Connection

Connection

Author's note: Dear readers, please be gentle with this, since this is my first ever attempt at erotic fiction. Indeed, when I started writing this, I wasn't even aware it was going to turn into an erotic story -- it just sort-of turned out that way.

Stylistically, you may notice that I use an awful lot of hyphens. This is something I've done for many years, which I think I first picked up from reading Emily Dickinson (although it's difficult to tell precisely).

***

1

London, the near future

As she tried to explain the narrative structure of Jane Eyre, Lucy Porter gazed into the vacant faces of her pupils. The public education system had recently been discontinued, so naturally all their parents paid fees to send them here. Yet that didn't seem to spur them into attitudes of concentration. As she well knew, rather than pondering the nuances of Mr. Rochester, instead her pupils were looking toward the next level of some computer game, or trivial gossip purveyed through one of the endless messaging platforms.

"Right", she said, masking her frustration behind a smile. "That's enough for today. See you all again on Friday; and please don't forget to read chapter 27 by then -- I will be testing you!"

And so they shuffled out -- nearly all with their heads turned down to their phones, checking to see if they'd missed anything. As Lucy well knew, most had already checked their phones discreetly during lesson -- but these days teenagers got anxious about 5 lost minutes of phone time.

Instead of packing up to leave, Lucy remained seated at her desk. Her frustration had passed, and been replaced with a kind of cynical despair. Why did she do this to herself? Why did she come in here every day, only to stand before another sea of soulless faces? There was nothing here except death. All her dreams of being a teacher -- of seeing a class inspired by her teaching -- had ended in this.

Of course, she knew full-well why she persisted with this fruitlessness. The truth was that she was lucky to have a job at all. So many people had been laid off due to automation. The remaining 50% or so remained in the jobs that were still too complex for AI to perform. Yet it was only a matter of time before these too were eliminated -- leaving a rump at the top of super-wealthy tech-magnates and investors. But for the present she was grateful for the respite that this job offered. As depressing as it was, at least it was better than unemployment.

Along with public education, practically the whole of the social security system had been phased out. With more and more people losing their jobs, the system simply buckled under the pressure, and there wasn't the social will to replace it with some kind of 'basic income' scheme (after all, who wanted to give people 'money for nothing'?). And so the unemployed were left to fend for themselves. Naturally, those that had too much pride for prostitution turned to crime in order to survive. And this was this nightmarish vision that forced her to come here every day, only to face the same disappointments again and again.

2

Eventually Lucy reached the end of her thoughts, and exited the classroom. She had been absorbed for so long that all the pupils had left, and only a few colleagues remained -- finishing up on bits of work before they began their journey home. She waved goodbye to Chris -- the maths teacher -- but he didn't seem to notice her. And so she carried on out of the school and started walking toward the underground station close by -- where she would catch the train home.

But then she heard a noise behind her -- something that sounded like a cry or shout. Turning quickly, she saw two men: one stylishly dressed, the other somewhat less so. Then she became shockingly aware that the shabbier man was attacking the other man -- wielding a knife and reaching for the man's phone.

"Hey! Get off him!" Lucy shouted.

"Fuck off bitch" the attacker spat, continuing to reach for the man's phone.

"Hey! I said leave him alone!" Lucy persisted.

At that point, the attacker turned his head towards her. Then he promptly broke off his assault and sprinted in her direction, shouting as he ran "OK bitch, I'll 'av your phone instead".

Instinct made Lucy run towards the underground station -- the more people the better. She hurried through the entrance and down the steps. But as she reached the entry-points she had to reach in her purse for her pass-card -- and it was here that the man caught up with her.

"Not so brave now, are we, bitch?", he snarled, as he held the knife to her throat. "Now give me everythin' you 'av, or I'll fucking slit you".

There wasn't time for reasoned thought -- only the frantic stabbing of fear. And so she fumbled with her things, and just gave him everything she could lay her hands on. "Thanks bitch" he said, and then, removing the knife from her throat, he sprinted out of the station.

Lucy could only stand there in shock. It had all happened so quickly -- and now it was over, just like that. What would she do now? How the hell would she get home?

3

Eventually the fog of shock cleared, and she realised that the only option was to walk home. It was a considerable distance, and it would be dark soon, but she really had no other choice. After all, she couldn't turn to a stranger for help, since kindness was scarce these days. Sure, she had tried to stop that man being attacked, but she was a very rare exception. After all, while the knife was at her throat, the people around her had simply looked on impotently -- with some even walking right on by, listening to music or sending messages.

And so Lucy exited the station and began her journey home. As she walked, she wondered how society had come to this. The affluent all indifference, the poor all degradation and violence. Where was the room for human connection? Where was even a place for the most basic humanity? Could there ever be a way back?

