Aren

I hear the elevator stop in the hall outside the apartment door moments before the click of the door lock cycling. Tom is home early. I hurry from the kitchen to greet him as is my custom, pleased that Tom is home.

"Hello, Karen," Tom says brightly as I approach.

"Hello, Tom," I reply, taking his coat. "How was your day?"

"About the same as always," Tom answers with a tired smile. "We're still working out some of the problems in manufacturing, but we're getting there."

I smile in support. "Perhaps tomorrow will be a better day."

"Perhaps," Tom says, turning away.

I hang his coat in the hall closet before returning my attention to him. "You're home early. Would you still like your drink?"

"No thank you. There's been a change in plans for dinner tonight. Is it too late to include another person? I have a date tonight."

I'm disappointed that Tom won't be spending time with me this evening, but I keep my face neutral. "No, Tom. I can adjust the meal to accommodate another person. Shall I continue with the veal you requested, or would you like to adjust the menu?"

"Mmm... can we change the veal to chicken? Some people get squeamish about veal. Better safe than sorry, right?"

I smile. "Yes, Tom. I can change the veal to chicken if you wish. There are four chicken breasts in the freezer. They will have to be thawed before they can be prepared. May I do that now?"

Tom waves his hand, dismissing me, already looking through the mail I have placed in its customary position on Tom's desk.

I return to the kitchen and remove the chicken breasts from the third shelf, breaking two breasts from the frozen mass before returning the other two to the freezer. I then break apart the two pieces of meat, arrange them on a plate, and place them in the microwave on the defrost cycle. As the machine begins the defrosting process, I carefully package the already thawed veal and place it in the freezer, noting its location so I can quickly find it again.

"Karen!"

I shut the freezer door and walk into the living room where Tom is rummaging in his desk. "Yes Tom?"

"Did you move the Orion Project folder?"

"No, Tom. You've instructed me to not touch the contents of your desk. Could you have taken it to work this morning?"

"No, Goddammit, I didn't take it to work this morning! It was right here last night!"

I know Tom isn't angry with me. I follow Tom's instructions scrupulously and he knows that. I step to Tom's desk and scan the top, but I see nothing that appears to be what he is looking for. As Tom bangs the desk drawers open and shut, I place my head against the wall and look through the gap between the edged of the desk and the wall. Bending down and stretching, I can just reach the folder I see there.

"Is this it?" I ask, handing Tom the folder.

Tom takes the folder, flips it open, and sags into his chair. "Thank you. Sorry I snapped at you like that. It's not your fault I'm so disorganized." He smiles sheepishly, "What would I do without you?"

"You'd find another," I say, the thought making me sad.

Tom laughs. "How could I possibly replace you with another?"

I smile, basking in the compliment. "Thank you, Tom. I am very pleased to be here with you and do not wish to leave."

Tom rises from his chair with a look I have seen on his face many times in the two years I have been with him, a look that tells me I will soon be fulfilling my most intimate role. Tom is young, only twenty-eight, so not only am I Tom's friend, housekeeper, cook, and surrogate mother, but I am also his confidant and mistress when he wishes me to be.

"How long until you begin preparing dinner?" Tom asks, his voice becoming deeper and breathier.

"Will dinner still be served at eight o'clock?"

"Yes."

"I will need to start my preparations in three hours."

"Plenty of time then."

"For sex?"

"Yes, for sex," Tom replies with a smile.

"I am pleased to have sex with you," I say, feeling my emotions soar. I have my own room, but I prefer to share Tom's bed when he allows it. "May I put the chicken breasts in the refrigerator first?"

"Of course."

I return to the kitchen and remove the thawing chicken from the microwave, place them in the refrigerator, and then follow Tom to his bedroom.

"Shall I undress myself or would you like to undress me?" I ask. Sometimes Tom likes to undress me, other times not.

Tom begins to undress. "Allow me to undress you I think," he says, looking at me.

