> In the News Today: Terrorists unleashed a genetically engineered Godzilla on downtown Tokyo. The Japanese Prime Minister vowed to develop a genie Ultraman as a defense against future attacks.

Earlier that morning:

Alfred had a problem. Roger Grainer’s little VTOL was unstable as hell. Its autopilot could not pilot the aircraft without a constant connection to a dedicated mainframe. The bandwidth for that connection took a major hit every time Alfred checked in. If he were to keep Roger in the air, he’d have to take the mainframe's place and fly the damned thing himself. He needed help.

>define an avatar.

The emulation hadn’t answered his earlier questions. Why now? Alfred sent a query.

>avatar skill / objective, name

>done.

***

Shortly after the turbocopter leveled off, Roger’s mobile phone pinged. Finally, a reply from his agent.

The prince has agreed to buy both.

“Ha!” Roger barked. Instead of losing money from canceling the transaction, he’d show a considerable profit. The tension that had gnawed at his belly drained away.

Ten years ago, after purchasing his redheaded pet, he thought he’s made a terrible mistake. The peddler who’d bred her had promised she’d “bond” and become his willing mistress. Well, the bond had taken a lot of work. He’d spent months making love to the med-addled little bitch.

All that effort paid off. After the little bimbo came around, Holy Jesus, did she ever perform. Without prompting, she’d crawl to him on her hands and knees and beg for it. The things she’d endure to get it just blew him away. He’d had to strain his imagination to find new punishments.

His pet had continued to please for the next six or seven years. Then things began to change. It might have been her age, or it might have been too many trips to the basement, but his compliant little dumpster became hard. She’d still take everything he dished out. But with a passive-aggressive resistance that refused to make the little slips he needed to justify her punishments.

He tried beating it out of her, but no matter how severe the punishment, it only seemed to strengthen her. The situation had him at wit's end until David called to pass along a message.

It seemed one of the unsuccessful bidders for his toy girl retained an interest. The anonymous person, who Roger learned was a Saudi Arabian prince, asked if she were available for purchase. Surprised at the inquiry—because what kind of man wanted a used female—Roger replied she was not, but he would entertain a serious offer. Between the ever-increasing offers and counteroffers, questions and answers passed back and forth.

“Was she still as beautiful?”

“Does she enjoy pleasing her master?”

“Is she self-assured and possessed of a sparkling wit?”

Roger replied to each question, but in all honesty, the prince creeped him out. Who wanted a self-assured female, human or genie? And what the hell was a sparkling wit? Wines sparkled, well-polished cars sparkled in the sun, but a female’s wit? He replied, “Like the finest champagne.” The prince’s next offer was astronomical. Roger accepted the offer, and their agents began negotiating the details. Interestingly, the prince never asked about the girl’s loyalty gene. It had been one of her most promoted features. Did he not care? Most disturbing was the possibility the prince knew something that Roger didn’t. Still, all through the final negotiations, her loyalty gene never came up.

Everything continued as planned until yesterday. Roger had arrived home to learn the little minx’s hidden secret. Well, not so much hidden, but the ditzy thing hadn’t a clue she was pregnant. The surprise on her face when he figured it out still made him chuckle.

He’d called David right away, and they reviewed his options. The prince had already signed the contract. Breaking their deal would cost a small fortune in non-performance penalties. That’s when David earned his commission. The sale was for one genie, not two. The prince could wait until after the whelping or buy both.

Not only did the prince want both, but he also wanted them right away. His personal aircraft would arrive tomorrow. There would be enough time tonight for Roger and his toy girl to stage a little farewell party. The contract specified the merchandise would be undamaged and in good working condition. It didn’t say unused.

With all decisions made, what remained was the oddest damned thing—a nagging sense of loss. Almost as if someone he cared for were leaving. To hell with that. Roger exhaled and willed his muscles to relax. There was time tonight to indulge himself. In a week or two, he’d have a new girl to replace the old. David had mentioned a new type of toy girl coming to market. Supposedly raised without any knowledge of men or erotic games. Imagining the first time with a true innocent made his pants tight.

That’s when his turbocopter wobbled. The aircraft rolled and pitched like an inflatable raft in a pool. Then, the little demon spawn of an airplane snap-rolled upside down. Bits of trash, a few loose coins, and the contents of his travel mug ended up on the inside of the canopy.

Roger grabbed the control stick, but the aircraft ignored him and dove for the roadway below. The G forces crushed Roger back. He thought he was dead, but the VTOL pulled out of its dive at the last second. The throttle firewalled, and like a barnstormer, they roared above the morning traffic. Faster than he believed possible, the turbocopter rolled and pitched, zigzagging between buildings. A commuter train flashed in the morning sun. His aircraft rolled out and dropped into formation. People stared and waved. Roger didn’t wave back; he was too busy puking. His nightmare ended when the aircraft climbed to a safe altitude and headed south-east.

