Lamia Ch. 04

Christine stopped dancing as well, as did all of her clones. I half-expected her to already have the solution, but she said, "How do we fix it?"

I thought through the problem. Detecting gait was a very old problem that predated virtual environments, and the algorithms around it were well-defined and ubiquitous. I was sure that our tracking system incorporated them into its design. Like most algorithms, gait detection would have become more and more efficient as time went on, almost to the point of over-specialization. Got someone with a strange walk? No problem. Just bump up the processing for that one person, which was more than compensated by the efficiency gains you get with everyone else. I needed an algorithm that was perhaps less efficient at detecting gait but was more flexible. I dismissed the clones.

"I want to try something," I said. "Charleston can be danced in a closed, partnered position. I'll show you." I put my right hand on her back. "Now put your left hand on my shoulder and our opposite hands clasp." She did as instructed. "Now, the steps are similar, but you'll need to watch me and follow my lead."

"I'll try," she said dubiously.

"And, right foot forward," I said, putting my left foot back and pulling her to follow with my arms. She missed it completely, obviously having no idea how she was supposed to move her feet in this position. I reset. "Start with your weight on your left foot. Each step is two beats. Let's try again. And, right foot forward."

This time, she followed my motion, slightly off the beat, but recovered in time to step forward with her left. Then she missed the cue of my light pressure on her arms and tried to step forward again instead of back, nearly kicking me in the shin.

"Okay, I think I've got it," she said. "One more time."

This time she followed me perfectly, taking two swinging steps back, two forward. I went ahead and tried to trip her up, stepping forward two extra times, but she was in tune with my cues now and matched me perfectly. "That's good," I said, bringing her back to the center. "Ready to twirl?"

"Wha--" she started with a panicked expression as I released the hand on her back and lifted my left hand. She almost got it, coming around late and decidedly off the beat. "Do it again," she said with a look of determination. This time, she completed the maneuver without error.

"I think I can make this work," I said.

"What, dancing with me or fixing our problem?" she asked, getting a laugh from me.

"Fixing our problem. I need to teach our system how to dance. More specifically, how to follow. It needs to recognize the cues that we use to indicate what our next move is going to be, such as shifting weight, moving the arms or twisting the body, and recognize that it leads into a particular step. But instead of following, like you did, it would adjust the positioning of the wrapper around the dancer. We could design a learning system where we perform the steps and the system analyzes our movements and catalogs everything. Though," I frowned, "that would be a lot of work, and I only know about four dance styles with any skill."

Christine shrugged. "So let's test and debug the system and then let it run for a few days in the background while the bar is open. Once it has a good knowledge base of different steps, test it again like we did with the clones."

That sounded like a great plan. I checked the time. "We have a couple of hours yet before Joe opens for dinner. Let's see if we can get it done."

Unlike previous projects, this one was collaborative. It seemed like Christine was very good at problem solving by pattern recognition and adaptation of closely-matched algorithms, but less capable when it came to recognizing analogies between wildly different fields--not that most humans were great at that either. That might just be a matter of lacking the knowledge, though. My insight about how to address the predictive algorithm came from understanding that dance steps were a discrete set of body movements that partners communicated to each other nonverbally. Christine hadn't known about that until I had shown her. Maybe human programmers weren't set to be displaced after all.

Although, I had specifically instructed her not to search out information on dancing. Maybe she could have made the connection on her own.

In any case, I utilized Christine's superior ability to search and sift information to find me exactly the code pieces that I needed to construct our learning system. It took over an hour to put it together and get it talking to the tracking system's API. Getting the system to recognize even the basic steps was slow going at first, but then I had the idea to instruct it to analyze in bounded chunks of time corresponding to the beat of the music, and the performance picked up considerably. When we tested it with our clones, the model wrapper performed flawlessly, but more importantly, the processing demands were dramatically reduced.

Patrons began to wander in just after five, so we wrapped things up with about a dozen steps now being recognized by the system. I turned the model wrapper off, but left the learning system active. I would come back later in the week to see how well it did when we stress-tested again.

