Page 30 of The Pleasure Contract

He’s just standing there, staring back at me, that annoying little half-smile ghosting his lips.

I’m standing here in a rumpled night shirt and bed-head hair that looks like I dried it by sticking a finger in an electrical socket.

And he’s… Goddamn it, Az is hot.

For all my pushback on his stupid advances, I have to admit that. Even with the fact we’re not the same species, that man is fine as fuck.

“So, so weird,” I mutter again as I start walking around the hologram in a circle, checking out every single bit of detail from the gold on his elongated elf-like ears to the broad expanse of his shoulders, and the knowing little glint in his eye.

“Are you enjoying eye-fucking me, little Lois?”

I near enough jump out of my skin.

The voice had been Az’s – Az’s holographic clone.

I quickly walk back around to stand in front of him. “Did… did I make you say that?” I ask, narrowing my eyes up at him.

“Yes,” he grins back down at me, tapping his own temples to indicate the neuro patches stuck to my own. “You are directing the simulator with your mind.”

“Great,” I huff, folding my arms. “So even in my fantasies, you’re full of yourself?”

Az – or fake-Az – steps closer. So close I have to crane my neck to look up at him. “Lois,” he says in a low, rough voice. “We’re only here because you want to be full of me too.”

And then, rather suddenly, fake-Az is real-naked. Like, naked-naked. Massive-cock-pressing-against-my-middle-naked.

“Oh, my God!” I gasp, taking a step back, but even before all the words come flying out of my mouth, Az disappears. Poof! Gone.

“Wait!… Uh…” I stop, screw my eyes up, and try to concentrate on bringing him back. When I open my eyes again, Az is standing in front of me – clothed this time.

I breathe a sigh of relief, but then, as soon as I’d thought about how silly that is – I’m in here for some sexual relief, for God’s sake – his clothes vanish again.

And there he stands in all his glory.

And it is glorious.

“I… I…” I stammer, staring at the biggest, thickest, most eager-looking coc-

“It is all anatomically correct,” fake-Az tells me, his hand gesturing to the entirety of his body. “All replicated from Prince Az Zerradaeth Xeverrique’s DNA, and scanned measurements.”

“Ok, you standing there butt-naked talking about yourself in third-person is a little weird, but…” I manage to pull my gaze away from that truly magnificent example of a pussy-wrecking weapon to meet fake-Az’s eyes again. “But I guess it’s not third-person, is it? Because you’re not actually him?”

Fake-Az flickers right in front of me, and I swear, each time the image of him comes back, he’s wearing something different. It’s like my brain can’t get a hold of him, like it can’t make a clear decision.

A chaise-lounge suddenly appears, where he’s sprawled out, legs splayed, his tight pants undone, his cock springing free with his huge hand wrapped around it, leisurely stroking as he beckons me over.

The scene flickers.

A bed this time.

Then it’s gone again. Replaced by something I’ve only gotten a good look at in my research after Niska told us about it.

A Xaviann breeding bench. Fake-Az stands beside it, patting the plush upholstery while holding one of the many confusing straps.

Each of these scenarios flashes in front of me, but none of them stay, and none of them feel… real.

With a huff, I rip off the neuro-patches from my temples, fake-Az and his array of fuck-scenarios disappearing in an instant.

This just isn’t going to work for me.