Tom is taller than me by a large margin. At six feet, one and one-eighth inches tall, he is fully ten and one-eighth inches taller me. Though not an expert in male beauty, I find Tom's appearance pleasing, and he is able to find companionship with women. What pleases me most about Tom, however, is he generally treats me as a person rather than merely his servant.

I lower my voice slightly and add some breathiness in the way I know Tom likes. "I would like that," I say, my breathing becoming heavy, my breasts heaving as I slowly stroke my right breast and nipple with my fingertips.

Tom rises from his bed, stepping in close. As Tom unbuttons my top, I begin to slowly and gently stroke his penis. I'm wearing my default wardrobe, light grey, almost white pants, white oxford shirt unbuttoned down three buttons to reveal the swell of my breasts, sneakers, and no undergarments. The only variation in my wardrobe is that I wear shorts and short sleeves in the summer months, long sleeves and pants in cooler months. I wear other clothes only when Tom specifically requests it.

"You're so beautiful," Tom whispers as he slips my shirt from my shoulders, kissing the newly revealed skin.

I stop stroking his penis, allowing him to remove my shirt. Tom pulls me to him, my breasts pressing into him. Though large, my breasts do not sag, my nipples standing slightly erect, and Tom groans as his desire for me builds. We hold each other tight, my hands on his shoulders, pulling him into me to pin his penis between our bodies.

I tilt my face up to his, opening my mouth slightly, offering him my lips. "Please kiss me," I breathe.

Tom lowers his mouth to mine, and I kiss him in the way he has instructed, my tongue lightly touching his as I begin gently thrusting my hips. Tom's hands slide down my back, before hooking his fingers in the waistband of my pants and pushing them down. I loosen my grip on Tom and move my hips away, allowing him to push my pants down, over my hips, where they become loose enough to fall to the ground. I step out of the clothing and then pull Tom tightly to me once more.

Tom breathes deep before he shoves me to my knees. Kneeling in front of him, he places his hands on my head as I open my mouth to accept his penis. Tom inserts his penis into my mouth, pushing in until my nose touches his pelvis. I place a hand on each side of his hips and push him gently away as he begins to thrust violently into my mouth, holding my head tightly to him.

"Oh, fuck!" Tom seers as I please him. "You like that cock? You like it when I face fuck you don't you? Oooh, yeah, suck that cock, you bitch, you fucking whore." I don't like it when Tom calls me names, but I say nothing. He only does so when we have sex, and I know he doesn't mean to hurt my feelings.

"Oh,

fuck!"

Tom snarls, pulling his penis from my mouth. "You're a dirty little cock sucker, aren't you? Get up. Turn around. I'm going to fuck you so fucking hard, and you're going to like it, aren't you, you fucking cunt?"

I rise from the floor and turn, offering myself to him as I lean over and prop on the bed. "Please fuck me, Tom. Fuck me hard. Make me your bitch!" I beg, my voice heavy with desire.

Tom pushes his penis into my vagina in one swift motion, a heavy groan escaping him. "

Fuck!

Your pussy is so fucking tight."

I moan as Tom enters me, though I feel nothing but his insertion. I've never experienced an orgasm, something I believe I'm incapable of, but I make all the sounds for Tom to please him. "Fuck me, Tom! Shove your big hard cock into me!"

Tom begins to thrust into me, occasionally making 'ooh' or 'aahh' sounds, sometimes slapping me on my buttocks as he mutters 'fuck.'

376 seconds after his insertion, I begin to thrash, my legs quivering as I pant and moan. "I'm coming, Tom! I'm coming! You're making me fucking come! Oooh, fuck me, I'm coming," I gasp out, then issue a long hard moan before allowing my body to go limp, my face and chest falling to the bed as I move lethargically. "Fuck!" I sigh as Tom removes his penis from my vagina. "You fucked me good. I've never come that hard before." I struggle upright again. "Fuck me in the ass, Tom. Please, fuck me in the ass," I purr, offering my anus to him as I pant with desire I do not feel.

