The Prototype Ch 02

Now, for the second chapter... (Both Amy and Bailey are over 21...you know, the people who evaluate these stories can be picky, so I'm just throwing that out there) Anyway, on with the story!

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While Amy soaked in the tub, Bailey couldn't tear his eyes from her, but his mind was on the computer that had made her real for him. Of course, Kit Daniels had to have known what his prototype was capable of. Was this what he had created it? So, when the prototype was returned, Kit would most likely know what Bailey wanted to ask before he even finished the question. Bailey feared, however, what the man's answer would be.

Amy sighed as the water cradled her, soothing a soreness she'd never felt before, but it was such a delicious soreness, and well worth it. Having only been created today, she still had a lot that she wanted to experience. Through eyes that were barely closed, she viewed Bailey as he sat there, his mind adrift. It wasn't difficult to figure out what he was thinking about. Even if she did see him again, even if she was able to keep her memories of their five days together, she would still be stuck in the same darkness she'd been created from, stuck there for however long it took for the ones who had created this prototype to gather their results. The darkness of that place frightened her, almost as much as the thought that once the creators were finished with their examinations of the prototype, they might just erase her from existence. It was hard to fathom, even for her, that she could possibly just be gone as if she'd never been there.

Bailey glanced at Amy and noticed that she seemed tense, afraid.

"You're thinking about what happens at the end of the five days, aren't you?"

She opened her eyes and answered, "Yes. I'm scared."

"I'm hoping that Mr. Daniels will agree to bring you back to me. I don't care about computers or anything like that."

"I'm scared of the darkness."

Puzzled, Bailey repeated, "The darkness..."

"While I was on the screen, it was all around me, except for a window through which I could see you. When they take the prototype, they'll unplug it, and there will be nothing but darkness."

Bailey tried to imagine being trapped in pure darkness, unable to escape, unable to do anything, lacking a physical form. Trying made him shudder. Then he remembered something Kit Daniels had said about any questions he had. He stood up suddenly, and Amy looked up at him quizzically.

He excused himself, "I need to make a call real quick. I'll be back in a minute."

He picked up the phone before realizing that they hadn't given him a number to call. He looked around, and his eyes settled upon the advertisement. Reading the number off of it, he dialed, and waited while it rang. A man picked up on the other end.

"Mr. Kingman, how are you?"

Bailey hadn't even introduced himself, but the man seemed to know exactly who had called. He stammered, "Um, yes. Mr. Wicket?"

"One and the same. What can I do for you today?"

Bailey hesitated, and then asked, "I'm wondering...what happens to the prototype while you're testing the results?"

"We'll just gather the information from it, and it will sit in a clean room until the results are determined."

"What about after the results? What will happen to the information on the prototype?"

"I imagine that all the information will probably be erased once the results are determined."

Bailey's mouth went dry. That meant that Amy would be erased.

"Once the test is over, instead of getting another of the same model, would I be able to get this one back, hopefully with nothing erased from it?"

Mr. Wicket was silent on the other end for a moment, and then he replied, "I would have to ask Mr. Daniels about this. Unfortunately, he is away on business for a few days, and unreachable by phone at this time. However, when he returns, I will be sure to ask him for you. I'm sorry I can't answer your question right now. Is there anything else?"

Bailey sighed, "No, thank you," and hung up the phone. For about five minutes, he could only stand there, his hands gripping the counter tightly to keep steady.

Amy heard Bailey's side of the conversation on the phone, and no longer felt like soaking in the tub. She stood up and grabbed a plush, light blue body towel from the towel bar on the wall, dried off quickly, and walked over to where Bailey stood, his hands gripped so tightly on the counter that his knuckles had turned white. He stared intently at the counter as if the meaning of life could be found somewhere inside the flecks of gray and gold. He started when she slipped her arms around him.

"They're going to erase me, aren't they?"

Bailey didn't immediately answer, but his lack of a reply was answer enough for her.

He suddenly turned to face her, "They can't erase you if I take you from here. We can just run, find somewhere where they can't catch us."

