Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 56180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56180 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 281(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
She wants a man to take control in the bedroom? Sign me up.
I search for 'empathetic AI Sera,' and get the details of her speech. All day, despite needing to work on my project, she's constantly on my mind. I keep returning to that moment as she ran from the room, flustered, a flush on her cheeks. I should've chased her, spun her around, and buried my hands in her magnificent hips, pulling her close enough to feel how hard she was making me, hearing her gasp of surprise and pleasure.
I should have slipped my hands under her shirt, caressed her curves, and made her understand the essence of that quote she saved, given her the pleasure she so craves. Does she have a boyfriend? Was she saving that quote for him? Is somebody else obsessing over my Sparkplug?
I know I need to relax. If I heard someone else talking like this about a woman they'd just met, I'd think they'd gone insane. And perhaps I have. The crazy part about going crazy is I don't give a damn.
Finally, it's time for her speech. I walk through the busy conference to the small room she's booked. As the door swings open, she walks right into me.
Her body crashes into mine in all her curvy glory. I'd sacrifice all my billions to be with her.
She takes a step back. "Suh..." Sorry, she was going to say, but then her cute mouth hangs open as she stares at me. "It's you."
I smirk, hoping I can hide how feral she's making me. I'm like a starved animal when I'm around her. All I want is to grab her, hold her, own her. "I wouldn't miss this, Sparkplug."
"You're early."
"I wanted to wish you luck."
She smiles. She has the most gorgeous pale green eyes. They're somehow innocent and confident at the same time... like there's a self-assured version of her waiting to break free.
"Thanks," she says. "Oh, and for the laptop, too..." She gestures to it.
"How did your boss react?"
"He was surprisingly okay about it," she replies. "Are you ready to tell me who you are?"
I grin. "Maybe I'm nobody. That's why I don't want to tell you."
"Mr. Nobody in the presidential suite."
"I'm a trust-fund kid," I say with deliberate irony.
"Why do I get the feeling you're lying to me?"
"Because you're perceptive," I tell her. "Anyway, Sera, this evening isn't about me. It's about you. It's about your ideas. How are you feeling?"
"Smooth," she says, narrowing her eyes.
"You're feeling smooth?" I raise an eyebrow.
She chuckles. "No, Luke, I'm not telling you I shave. I mean, that was a smooth way to change the subject."
"You shave?"
Her cheeks flush crimson, but she meets my gaze. "That is none of your business."
"You're right. Men my age shouldn't ask questions like that. We've got too much experience. It gives us ideas."
"Experience, huh?" she says, then shakes her head. "Will you please stop distracting me?"
"But it's so much fun. You haven't answered my question. Are you nervous, excited?"
"Excited," she admits finally.
"You look great," I tell her.
She smiles, smoothing down her shirt. She's wearing a dark blouse with another pair of tight pants, her brown hair in a bun again, this one neater than last time.
"Though I think I preferred when your bun was messier," I tell her.
"Oh, really? Why?"
"It suits you better, Sparkplug. It was as wild as your spirit."
She rolls her eyes. "Do these cheesy lines usually work?"
"I wouldn't know. I never try them."
"Oh, I see," she says, dripping with sarcasm. "I'm that one special girl who's flipped your world upside-down."
"You say that with irony, but you're not far off the mark."
She pouts, intensifying my urge to kiss her. I've never experienced desire this fiercely before. "Are you trying to distract me, Luke?"
I hold my hands up. "I'll be good from now on. You won't even know I'm here."
"That's where you're wrong. When you look at me, I feel very seen."
"That's because I see you, Sera," I say passionately. "Or is that too cheesy for your liking?"
"Both – it's cheesy and I like it."
I sit at the back of the room. Soon, more people file in. There are about fifteen of us. Sera dims the lights and switches on the screen, displaying a heart made of binary code, ones and zeroes in pink and dark red.
When she smiles, her confidence blooms, commanding this room, this moment, capturing my attention like few things can. Everything and everyone in the room ceases to exist. All that I see is her.
"Artificial intelligence becoming conscious – and arguably humane – is one of the greatest fears of technologists and futurists, and it has long been the purview of science fiction writers." As she speaks, I watch, enthralled by her eloquence. "But what if we could harness this? What if, instead of fearing that they may become human, we encourage them to become humane?"