The Non-Standard Man

Up on the fucking treadmill again, I half-listened, half-watched a newsmagazine on the wall unit in my bedroom.

"We go to our correspondent, Jayne Torres. Jayne?"

"Thank you, Allison. I'm here at the Crowne Plaza in downtown Washington where this year's 'Bot-Con is setting up. As you can see, we have the major manufacturers and retailers of pleasure 'bots, from Androdyne to Xerxes in attendance. There are multiple demonstrations of different 'bots capabilities, and for a fee, you can even try out the 'bots capabilities yourself. This conference is one of the longest running conventions in the country, opening tomorrow and closing this coming Sunday."

"What do you wear for golf?" said Andrew. He stood at the door of my closet.

"I have golf skirts and tops." I turned-off the television, climbed off the treadmill and moved over to the closet. Reaching in I pulled out a dresser drawer.

"Here, this and this will be fine." I held up a red golf shirt with a stand up collar and high cap sleeves, and a white golf slacks.

Andrew gave me a doubtful look. "If that pleases you," he said flatly.

I put my hand on his shoulder.

"You please me, Andrew."

"I have to bring in your breakfast," he said. He stepped sideways from me, moving away from my hand.

"Is there something wrong, Andrew?"

"No, Evaline," he said. But he refused to look at me. Andrew turned and left the bedroom.

I huffed. What was his problem?

I dressed and pulled out my golf shoes but couldn't find my golf cap.

"Andrew," I called. "Where is my golf cap?"

"What would that be?" he said, carrying in the bed tray.

"A covering for my head, with a brim."

"I may have tossed it. I didn't understand its function."

Something was off here. I wasn't concerned with the loss of an easily replaced cap. But it raised alarms that Andrew wasn't acting himself.

"Andrew," I said, putting my hands on my hips, "Why are you having such trouble with this whole golf thing?"

He put the tray on the bed.

"I don't understand."

"You've never had trouble finding or understanding the function of any of my other clothing."

He straightened and turned toward me stiffly.

"I can't know everything, can I?"

"Well, that's another thing. You always do."

"Well, I don't." With that declarative statement he left the room.

I sat to eat breakfast, a plate with bacon, eggs and toast.

Toast?

That did it. I marched back through the apartment, plate in hand, searching for my errant robot.

"Andrew? Andrew?"

I went through the rooms, admittedly not a large inventory, and did not see him. Worried now, I opened each of the closet doors. I found him the kitchen broom closet. It was a tight fit.

"Andrew! What are you doing in there?"

He blinked. "It seemed the best place for me."

"Get out of there!"

With a great deal of banging against the items in the broom closet, Andrew climbed out.

"Explain this," I said holding out my breakfast plate him.

He blinked.

"It is breakfast," he said flatly.

"I see that. Explain the toast."

"Does it not please you?" he said.

"Not the point. Up to now you've refused to serve me toast, because, as you said, 'Toast is empty calories, not returning enough nutritional content for the calories ingested.'"

He stared at the plate.

"Did I do something wrong?" he said.

"No, but you are acting strange."

"Am I?"

"Yes."

He stared at the plate again, and then straightened.

"I will endeavor to not to act strange.'' He jerked the plate from my hand and tossed it into the sink. The plate shattered.

"Excuse me, Evaline. I have to clean the mess."

I'm getting freaked out now. I have this fucking sentient robot that was acting weird. He wasn't human. This wasn't a hormonal imbalance that could right itself with time. What if he was suffering a malfunction? I'd be screwed then. Where do I take a broken sentient robot for repair?

He stood at the sink, gathering pieces of the plate. I moved to him, and put my hand on his shoulder.

"Andrew, please tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing is wrong," he said flatly.

"I can stay home. One Sunday without golf won't kill me."

He hung his head.

"Evaline, please. I just need time alone."

Alone? Yesterday he was practically begging for me to stay home and now he wants me to leave?

"If that's what you want."

"That's what I want."

"Call me, then, if you need anything."

He turned to me and his expression softened.

"If I need anything?"

"Yes."

Unexpectedly, he flung his arms around me and pulled me to him.

"I could not have a better owner," he said. Andrew released me and stepped back.

"You better get to golf," he said. "Your tee time is in an hour."

With that everything seemed to snapped back to normal. Andrew took charge again. He ushered me to the door.

"Your car is waiting, and here is a bag of clothes for the office after. Dinner will be ready when you get home."

