Chapter 15 #2
She’d told him that bots did what they said, and he intended to.
Not because of programming, not because it was the nature of his kind, but because he wanted to help her.
Though his primary desire had long been to discover his true purpose, his wants were quickly growing to revolve around this woman.
Lara closed her eyes and eased back, exhaling. Relieved. Did that mean she’d placed some trust in him? That she had faith he would follow through?
“Right,” she said, opening her eyes and wiping away the tears. “Guess with all you’ve done, I’d better keep my end of the deal. We doing this in here?”
Images of Lara dancing in her shack flashed through his central processing unit, every moment framed by the slitted door through which he’d watched. Even if she performed the same dance now, he knew every step would be somehow altered, reflecting her current state of mind.
Ronin dropped his hands to his thighs. “Where would you be most comfortable?”
“This is fine.” She rose and walked to the relatively open part of the kitchen, trailing her fingers over the countertop. “So…you got any music?”
“No. I thought you made your own.”
“Of course you’d remember that.”
“I remember everything.”
Her cheeks reddened before she looked away.
Everything.
Unbidden, a still image of her naked on the bathroom floor came up, and he knew his choice of words had been poor.
Keeping her back to him, Lara inhaled deeply, shoulders rising and falling. “Okay then.”
She swayed her hips from side to side and lifted her arms over her head, grasping an elbow with each hand. Bowing her back, she turned gracefully to face him, bringing her hands down to slide over her breasts, waist, and thighs. She kept her eyes closed.
Arousal stirred within Ronin. Though Lara’s clothing did nothing to accentuate her body, she was an attractive woman, and he longed to touch her so he could experience her through a different sensory input.
Still, seconds passed as he awaited the deep, profound spark that had flared across his processors the first time he’d watched her dancing. This dance was familiar, but it bore no resemblance to the one she’d performed in her shack.
He’d seen such motions from the performers at Kitty’s.
Lara’s body was moving for him, but she wasn’t dancing. This was closer to a maintenance bot mowing the grass in the park. Movement with purpose, but no feeling. The motions of an automaton.
“No,” he said sharply.
She jumped and opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. “What?”
“This isn’t what I want.”
“What the hell do you mean?” The line between her eyebrows returned; danger ahead. She threw her arms to the sides, palms up. “I’m dancing. That’s what you wanted!”
“You are moving your parts—”
“Isn’t that what dancing is? Moving your body?”
Ronin clenched his jaw to maintain his patience. “Dance like you did the night I first saw you.”
“What do you mean? Like…the same dance?”
“It doesn’t matter if it’s the same. Just…” Counting only English, there were hundreds of thousands of fully defined words stored in his memory, and he still couldn’t find the right ones to convey his meaning. “I don’t want you to dance like you’re on that stage. Dance like you would for yourself.”
She stared at him with surprise and confusion plain upon her features. He feared she would remain that way indefinitely, like a malfunctioning bot.
But after twenty-five seconds, she walked to the table, grabbed a chair, and dragged it to where she’d been standing. “Fine.”
The chair’s legs scraped over the floor as she turned it so it was perpendicular to Ronin. Facing the counter, Lara bent forward, grasped the back of the chair with her hands, and took another deep breath. For a moment, she was still.
Tilting her head to the side, she locked gazes with him and twisted her hips. Her legs moved, their motion so graceful, so fluid, that she appeared to be walking on air. She tipped the chair onto one leg and spun it twice. When she stopped it, the seat faced Ronin.
Sliding her fingers over its top, she slowly moved around the chair and lay down over it on her back, her hair brushing the floor. Her other hand traced a teasing path from her neck down between her breasts, over her belly, her pelvis, and down to her knee.
Ronin curled his fingers into his thighs, feeling the strength of his grip through his synthetic skin.
She didn’t break eye contact as she drew her legs up one at a time, pants sliding down to reveal her shapely calves. Lowering her feet to the floor, she sat up, swinging a leg aside to straddle the chair.