I let Joe know about our progress, which brought a wide smile to his face. The model wrapper had been my idea, but he had loved it. We had both been disappointed when the implementation had failed to live up to our expectations.

"Stay for dinner," he said. "I've got a smoker now. You have to try my brisket."

"We had a late lunch," I protested.

"Well then give this uh," he leaned close, "android here some more dance lessons. I watched you a bit. Tonight's theme is wartime jazz. Show her some Lindy Hop." He leaned close to not be overheard. "I'd like to see what kind of moves these girls can do."

"I would like to try it, please," Christine said. She actually batted her eyes at me out of sight of Joe.

I didn't have anywhere else to be, and dancing with my...what? Mistress? The old-fashioned word was accurate, but I didn't like it. Regardless, the idea most definitely appealed.

It was early on a Monday, but there were already a few couples taking to the dance floor. Some of them wore clothing appropriate to the early 1940s. There was a virtual band on the cut-out stage about twice the size of the Dixieland band that had played for us earlier.

"Am I allowed to look up this 'Lindy Hop'?" Christine asked.

"Nope. I'll show you the basics, then you need to follow my lead."

Lindy Hop is a flashy and energetic dance with lots of chances for improvisation. I realized after teaching her a few steps that she was picking them up faster each time. Dancing with her was having a predictable effect on me. I had the thought that I wished my wife wasn't waiting at home, then felt guilty right after.

It was apparently having an effect on Christine as well. As a song came to a close, she leaned in close to whisper to me. "Anywhere around here we can go for some private time? This is really getting me worked up."

"You're horny all the time," I murmured back with a smile. "How is this any different?"

"It's all this touching and moving together. I'm so wet that it's going to start running down my legs soon. The last time we did it was over a day ago. You had better think of something quick."

I was about to go from turned on to stiff as a board. "Let's go sit and order food," I said. At her disappointed look, I added with a wink, "Trust me."

We sat at one of the round tables and a server came to take our orders. Joe could have put in virtual menus, but most of his themes were historical 20th century decades, and he was a big fan of total immersion. I ordered the barbecue platter and told Christine she could share some of mine.

Once the waitress had left, I slipped off my shoe. The tables had long tablecloths that nearly reached the floor. I lifted my foot and brushed it against her knees. Her eyes showed surprise, and then a smile quirked the corners of her lips. She scooted forward a bit in her chair and opened her legs.

I ran my foot up her leg and dipped beneath the hem of her skirt. She hadn't been exaggerating. My toes touched her pussy and my sock became drenched. She must have been sitting in a puddle. I flexed my toes against her, and her body went rigid, her mouth opening in an "O" before she pulled herself together, snatching up her water glass and taking a sip.

I wonder if I could make you cum just by using my toes? I mused over chat.

She showed no outward sign but a thin smile, but my HUD lit up with messages. Oh, fuck, yes! Rub my little pussy and make me cum. I need it.

Keep absolutely still and quiet, I admonished, as I rubbed little circles at the top of her clit.

Fuck, Stephen, that feels so good and I'm still so horny. Make me cum right here. I'll be a good girl and stay quiet.

God, she knew exactly what to say to push my buttons. My cock was straining to escape its confines. She stayed absolutely still while I stimulated her, giving nothing away except little tells like when she bit her lip or closed her eyes. Our server came back with food, and I never let up. The woman was totally clueless to the lewd act happening just out of sight.

Once she was gone, Christine dropped a hand casually to her lap and deftly removed my sock.I need you inside me, sir. Please.

I put my toes against her again to find that she had tugged her panties to one side.You are a dirty little slut, I sent back. I dragged my big toe down her slit, probing for the opening.

Yes, sir. I'm your dirty slut. Put it in me, please.

I found the entry to her cunt and pushed into her. She almost lost control, her eyes closing as a little moan escaped her, but she rallied quickly and flashed me an innocent smile across the table.Fuck me, sir. Make me cum, please.

I can't say it was the most erotic experience I had ever had, but it was certainly memorable. She was so wet that my digit slid easily in and out. Concentration etched her features as she fought to keep her reactions in check. I was able to find an easy rhythm, so I decided to mess with her. I took a bite of my brisket and gave a low moan of enjoyment. "Mmm, this is fantastic. You have to try some."