As she rounded a corner she was suddenly struck by a picture-book scene: the setting sun percolating through sparse clouds; a subtle play and gradation of colour, like the complexity of a narrative. And even though she had just experienced something terrible, her heart still rose in bliss to the beauty of it.

Yet, when the bliss subsided, how much worse the human world seemed in comparison. The city was a desert of rectilinear forms -- its people like shadows moving in the sand.

4

Night had fallen by the time Lucy arrived home. Once through her door, exhaustion and weariness led her straight to the bed, where, taking off her shoes, she lay down without getting undressed. Sleep captured her soon afterward.

It was an anxious sleep however, broken by nightmares. In one she was again in the station, and the attacker once more had his knife at her throat. This time, however, rather than simply running off, the attacker slit her throat with the knife. She impotently looked on as her life began to bleed away... only then for something within her to violently jolt her awake: the panic briefly remaining in her wakened awareness.

In the morning, the alarm clock woke her at the usual time -- intended to give her plenty of time to get ready for work. This morning, however, she didn't get out of bed at the usual time. Instead she simply lay on the bed -- frozen in thought.

She had long accepted that society was indifferent to her. Yesterday's attack, however, had introduced a new element into the mix -- positive hostility. Plus, with the ever-increasing unemployment rate, such attacks would only become more and more frequent. Did she really want to go out into a world that, at best, couldn't care less about her -- and at worst saw her as a legitimate target of robbery and violence? No -- not today.

And so she simply lay there for hours -- unable to rouse herself to move. Indeed, even when she did finally get up -- around midday -- it was only at the prodding of boredom; the depressive thoughts showed no sign of relenting.

Her hands managed to assemble some coffee and lunch, which she consumed while gazing out the window at the world beyond:

Why was human connection so hard to find? Were humans always this cruel, or had circumstances made them more so? Was there a way out of this morass? A way to feel the warmth of human touch again?

And it was then that a shocking vision filled her mind -- a vision of her kissing a man, of her making love to him...

This mental desire was then confirmed by her body, as lust suddenly raged through her. Indeed, by the time the feeling had subsided, she had finished her coffee and lunch.

Where the hell had that come from? She was no robot, of course. Yet still, she defined herself by her dignified self-control. Her virginity didn't bother her at all -- it was just there, like wallpaper or furniture.

Yet here was this desire, coming like floodwater to a desert. And even more surprising was the fact that, as she thought more about it, her mind began to see the logic of the urge.

After all, it would comprise a form of human connection: a very vital, earthy one. It was also eminently achievable, since more men than ever before were selling their bodies to avoid the misery of unemployment. All she really had to do was go on a social media site, and find one of those men with a discreetly coded message on his homepage...

And why not? What did she have to lose? Life didn't look like offering up any other form of excitement anytime soon. And she had nearly died yesterday, hadn't she? What if she was attacked again? Would it end like her nightmare -- watching as her life faded away?

No. 'Undignified' or 'out-of-character' it might be, but she couldn't go on with this hollow existence. She had to do something.

And as she turned on her tablet and went online, she now knew what that something was.

5

The selection of men was enormous: men of every race, size and physique. How could she possibly choose? She had hardly thought extensively about such things...

Eventually she just decided to go with instinct: which man did she feel most attracted to? And so she revisited some of the better candidates, and finally made her decision.

His name was Arnav Kumar. He was 28, of Indian descent, and had only recently lost his job as an accountant (accountancy had been vulnerable for a while, since AI found repetitive number-crunching particularly easy). He was of medium height, had dark eyes and hair and -- above all -- a friendly-looking face. And so, after much procrastination, she decided to message him:

Hi Arnav,

I was just wondering if you could come over to my place this evening; and, if so, what your typical rate would be for that?

Thanks,

Lucy Porter

Too blunt and direct perhaps. Yet what was the protocol for this kind of thing? She had no idea; and so she forcefully pressed 'send' before she had chance to change her mind.

6

Arnav Kumar's screen pinged with a new message alert. He clicked on it and saw, to his relief, that it was from a prospective client. Business had hardly been brisk in the first couple of months of his new profession. He was completely new to the game, of course -- a background in accountancy hardly helping with this kind of thing. Hence he replied to the message almost instantly:

Hello Lucy,

Of course -- what is your address? I could come over around 7 if you like?

It varies a little depending on the requirements of individual clients, but my average rate is about £150 a session -- if that's OK?

Also, do you have any particular requirements for the session: such as a favourite position, role play, etc

Regards,

Arnav

Predictably, her reply was just as prompt as his own:

Arnav,

About 7 would be fine. I live at 12 Victoria Court, New Malden.

£150 is fine. I'll have a think about my requirements and let you know when you get here.

See you later,

Lucy

And that was that. Still, a client's money was more important than her conversation. Ultimately, sessions like this evening's were necessary just to pay the bills. After all, an accountant's lifestyle was difficult to maintain without an accountant's salary.

