The Non Standard Man Ch 17

I admit it. I like kicking people in the teeth, especially people that do me wrong. Of course, I couldn't directly talk to Lindsey Talbot, even though technically she was my client. No, what I had Jason did would break several clauses in my employment contract with my firm, and could possibly lead to my disbarment for unethical behavior. But the way I saw it, there was a lot of ethical misbehavior going on and it was time to put a stop to it.

No one fucks with Evaline Shipley.

The first domino falling came in the form of a phone call from Tamara Shou. Her petite porcelain face with meticulously cut black bob and beautiful almond eyes puffed in anger, much like a cobra.

"What the hell did you do, Evaline?"

"Do? What can I do? The press hounds me morning, noon and night. I've had to hire security to keep them from my door. I can't go two feet out of my building being recorded. "

"You know what I mean, Evaline. Lindsey Talbot fired us this morning."

"Really?" I gasped in mock surprise. "That's awful. What did you do to screw that up?"

"Me? You know damn well—"

"Oh, sorry, Tamara. Someone's at the door. Must be the pizza man. Talk to you later." I clicked off the call, Tamara's shocked face fading from the screen.

"That was rude, Evaline," opined Andrew.

"Yes, it was," I agreed.

Roger opened the door to a figure dressed in heavy coat and a cap from the pizza place around the corner, the brim drawn low over his face.

"Hello, darling," said Roger happily. "Clever boy, you even brought pizza."

Jason pulled off the cap, his blond hair spilling on his forehead once again, giving Roger a bright smile.

"Had to make it look good." He handed Roger the pizza. "Just the way you like it. Pepperoni with pineapple."

"Oh god," I groaned. Sometimes Roger did have the most appalling taste in food.

"And I brought gifts from Lindsey." From inside his coat Jason produced a two long and flat containers each the size of glove box.

"She gave you the arti-skin." I was worried she wouldn't.

"And more. She was more than happy to get a copy of the formula for the regeneration lotion. We have our first test batch right here."

Roger gave Jason a kiss. "You are so awesome."

"Enough, we don't have the rooms for that." I said. "Jason, how does Lindsey feel about the rest?"

"She wasn't happy about that," said Jason. "But, Lindsey is willing to go along just as she puts it "to stick to that bitch Sinta Grant."

"And your mother? She gave us what we needed?"

"Yes, she told me where to find the information. I've sent it under encryption to your email account."

"Excellent."

Andrew took the pizza from Roger's hands and put it on the table. He brought out some plates and cokes for Jason and Roger. They ate, while I worked at the computer, the figures I generated flew into a spreadsheet pictured across the television screen.

Roger and Jason looked up from their pizza.

"That's some very creative accounting," Jason said.

"She learned it from her crime boss days," Roger replied.

I rolled my eyes. "I have nothing on Sinta Grant," I said. Andrew brought me a sandwich.

"You should eat."

"Hmm," I replied eyeing the numbers on the screen.

"Your formula isn't correct," he said. "You must have missed a cell."

"Oh yes, right. Thanks, Andrew."

"But what are you doing?"

"Comparing Androdyne's stated revenue to what it should be generating."

Jason eyed the sheet.

"The development costs aren't correct," he said.

"What should they be?"

He gave a figure.

"Break it down, Jason. Let's make this good."

"And materials," said Roger. "Let's not forget that."

"I'm working as fast as I can."

"I can do it faster," said Andrew.

"Oh, you can?"

"Of course."

Andrew sat next to me and took the keyboard. His fingers worked faster than mine ever could, and he didn't make mistakes. Before long, with Jason's input, we had a very credible document.

"Now, you're sure, Jason, Sinta knows nothing about your relationship with Roger."

"I was the one doing the spying, remember?" said Jason.

"Or Amanda Connors?"

"Jesus, Evaline. Like I'd tell that old witch anything. And certainly not that."

I stared at Jason. What could I trust about him? Apparently he told no one but Roger, Mister Trustworthy, the truth. But all this, what we were going to do, relied on trusting Jason to do his part.

"Okay then, Roger. Don't you have a phone call to make?"

"Yup. You'll need to get out of sight and hearing of the television screen if you want this to go right."

"Come on, Andrew, Evaline," said Jason. "Let's fix Andrew's skin."

We went in to the bedroom, and Jason snapped latex gloves on his hands, and took out the two boxes. In one was a scalpel. Andrew took off his clothes.

"Man, buddy. There's some real damage here. This isn't some ordinary virus. And there are needle marks here in the damaged area."

