herself spiraling deeper and deeper into his fantasy of total control.
The story contains themes of female submission, edge play and autassassinophilia. Discretion is advised: please check the story tags to see whether this a series you'll enjoy.]
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THE FUTURE IS BROKEN
The café is completely silent, except from the wet slopping noises I'm making. I look up at him as he stands over me, the tip of his gun in my mouth. I suck gently on the cold steel and he groans, his eyes locked on my mouth as I tease the muzzle with my tongue. Gradually, I draw the barrel into my mouth as far as I can, until it's touching the back of my throat, sucking hungrily on it, staring at his face.
"Good girl," says Kaylee, kneeling next to me.
I smile, as best I can, never taking my eyes off him. His eyes are lidded, his breath coming in shallow gasps and I know he's close. I begin to panic, slowing down, trying to keep him just on the brink. I don't know how long I've been doing this, but I'm absolutely certain that it's the only thing between life and death. I need to keep him on the edge, I need to buy myself time. I'm stealing precious seconds as I lick and suck, giving him what he wants.
He's close now, gritting his teeth as his face flushes. The steel is cold and unyielding in my mouth. There's no way out. He builds up to his release and all I can wonder is if I'll taste the bullet.
The alarm blares out and my eyes flutter open, adjusting to the light in the bedroom. I can feel the tangle of sheets around my limbs, the way my heart is hammering in my chest. I let out a howl, born of rage and frustration, slamming my hands against the mattress. It takes a full minute for my brain to start working properly again. It's not fair that he did what he did to me; it's not fair that he's continuing on with it, invading my dreams. It's not fair just how wet I am between my legs. That fat fuck has exited this world to dwell inside my head instead.
I want to take care of my need but I resist because there's something else now that I have to do. I swing out of bed and go through to the kitchen to find my laptop. I set the coffee machine to make me a cup and flip open the screen, opening up the secure network connection to the Kikster production systems. It takes me all of five minutes to find him. Within another two minutes, I have his feed history on screen, and I begin to scroll through it.
Within half an hour, I understand it all. I understand the part I've had to play in his demise, not just there at the end, with the stun grenades going off and Kaylee screaming, but before that in his bedroom for months and months as the Everything Engine gave him a steady feed of articles and videos. I close the laptop, slamming the screen down. All I can do is stare at it for a long time, an awful black feeling gnawing inside me. The coffee is utterly forgotten on the benchtop.
---
Travis stares at me all through the morning meeting. The boss is on the warpath, so I'm on the warpath because misery loves nothing more than company. After I allocate the follow-up actions and the meeting breaks up, Travis is waiting for me by the door. I'm wearing jeans as if to spite him.
"That was full boss bitch," he remarks.
I just scowl at him. His eyes travel down my body, stopping at my legs.
"You look better in a skirt, Chloe."
He flashes me a smile and it riles me.
"Drop it," I snap back, "And get out of my way."
He doesn't move.
"Do you really want me to?" he asks, a hint of amusement in his tone.
"I'll say this really clearly, I'm not interested. This is starting to look like harassment."
I give him a cold stare, but infuriatingly, he breaks into a grin.
"So you gonna call HR?"
I lean closer, dropping my voice. "I fucking could do."
His face is close enough to kiss, looking down at me with a condescending expression, not concerned in the least by my threat, goading me. I feel a little tingle way down in my stomach. It's been weeks since I last scratched my itch and it's always there in the background now. I've been taking matters into my own hands, but it's not enough. I need the real deal, not getting myself off to the porn clips that the Everything Engine has been presenting me with. His attitude twists something inside me that I need to resist.
"You won't though, will you, Chloe?" he murmurs.
"Take me through your thinking on that," I snap back at him.
"Oh, the fact that you replied to me on the dating apps, that you met me in the bar. Then there's the meeting room at work, the trips to the disabled bathroom. Looks pretty much like consent. It'd look pretty much like a sad bitch trying to take revenge on me after I dumped her for Harriet in marketing."
He actually puts a hand on my arm. I don't move. I seem to be frozen like a mannequin.
"But if you want a fuck, I can take you into the meeting room again. You'll book it this time, though."
He gives my arm a little squeeze and turns to leave. "That'd look plenty like consent," he says over his shoulder.
I'm left there, standing rooted to the spot in the empty meeting room. I'm furious, frustrated by his demeanour and my response, my cheeks flushed with a strange inescapable shame for having had the control taken away from me so easily yet again. But I can feel myself slickening between my thighs at the unbidden thought of Travis bending me over the meeting room table upstairs in private and sliding his huge manhood into me.
Instead, I get a drink of water from the kitchen and force myself to sit down at my desk and start work. I'm looking at the response patterns of the AI before and after the upgrade and, half distracted by my body's reaction to Travis, I suddenly see something in the data. I feel a flash of excitement, and the more I look the surer I am that I've finally found the reason why the Everything Engine has been going off track.
At that moment, my phone pings and I look down to see a message. It's from Covalent.
