Chapter 32
Electra
The first two times were intense, like they couldn’t get enough of each other. The third time was exploratory. Slower, each learning what made each other gasp. Clever fingers and capable tongues eliciting moans and making fists clench in sheets.
Forget Chryl. Electra is the one who looks SexcitableTM now.
She’s sitting at her desk trying to focus on her column when the door to the spare room finally opens, and he slips out.
Lines of worry etch his face, as if the moments they shared the night before weren’t enough to lift the burden he carries.
But when his eyes land on her, his face transforms. Instantly the worry evaporates, something far warmer replacing it as he stares at her.
“Good morning, Electra,” he says. The low, hungry tone of his voice makes heat bloom low in her belly. To know she can capture his attention and transform his mood so effectively is such a turn-on.
“Hi,” she says, grinning. She stands and walks over to him, showing off her body clad in only his T-shirt.
“I was going to go to the office, but you’ve given me other ideas.”
Dear Reader,
Please sit down.
Okay, now that you’re not in danger of falling over, I have a confession.
I THINK I’M IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH A SEX GOD.
The things that man can do with his tongue.
I’ve had casual flings. Some lovers who even knew their way around a woman’s body, but this man—I know this is going to sound bad AND super hypocritical, but it would be like keeping a football player in basic training for a hundred years, then when he finally shows up to the big leagues, he’s an all-star.
Or something like that. You understand my meaning. The guy’s a pro.
And that’s not to mention the emotional connection.
When his golden eyes locked with mine, at that moment (you know the one) .
. . I think my soul left my body. I might even be in love with him.
Believe me, I know. Nothing could be crazier than that!
But I swear he feels it too. But just in case I’m imagining things or getting ahead of myself, I’ll probably wait until he says it first. Unless we have sex again and it explodes out of me. I’ll keep you posted.
That’s all. Just wanted to share that I’m reveling in the afterglow.
Basking in its blissful warmth like it’s the summer sun and I have on SPF 100.
The girl horrified by Res6 for inventing manupartners—she doesn’t exist anymore.
In her place is a grown woman making the choice to be happy.
The end. Thank you for coming to my talk.
Choosing bliss,
Electra
Now that she’s word-vomited all over the virtual page that no one is EVER going to read, she feels considerably better.
Time to check her messages. She scrolls, deleting the nonsense queries and responding to a few fans.
The next message automatically pops up, making her gasp.
The subject reads: You’ve been monetized!
She quickly scans the body of the message, then sits there blinking at her screen, dumbfounded.
Of MSP’s 120 million residents, one million of them have honored her with a subscription to her column in a few weeks.
Tears well in her eyes. That’s basically the definition of an overnight success.
And it’s happening to her. People want her work.
They love her voice and message enough that a million of them stopped to pay attention.
This kind of success twice in a lifetime must mean she’s meant to be here. It’s unreal.
She sits back in her chair, letting waves of emotion wash over her.
The overwhelming feelings bring her back to the day an email from a major publisher showed up in her inbox.
They were interested in adding her indie-published books, which were just gaining traction, to their catalogue.
It took her a week to find an agent, and together they negotiated a stellar six-figure deal.
She jumped up and down squealing like a maniac the day they signed.
Even though keeping quiet felt nearly impossible, she kept her big news to herself for an entire week, waiting until her monthly girl’s night to share.
Her friends had been ecstatic for her, and she even splurged by buying them all dinner.
A sudden pang of loneliness hits her. A distinct melancholy that she never felt in her previous life threatens to overshadow this win.
Res6 disapproves completely, so she can’t tell him.
Other than that, she only has a few online acquaintances and Sister Xelna.
Matter of fact, she should message her and see if she’s available for lunch.
They bonded over Electra’s good advice, after all.
Sister Xelna will probably be thrilled to celebrate with her.
She shoots her a quick message, then clicks the link in the email.
It takes her to the FrogBlog dashboard, where a new tab opens showing a video explaining how monetization works.
Apparently, the app will keep her unicoin in a temporary account connected to her profile until she connects her Worldbank account.
Another reason she needs to find the courage to meet with the IdenTECH company.
