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“They taught us how to turn it on and use Google.”
“That’s it? No social media? Not even the rudiments of programming?”
“I live with everyone I’ve ever known, except for the evil scientists who bred and experimented on us. I wouldn’t need social media to communicate with anyone. And what would I need to program?”
Chapter Ten
Chance
I have no idea if what I just said made sense. I’m totally preoccupied with the stupid kilt Olivia made for me. It worked great when I was standing up, but it has ridden up as I twisted my hind quarters to tuck my back legs in. It was only after Jo sat down and scooted so close I can feel her every inhale and exhale that I realized my cock is exposed.
Exposed—the word echoes so loudly in my head I imagine it’s ricocheting around the room like the crack of a rifle.
I have to keep her focused on the computer, which is in the opposite direction of my cock. Myerectcock, which is pointing directly at her.
“What do you call this?” I ask, pointing to the cursor.
“The cursor,” she answers, her voice sweet and level. I imagine even kindergartners know what that is. It’s a credit to her that she acts as if my question isn’t the stupidest thing to ever come out of a person’s mouth.
“And these? What are these for?” I point to the keys labeled with Fs and numbers that are in a row at the top of the keyboard. I’ve always wondered what they were. Too bad that no matter how well she answers the question, I’ll never understand it because I’m totally focused on my inadequacies as a male.
Don’t human men learn how to deal with random erections at an early age? I’m an embarrassment.
The problem is, this isn’t arandomerection. It’s because of a woman. Not justanywoman. It’s because Jo is right here, her shiny purple hair directly in my line of sight. I can feel the curve of her ass against my flank. My tail flicks at that thought. I hope she doesn’t know it signals my agitation.
And does she have to smell so damn good? And be so pretty?
The moment Colonel Slater releases us today, I’m going to speak with him in private and ask—no, demand—to be switched to another placement. This is absolutely intolerable. No male could withstand this!
“Chance? Have you heard a word I said?”
Busted. My gaze flies to her face. She’s staring at me. If I’m reading her right, I’ve hurt her feelings.
“If you don’t want this assignment, we can talk to the colonel. Computers aren’t for everyone. Some people find them deadly dull.”
Though a moment ago I was planning to escape from working with her, it’s suddenly clear to me I would do anything to stay.
“No, no. I’m just preoccupied.”
I don’t know what catches her attention. That’s not true. My tail swishes and she catches it out of the corner of her eye.
It’s obvious when she sees it—my hard cock pointing at her—because every single muscle in her body tightens.
Her spine stiffens and her nostrils flare at the same moment she manages to inch forward so our bodies no longer touch.
What do I do? Mention it? Pretend nothing’s happening? Ask her to repeat her explanation about those blasted F-keys? Get up and bolt from the room, run back to the southern barracks, and barricade myself in my old room?
“Uh, Chance? Should we…” She stops mid sentence.
Damn it! What does that mean? Should we leave the room? Should we talk about this? Should we… ? I don’t allow my mind to go there. She couldn’t possibly be asking if we should touch, could she?
“Wh-what?”
“You have a hard-on?”
Shit. Is that a question? An observation?
“Um.” There. I gave her a definitive “um” as an answer. I’m not a centaur. I’m an ass.
