Party like it’s 2099 - Arrival

"Oh, my, my, Ann. You seem to have forgotten your panties. How incredibly naughty of you."

One of the SPA's dildo attachments, disguised as a couple of Lucy's fingers touches the moist lips of my vulva and I twitch, gasping softly as she activates its vibration mode. She rubs the camouflaged vibrator it in slow gentle circles around my clit, then down my slick slit to the entrance of my vagina. Lucy's familiar turquoise blue eyes that I spent so much time perfecting in shape, size, and hue, peer over the top of her rose tinted sunglasses and I stare into them as she pushes the SPA's appendage forward.

My breathing quickens and catches on my lips as my vagina accepts her inside of me.

"Yes, honey. Relax, let me ease your tension," Lucy's sexy voice whispers to me.

She works herself deep inside my pussy until the dildo's clit stimulator feature, masked as her thumb, comes in contact with what it was built for. My moans intensify and become higher pitched as its vibrations ripple along my clitoris.

"Ohhhhh, fuck!"

"Is that what you like, Ann? I've never done this before, hon. Tell me what you want."

"Oh yes, Lucy...just like that...ahhhhh"

I close my eyes as Lucy explores and teases my pussy and I think back to the last time I went to one of these pop up clubs. Memories of all the wonderful sex I had that night replays behind my closed eyelids until I land on one guy in particular.

It's interesting that his face is hazy but I can vividly remember how wonderfully he smelled and the texture of his sweaty skin and the weight of his body on mine. As amazing as a SPA unit is, none of those things can be duplicated with technology. I also clearly remember the shape and feel and taste of his penis so I concentrate on that, imagining that it's his dick I feel right now deep inside me.

So fucking good...so horny.

"Ahhh...increase dildo girth by 30%."

Instantly the sex aide expands inside my pussy and my vagina stretches then squeezes tightly around the growing phallus. I gasp then groan in approval of its new size.

"Faster, Lucy. Please baby, fuck me harder!" I whimper hoarsely.

Lucy complies, pumping my pussy with quicker more forceful strokes. My moans increase in volume and pace matching her increased tempo.

"Oh Lucy! So good! Fuck me like a whore!"

Lucy's vibrating and pistoning "fingers" pound against my G-spot and my body convulses as I orgasm.

"Ohhhhh cummming!"

I grind my pussy against her dildo hand and ride waves of pleasure as droplets of cum spurt from my spasming cunt and disappear as they pass through Lucy's hand spattering the faux leather edge of my seat.

"Lick my dirty clit!"

Lucy's beautiful holographic face leans between my thighs without hesitation and the SPA's oral attachment locates my swollen pink bud and swirls around it as the dildo continues to pound briskly into me. I wish I could run my fingers into the brunette hair of Lucy's bob and pull her face harder against my needy sex, but despite her lovely and convincing facade, even in this desperate state I know her physicality is nothing but a trick of light.

I can feel another intense wave of pleasure building and I lift and spread my legs giving Lucy as much access to my sex as possible and cum hard again.

I'm so turned on I want...no I need, more!

"Keep doing what you're doing, Lucy," I moan loudly. "Now baby, fuck my ass too!" I gasp.

A third SPA attachment wakes and seeks out my eagerly awaiting anus. At the tip of the dildo is a small slit similar to a urethra that is not only capable of delivering an ejaculant like Jizz-Shots, but can also secrete a lubricant. Lucy uses this to apply a generous amount of Slip-n-Slide to my rectum, then slowly spreads my sphincter with the tip of the faux cock.

The pleasure of being filled and stimulated simultaneously in my pussy and ass is exquisite. A fresh wave of pleasure rises rapidly and I ride its edge. There is just one thing left that I need to push me over the top, "Lucy, talk dirty to me!"

Staring down at Lucy's beautifully rendered face she gives me her sexiest grin as I watch her fuck me and says, "Cum for me you dirty little slut! Look at how easily you spread your legs and beg to be fucked! Who's a nasty little whore, Ann?"

"I am! I'm your filthy whore!" I blurt out, and with those words I climax. As my orgasm hits I'm lost to it, and my body spasms in violent ecstasy.

"Ahhhhhhh....ahhhhhhh...ooooh fuck!"

Lucy doesn't relent as I cum. If anything she seems to fuck me even harder. My body bucks deliciously against the SPA appendages as I repeatedly orgasm. The sounds of my pleasure crescendo filling the vehicle's cabin overpowering the background music. As my orgasms recede so to do my surroundings and I fall into a post sex haze of bliss. Lucy, finally retracts the dildos from my spent and breathless body.

I'm not sure how much time passes, probably not more than a handful of seconds, but next thing I'm aware of is Lucy, gently telling me, "Ann, we are pulling up to your destination. It's 12:24 AM, Eastern Standard Time." This snaps me out of my euphoria and back into the moment. Opening my eyes I see Lucy leaning back at me from the car's driver seat looking as fresh and perfect as always.