And so he sat back in his chair, and contemplated the coming evening with a sense of satisfaction.

7

Seven o'clock seemed to take an age to arrive, but eventually it did arrive, and Arnav knocked on Lucy's door at precisely the right time. Punctuality is important, Arnav reflected, because it shows the client how professional you are.

There was a delay before Lucy opened the door. When she did, nervousness and uncertainty were clearly visible on her face. "Arnav?", she asked. He nodded. "Please come in, and make yourself comfortable in the living room".

He walked in, found the living room, and sat down in one of the chairs. Lucy followed him, sitting herself down in a chair opposite him. "So...do I pay you now or later?". "The way I usually work is to receive half the payment before, and half the payment after -- that way both parties are covered". "Ok", Lucy said, retrieving some money from her purse, "here's £75".

She handed him the money, and then an awkward silence briefly fell between them. Arnav broke it by asking "Have you thought about any special requirements that you might have for the session?"

"I think I would I like to be on top of you at first.... I don't know anything about role-play or anything like that. But I should also tell you that I'm a virgin -- so please go slowly and gently with me".

My first virgin, Arnav thought, feeling both excited and worried by the challenge. "That's fine" he said, "Whenever you're ready..."

"OK, please follow me this way to the bedroom", she said, getting up and leading him in the required direction. Once there, Arnav began to undress promptly and without fuss, whilst Lucy took much longer to undress.

"Is it OK if I just leave my top on?" she asked, "it's just that I'm a little self-conscious". "Of course -- whatever feels best for you", Arnav replied.

He then made his way over to the bed, and laid himself down in it. Lucy again paused for a moment, but then walked over to the bed, slipped under the covers, and positioned her body on top of Arnav's -- the way she had seen in films.

"Erm....right" Arnav said, "I'm just going to put myself inside you, and then I shall initiate the motion. There will be nothing to worry about, I promise you".

She nodded. And so he slowly inserted his penis inside her vagina, and began a thrusting motion. Her body seemed to know well-enough what to do, and reciprocated with a complementary motion. In this way, they slowly managed to get a rhythm going.

Lucy was actually quite attractive, and it strangely turned him on that she'd not removed her top. He was experienced however, and knew how to stop himself cumming too soon. Lucy took a little while to relax, but then clearly began to become aroused herself -- her breathing becoming deeper, quiet moans escaping her lips.

Sensing this, Arnav then stepped up the pace. Lucy's body again answered in kind. Then Arnav couldn't hold back any longer, and he came gloriously inside her. This also tipped Lucy over the edge, and she moaned deeply as the climax wracked her body. Satiated, she then pulled herself off Arnav, and lay herself next to him on the bed.

8

"Oh wow" Lucy exclaimed, "that was amazing. How long until we can do it again?". "I usually give it a few minutes or so" Arnav replied casually. Inwardly, however, he had to admit she was right -- it was amazing. He hadn't cum like that in ages. The way she moaned....the way her top playfully suggested her figure underneath.....it had all been too much for him. But professionals were still human, after all.

"How long have you been doing this?" she asked. "Just a couple of months", he replied; "I used to be an accountant, but they automated my job. AI just finds repetitive number-crunching so easy".

"Yes, it's happened in so many places now, hasn't it?" she said; "I'm a teacher, but who knows how long I'll have a job for? I'm sure they'll come up with some interactive teaching programme that can educate children more cheaply and efficiently than I can".

"Yes. These executives are making millions from firing everyone and replacing them with robots", he said resentfully.

"Well, at least if they fire me I can do what you do. It'd be a lot more fun than teaching anyway".

"You don't like your job?" Arnav asked, genuinely surprised.

"The children just have no passion for learning", she replied; "no passion for anything in fact, other than virtual communication. They're not alone, of course. The whole of society is dead. It's really the reason why I wanted to do this -- I just wanted to feel some human warmth, some intimacy".

"And did you feel any?"

"Oh yes", she said knowingly.

9

"Do you think we've left enough time now?" asked Lucy hopefully.

"Yes, I think so".

"Great. Can I maybe go under you this time? I want to see what that's like".

"Sure" said Arnav. And so he leaned over Lucy, then gently slipped himself inside her again. She was already moist and, indeed, he became hard very quickly. Then he began thrusting -- and once again her body seemed to know how to respond. This time, however, she was much less cautious; freely exploring his body with her hands -- savouring the strength of his back and shoulders.

The tempo of their motions quickened -- much more rapidly than before. This time Lucy was the first to break, exclaiming "Oh please!" before the climax flooded through her. Seeing this made Arnav cum again -- and he finished by collapsing on her chest with the sweetness and exhaustion of it all.

Lucy caressed his hair softly. Then she chuckled, and asked "How much do I owe you again?"

"No charge....no charge....believe me..." was Arnav's muffled reply, as he felt a new kind of warmth spreading through him.

The end