She simply shook her head, "No. I wish it were possible, but it just isn't. With such advanced features, they wouldn't just hand it over to you unless they knew that, if you were to run with it, they could effectively stop you. Then we both would cease to live."

"Then what are we going to do?" Bailey was frustrated at his helplessness.

She took his hands in hers, "We can make sure that the next four days are something special."

Since she was unable to travel more than fifty yards from the prototype, Bailey ordered food from a Chinese restaurant to be delivered. The delivery boy almost dropped the food when Amy answered the door in nothing but the towel she'd dried off with. Bailey paid the poor kid for the food, and Amy blew him a kiss as she closed the door.

"Kid almost had a stroke right there on the spot," Bailey laughed as he grabbed two plates from the cabinet.

Amy, however, had already set the table quite elegantly, complete with a small candelabra that held two candles, both lit. She grinned mischievously back at Bailey.

"Straight from this neat little catalog I saw online," she gave as an explanation as she began serving the food from their respective cartons. Bailey put the plates back and then went over to the table, slipping his arms around Amy. She set the container down and pressed back against him suggestively, wiggling her butt against his groin.

"How about dinner first?" she smiled back at him, "Dessert comes after."

He pulled her chair out for her, and then took his seat across the small table from her.

As they ate, they kept the conversation light. Amy did most of the talking, while Bailey simply enjoyed listening to her, occasionally taking bites of the cashew chicken on his plate.

"Is your food okay?" she suddenly asked, "You've hardly touched it."

"Oh," Bailey remembered his food, "Yeah, it's fine."

"You better eat your food, mister, or no dessert."

"I guess I do need it if I'm gonna keep up with you."

He began eating, and she had a second helping from her container, obviously liking the spicy beef and vegetables.

Then she picked up her wineglass, and he was hardly surprised that it was full of red wine, as was his, though neither glass had been full when he sat down. She took a sip of the dark wine, savoring the taste.

Bailey finished his food, decided against a second helping for himself, and watched this wonderful, irresistible woman sitting across from him. He gazed at her as she speared a piece of spicy beef and plucked it from the fork with her teeth. He watched as she chewed it with great contentment, as she swallowed it, the muscles in her delicate throat moving. And she watched him watching her.

"You do realize the effect you're having on me, watching me like that," she put her fork down on her now empty plate and smiled at him seductively.

"Oh? What effect is that?"

"Your dessert is getting nice and hot."

She stood up and dropped the towel, and he removed his shirt as he followed her into the bedroom, and then just gaped in wonder. His bedroom was drastically different. Instead of his bed, there was a large hot tub. Instead of his dresser, which usually stood opposite the foot of the bed, there sat a massage table with trays underneath holding several different bottles of oil. The light that usually came from a lamp on a nightstand next to his bed instead came from several rows of indirect lighting, all set on dim. Unfazed by all of this as Bailey was, Amy hopped up onto the massage table and waited for him.

"If you hadn't already proven otherwise," Bailey laughed, "I would definitely say I was dreaming."

He walked over to where Amy sat on the table. She lay down on her stomach, and he inspected the oils displayed on the trays. Selecting an exotic looking bottle, he squeezed a fair amount of vaguely red oil into his hand. A faint aroma hit his nose, a sweet, slightly heady smell that he couldn't place. He rubbed the oil in his hands and could feel the oil warming up, and then a tingling. He pressed his hands to her back, up near her shoulders, and began massaging.

"Oh, wow," she breathed, "It tingles."

Bailey kneaded at the muscles in her back, working the stiffness from them, rubbing the oil in. Using more oil, he moved down her back, finding a knot here or there, massaging it out, taking pleasure from her pleasure. He went from her back, to her arms, to the full roundness of her buttocks, working the oil in thoroughly, and then down her smooth legs, one at a time. He took his time, enjoying the feel of her shapely thighs, calves, and her slender ankles. Once she turned over, he continued, massaging the soles of her feet, receiving appreciative sighs and groans from her. Up from her feet, up the fronts of her legs, her hips, to her taut stomach, easing up on the pressure. He spent plenty of time massaging her breasts, using plenty of oil on the creamy flesh of each globe.

"You missed a spot," she grinned and spread her thighs a little for emphasis.