"Yes," said Andrew. "When I was in custody with the RIB they said they were taking samples."

"Bastards," said Jason.

"Save the damaged skin," I said. "We'll need that."

"I'll need something to put it in."

I went into the bathroom; looked through the medicine cabinet and then the towel closet. Finally I found an old travel kit stuffed in the back of the closet and an unused plastic jar.

"Got it!" I said triumphantly holding it out for Jason's inspection.

"Good. Sterilize it with some alcohol and bring it back."

I didn't even know if I had alcohol in my medicine cabinet, but by some precious grace there was a small bottle. I put some in, swished it around, dried it and brought it back to Jason.

Andrew stood stoically with his arms held over his head as Jason examined his body.

"We don't have enough for everything, but we'll do the worst places."

"Proceed, Jason," said Andrew.

"It will hurt," he said.

"I'm aware," said Andrew. "It is not pleasant now with that skin dying on me."

Andrew was right. Here, outside the shower the dead skin smelled putrid. But Andrew didn't have a sense of smell.

"Does it hurt, Andrew," I said, "where the skin is black?"

"I'll be fine as long as you are with me," said Andrew.

"Okay, buddy. Here goes."

Andrew didn't show any pain on his face though he shut his eyes from time to time as Jason excised the worst of the blackened biologic skin. He dug the scalpel in, and I winced as he cut and peeled away thick layers the dead cells.

"Here, Evaline, squeeze in the regeneration lotion. Yes, that's right. No, I'll spread it in. I have the gloves on."

Jason smeared the creamy liquid into the holes in Andrew's skin, then cut and fit pieces of the arti-skin into the cuts.

"How are they going to stay in?" I said. "Bandages?"

"No, bandages stick to the skin and could damage it. Do you have any Crazy Glue?" Jason asked.

"She has nail repair glue in the drawer in the vanity," replied Andrew.

"Nail repair glue?" I said.

"Same thing," Andrew replied. "Why don't you get it, Evaline?"

"Crazy gluing a robot." I muttered. Well, why the hell not. It was no stranger than anything else we were doing. Rummaging through the drawers I found the tube. Jason sliced off the top with the scalpel and applied small dots between the arti-skin and Andrew's skin.

"Evaline, blow on the repaired patches and help things dry."

"Really?" I said.

"Really," said Jason in a serious tone.

"That tickles," Andrew said.

"Oh, what do you know about tickling?"

"I saw tickling on a porn video."

"Porn? When did you see porn?"

"We showed him porn videos for instructional purposes," said Jason.

"You did? Perverts. So tell me, Andrew, why you haven't tickled me?"

"It didn't look like fun," Andrew said. "But if you think it's fun, I'll do it."

"Oh god," I said.

"There you go, forgetting my name again. What shall we do about that?"

"I'll go see what Roger is up to," said Jason with a wink.

"Don't-" I started, but Jason left the room in a flash.

"Get on the bed," said Andrew.

"Don't you, um, want to rest or something?" I said.

He shook his head slowly.

"I've told you not to make me explain myself. Now I will have to punish you."

I started to say something and then stopped. There was something in Andrew's eyes, something that said he needed this. I flashed on an image then; Andrew with Cicily in the lab at Androdyne. Cicily, his creator, his mother figure, did horrible, psychologically painful things to the robot, and Andrew not being able to stop it. He needed to control as much as I needed to relinquish power.

I gulped and lowered my head.

"I've been bad," I said.

"Yes," he said sternly which made me shiver. "Take off your clothes."

While I stripped he opened the closet door and brought out several of my long silk scarves. He stood over me, and turned me around roughly, pulling my arms over my head, tied my wrists together. Then he pulled another over my eyes and tied that too. It was a thicker silk than my other ones and I couldn't see anything.

Suddenly, I was lifted and dropped gently on the bed. He grabbed my hands again, and I felt a jerking as my hands were tied to the headboard.

"Now," he said. "You'll pay for the consequences of your behavior."

Something soft brushed against a nipple, and sudden shock of that whispery yet insistent contact made my back arch. I caught the scent of my face powder and realized Andrew was using my largest make-up brush as a tool of sexual torture.

"Oh, god," I said.

"What is my name," hissed Andrew in my ear as he tweaked the other nipple hard between his fingers.

"Andrew."

"What?" he said sharply twisting the nipple sharply.

"Sir. Your name is Sir."

"Yes," he hissed. "You are not to make a sound. Do you understand? Not a sound."