C: How's the day so far?
It's the usual light conversation starter from him, belying the challenging subjects that we've been discussing via chat ever since we met up. It's like there are two sides to him: the friendly face who is interested in how I'm going, and then the side that has offered to erase me from the earth.
R: Had another encounter with T. He's fucking me off
C: You said he's got a girlfriend. I thought it was over?
R: Me too. He wants me dangling on a string though
C: The best of both worlds
R: Yeah
There is a pause. I can tell he's thinking about what to say next.
C: I'm in the city today. Want to meet for lunch?
I stare at the words. It sounds like a friend asking me if I want to catch up. I know him well enough by now to know it's anything but.
R: Okay. One o'clock?
C: Sounds good. I'll meet you out the front of your office
R: That's it? No special requests of me? No directives for how I should dress?
C: You mean like T?
R: Yeah. Should I look a certain way for your viewing pleasure?
C: I like a woman in high heels
R: You think I'm gonna do that?
C: No way. I'm guessing you're about to tell me to get fucked
R: You read my mind. See you downstairs at one
He replies with a thumbs-up and then the chat goes silent. My attention drifts back to the screen. Should I tell the boss now that I finally understand what the Everything Engine is doing? I check the time: I have an hour before one o'clock. I get up from my desk and grab my purse. Fuck the boss's problems: I'm going shopping.
---
He's standing in the shade of a tree, watching the entrance to my building and I circle around him carefully until I'm right behind him. I wait until I'm close enough to touch.
"Hi."
Startled, he turns to see me grinning at him. I can see the flicker of confusion on his face before he locks it all down.
"Hi, Raven."
He knows my real name by now, he's done his research on me, but he never uses it.
"Hi Cove."
There is another flicker in his eyes. He hasn't given me his real name, and I have an intuition that shortening Covalent is just the kind of thing that would get under his skin. He chose: he could have just told me his real name. He frowns and then looks down.
"You're taller," he observes.
I stick my leg out in front of me. "You like?"
He notices my high heels. I just got them: skin-tone, pointed toe and four-inch stiletto heel. They're a challenge to walk in, but I like the way they look. It looks like I'm barefoot and elegant, all at the same time. I do a twirl for him, like a little girl. I don't know why, until I turn back around to face him. Those pale grey eyes are on me. However much he tries to hide it, I can see what I'm doing to him.
"Let's go to the food court," I tell him, and then head off in that direction.
I don't wait for him, but I check over my shoulder that he's following me. It feels good, flirting with him, seeing him off-balance as I lead him on. I don't look back, concentrating on putting one front in front of the other in my new shoes, trying to summon up every ounce of deportment so that I don't trip over in a heap on the concrete as I sway my hips. I can almost feel his eyes on my rear, in my tight jeans, teasing him. I know what I am to him: I'm his fantasy, almost. It feels good to be in control.
This is the thing: we've chatted online, we've met up once, and I'm beginning to understand more about him. He's a professional person, working in a job that he won't tell me about, though I know it involves travelling. I've concluded that he's some kind of corporate hired gun, a trouble shooter they parachute in when things are going badly. I like the idea that behind it all, he has this other secret life, these unspoken desires, and he's opened up to me. Do I want to be his fantasy? Would he be mine?
I've been doing a lot of soul searching. I like the idea of the risk, the abandoning of control, to become the thing he wants. More and more as I sit at my desk, I'm finding myself scrutinising my life and hating it. When I meet new people, there's always this moment when they realise who I am and then they change. What is it with the awkward questions? Yeah, I nearly died, but I don't want to talk to you about it, we only just fucking met.
It's always pulling me back to the moment in the café like I'm trapped, orbiting a black hole, waiting to fall in. My friends have said I need to go to counselling but what the fuck do they know? What do they know about me? That's the last thing I need. I'm going to work it all out my own way. I just need something different, that's all. That little brush with death has just opened my eyes to what else there is in life. Ditching Toby, moving out, meeting men, meeting Covalent is just a part of that journey.
The food court is open air, and we find a table on the edge, under the shade of a tree.
"Stay here," he tells me, "Lunch is on me."
I make a move to follow him but he stops me. "How do you know what I'll want?" I ask, confused.
"I don't. I know what I want."
I frown at him, but he's already walking away. Meekly, I find myself sitting. As I wait for him, I scan the crowd, noticing the people in smart casual business attire sitting down in twos and threes. There's a big accountancy firm across the street and as I watch, they filter into the food court for lunch. Near to me, a woman about my age, but blonde and willowy, waves as a strikingly handsome man approaches. He's older and seems preoccupied, and as they take a table, I can't help but think they make an odd pair. The younger blonde woman is animated, as if she's got news to share, while her lunch companion answers in nods or short sentences. I want to know what they're talking about.
Covalent returns, carrying our lunch. He sets down a couple of trays of sushi and two containers of orange juice.
"Freshly squeezed," he announces as he sits down.