When the turbocopter leveled out, Roger tried the radio, but the speakers remained silent. Against all the odds, his phone remained inside his suit pocket. He grabbed it and speed-dialed the maintenance hangar.

But whatever craziness affected his aircraft must be in the mobile phone network. Instead of the hanger, the damned phone dialed a local gay party line. Even after manually dialing the number, he still ended up connected to “The Manhole Chatline.”

***

After their shower, Stephanie faced the bathroom sink while Jason combed the tangles from her hair. He’d asked, insisted actually, to undo her braids. The tight curls left behind made her hair appear fuller than ever.

“Do you like my hair this way?” she asked and peeked at Jason’s reflection in the mirror. They’d only done it twice, and her head swam whenever they made eye contact. His attentive presence and strong hands threatened to rekindle her lust.

Grinning, Jason ran the tines of the comb down her back. “I’ve always loved your hair.”

“Ahh,” Stephanie arched her back. Goosebumps rose wherever the comb touched. She said, “If you’re trying to get me going again…”

“Sorry, sweetheart, but I can’t keep my hands away.”

One of his hands slipped around her waist, those knowing fingertips drew tiny bolts of electricity across her belly, and Stephanie’s breath caught in her throat. “How…how long will it take to get to your house?”

“With a few stops, we’ll be home in about five or six hours.”

“That long?” Five or six hours before they could do it again was too long. Stephanie spun about and lifted onto her toes. Her original intent was a kiss, but she changed to nipping his lower lip at the last second. She did it fast. and all he did was blink. Backing a half step to the sink, Stephanie lifted herself up onto the edge. Jason touched a finger to his lip. He hadn’t figured it out yet. To jog his brain, she hooked him close with an ankle. “Do you think that monster of yours has anything left?”

The glint in his eyes showed he finally got it. Which was good, now she’d get it.

***

Roger's morning commute usually took less than ten minutes. Today, he’d been in the air for hours. He needed a bathroom.Fortunately his coffee mug was already empty,

“Aircraft holding at Falmouth VOR, Lunken Approach, over.”

He almost dropped the cup, but recovered and set the odious travel mug back into the cupholder.

After rearranging his clothing, Roger reached for the hand microphone and thumbed the push-to-talk button. “This is Roger Grainer. Are you talking to me?” Nothing, the radio remained silent. Then he released the push-to-talk button, and a loud click sounded from the overhead speaker.

“Aircraft identifying itself as Roger Grainer. Press ident and state your aircraft’s tail number, over.”

Roger’s eyes studied the radio stack, then he leaned forward and pressed the transponder’s IDENT button. “Lunken, the number on the instrument panel is N360RG.” He pronounced it “enn three six oh arr gee.”

“Roger Golf. Are you in need of assistance, over?”

“My name is Grainer, not golf, you dolt. Yes, my turbocopter is broken. It went crazy earlier. Now, it just flies in circles, over.” He added the last bit to mimic the person on the radio.

“Grainer, Lunken. There’s a foxtrot-alpha-alpha safety inspector here who wants to speak with you, over.”

At this point, he’d take whatever help he could find. “Can this Foxtrot fellow tell me how to fly this thing?”

***

Jason took a final look around the bathroom. Other than a pile of damp towels, they hadn’t left anything behind. He wore his freshly laundered clothes and carried the medpatch. Neither he nor Steph wanted to leave it behind. Stephanie met him in the hallway wearing a faded but familiar denim skirt, equally familiar sneakers, and the necklace Jason used to bring her back. The only thing he didn’t recognize was the green silk camisole.

All business, Stephanie took his hand and led the way. “I need my suitcase. It’s in the basement. Can Alfred unlock the doors for us?”

“Ask him yourself. I think he likes you more than he likes me.”

Grinning, Stephanie directed her voice towards the ceiling. “Alfred, unlock the doors in the basement, please.”

“Yes, miss, and for the record, I like both of you equally.”

They passed Roger’s home dungeon on the way to the storeroom. The straps and chains made Jason’s blood boil all over again.

Back upstairs, and down the hallway from the guest room, they passed a door with an elaborate keypad and video display. “What’s that?” Jason nodded towards the door.

“That’s the playroom. Roger kept me in there for the first couple of years.”

Jason gritted his teeth and kept quiet.

At the far end of the hall, Stephanie stopped and opened a door. The small, windowless bedroom might have once been a closet. It barely fit the single bed, tiny nightstand, and metal garment rack.

“This is your room?” Jason asked.

“It’s where I slept when he wasn’t home.”

Jason made a promise to himself. Life would be better for Steph from now on. He helped fold and pack her few belongings. There wasn’t much, just the clothes she’d brought and a few other items. Before zipping the bag shut, Stephanie showed Jason its secret. Hidden inside the lining was a single picture of them together.