Perhaps it was a small programming glitch that reset itself. This happened all the time with my friends 'bots. At least that is what they told me. They made little jokes about it, but I wasn't laughing now.

"Okay, Andrew. I'll see you this evening."

#

The sun was bright, the air was clear even though we were heading into the last days of autumn. I walked to the patio of one of most exclusive golf clubs of the Washington crowd. It always made me smile to be here. Evaline Rimes Shipley, the girl who ran the streets of Boston with her crew of adolescent juvenile delinquents, now walked among the Washington society.

I spied Liz sitting at the table with a man, his back to me. I waved to her, and she waved back. When I got closer to the table I recognized the back of the man's head because I'd seen it so many times before.

Roger.

Fuck.

"Hi, Evaline," said Liz.

Roger stood and gave me a peck on the cheek.

"Hi, darling," he said.

"I thought you were supposed to be at Saint Barts?"

He shrugged. "Plans fell through. Want a drink?"

At least that was reliable.

"I'm sure you've drunk enough for both of us already."

"Now, now, darling. What can I get you?"

"Orange juice."

"Just orange juice?"

"Yes."

He smiled. "Liz, want a drink?"

"I'm good." He got up and walked inside.

Liz smiled at me. "You don't mind, do you? Roger is such good company."

I plastered a smile on my face. One of the results of losing eighty percent of the world's men was that one was not to notice when your husband stepped out on you. We were supposed to share, like good little girls. That doesn't mean I ever liked sharing. I just couldn't say a thing about it, especially not to my biggest client.

I wondered if the situation was reversed, if men would be so generous.

"Of course not, Liz. Roger and I haven't lived together in years."

"Oh?" she said. "He mentioned he saw you the other night."

Really? He talked about that?

"The yearly thing," I said casually.

"Oh. This isn't a conflict of interest?"

Was she asking my

permission

?

"Because, you see, Evaline, I want a child."

Well, this was unusually honest.

"And Roger is willing?" I said. Disbelief must have crept into my voice because her expression changed to doubt.

"We haven't discussed it. Yet."

Meaning he hadn't fucked her. Yet. Good luck to that.

"Business is business, social activity is something else," I said. "There would only be a problem if I bought too much of your stock."

Roger came back and set an orange juice in front of me.

"There you go, darling," he said.

"Thank you, Roger."

He sat, his own drink in hand. His was orange juice too, with vodka, no doubt.

"What did I miss?" he said.

"Nothing important," I said.

"Who are we waiting on?" said Liz.

"I asked Lindsey to join us," I replied.

"Lindsey Talbot?"

"Yes, I thought it would be good to get to know her a bit before we moved into a business relationship."

"Are you able to help her?"

"You know I can't talk about the case, but possibly, yes."

"Good," nodded Liz. "There's no one better."

Hmph. That was quite the endorsement, seeing that up to to a few days ago she was talking advice from a Harvard Law student. But then again, she intended to fuck my husband, so I supposed she thought it was politic to be nice to me.

"There she is," said Liz, her face brightening as she waved over the pharma mogul.

I twisted in my seat.

"Who is that with her?" asked Liz.

Walking next to Lindsey was a young man that appeared to be in his mid-twenties. Another consequence of losing eighty percent of the world's men was that it was no longer a social stigma to date men younger than you. Just dating any man was a prize as long as he was of legal age.

As they grew closer, he looked familiar. I couldn't place why as I hadn't met Jason Wells. Then it hit me. His face reminded me of Andrew's. I shook my head. Obviously, I had android-on-the-brain syndrome.

"Hello, Lindsey," said Liz. "This is Roger Shipley. And you spoke with Evaline, Friday."

"Oh, Evaline. Nice to put a face to the voice," she held out her hand and I shook it. "And Roger, nice to meet you. This is Jason Wells. Jason, Liz Carruthers, Roger Shipley and Evaline Shipley."

"Wait," Lindsey said. "Are you two related?" She pointed to Roger than me.

"Married," said Roger.

"Guilty as charged," I said. "But Roger is Liz's guest today."

"Oh," she said.

In point of fact, Roger shared my membership in the country club, one of the perks of marriage. But I said what I did with a reason. I wanted to see her reply to my next question.

"Is Jason your guest?"

"Jason works for me. He is brilliant. I want him to meet new people."

"Jason needs no introduction. Jason, wasn't your mom Cicily Wells, from Androdyne?"

"Oh," said Lindsey brightening, "You have done your homework. Good. I'm glad we have this chance to get to know one another outside business before we get to work."