She bites her lip, considering as she eyes the exceedingly large number of zeros in her temporary account. The value of unicoin isn’t anything like the dollar she’s used to, so she has no idea how much she’s earning. At least she’s earning.
Two hours later, she’s ordering cocktails at the Bright Lights, Big City Bar with Sister Xelna.
A-Pawstle Calico is curled up beside her on a stool shaped like a skyscraper from her time, “sleeping.” Neon signs displaying adages light up the rest of the room.
The only quote she recognizes is “Here’s looking at you, kid.
” Next to it is a neon image of a baby goat chewing on a slipper.
The energy of the bar is perfect for sharing exciting things.
“I have news!” she cries. She eyes the synth-cat, whose ears twitch.
Sister Xelna puts a hand on her shoulder. “Not to worry. I have Calico’s sleep setting set to four.” Electra has no idea what four means in terms of robo-animal sleep settings, but she nods anyway. It seems to please the priestess, who continues, matching her energy. “Tell me!”
She grins, sharing about her subscribers and the monetization, while Sister Xelna listens intently, eyes going wider and wider.
When she finally finishes her boisterous mini-monologue, Sister Xelna throws her arms in the air, exclaiming, “How wonderful! I knew you would be MSP’s next social phenomenon.” She pulls Electra into an embrace. “I’m so proud of you!”
The praise feels so good it almost strikes Electra oddly. Has it really been that long since someone told her they were proud of her?
Xelna must read her apprehension, because she continues, “You should be proud of yourself, too. How many people”—she leans forward, lowering her voice—“could wake up in the future and become an overnight advice sensation? It’s like you, and possibly the divine Feline Essence Miss Kitty, knew exactly what we were missing.
” She raises a brow as if to impress her point.
“Yeah, I guess so. It’s all so unreal. It’s like I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, but everything seems to be turning out okay.”
Sister Xelna chuckles. “Aside from discovering you died in your last life.”
Electra grins. Now that she’s come to terms with it, she can see the humorous calamity that is her life, dark as it is. “Yes, aside from that.”
“So what are you going to do with your newfound fame? Oh!” Sister Xelna straightens so abruptly that Electra glances over her shoulder to see what startled the woman, but there’s nothing there.
A hand wraps around her wrist, tugging. She turns back to a nearly maniacally grinning priestess.
“NewNews will probably want to interview you. Just think—maybe they’ll offer you a video segment like your stepmom! Then everyone will get freckles!”
It hasn’t slipped Electra’s notice that she’s seen more and more people with artificial polka dots on their cheeks. There were even a few people with sheer outfits showing off entirely speckled bodies. Good on one hand because it makes her freckled avatar less conspicuous.
“I don’t know about an interview. If Res6 sees it, he’ll flip out, and things are going so well between us,” she says, chewing on her lip.
Sister Xelna’s mouth pinches in disapproval. “Has he told you what’s in his supersecret room?”
“No,” she admits.
“Well then, he can just deal with your fame.”
Electra isn’t entirely sure she’s following the logic, considering the idea is for him not to find out. Granted, with a million subscribers, he’ll probably learn of her column eventually.
“What do you think he’s hiding in there, anyway?” Sister Xelna asks.
“Oh, he isn’t necessarily hiding anything.” The lie rolls so easily off her tongue that she almost believes it. Almost as easily as the unease that settles in her gut every time she thinks about the Room of Shoes Waiting to Drop.
Sister Xelna’s brows shoot up. “Electra, dearest. People hide all kinds of things behind closed doors. There was a man in my building who got monthlong leases for manupartners from each manufacturer, including the off-brand ones. His plan was to have a monthlong orgy then turn them all in for recycling at the end of the term. He saved up vacation time and everything. I guess he got so addicted, he failed to turn them in. He barricaded them in his unit, and NHOS had to show up and break his door down. It was quite the scandal.”
Beside her, the synth-cat raises its head, side-eyeing her. Does it know something she doesn’t? No, Electra. It’s a machine. Res6 isn’t hiding a monthslong orgy from you. He got rid of Chryl. You’re safe and everything is fine. Great, even.
She tunes into Sister Xelna, who’s saying “. . . an electronic lockpick with your funds. Hand me your device. I’ll show you how.”