Electricity crackled over Ronin’s skin. Though she was fully clothed, Lara’s dance was the most sensual thing he’d ever seen. That his experience in such matters was limited should’ve tempered that realization, but it made no difference. His lingering arousal reignited far stronger than before.
Deep within him, an automated system that hadn’t been activated in years stirred to life, priming the pumps that would flood his penis with fluid.
Her hands fell to her knees only to slide up her body again, caressing her breasts, her throat, her face, until her fingers delved into her hair.
With elbows out to either side, she lifted her wild locks and undulated her stomach and pelvis.
Her breasts strained against the fabric of her sweater, clearly outlining the buds of her nipples.
How had he never noted the similarities between dancing and sex?
She intensified the movements of her torso, thrashing like a caged animal. Rage, frustration, and raw sexuality flowed from her, sweeping into him without mercy. She was a wild, untamable force, displaying her majesty just for him.
Ronin’s awareness of the room around him, of the house, the district, the town, the entire world, faded away, all his attention focusing solely on Lara.
And she somehow kept her gaze upon him throughout, her eyes burning with silent, sultry intensity like he’d never witnessed. Standing, she spun and kicked the chair away. Her body moved like a whirlwind and a stalking cat at once, a contradiction, an impossibility, and he could not look away.
She fell to the floor like she’d been beaten only to surge up again, stronger, and repeated the movements over and over, varying them each time. She closed her eyes, her expression full of feeling.
It was a message to him. He knew it, though he did not yet understand the language of her body. She was ocean waves crashing against the shore, relentless, powerful, and fluid.
Synths were capable of greater speed and precision than Lara, but her flexibility, her fluidity, and the way she constantly threw herself off balance but never lost it combined into something impossible for a bot to replicate.
How did she accomplish it? Were her emotions the secret? They were more visible with each moment, written on her face and conveyed through the growing drama of her dance.
Perhaps he’d been arrogant to assume he’d figure it out after a dance or two. Emotion was the key, it had to be, yet that only raised more questions.
Lara dropped to her knees with her head bowed and her arms hanging at her sides. Her disheveled hair obscured her face. The refrigerator buzzed, oblivious to the rhythm of her quick, ragged breaths.
Finally, she lifted her face and ran her fingers through her hair, tugging it back. Her blue eyes sparkled above flushed cheeks.
“That better?” she asked.
“Yes. Thank you.”
Her eyes narrowed as she studied him. “You didn’t like it.”
There was annoyance in her statement, but he couldn’t determine why.
“It’s given me much to consider.” He’d liked it very much, but he needed time to determine the reasons.
“The hell does that mean?” She stood, breathing heavily.
His attention was drawn to her heaving chest. “You’ve fulfilled your obligation tonight. Will you be ready again tomorrow?”
“It’s not like I need charging or anything.”
“Your people call it eating and sleeping.”
“Are you dismissing me?” She folded her arms across her chest, settling her weight on one foot. The stance pressed her breasts together, pushing them up. His fingers twitched upon his thighs.
No touching.
“No,” he said. “This is your residence now, as much as it is mine. You’re welcome to be in whatever room you choose, whenever you want.”
“Yeah, well…I’m going to bed anyway.”
“I’ve upset you again.”
“Of course not.” Her tone suggested otherwise.
“I know close to a million words in this language, and I still don’t know the right ones to say to you.”
She rolled her eyes and shifted her weight, cocking her hip. Its curve was just visible through her loose clothing. “I’m just tired, okay? So, uh, goodnight. Or whatever your kind says to each other.”
“Goodnight’s fine. Sleep well, Lara.”
She walked away, muttering something too quietly for him to understand her words.
After he heard her bedroom door open and close, Ronin remained at the table and lost himself in her dance, replaying it repeatedly, as night trekked irreversibly toward the dawn.