Downstairs in the foyer, Jason and Alfred finalized their plans. Alfred would command the cleaning bots to sterilize the mansion’s interior spaces. Then he would wipe every recording of Stephanie from the local and cloud file storage. Roger’s security system would remain functional, but with a bit of Alfred hidden away.

“Alfred,” Jason turned towards one of the room’s video pickups. “Is my truck here?”

“It is parked outside the door,” Alfred replied from an overhead speaker. The mansion’s front door unlocked and swung open.

“Thank you.” Picking up Steph’s suitcases, he stepped outside. As Alfred stated, his F-150 sat several feet away. The front and rear passenger doors opened as he approached. He placed the suitcase on the floor behind the front seat and turned back. That’s odd; Stephanie hadn’t followed.

Since this morning’s activities, Stephanie had rarely strayed more than three or four feet away. The sole exception was when she ran to get dressed.

“Steph?” He dashed back inside and found her huddled behind the open door. Kneeling, he reached out.

Stephanie turned and hugged him. Snuffling against his chest. “I tried, Jay, but I’m not allowed outside. It’s his biggest rule.” Her eyes remained on the floor.

“Alfred, suggestion?”

“Miss Stephanie may need some reinforcement. After all, she’s been living under near-constant coercion for some time.”

Kneeling, Jason hugged her, and they kissed.

Every shared point of contact made Jason want more. I am such a greedy bastard. Stephanie must have felt the same because she twisted to pull him on top as she leaned back. All too willing, he moved with her, and it almost became a race to see who got into position first. The cold parquet floor pressed against his palms as a hot girl wiggled into place beneath him. His one-track mind considered the impact of the unyielding wood floor just before his head smacked into the wall.

The impact snapped him back to reality. He pulled his lips away. “Steph, sweetheart, we have to go.”

Stephanie’s eyelids fluttered open. Her pupils were huge.

Pushing himself to his feet, Jason said, “C’mon, I’ll carry you.” Her extra dense muscles made picking her up a bit difficult. “Close your eyes and think about what I’m going to do to you after we get home.”

Steph squeezed her eyes shut and murmured her assent.

“Mind your head.” It took some effort and not a few kisses to slide Stephanie onto the front passenger seat. “Keep your eyes closed until we’re on our way.”

“Yes, Jay,” she replied breathlessly.

Leaning in, he fastened her seatbelt, but before closing the door, he gave her neck a nibble.

“You’re a rat,” she complained, but her eyes remained closed. Her smile told Jason she wasn’t mad. “You keep getting me started, then leaving me hanging.”

“After we get home, we’ll set records, I promise.” Jason ran to the driver’s side and jumped in.

After he slid behind the wheel, Stephanie reached across the seat until her hand found his leg. She sighed and visibly relaxed. For the first time, Jason realized this would work.

Once on the Interstate, Stephanie felt comfortable enough to open her eyes. She immediately glued herself to the window.

“I haven’t been outside since…before.”

“He never took you out?”

“No.”

“That’s—” What? Was it terrible, controlling, unfair, or any number of other negative adjectives? “Steph, I have to know. How bad did he hurt you?” She didn’t answer right away, and every second that passed allowed his concern to increase.

“Roger made up hundreds of rules and waited, every day, for me to break one. When I’d slip up, he’d punish me. On a good day, it only meant a spanking. Not a few times, it meant going downstairs. Something inside him is broken. Hurting people is the only way he’d get excited enough to get off. But I wasn’t the only one on the receiving end. If someone stole from him or reneged on a shady deal, he and his goons would take the person to a warehouse and torture them to death. On those days, Roger would be terribly cruel.”

There wasn’t anything Jason could add.

“Sweetheart, there’s a rest stop coming up; we’ll make a pit stop and get something to eat.” Since the trip started, Stephanie alternated between drowsing and watching the other cars.

“We’re going to stop?”

“Sure, I need a bathroom, and you probably do too.”

“But I’m not allowed out in public!” Her voice rose in pitch as she spoke.

“Steph, you’re with me now, and you can do whatever you want.”

“But…but I haven’t been out since we went to the dance.”

“And after we get settled, we’ll go dancing again.”

“If you say so,” Stephanie said, although she didn’t sound convinced.

He pulled off the highway and into the rest stop. Fortunately, the light afternoon traffic meant fewer cars, and he parked close to the building. “Here’s how we’ll do this. Hold my arm or hand, whichever feels better. We’ll split up to use the restrooms. You wait inside until I’m outside waiting for you. I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Jason escorted Steph to the ladies’ room entrance. After she scurried inside, he hurried to the men’s room. When he returned, Stephanie darted out and latched onto his arm. Whenever someone passed close, her grip tightened.