I nodded my blindfolded head.

And the torture started, first with my nipples as he swirled the brush over one hardened nub, and tweaked the other. Heat spread through me as the brush played over my body stroking one area sensitive, then leaving it to another. His fingers tickled and then poked and prodded, as my mouth gaped opened, and my breath came in ragged breaths. The brush played over my breasts, over and under, and then down my stomach, and in and around my naval, which shot sparks up my spine. I struggled not to make sounds. If one escaped, he pinched me hard where his fingers were. I was sure I'd have black and blue marks in those places. The brush stroked my mound, and as he swirled the soft brush tickled my clit, I bucked, my wrists straining against the headboard.

I was dripping, my juices seeping down my leg, and a little gasp escaped my lips as I trembled.

He pinched my inner thigh.

Now my hips bucked, begging Andrew to bring me to release. Instead he moved the brush to the soles of my feet. I did not know they were that sensitive. I couldn't stand the swirling of the brush on my soles. Shocks spread from them, up my legs, to my clit, up my spine.

But then the sneaky robot took his soft tongue to the soles of my feet, tip of it stroking the sensitive flesh, up, then between each of my toes. With a feather's touch he sucked my smaller toes into his mouth and dipped his tongue in and around them. Andrew stroked the bottom of the other foot with the tips of his fingers. I squirmed. He pushed my legs up and slapped my ass hard.

"Ah!" I gasped.

"No sounds!" snapped Andrew. Roughly he turned my body around, breasts pressed against bed, ass in the air. With one hand he pressed my legs together, with the other he swatted my bottom.

I gasped soundlessly, my mouth now formed in a wordless "oh" as he slapped my ass bringing it to a stinging heat. Oh fuck. My cream filled the space between my legs, sloshy and hot. My breathing was ragged now, and I needed him inside me.

"Have you learned you lesson? Speak, Evaline," he said harshly. "Have you learned?"

"Yes, yes, Sir."

He leaned over to my ear again.

"What do you want, Evaline?"

"Fuck me, sir."

"I didn't hear you. What do you want?"

"Fuck me, please, please fuck me, Sir!"

He spread my legs and filled me with his cock. There was no slow build-up, no tease at the entrance. He rammed inside me in a single thrust, and kept thrusting, hammering at me. My stomach clenched, the heat in my pussy and my clit colliding to build a single rush that exploded through my body.

"Andrew!"

He shuddered and slammed inside me a few more times. Finally, he fell next to me.

"Perfect," he said reverently. "You are so utterly perfect."

My hands tied to the headboard I lay there not knowing what to expect next. But then his hands were at mine, untying them from the headboard and from the scarves. Andrew rubbed my wrists gently, kissing them.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?"

"No, Andrew," I said softly. "You were amazing."

"How did I get so lucky?"

"No luckier than me," I replied. We lay there next to each other for a few moments. Finally I said, "Can I take the blindfold off now...Sir?"

#

Roger and I worked through the night getting everything ready. There were motions to draft and phone calls to make. The next day we sent Jason to the courthouse to file the necessary papers and for one last meeting with Lindsey Talbot. His pizza man routine worked very well to get him in an out of my building. That, it turned out was the easy part.

It felt weird to enter the offices of Connors, Shipley and Shou, like I was treading the hallways of my old high school during a class reunion. Everything was the same, but it wasn't. Gone was the connection I felt with the people. Even the furniture and walls felt foreign. I was an outcast, an alien in my own world. The people didn't know how to react to me, murmuring chastely, "Hello, Ms. Shipley," or "Hi, Evaline" as they scurried back to their cubbies and offices. I said I'd never stepped foot in the snake pit of these offices, but that was before I formulated this new plan. This was necessary.

Roger walked at my elbow like a stalwart lieutenant. Vain as my husband was he insisted on discarding his sling though his left arm moved stiffly. He was polished and poised carrying my briefcase while he wore a ten thousand dollar tan raw-silk suit, buff colored shirt and a dignified burgundy and gray paisley tie. His feet were shod with hand-made brown honest-to-god Italian leather shoes, not the pleather ones that pass for fashion now. No one dressed like Roger did. His clothes screamed wealth and casual dominance at the same time. I knew each one of my female coworkers creamed their pants just a little looking at him. And maybe even some of the men did so too.

I wished I could have brought Andrew to ease my jangled nerves, but the judge's order to keep him in the apartment precluded that. Jason stayed with Andrew to make sure he was safe against intruders. With the husband opening the glass door for me, I entered the conference room.