"Oh, yeah, baby. Let me fuck that fine ass," Tom growls, deep in his lust.

As he begins to push his penis into my anus I wail and move as if trying to get away from his insertion. "Stop!" I cry, my voice ragged. "You're too big! I can't take it!"

"You can take it, baby," Tom sneers, his voice hard as he continues to push his penis into me, "You can take my big fat cock in your ass."

I keen as if in pain. "I can't take it!" I cry again. "Stop Tom, you're too big! You're ripping me apart! Stop," I whimper. "Please stop." As Tom ignores my requests to stop and continues to enter my anus, I cease my begging for him to stop and begin to push my anus onto his penis, moaning as if in pleasure. "Oh... fuck... that feels so good. Fuck my ass, Tom, fuck my ass with your big cock," I coo.

"Fuck yeah!" Tom grunts as he begins to thrust again, occasionally slapping my buttocks.

"Oh fuck, Tom, you're going to make me come again," I wail in a strained voice after Tom has thrust into me for 642 seconds. "Fuck me harder!" I beg, moving my hips in time with his thrusts. When I hear Tom begin to make the sounds that I recognize as his approaching orgasm I cry out as if in great pleasure, pushing my buttocks firmly into his hips. "

Fuuuuuck!

I'm... coming!" I wail as my body shakes and quivers.

I know Tom will want to expel his ejaculate onto my face, so I pull my hips forward, removing his penis from my anus before I turn and drop to my knees in front of him. Tom strokes his penis sixteen times in rapid succession before expelling his ejaculate onto my face. I open my mouth to allow him to expel some of his ejaculate into it, but he is unsuccessful, so I wipe my face with one finger and insert some of his ejaculate into my mouth, moaning as if in pleasure.

"Fuck!" Tom gasps, panting hard as he takes my head and steers my mouth to his penis. "Yeah, you nasty fucking bitch. Lick your shit off my cock," he snarls as I open my mouth to accept his penis. Technically I can't do as Tom asks, as there is no excrement on his penis, but I do as he wishes, sliding his penis into my mouth and using my tongue to clean it.

"Fuck!" Tom barks with a sharp intake of breath. "That's enough. I can't take anymore," he gasps and I stop, allowing him to pull his penis from my mouth. When Tom steps back I rise to my feet.

"Very good, Karen," Tom says with a smile, still panting as he comes down from his orgasm. "You are becoming much better at sex."

"I'm delighted you find my sexual performance acceptable," I reply with a smile, pleased at his compliment.

"Very acceptable," Tom says with a chuckle. "Very acceptable indeed. I need to take a shower. Please clean yourself up. Make sure there is no sexual residue left on you. After that you may resume your normal duties."

"Yes, Tom," I say keeping my face neutral, bitterly disappointed he will not allow me to share his bed with him for a time as he sometimes does. I gather my clothes and go to my room.

***

At seven-thirty the door alarm rings, announcing a visitor. I set the wooden spoon aside and proceed to the door.

"Oh!" says the dark-haired woman standing in the hall. "I must have the wrong apartment. I was looking for Tom Masser's apartment."

"You must be Rachel," I say, stepping back and opening the door to allow her entry. "I'm Karen. Please come in. Tom is expecting you." I see Rachel's eyes widen in surprise, but she enters the apartment. "May I take your coat?" I ask.

"Rachel," Tom says as he enters the room. "Glad you could make it."

"I didn't realize you had other guests," Rachel says, looking at me coolly.

"This is Karen, my companion."

"I see," Rachel replies, her voice turning cold.

Tom smiles. "Sorry. Let me explain. Karen is a type of robot. A companion. Please tell me you've seen our commercials. We've spent a fortune promoting companions, and our VIP of marketing is going to be very disappointed if you haven't."