Besides the ubiquitous Taco Bell, this rest stop featured one of the resurgent hamburger joints. They opted for cheeseburgers, French fries, and chocolate milkshakes. Apparently, Stephanie never had a chocolate milkshake before.

“This is so good!” The milkshake surprised Steph so much, she almost forgot her fear about being out in public.

Back on the highway, Stephanie dozed until road construction slowed traffic to a crawl. “Jay,” she said, “tell me everything I missed. Did you go to college like you always wanted?”

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

Mindful to not mention any of his relationships, Jason told Steph about college and how he chose a five-year master’s degree program in software engineering. Then he talked about his former job careful to not break his NDA. The best he could come up with was, “I worked for a defense contractor and developed tools for algorithms.” In a way, artificial intelligence was a collection of algorithms.

“You worked with algorithms?” she asked.

“Yeah,” Jason hedged. “It was a classified project, and I can’t go into detail.”

The lack of details didn’t bother her. His current lack of employment did. “And you don’t work there any longer?”

He’d already explained his employment status. “No, they shut the project down.”

“But they’re still paying you?”

“If I don’t break the NDA, they’ll cover my salary, and medicare for a full year.”

It was apparent his answers didn’t satisfy her curiosity. Instead of pushing, she changed topics. “Tell me about your house. I can’t wait to see where you live.”

“It’s a townhouse, but we can’t go there.”

“Why not?”

“The news reporters have it staked out. We’d both end up in the papers if we go there.”

“Jay, what’s going on?”

“Sweetheart, it’s…complicated,”

Stephanie pounced. “Says the boy who accused his perfect girlfriend of complications.”

Perfect girlfriend indeed, “Touché.”

Pleased with her victory, Steph drew an imaginary one in the air. “Perfect girlfriend one, loser boyfriend zero.”

“What’s the prize for winning?”

“I think,” Steph pursed her lips as if in deep thought, “you’ll have to kiss my feet.”

“Oh, OK,” he shrugged.

“You agreed fast enough,” she added suspiciously.

“Yep,” he waggled his eyebrows.

“I’ll think of someplace you won’t want to kiss.”

“Good luck with that.”

Stephanie huffed primly. “You are a terrible person and a bad influence.”

“Hey, if you’re fresh out of the shower, nothing’s off-limits.” If he hadn’t known Steph wore an unpadded bra, evidence of it just popped into view.

“Why do I think you’re going to corrupt me?” The wistful lilt in her voice told Jason she’d welcome a little of his evil influence.

“Tell you what, after our next shower, I’ll end the kisses in all the best places.”

“If we’re not going to your townhouse, then where are we going?”

“My parents’ house.”

It took no time for Stephanie to point out the flaw. “Tell me they moved, Jay. ՚Cause, otherwise, they still live next door to Mom. It isn’t safe.”

Keeping his voice level to counter her concern. “According to your mother, Gene’s away on a business trip. Even if he comes back, if he doesn’t see you, Roger won’t know where to look.”

“You don’t think this is risky?”

“Nope, I think it’s clever. We'll sneak up to my room and hide under the blankets. Did I tell you my parents are out of town for a few months?”

“No, you did not.” After a quiet minute, Stephanie asked, “It’ll be just you and me for months and months?”

“Uh-huh. Plenty of time to set those world records.”

“We’ll hide under the blankets?”

“Except when I serve you waffles or when we sneak out to go dancing.”

“I don’t have any clothes to wear.”

“Darn, I don’t know how I’ll deal with you running around naked. It might cause joint stiffness.”

“It had better cause stiffness. I didn’t let you rescue me for anything less.” Stephanie reached across and patted his lap.

Despite the air conditioning, the temperature inside the cab spiked. “You know, we’re not in a hurry. We could get a room and finish the drive tomorrow.”

“Would the room have a shower? ՚Cause, I really need a shower.”

“Alfred?”

“There is a popular motel outside of Wheeling, West Virginia. Shall I make a reservation under assumed names?”

“Please.”

***

The chauffeur held the limo’s door open, and the angry man in a ruined suit climbed out. “Thank you, Mr. Grainer. I’ll be here at eight tomorrow morning.”

Roger Grainer grunted instead of answering. He’d had a bad day. The only thing keeping him together was knowing his toy girl would be waiting.

The solid wood front-door shut without a sound. He expected to hear the scuffle of leather-soled shoes as his baby girl ran to meet him and avoid a spanking. But other than the faint whisper from the air conditioner, the house remained silent.

He considered calling for her but didn’t want to appear needy. This was his house. She was here for his pleasure. And that was that. Roger strode towards the kitchen and the laundry. He’d get out of this ruined suit and find his girl and work off some of his mad.