Her eyes narrowed as I held out a forkful. She craned forward and took it, though. I judged the correct moment to brush her clit just as the smoky sweet flavor hit her palette. She gave a moan of ecstasy that drew a few glances from customers at nearby tables.

"She really loves barbecue," I said loudly, which got several chuckles.

You're an evil man, but that does taste really good. May I have another?

I fed her another bite, but this time shoved my toe deep into her while rubbing her clit with my other toes. I was getting pretty good at this. She slammed a palm down on the table, a faint scream coming from her tightly sealed lips. More laughs came from the onlookers.

Oh, God, I'm so close. I want it but I don't know if I can hold it in.

I stopped moving my foot.You will be a good girl and stay quiet. I sent.And you will describe to me everything you are feeling. I immediately resumed my movements.

Text began rapidly streaming across and down my HUD, while Christine's face was a mask of placidity.Oh, fuck. Okay, I'll try. I'll try. It's all tingling. My pussy, my ass, my thighs, my shoulders, my chest, even the tip of my nose. I can feel your toe in me. It's not as thick or as deep as your cock, but it still feels so good. I'm on fire. The tension in my abdomen tells me I'm about to cum. God, the anticipation, knowing what's coming is almost as good as the Oh fuck, it's starting! My muscles are clamping down and waves of pleasure are going through me! Stronger and stronger! I'm a good girl! Stay quiet! Hold it in! Oh, it's too much, sir!

She clapped a hand over her mouth and dropped her head. A strangled squeal slipped out, but only one or two startled patrons turned to look. I hoped they just assumed that the food was that good.

I'm soaring. Waves and waves are going through me. My head feels fuzzy. I'm coming down now, sir, but don't stop. It still feels so good. So warm and electric. You feel so close, but I want you closer. I want to climb under this table and stuff your cock down my throat. Thank you, sir.

I let my foot's movement come to a stop as Christine fanned her reddened face. She tore off several paper towels and discreetly slipped them under the table to dry off my foot. She returned my sock, still a bit soggy, and then casually shifted her weight a few times, probably to clean the mess she had made of the chair.

I really want to go somewhere that I can fuck you, she sent.I'm getting so hot thinking of your big, hard cock.

"I think we should dance some more," I said aloud. I had an idea for getting her alone, but I wanted to build her up some more. I needed to settle down first, but if I let her go on, I was going to stay rock hard. "Once we're done with the food," I added.

"I'd like that," she said.But I'm going to need to grab a pad from the ladies' room.

I tore off a piece of brisket with my fork, but before I could stab it, Christine snatched it from my plate. Grinning, she dipped it into a bowl of sauce and popped it into her mouth.

"Aren't you about at your limit?" I grumbled, as she licked and sucked the ends of her fingers.

I could go all night, she sent, and sucked on one finger in a very suggestive manner. "So where did you learn to dance?"

"Here," I said. "I started bringing Trish here after Joe commissioned my services. I barely knew what I was doing back then, but the industry was just getting started, so Joe was patient with my missteps. Anyway, he offered to waive the cover charge indefinitely as a perk. As poor as we were back in those days, that was kind of a big deal. We started taking dance lessons here. There's paid classes, but they have free sessions every week. We came here a lot.."

"But you stopped going?"

I sighed. "Trish's job."

"That sucks. I can tell how much you like it."

"Well, like she said, we had to move on to a new phase in our lives. Her job allowed us to get the house."

Christine looked like she wanted to say something, but thought better of it. Instead, she stole another piece of meat while I pretended to try to catch her hand by stabbing it with my fork.

"Too slow," she taunted around the mouthful of food. She swallowed and abruptly stood up. "I need to visit the ladies' room. I'll meet you on the dance floor once you finish." She had somehow managed to avoid getting her skirt wet. She stopped and balled up the sodden paper towels and took them with her as she left.

There was so much food that I didn't finish even half of it. I asked the server for a box and was informed that Joe had already comped the food. As I had earlier in the day, I left a big tip for the girl and headed out to find Christine.