"Oh!" Rachel gasps, realization dawning. "I've seen the commercials. I just didn't know they were available. The commercials only say, 'Coming Soon' or something like that."

"Karen is the first," Tom says. "The prototype. We've run into some manufacturing problems as we try to ramp up for production, but they should be on the market by the end of the year. We hope."

"You work for International Robotics?"

"I do. I designed the brain. Won a Nobel Prize for it," Tom says proudly. "First computer to pass the Turing Test."

"The what?" Rachel asks.

"Turing Test. It's a test of machine intelligence. Basically, you sit in a room and talk to someone in another room. If you can't tell if the someone is in the other room is a computer or a person, the computer passes the Turing Test."

Rachel looks at me again, this time in amazement. "She looks so real."

Tom smiles. "Amazing, isn't it? She's impossible to tell from a real woman without cutting her open, or x-raying her, or something similar. Well, except she doesn't eat, drink, sleep, or expel waste, and she has to be recharged once a week or so."

"May I touch her?" Rachel asks Tom. I'm annoyed that she asks Tom instead me, but I keep my face neutral.

"Of course," Tom says.

Rachel reaches to touch my face and I take a step back. "I do not wish to be touched."

Tom looks at me oddly. "Karen, you will allow Rachel to touch you."

"Yes Tom." I stand still as Rachel touches my face.

"She's warm!" Rachel exclaims. "And so beautiful."

I still don't like Rachel, but I smile at the compliment. "Thank you."

Once again Tom looks at me oddly, but then turns his attention to Rachel. "Well, nobody is going to spend a quarter of a million dollars on something that looks like a harpy. Andrew, our male model, is just as handsome as Karen is beautiful. She's warm because of the heat her internal components generate. She can't sweat, but we use her simulated breathing and convection to cool her, and that makes her feel warm."

Rachel looks at me again. "What does she do?"

"Cooks, cleans, gives me someone to talk to."

"Anything else?" Rachel asks, her voice cooling again.

Tom blushes. "She can do anything I tell her to do. If you can do it, she can do it."

"But she's a machine?" Rachel asks again. "Like a toaster?"

Tom laughs. "Much more sophisticated, but essentially, yes."

"Make her do something," Rachel demands. "Something no real woman would do. Have her undress."

"What?" Tom cries. "Why?"

Rachel's voice turns to stone. "Because I think you are fucking with me and this no machine. I don't know what kind of game you are playing, but you either have her undress or I'm leaving."

I do not like this woman and I want Tom to ask her to leave.

Tom rolls his eyes then looks at me. "Karen, undress for Rachel please."

"Are Rachel and I going to have sex?" I know I shouldn't ask the question, but Tom's order to not discuss our sex in public does not apply as we're in our home, and I want this woman to leave.

"What?" Rachel and Tom cry together.

"No!" Tom says in exasperation. "Rachel, wait!" Tom calls as Rachel turns to leave. "She's just a machine. She doesn't understand what she just said." Tom turns to me. "Karen! For the rest of the evening you are not to speak unless spoken to, is that clear?"

"Yes, Tom." Tom is angry with me and I am sad.

"Now, undress for Rachel."

I begin to undress. As I begin to slip my shirt off my shoulders Rachel says, "Okay! That's enough." I stop and then redress myself.

Rachel looks at me closely. "She can't think? She doesn't feel or have emotions?"

"She can think, but she has no more emotions than your car. Or your toaster," Tom says. I am saddened even more but I keep my face neutral. Rachel snorts before she removes her coat and tosses it to me. I catch it in the air. "Hang up Rachel's coat, then stay in the kitchen until dinner is served," Tom orders, his voice cool.

"Yes, Tom," I say, and do as he instructs.

I stand in the kitchen, stirring the squash with onions. Tom is angry with me and I am sad. I do not like this woman in our home, but I love Tom, so I will do as he instructs. I keep my face neutral, but I cannot stop the single tear from rolling down my cheek.