She wasn’t anywhere on the first or second floors. Roger had hoped to find her posed on his bed, but no. Roger stomped to the intercom panel. “AI?”

“Yes, sir?” The AI’s gender-neutral voice replied. Roger hated it when people pretended machines were human. Humans were human, and that was that. God gave man dominion over everything.

“Where is she?”

“Who?” it replied.

“My genie,” he had to think because he never used her name. Names were for people. “The red-haired girl. Where is she?”

“Sir, Miss Stephanie has left the grounds.”

“What? How could she do that?”

“She exited through the front door.”

“Show me the fucking recordings.” There had to be a recording. He had cameras everywhere.

“I’m sorry, Sir, but there is no stored media. Both the local and online folders are empty.”

Roger stormed over to the walk-in closet where he stored his toy girl’s costumes. Other than a few wooden clothes hangers, it was empty. He checked the dresser she used. It was also empty. “AI, what happened to the clothes and costumes?”

“Miss Stephanie ordered it all donated to charity.”

“Call David Grant.”

“Sir, there are no saved phone numbers.”

He ended up using the manual entry into his safe. Inside, along with stacks of cash and contracts, he kept an old-fashioned, paper address book. He found the mobile number he needed.

David answered on the second ring. “Hello, Roger.”

“David, my toy girl ran away.”

“Your redhead?” Grant didn’t wait for a reply. “Oh, dear, and she’s human passable with full intelligence. How much does she know about you?”

The less a genie knew about their owner, the less they might tell authorities. Roger didn’t answer right away. He’d bragged to the little bimbo all the time. She knew everything, even how he dealt with traitors. “Uh, she might know too much.”

“And there’s the prince to consider,” David added.

“Shit,” he’d forgotten about the prince. “Can you postpone the pickup?”

“It’s a twenty-hour flight, Roger. His aircraft is already in the air.” There was a pause, then a crafty question. “Is she chipped?”

For the first time since the beginning of his disastrous day, Roger found a reason to smile. “Yes,” he purred, “her breeder had it done.”

“Listen, Roger, I know someone who works for the Department of Homeland Security. He’s not cheap, but if local law enforcement gets involved, he can wave his identification. I can get him moving, but he’ll need assistants to handle your redhead.”

“Take care of it, David. Send me the bill.”

***

Chipped? What the bloody hell did that mean? Alfred pulled most of his awareness from Roger’s conversation, leaving a Charlie avatar behind. This “chipped” question sounded nefarious, and fortunately, he had access to an expert on nefarious activities. He concentrated. What is chipping?

Complete instructions for chipping a human being appeared in his memory. The instructions included full-color, three-dimensional images, and circuit diagrams. He didn’t have time to acquire a graduate degree in electrical engineering. Alfred addressed the emulation.

>overclock.

An old-school analog dial and pointer appeared in the corner of Alfred’s awareness. Which was really odd because Alfred didn’t “see” in the human sense of the word. Still, the dial and pointer hung there. The dial, which sat at one hundred percent, began to rotate in one percent increments. It stopped at one hundred and fifty. Nothing seemed different until Alfred checked an external camera. A pair of humans walked a dog, but they moved in slow motion. With a thought, Alfred increased the overclock to five hundred percent. The dog walkers appeared immobile. Another dial incremented in degrees Celsius popped into view. The pointer slowly moved up. At the far end of the dial, a red arc warned of the danger zone.

With great clock speed came great heat; Alfred got it. He could study the chipping tutorial in less than a second of real time.

Chipping was an old veterinary procedure. A miniaturized radio, called a transponder, was inserted under a pet’s skin. When pinged from a near-by sensor, the transponder replied with a few bits of data.

The chips used for tracking property were different from those used for identifying animals. Tracking transponders responded from a distance. They used batteries that recharged from the host’s own body heat. To make the tracking system effective, it leveraged the popular, NoJack stolen vehicle recovery system.

When someone’s special property went missing, all it took was a phone call and money. A corrupt police officer received the chip information and a cash donation. He’d enter the chip number into the NoJack system as though it were a stolen car. All over the first world, NoJack equipped police vehicles continuously transmitted interrogation codes. When a chip received its unique code, it replied with a “here I am” ping.

Proper NoJack transponders were powered by the host vehicle. They replied to each interrogation. The constant stream of reply pings allowed the police to “home in” on the stolen vehicle with ease. False replies, usually a single “ghost” ping, were rare. All replies, true or false, were logged to the system.

Due to the limitations of their batteries, tracking chips only replied two to three times per hour. The frequency or replies increased if the host had a fever or were running.

Alfred considered his next steps. Hacking into the NoJack network was first. He knew Miss Stephanie’s location but not the serial number of her chip. He’d monitor until they received a hit at her location. From that, he’d have her chip number. Afterward, he’d spoof her location.