I sit up trying to compose myself.

"There are moist towelettes in the storage compartment behind my seat, just in front of you, if you need some, hon," Lucy informs me.

I flip open a compartment door and see some tissues and paper towels, as well as the wipes she was referring to, plus bandages and various other first aide paraphernalia.

"Thank you, Lucy."

I grab a couple of wipes and clean my genitals and butt and wipe the cum off the seat then dispose of the items in the bio waste receptacle. Feeling much more relaxed, refreshed and clean, I smooth out my skirt and zip up my coverall.

Fixing my mask securely in place, I check all the seals on my protective gear.

"Hey thanks, Lucy...for, you know, helping me out."

"My pleasure, Ann. What are friends?" she chuckles.

"Right," I laugh. "Okay, then. Exit please. Find the closest Park-N-Wait and I'll contact you when I'm ready to go home."

Lucy gives me a confused and worried look, "Ann, are you sure this is the right place, hon? It looks pretty sketchy."

The vehicle's door slides open with a hiss as the hermetically sealed capsule of the vehicle is broken. The heat of the summer night air rushes in and greets me like the blast from an open oven door.

"Hmmm...maybe I should wait here for a bit in case you change your mind," Lucy says, sounding genuinely concerned.

It would be a dead giveaway that there was a party being thrown here if everyone just parked in front of it so that is a big no-no and not an option. I step out and scan the dark deserted street, then turn back to face her, "I'll, ah, be fine," I say, surprising myself by how uncertain I sound. "You can take off. Don't worry, I'll call you in a couple of hours."

Lucy pauses for a second, giving me the look of a concerned friend gauging whether or not she should do as she is told.

Eventually, she relents, "Okay hon, if you say so. Have fun, but please be careful out there," Lucy urges.

"Thanks. That's the plan," I say, giving her a grin beneath the clear polycarbonate faceplate of my mask.

I watch Lucy drive away then look up at the ominously dark building towering in front of me. I've driven around the edge of the Old City numerous times before and through it on occasion, but I've never actually stopped and walked its streets.

It's incredibly eerie to be standing here alone in the middle of this ghost town at just past midnight, and despite the August heat a chill runs down my body. To think that this same place was once the thriving, crowded hub of the old society is weird and sad.

Out of the corner of my mask I glimpse a dark pit thirty feet from where I'm standing, with a set of stairs leading down into the locked and boarded inky abyss of what was once the old subway system. There has always been a part of me that is fascinated and yet terrified by life in the old days and there is nothing more horrifying than the idea of the old subways. My skin crawls and a fresh shiver runs down my spine at the very thought of it.

I try to imagine what it must have been like to walk those crowded passageways deep underground and ride one of its trains during "rush hour". All those unprotected people packed together like sardines in those disgusting metal boxes, surrounded by germs and filth. I've seen old 2D films of it, and it just seems like madness to me. Memories of the mass graves and blazing crematoriums from my parents' days involuntarily flash through my mind.

I glance at the sign at the mouth of the entrance and despite some weathering and graffiti, I can still make out the station's name; 34th street Herald Square.

It's not easy to force my eyes and thoughts away from the catacombs of the old subway but I manage to turn and scan up and down the rest of the street. Other than a few sporadic street lights none of the buildings near here are lit and all the street-level windows and doors are boarded or gated up.

It's so deserted. Well, I guess that's why they picked this location for the party.

I'm standing not far from a huge intersection and the building on the northwest corner, across a multi lane Avenue, catches my eye. At some point, years ago, a fire tore through it and the ancient tracks of black soot still stain the building halfway up its lightless remains.

Despite the damage, the tarnished gold signage etched into the side of the ground level wall is still visible identifying the store's last occupant as, "Victoria's Secret".

Such an intriguing name. I wonder what they sold.

The boarded and burnt display windows offer no evidence of what "Victoria's" former wares were. I guess whatever mysteries she held within died with her.

I turn my attention back to the building before me. I'm no expert, but I'm familiar enough with the history of pre-pandemic city life to know that this behemoth once contained a "department" store. I'm actually in awe of its size and scale. My eyes follow the facade down the length of the block.

Oh damn. It stretches from one Avenue to the other!

Even though this area of midtown was once the heart of the Old City, everything closed during The Second Pandemic in 2037, not to reopen again until the mid to late '40s. It was just starting to re-establish itself when the APDS-1 struck in the spring of 2063.

After the crushing blow of the Third Pandemic and fifteen years of death and solitude, the State did everything it could to help and encourage businesses to repopulate the area assuming that with the latest crisis behind them people would resume life as they had before. But the horrors of '63 were just too powerful, and too ingrained into the social consciousness to overcome.

Naturally The New Empire State was eager to get its economy back on track especially after The United States was disbanded in 2075 and the Alliance of Independent States was formed in its place, but the "Uncles" in charge were blind to the fact that the psychology of the world had also changed.