Liz's cell phone buzzed. "Sorry, got to look," said Liz. She frowned. "A text from my assistant. I have to swing by the office. You've got your four, so Roger, sweetheart, call me when you are done. I'll send the car around."

#

We paired up. Roger to Lindsey, me to Jason. But on the third tee, Roger flung his clubs into my golf cart.

"Our balls are fairly close together," he grinned. "Jason, catch a ride with Liz, will 'ya."

"Sure," said Jason. "Meet you in a few."

"There's nothing about us that's close," I said after the young man walked over to Lindsey's cart. "Balls, or otherwise."

"You didn't say that the other night."

I ignored him.

"I went back to Rolfo's," he said, "for lunch. The Steak Au Poivre isn't as good as what I got at your house."

"Did you waste Liz's money on that, or mine?"

"Oh, good one," said Roger. "But then you've always been a clever girl."

There was a branch laying on the green from a nearby stand of trees. I ran over it, on purpose, making the cart lurch.

"Hey!" he protested. "Watch the road. You'd think you've been drinking."

"Not a chance. I'm the sober one, remember?"

"Here's my ball," he announced. I stopped the cart. He hopped out and inspected it.

"Nope, that's yours."

I pulled the driver from my bag. "You sure that's my ball? I seem to remember it more to the left.

"Sure you haven't been drinking?" he said.

I walked to the ball and Roger grabbed my shoulders from behind and pulled me close to him.

"I've been thinking," he said. "Maybe I should move back in."

"You've got to be joking."

He gave me a kiss on the neck.

"Who knows? Maybe we stuck a bun in the Evie oven the other night."

"That's bad, even for you, Roger."

"You're right. I can work on the stuff I'm bad at, Evie. I can stop drinking. I'll control my spending, hell, I'll even give up the women."

This was feeling weird. This wasn't the Roger I knew and I didn't want to discuss this in an open place. I heard rustling in the bushes to the right, and I got spooked.

I leaned in to whisper in his ear. "But not the men."

"Hells, woman. Why are you so difficult? I want to give us a chance again."

"Where does this change of attitude come from, Roger?"

"I'm afraid for you, Evie," he said in a low voice. "I'm afraid of what that thing in your house will do. You know why we don't have them, right?"

"Yes, Roger," I sighed. It was no secret why sentient robots weren't allowed. While clever, they didn't, couldn't have the emotional attachments to humans that would keep them from being a danger. At a certain point they'd reason that humans were a danger to their survival. That is when they turned lethal.

"Yes," he said. "Despite Asimov, the logical contradictions in his three laws make them unworkable."

"Roger, I don't need a history or literature lesson. And I don't need a babysitter. Why don't you bunk with Liz? She tells me she's game. And she wants a baby."

"Play your ball," growled Roger.

So I did.

#

At the next tee I made sure Jason rode with me again. There was a job to do and I best get to it. But Jason wasn't make it easy to talk to him.

"Nice shot," I said to Jason, who landed his ball on the putting green.

"Thanks," he said, one of his many one word answers

After I shot my ball to the green, we climbed into the cart.

"So, how long have you worked for Lindsey?"

"Two years, since mom died."

"Sorry about your mom."

"Thanks."

We got to the green, and climbed out of the cart.

"Is that why you left Androdyne?"

He face screwed up in a frown.

"Because your work is brilliant. I can't see why Androdyne would let you leave."

"It's a free country, isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Besides, I worked with robots all my life. Since I could first sit, I fiddled with the things. It was time for a change."

"I recently bought an Andrew."

"Well, good for you," he said as he swung, and overshot the putt.

"Damn."

"His face looks a little like you."

He scoffed. "You mean he looks like my father. Mom modeled him after dad."

"Oh, that has to be weird," I said. After I lined up the long shot, and hit it, it rolled down the little slope. It sank into the cup.

"Damn right," he said, annoyance in his voice. "Listen, what is this conversation about?"

"I don't know if you've noticed, but your present employer and your old employer are about to to do legal battle over your work, Mr. Wells. So either we do this the easy way, or the hard way. I don't care which."

"You want to know if I stole Androdyne's legal property."

"To start."

"Well, keep wondering. I'm not telling you a damn thing." With that, the young man walked to his ball, and hit a chip in. This time the ball fell into the cup.

#

Lindsey accompanied me to the shower. I cleaned up and changed my clothes. She sat on the bench, after changing herself, to slip on her shoes.