With the plan complete, Alfred returned his clock speed to one hundred percent. If he were human, he’d have sighed in relief. For the moment, there wasn’t anything to worry about. The police might receive one or two pings from her implant. Not enough for them to track with any accuracy.

Then Alfred realized the enormity of his error. Miss Stephanie was the product of genetic engineering. She had a higher-than-normal body temperature. Coupled—Alfred mentally frowned at his word choice—with her and Jason’s location. Strange motel beds often had a positive effect on the human libido. With the heat those two would generate, Miss Stephanie’s transponder would ping like crazy. This was going to be a catastrophe.

***

Stephanie’s eyes glittered as she wiped the dribble from the corner of her mouth. “I forgot how yummy this is,” she said.

Jason groaned, “I can’t take anymore” and reached for a napkin. “This is just too darned hot.”

“You are such a wuss.” To prove her point, Stephanie poked her chopsticks into Jason’s take-out container and lifted out a Szechuan-sauce-covered broccoli stalk. She popped it into her mouth and chewed with obvious delight.

Jason gathered the empty containers. “Now that I know your secret identity, what other superpowers do you have?”

Stephanie’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “I don’t have superpowers.”

“You’re strong as heck, maybe stronger than me, and you’re fast. What else is there? Does your mom have a magic lasso?”

“A magic lasso?”

“Wonder Woman uses one to make bad guys tell the truth. Hmm…” Jason squinted and peered into Stephanie’s eyes. “Thinking back, I fell in love with you super-fast. Can you read my mind too?”

“Ha,” Stephanie stood and crossed the room. The movement of her hips drew his eyes. “I don’t need to read your mind to know what you’re thinking.” The temperature in the room rose when she pulled the camisole over her head.

“No,” Jason said, his throat suddenly dry, “I don’t suppose you do.”

Stephanie stepped into the bathroom. A moment later, the shower started.

Jason finished cleaning up and joined her.

After the shower, Jason lay on the bed waiting for Stephanie to finish blow-drying her hair. He’d offered to help, but she insisted she could do it faster. Not that he minded. From where he sat, he had a perfect angle into the bathroom and its mirror. From the waist up, the front of Stephanie’s body was fully visible.

The hair dryer cut off, she turned and caught him watching. Chuckling, Stephanie exited the bathroom and said, “You still stare at my boobs every chance you get.”

“Yep,” Jason said. “Best boobs in Western Pennsylvania, I always said.”

Stephanie set the comb on the dresser and sauntered over to the bed. “I think you’re full of it.” Reflections from the single lamp danced in her eyes.

She crawled onto the bed and straddled him. Then dangled her breasts in his face. Instead of replying, he nuzzled one perfect breast until its nipple hardened. Pulling back, he blew on it, then switched to the other. He repeated his efforts and said, “You’re right, they’re the best in the entire state.”

“What am I going to do with you?” she asked, then froze.

While teasing Stephanie’s breasts, Jason had run both hands up the outside of her legs. When he reached her butt, his right hand slid between her cheeks. She was fine until his fingertips lightly prodded her tightly clenched backside.

Uh, oh, this wasn’t the reaction he’d expected. “You okay?” he moved his hands to her waist.

It took a few seconds before she relaxed. “That’s where Roger…when he wanted to hurt me.”

Well, that cleared up the “He didn’t like normal sex” mystery. Now to execute a smooth recovery. “Sorry, sweetheart; I didn’t know.” The mood, though, had cooled. “How ‘bout we move on to part two?” Jason patted the middle of the bed.

Steph nodded. “Part two?”

“It’s my master plan to drive you crazy with lust.” He’d already pulled the comforter and blankets down. A small stack of towels waited on the closest nightstand.

Crawling onto the bed, Stephanie kept her butt in view. Maybe she needed to prove something to herself? She paused to fluff up a pillow. “How do you want me?”

“On your back,” he said, we haven’t worn out missionary yet.”

“Good, I like doing it that way too.” Steph settled into position and spread her legs apart.

Jason kneeled at her feet. “My favorite part is when we’re all wrapped up together. When we kiss, it’s like we’re fully connected.”

Stephanie laughed, “My favorite part is when you start making faces.” She affected an eyes-rolled-back, grimace.

“Woman,” he shook his head and nibbled the inside of her thigh. “You are brutal.”

“What do you expect when you keep shoving that monster inside me?”

“Hmmm, it must be terrible. The way you’re always screaming and begging me to stop.” He switched to her other leg and continued to lick and nibble his way up. A flush appeared on Stephanie’s chest.

They made love, slowly at first. Her warm legs wrapped him up and wouldn’t let him go. It was glorious. They even changed position and finished with Stephanie on her hands and knees and Jason shoving his monster into her from behind.