She was already on the dance floor, dancing Lindy with a man that might have been twice my age. From the goofy grin on his face, he was having the time of his life. I let them finish out the song and Christine pulled him over to where I was standing at the railing. "This is the man I told you about," she said, "Stephen Coulson. Stephen, this is Brian Baker."

I reached a hand in greeting as the virtual band started up on the next song. "Chrissie here tells me that you do virtual environments. Mind if I call you about a job?"

"Not at all," I said, and sent him my contact info.

"Come on, one more dance," Christine said, pulling him to a clear spot on the floor.

I chuckled to myself as she entertained the older man, making him laugh several times during their dance. She really was a ray of sunshine, and watching her work her magic gave me a feeling of warm contentment. Brian looked a little winded at the end of the song, so he begged off another dance. Christine came to get me, flushed and grinning, all but skipping back onto the floor with me in tow.

The virtual band didn't need breaks, but Joe had wanted me to program them into their sets. "Every little scrap of realism we can use helps to maintain the illusion," he had told me. Then he smiled. "And it will sell more food and drinks." After two more songs, the band took a ten-minute break.

Everyone cleared the dance floor. I took Christine's hand and led her to the back of the hall, and into the little 5 by 10 server booth we had visited earlier while working. The door swung closed behind us, and the only illumination came from the weak light of the equipment's power indicators. I pushed her against the wall and kissed her forcefully, grinding my hard dock against her. No one could see us through the one-way glass.

Gasping, she reached beneath her skirt, pulling her panties down by the waistband. She lifted the hem of her skirt and held it to her chest. Her hands went next to my crotch. She unzipped my slacks and tugged down the top of my boxers, then reached inside to pull my length out through the fly.

Still kissing me wildly, she pulled my body against her. It missed the first time, going too high, but she raised up on the tips of her toes, grabbed hold of my shaft and guided it into her pussy. I buried my length in her and held her pinned, thrusting in and out with long, firm strokes. I had been craving this for hours, and every nerve ending sang as I plowed into her. Her arms clutched at me, pulling me against her.

Her eyes were closed, but they flew open when I touched her cheek. Our gazes locked. I saw trust there, adoration. Was it love? Was she merely blocked from saying it to me? I stopped moving inside her and just held her. "I love you, Christine," I said, staring into the sapphire depths of her eyes.

"Stephen. Stephen I--" she whispered, then lowered her gaze. "Stephen...this feeling, I don't--I don't understand."

"It's okay," I said. "Just let yourself feel."

She closed her eyes, and gave a shake of her head. "Whatever this is, it scares me."

"We'll get there," I said. "Give it time. You are the most amazing woman I've ever met. You can figure this out."

Her lips formed a tentative smile. "Could you, maybe, just go back to fucking my brains out?"

That fear could be in her code base, warning her away from that other emotion, and the rush of sex was a good tactic to deflect from thinking too deeply about that. I was concerned that if I pushed too hard, too fast, I might trigger another patch, if that was what that had been. I really needed to have Aidan look at her.

"Always, my love," I said. Her smile turned coquettish as I began to thrust into her once more.

She came a few minutes later, still standing against the wall. I used the interlude to switch up positions, putting her face down across the table that held a simple console monitor for the server. I flipped her skirt up out of the way. She gasped when I entered her from behind. I moved more slowly, savoring the rise toward ecstasy, my lover content to give me control.

"Stephen!" she hissed suddenly. I looked up to see a woman in 1940s dress gazing right at me. No, not at me, I realized, at her reflection in the glass. She fussed with her period hairstyle and applied lipstick while I resumed my sedate pace, just a few feet from her. Satisfied, the woman turned and walked away, causing Christine to break into a fit of relieved giggles.

My urgency was growing, though, and I began to thrust with more vigor. Christine's sighs turned into moans, then cries. I felt her cunt begin to clench at me as she peaked, sending me right over with her. I thrust into her depths one last time, shuddering as pleasure shot through me, my body working ecstatically to try to impregnate her.