"Is it safe for that?" Bailey asked, looking at the bottle. The writing on it was in a different language.

"It was made as much for that as anything else."

He squeezed some more oil into his palm, rubbed it in his hands, and began massaging it into the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. Then, bringing his hands closer to her center, he eased up on the pressure, and rubbed his oily hands along her outer labia, bringing from her more sighs and moans.

"Keep going," she purred, "it was made especially for this."

So, using his fingers to spread her open, he rubbed it along the folds of her inner lips, which were already becoming well lubricated, and then, after getting a little more oil on his hands, slipped a finger inside her.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, her eyes wide, "Oh, wow! That feels incredible. My whole body is tingling!"

"What's in this oil?"

"It's an extract of some rare plants, they're said to be an extremely powerful aphrodisiac. I believe it!"

She gyrated her hips as Bailey moved his oil-covered finger inside her, her vaginal walls gripping his digit tightly.

"I'm getting so hot right now," she admitted, "I might cum if you keep doing that."

Bailey decided to test her admission, adding a finger, and she began lifting her hips as his fingers slid into her.

"Do it faster," she pleaded breathlessly, and he obeyed. Within a minute, she felt the pressure building up inside her, more and more, until she was gasping, humping against his busy fingers as she climaxed, and then again, never having quite come down from the first before the second hit her twice as hard. Her butt was completely off the table with the rush of the second climax, and she had to stop him before she fainted from the overwhelming pleasure. She lay there for a few minutes, catching her breath, and then sat up.

When she was sure that her legs would hold her, she slipped off the table and had Bailey undress and lay down on the table. She then climbed atop him, straddling his thighs, and, after squeezing a generous amount of the oil onto his back, began massaging, noticing that there were an abundance of knots and tight muscles. Bailey could feel the oil heating the skin of his back, and the heat, combined with Amy's fingers, worked out knot after knot in his back. She massaged his neck next, and he felt himself relax a little more with each tense muscle that she massaged out. She massaged back down his back, and to his buttocks, the backs and outsides of his thighs, calves, ankles, and down to his feet. When she pronounced herself finished with the back, he flipped over, finding that it took a little more effort to do so. She followed the same path he had followed on her, using plenty of oil. After she finished with his chest, she applied more oil, and took his flaccid member in her hands, and he immediately felt the tingle as the oil saturated the skin. Combined with the heat and her hands, it took little time to grow hard. She used both hands, one on his shaft, working the oil in, and the other on his testicles, doing the same.

The sensations of the oil were unbelievably intense. Amy had him stand, which proved to be even more difficult than rolling from his stomach to his back. She led him to a plush, black leather lounge, pushing him down onto it, and then straddled him again. She settled onto his erection, and then pushed down, and in he went. They both gasped, and Amy almost climaxed right then. Then Bailey lifted his hips, pushing himself further inside her, and she did climax.

"I'm... oooohhh, oh-mi-god, oh shit! OHHHHH!"

She writhed as she rode him, feeling as if every nerve in her body had come alive from the potency of the oil. Luckily, as little white dots were shooting across her vision, he groaned, and she could feel his member throbbing, and his seed as it exploded into her, and then more and more. Finally, he was done, and she trembled, quite sated. She lay on him, not yet daring to move any more than that.

When both of them could stand on their own, they eased into the steamy water in the hot tub, feeling the heat of the water slowly sluicing away the potency of the oil. Bailey was already feeling as though he might doze off. He forced his eyes open and looked over at Amy, noticing that Amy's eyes were drifting shut as well, and her face appeared to be completely relaxed. Unfortunately, slicing easily through the haze in his mind, his worries came back. If it came down to it, and there was no other way to save Amy from being erased, what would he do? Would he risk everything? If he had no other options, would he steal the prototype and, with it, help Amy retain her freedom, her whole existence? Before he could even wonder if he were willing to go that far, a strong, sure voice answered from somewhere in his head, Yes!