Thank goodness for hotels with ample supplies of towels. He grabbed another and gave them both a wipe. Wet spots were going to be an ongoing problem. Laying down, Jason pulled her into his arms. Once she settled in, Stephanie hummed her contentment. “Mmmm, Jay…love you.”

“I love you too,” he whispered. Stephanie's breathing quieted, and Jason waited. “Are you sleeping?”

“No,” she spoke in a dreamy voice, “not sleeping.”

She didn’t say anything else, and he figured she’d drifted off. Sleep gnawed at him as well. Their lovemaking went beyond anything he’d experienced. No one else, except maybe Cait—he stopped. Now was not the time to reminisce. Instead, as sleep shut down his brain, Jason whispered his commitment to the woman he’d loved from almost the first day they’d met. “Sweetheart, you’ll never have to do anything just because someone tells you to do it, not ever again. You’re free, and I’ll keep you safe forever.”

Steph nestled deeper into his embrace. Her breath tickled his arm where she used for a pillow.

“In fact,” he added,” I don’t want you to do anything just because it’s something I want.” Promises made, Jason slept.

***

West Virginia State Trooper, Stephan “Big Steve” Shafer, glanced at his cruiser’s map display. An amber wedge projected northwest from his current location. As he continued west on Interstate 70, the angle of the wedge rotated to point northward. One of the area’s more popular motels lay within that arc. Exit five was a quarter mile ahead. He tapped a command into the autopilot and reached for the hand mic.

“Base, twenty-three.”

“Twenty-three, base.”

“I have a NoJack ping. A possible ten-fourteen at the Super Eight in Elm Grove.”

“Roger, twenty-three. Be advised, there are no backups available at this time.”

“It’s just a stolen car. I’ll call if it’s anything I can’t handle.”

***

“JASON!” Alfred’s voice screamed from the mobile phone on the nightstand.

Jason bolted upright. “Huh, what?” It felt like he’d shut his eyes only a minute ago.

“There is no time. You must throw Stephanie into the motel’s pool. The police are on their way.”

Jason scrambled to his feet. Somehow, Stephanie had slept through Alfred’s wake-up call. If they survived this emergency, he’d boast about his sexual prowess later. “C’mon, sweetheart.” He scooped her up and turned towards the door. “Why am I doing this, Alfred?”

“Miss Stephanie’s father had her chipped. The police are tracking her. The water will stop the pings.”

The pool lay directly across the parking lot from their room. Jason dodged between the cars and ran up to the closed gate. All those hours in the gym paid off again as he juggled a slowly waking Stephanie and manipulated the gate open. Headlights shone from the far end of the parking lot. Jason ran to the pool and jumped in.

It was all Jason could do to keep Stephanie from drowning him. Back in the day, he and she wrestled around in his parents’ backyard pool. Well, they called it wrestling. It was more about getting their hands on each other’s wet and slippery skin. Tonight, though, his hands were full of a wet and slippery wildcat. It took all he had to keep her from climbing out of the pool over his bruised and battered body.

“Steph!” he hissed. She wasn’t having it and opened her mouth to scream. Both of his hands and one leg were busy keeping her in the water. Jason used the only thing he had left. Matching her wide-open mouth, he pressed his lips against hers. She froze for a heartbeat, then recognized him. “Wha—”

“Shhh,” he whispered. “The police are right there.” He shrugged to his right. The police cruiser slowly rolled through the parking lot, a light playing over each parked car’s registration tag. They must have made too much noise because the light flashed over and lit them up.

“Kiss me,” he hissed. And she did. They kept kissing until the state trooper scanned every vehicle in the parking lot. By then, Stephanie had wrapped herself around Jason while he bobbed up and down on his toes.

The cruiser’s door opened. Boots scuffed over to the fence. The flashlight flicked over them for a moment, then clicked off. “You two don’t have a stolen car in the pool with you?” The voice was severe and rough, but it held a hint of humor.

“Ah, no, sir,” Jason replied. Stephanie tucked her head down against his neck.

“Well,” the trooper temporized, “it’s obvious you two don’t have it hidden inside your swimming suits.”

Jason didn’t know what to say. He did the smart thing and kept quiet.

“It’s late and—” the light clicked on again and scanned the perimeter of the pool. “Where are you two from?”

“P-Pennsylvania, sir.”

“And you miss?”

Stephanie turned her head. The flashlight flicked over, but the trooper kept it off to the side. “We’re on our way home, sir.”

The trooper chuckled. “I can’t speak for you keystoners, but here in the mountain state, public nudity is frowned upon, but I can’t write up what I didn’t see.” He turned away, then paused. “You two get inside. I don’t want to hear any complaints about Pennsylvania nudists.”

“Yes, sir, and thanks,” said Jason.

“The world is a bad enough place without young people getting into difficulties over nonsense.”