At the highly polished wood oval conference table sat Tamara Shou, and Priscilla and Sinta Grant. Tamara's eyes seethed suspicion, Sinta's curiosity. Priscilla eyed me like she was surgically trying to decipher my next move. Let her. She didn't know what was coming. I took my old seat at the head of the table, looking down the long length to my former partner, and truth be told, my new enemy. Roger stood at my back.

"So," said Tamara coolly, "what is this about?"

"Just a minute. Roger?"

He handed me a small recording pod from my briefcase.

"You don't mind if I record these proceedings," I said.

Tamara's face blanched. "Go ahead. We'll want a copy."

"Of course, Tamara. I see Sinta Grant and her attorney Priscilla Grant are here as requested on this day..." I spilled out the rest of the things that are normal for a recording of this type, including the time and where we were located. Tamara looked frightened. Good.

"I see Amanda Cook isn't here," I said. "I assume then that you, Ms. Shou represent her interests."

"I do."

"Fine. Sinta, thank you for coming."

"And how is our Andrew?" she said.

I raised my eyebrows. "My Andrew is fine."

"Good," she said.

"Now ladies, first, I want to inform you that as of today Lindsey Talbot remains as my client. She approached me and asked that I proceed on her case, which I shall."

"Second, I want all you to know that I officially sever all ties to Conner, Shipley and Shou. I know that was I removed as managing partner, but up to now I was still a partner." Roger handed me a file from my briefcase and I slid it down the table to Tamara in shocking informality. "That is my official resignation, and my buy-out offer. I'm sure you'll find the terms are most generous."

"Now wait, Evaline," started Tamara.

"Shut up, Tamara. Even if you aren't aware of all the shit that's gone down, you are still culpable. I wouldn't be surprised if the RIB is on their way to arrest you."

"Arrest me? On what charge?"

"Oh, these two know," I said nodding to frick and frack across from her.

Tamara looked at them.

"She's got nothing," said Sinta.

"Except Andrew, and he's willing to tell everything."

Sinta stood. "He can't. He's..."

"What? Held in thrall by Cicily's commands? Don't count on it Sinta. We've found out a few little things about

our

Andrew. First is, he's anxious to tell anybody willing to listen all the foul, awful things that you and Cicily did to him to bring him to sentience. All the dirty, nasty, perverted things, Sinta."

I glared at her. This last part I guessed at, but judging by the look of horror on her face, I guessed correctly. I wanted to smash her head in right there for hurting Andrew, for using him like a thing, for causing him pain. She didn't know how much Andrew "forgot" and in truth I didn't either. But I was willing to play this card to get what we needed to get free and clear of this mess.

"Don't say anything," said Priscilla.

"Oh, she doesn't have to say anything, Prissy. The robot will do the talking unless-" I let the word dangle.

"Unless what?"

"You confess to conspiring to murder me."

"What?"

"Your heard me. You'll go to jail, Sinta, and do your time for that. Because trust me, if the full story comes out, you'll never get out of prison. Don't you think eight and a third to twenty-five is better than life without parole?"

"I'll fucking kill you," she growled.

"Careful, Sinta. I'm recording this remember? You wouldn't want to add threatening to your charges."

"I don't understand," said Tamara. "How-"

"Because," said Sinta, "it's either that or face SEC violations, am I right?"

"You are so smart, Sinta, and so right. There are so many violations. Improper revenue, stock manipulation, fraud. I'm fully prepared to ruin Androdyne and its stock, and I'd love to do it too."

"You can't back that up. No court will allow Andrew to testify."

"Maybe, maybe not, but there are other things the SEC will love to see. Roger, dear?"

Roger handed me another file from my brief case. "Aside from trying to create a sentient robot you cooked the books to make the your stock look better than it was. Excellent accounting. Unfortunately, it was also very creative. Here is a comparison of what you should be reporting against what you did."

"You can't prove that."

"No, but Cicily can. And she's willing to testify. Oh, and by the way, Cicily is my client now too. I've decided to pick up criminal cases along with corporate ones. You know how new firms are. Have to take what we can get. Roger, my new partner, was very good at Criminal Law at Harvard, weren't you darling?"

"You make me blush, sweetheart."

"What do you want? I know there's more," said Sinta, an edge of anger in her voice.

"Yes. You will sell all but ten percent of your stock in Androdyne to Jason Wells."

"Jason, why?"

"Because he contributed to the making of Andrew as much as his mother did and you didn't pay him a cent."