The sound of the voice startled him; his eyes shot all the way open from their half-closed position, and he jerked in the water. He looked again at Amy, who had dozed off, her arms stretched out on the sides of the hot tub. Nodding, he realized that the unexpected voice was absolutely right. He was in the company of a woman who had, upon her appearance on the monitor of the prototype, far surpassed any woman that his fondest fantasies could ever produce. How could he not go to any lengths to protect this woman? Despite the fact that only five minutes ago he had been about to doze off, he was suddenly enervated, energized. He sat up in the tub and watched Amy as she continued to doze, her hair slightly curled from the steam, her cheeks rosy from the heat. How could anyone, upon meeting this amazing woman, even think of erasing her from existence as someone would do with a useless file? It was unfathomable!

The exciting tingle from the oil had dissipated with the relentless movement of the hot water, leaving only a satisfaction from such pleasure, and a barely noticeable throbbing in her nether regions from the nearly overwhelming orgasms. Even as she felt herself dozing, she sensed something powerful from Bailey. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck tingle...in fact, every hair on her body, down to the tiny hairs on her stomach, lifted. It was as if she had been right next to a spot where lightning had struck. She tried to recapture the feeling she'd had prior to that odd energy surge, the lazy feeling, but then she felt Bailey sit up in the hot tub, and she opened her eyes a little. He appeared to be lost in thought.

"Care to share your thoughts?"

The faraway look in his eyes faded and he looked at her, "I'm not going to let them take the prototype. If they do, they'll erase you. I won't let them do it."

His words frightened her. The look in his eyes frightened her, for she knew that he meant every word.

"We can try to make them see reason," she pleaded, "We can explain to them what is happening, try to convince them that they can't erase me."

Bailey shook his head, "Don't you see? They have to have some idea what this prototype is capable of...I mean, they did create it! I don't think it'll matter to them one way or another. I don't think that Mr. Wicket even intended on asking Kit my question. I can't lose you, and if I turn over the prototype, and you, they'll erase you without a second thought."

Amy sat up in the hot tub, "Maybe we can talk to Kit in person. I don't think that they'll let you get very far if you try to run. With the capabilities of the prototype, I believe that they would go to any length to protect their investment, even if it meant killing you. And then not only would you be dead, they would probably still erase me. Besides, even if you take the prototype, it will have to be turned off, and I'll be locked up in the darkness. I won't even know if you're still alive until either you turn on the prototype or they do."

Bailey listened to her argument, a coldness forming in the pit of his stomach as he realized that she had several good points. But, Damn it! He wasn't just going to hand over the prototype knowing that they'd just erase her as if she'd never existed! He couldn't, even if it meant his own death. He would have to speak with Kit. He got out of the hot tub, toweled dry, and got dressed. Amy followed, worried, but not wanting to nag at him.

Bailey, finally dressed, turned to an obviously concerned Amy, "I'm going to try and see Kit. I'll be back soon, okay?"

She nodded, sighing, "Okay. Be careful, please."

Bailey pulled up in front of the warehouse, the one that, upon his first visit, had seemed exactly like the disused warehouses around it. However, this time, the warehouse loomed, larger than the others, more malevolent because Bailey knew what lay inside. He knocked on the door and waited almost five minutes before knocking again. He was disheartened, but not exactly surprised, when Mr. Wicket answered. Mr. Wicket, on the other hand, was more than a little confused to find him there.

"Mr. Kingman? Is there something you need that you felt you were unable to ask over the phone?"

"Yes," Bailey took a deep breath, "I'd like to see Mr. Daniels."

Mr. Wicket cleared his throat, "I'm afraid that Mr. Daniels is still away. Is there something that I can help you with?"

"When will he be back?"

"I'm not exactly sure. If the meeting he's attending is going well, then perhaps we'll see him in a day or two. If not, then I don't think he'll be back before next week."

Bailey lowered his head, thinking for a minute, and then looked back at Mr. Wicket.

"I've created something using your prototype...something I'm highly...fond of. Were you able to ask him the question I discussed with you over the phone?"

Mr. Wicket hesitated, "Um...no, I wasn't able to reach him."

"Listen," Bailey chose his words carefully, "It would do me a great disservice for you to erase...my creation. I really need to know...when you get your results, is it entirely necessary to delete the data on the prototype?"