"What you think of my boy, there," she said.

"It's hard form an opinion. He wasn't very friendly."

"Sorry, about that. I thought he'd talk to someone neutral. He's a bright kid, but he seems to have his issues."

"Kind of reminds me of someone I know," I said, more to myself.

"What?" she said.

"Nothing. I'll have to dig into his background. I hope you don't mind."

"Of course not. You know, he graduated MIT at eighteen. He should understand that you are only trying to help him."

"Do you have a few minutes? We can go to my office and take care of dotting the 'i's. Then I can proceed on your case."

"How about if I come to the office tomorrow morning on my way in?"

"Sure."

"How do you think this will end up?"

"I have more work to do before I can answer that. But trust me, I'll do everything I can for you."

"That's what Liz tells me. Thank you, Evaline."

"No problem," I replied. But what I wanted to tell her was not to thank me yet.

#

Roger rudely stood against my running town car. He smiled when he saw me.

"How about giving me a ride," he said.

"I thought Liz would send her car."

"I'm a big boy. I don't need Liz carting me around."

"So, you ask your wife to bring you to your lover."

"Jesus, Evaline. You are pissy today. Isn't your pleasure 'bot taking care of you?"

I rolled my eyes. "Get in," I said.

The driver shut the door.

"Where to?" I asked.

"How about your place?"

"That's not funny."

"I'm not joking."

"Okay, Roger, what is going on?"

He looked away.

"I got evicted."

"What? Roger! Not again. What was it this time?"

He shrugged. It was a little boy response to a big boy problem.

"I really should drop you off at Liz's."

Roger gave me an earnest look.

"I've had enough, Evaline. It is time I grew up."

I shook my head, looking out the window. Then I picked knocked on the privacy window and the driver opened it.

"The Crowne Plaza," I said.

"Which one?"

"Any of them."

"Evie!"

"Yes, ma'am." The window closed again.

Roger leaned into me, and kissed my neck.

"Roger, don't."

"What ever happened to, 'Roger, yes?'"

"Many things. They all have names attached to them, names such as Caroline, Mary, Jessica. And I have no clue as to the men's names. Get the picture?"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he whispered, sliding his kisses down my neck. He opened the top two buttons of my blouse, and stuck his tongue between my breasts.

"Roger, I'm not what you want," I said, though my fingers dug into the leather.

"I've always had a thing for you, Evie, regardless." He unbuttoned a couple more of my buttons, and reached around to unsnap my bra. "That does happen. But I'm glad there are no secrets between us now. "

He lifted up my bra, and lowered his head to a nipple. He licked it first, and pulled away, watching as it hardened from his attentions and the cold air in the car. Roger sucked on it then, and my eyes closed, as a white pleasure creeped up my spine.

"Stop," I said, though admittedly I barely breathed the word.

His mouth covered the other nipple, and he sucked it in, laving it with his tongue as I squirmed in my seat.

"You know what you were always good at?" he said.

"Yes," I whispered.

He put my hand between his legs to show me his hardness there, and I swallowed.

"When I think of that, that's what happens, Evie."

He unzipped my slack and slipped his fingers to my clit, make small circles around it.

"I know how sensitive you are there. It doesn't take much, does it, Evie, to make you cum."

With my nipple in his mouth, and my clit under his fingers, everything tingled, from the bottom to the top. My hips bucked under his hand, and he dipped his fingers lower to find my entrance slick. He pushed two fingers in.

"Ah."

"Oh, Evie," he breathed as his fingers explored my hole. "It feels so soft in there." His hand rocked back and forth, his fingers reaching in as far as they could, and I threw my head back, enjoying the rough intrusion in my most sensitive area. There was something so wicked about having a man's fingers reach up into you, scraping the tender walls.

He moved hand faster, and clamped his lips on my tit again, this time sending a sharp spear of pain through it. He sucked harder then, and pushed me over the edge.

"Oh god," I gasped. It wasn't the strongest orgasm I ever had, but as it washed over me it was warm and relaxing.

I opened my eyes, and found Roger smiling at me.

He put my hand on his hard crotch again.

"Now, sweetie," he said. He unzipped his slacks, and pulled his slacks over his hips, his cock springing free. He half lay back, giving me easy access. I took the base of his cock with one hand and pulled the shaft between my index and middle finger, my thumb running up sensitive underside of the head. His breathing hitched.

"That's good, baby, but you know what's best."