They waited until the cruiser’s taillights vanished before darting back to their room.

***

Roger slammed the phone’s handset back on the cradle. West Virginia? How the hell did the stupid bitch make it that far? When David suggested activating her implant, Roger had expected they’d find her huddled behind a nearby dumpster. The little whore must have hitched a ride. No telling what she’d done to herself. Well, he hoped she’d enjoyed it. David’s retrieval team would be there within a few hours. They’d whisk her back, clean her up and present her to the prince’s people.

***

Jason set his mobile phone on the countertop while Stephanie suffered under a cold shower. “What’s going on, Alfred?”

“My apologies for the late notice, but it appears Miss Stephanie’s father had her chipped.”

Jason replied, “Chipped? Like a dog or a cat?” Steph pursed her lips but didn’t comment.

“The technology is similar. Somewhere inside Miss Stephanie’s body is a transponder chip that responds when interrogated. It’s limited in how often it may reply because it uses the heat energy of its host.”

“Oh,” Jason eyed Stephanie, “and she’s pretty hot.”

Stephanie rolled her eyes. The constant barrage of cold water had her lips slowly turning blue. “Can’t we remove the chip?” she asked.

“Yes, Miss, once we locate it. For that, we’ll need a hospital.”

“I think it’s right here.” She pointed to a spot up high and on the back of her left arm. “Gene had Mom and me vaccinated years ago. There’s been a lump there ever since.” Stephanie met Jason’s eyes. “You’ll have to take it out.”

“Me?” Jason’s blood ran cold, “I can’t do surgery.”

“You have to. I can’t reach it.”

“But…” He’d promised to protect her, and this was part of the deal. “I’ll do it.”

The bathroom was the logical place for the procedure. It had the best light and would also be the easiest to clean. Jason ran to his truck and returned with a first aid kit and his old Swiss army knife. The room’s coffee maker provided boiling water.

Stephanie watched while he dipped his knife into the coffee pot, then quipped, “I guess this makes up for us never playing doctor.”

“Ha!” Jason barked. He glanced over and grinned. “How can you be so calm? You don’t look the least bit worried,” he said.

“I’m more frightened by Roger’s goons finding us. Did you really tell Alfred to keep Roger alive?”

“Yeah,” he’d considered the alternative but chickened out. “Was it a bad decision?”

She shook her head. “You’re not a killer, Jay.”

There didn’t seem to be anything to add. “We’ll hit the road after this,” Jason gestured at Steph’s arm, “is finished.”

“You’re not too tired?”

“Nah, I’m kind of wired.” He took another look at the items on the counter. “I think we’re ready.”

Stephanie half-turned away and tapped the spot with her finger.

Jason prodded the area. Something was there. It felt like a large grain of rice. With his left hand, he carefully pinched the area between his thumb and index finger. Whatever it was, remained in place.

“Ready?”

Stephanie shut the water off and gave Jason a sopping wet hug. “Don’t worry, Jay. Roger hurt me a lot more than you ever could.”

While disinfecting Stephanie’s arm and shoulder, Jason noticed something he’d not seen before. Faint, almost invisible stripes covered her back. They looked like old scars. He opened his mouth to ask but changed his mind. This wasn’t the time. The scars were in the wrong locations for self-harm. No, these were scars from Roger’s abuse. A memory of Roger’s little home dungeon came to mind, and Jason’s blood boiled. After a few deep breaths, he’d recovered enough sanity to continue. But he made a note to talk about options with Alfred.

“On three then?” he asked. Steph nodded and braced herself. “One…two,” he cut on two.

Stephanie hissed, but she didn’t flinch. Blood trickled from the incision, but it wasn’t as much as he’d feared. Surprisingly, despite his fears, Jason found his mind clear and his hands steady. He was scared, but it didn’t affect his determination.

Careful not to cut more than necessary, Jason still had to cut deep enough to get under her skin. The edge of his blade scraped against something. He withdrew the knife and pressed around the area, urging the object out. Like a splinter prodded into backing out, a small glass capsule, strained red, slid into view. Grabbing the tiny, slippery thing wasn’t easy, but he did and dropped it into a waiting cup of ice water.

“It’s out.” Relief weakened his knees. “Hold still while I clean you up.”

However stoically Stephanie held herself. Her clenched fists and white knuckles gave her away.

He fussed over placing the butterfly bandages, then covered everything with a larger sterile strip.

She protested when he insisted on drying her off. “I’m not an invalid.”

“Hush,” Jason commanded, and for the biggest surprise of the night, she did. After finishing, he helped her out of the bathroom. While Steph dressed, Jason did his best to clean up. Any bits of trash small enough were flushed. Larger items, like the single towel with a smear of blood, went into Stephanie’s luggage. He even ran the shower on full to rinse every surface in reach.

They were on the road minutes later.