Despite huge budget deficits, they upgraded the decrepit and failing mechanical levies that surrounded the Old City and its boroughs with a series of state-of-the-art energy field dikes to protect the real estate that had once been so valuable from the rising waters of the Arctic melt. If they hadn't, I'd be ten feet underwater right now.

Their hope, of course, was that with the area protected it would revitalize the business zones, but the mega brick and mortar stores never reopened and most office buildings were so sparsely occupied that it was more profitable for building owners to shutter them and receive State aid than to partially rent them.

Looking up above the building's entrance I try to make out the store's name. At the far left sits the shattered, bullet-riddled remains of a red star, followed by a lowercase "m" written in what looks like grey plastic but was probably once white.

Hummm, that's odd. I wonder if there was a letter in front of the star? I really doubt a business as impressive as this would start its name with a lowercase "m".

The letter after the "m" is entirely missing but enough of the last three letters are intact that I believe they were probably "cy*s". Curiously there is also a tiny white star above the "y", and just before the "s".

Hummm...doesn't ring any bells. Oh well, whatever "*m_cy*s" once was, it's long dead now.

Staring at the size and scope of this building It's hard to fathom that many people congregating in one place, day after day, putting their health at risk just to buy "stuff". It's no wonder diseases spread constantly back then.

Ok, enough of the past. Stop procrastinating and get inside to the party.

Just as I am about to move forward a Tesla Luxura XL1 turns the corner and slows as it nears me. It comes to a stop about ten feet from where I'm standing and I can't help but stare in admiration at this beautiful machine.

Wow! I've seen the holo-vid ads. Those cars are beautiful but expennnnsive!

As I admire the car's crisp lines and sexy curves, its avatar exits the driver's side door and circles the vehicle to open the passenger compartment. Unlike Lucy who I designed to look like a peer and a companion, this one is dressed in a perfectly fitted black suit with a white button-down shirt and black tie. The old-style military cap with a visor, also in black, indicates that "he" is a chauffeur and not just a "driver".

Intrigued, I watch him "open" the passenger door. It's all just a grandiose show of course, since "he" isn't actually physically working the door.

Out of the vehicle a woman emerges wearing a gorgeous dress so slinky and perfectly fitted that it looks as if she has poured liquid gold onto her amazingly curvaceous body. As she stands and turns towards the chauffeur to instruct him to take the car to the nearest Park-N-Wait, I view the the back of the gown which is open and draped so low that I see nothing but smooth flawless skin, down past, the small of her back to the swell of her ample ass, where an inch of butt cleavage peeks out at me.

She turns in my direction as the chauffeur returns to the Tesla and takes off down the avenue, and I can't help but stare hypnotically at the firm globes of her breasts as they sway and bounce within the narrow confines of the dress's amazing fabric, threatening to break free as she steps from the street, up the curb, and on to the sidewalk. Despite its plunging neckline that is open to the middle of her flat belly, her areolas somehow manage to stay covered.

The dress must weigh very little because it is being held up by spaghetti straps that are nothing more than shiny gold threads looped over her bronze, perfectly sculpted shoulders.

My eyes follow the dress down her body to its asymmetrical hemline which starts just below her left hip and cuts across her upper thighs, ending midway along her right calf. Protruding below are some very long and shapely legs, each finished with a stiletto-heeled pump of matching gold. Even in the low light of the darkened street, the dress glitters so brightly that it almost seems to be radiating its own light.

Unlike me, she doesn't need a coverall because the telltale shimmer of energy shielding lets me know she is using the latest in protective gear. Ultra sleek force field emitters located in simple gold bands around her neck, ankles, and wrists, project a protective barrier around her entire body that blocks radiation and destroys any microscopic biomatter that comes in contact with it but allows oxygen to flow freely.

I'm so mesmerized by her dress that I'm completely caught off guard when she says, "You going in?"

"Am I what?" I answer blankly.

"The party, are you about to enter?"

I stare into her stunningly attractive face, which is perfectly framed by golden ringlets of hair, like an idiot until my brain finally registers that she's letting me know she doesn't want to cut ahead of me if I'm about to enter the party.

"Oh right," I giggle, "Yeah, I was just heading in, thanks."

I turn back to the party's entrance and walk towards the bouncer who is standing next to a single unboarded door. The black paramilitary hazmat suit that they are wearing masks any trace of gender and makes them almost invisible in the thick shadows of the building's broad canopy. That type of gear always makes me uneasy.

Subconsciously I suck on the straw in my mask hoping there might be a little DaterAide left to give me an extra boost of confidence but come up dry.

I understand that they need something durable that can stand up to a physical altercation and still protect them in case someone fails testing and gets rowdy, but this kind of gear is just so cold and inhuman, and it dredges up unpleasant memories from my childhood.

Walking casually up to them I try my best to seem unfazed by their appearance as I pull up my party invite and extend my coms bracelet so they can scan it for the entrance code that confirms I've been pre-vetted.

Once my invite is approved they pass a handheld Geiger counter up and down my body just to be sure I haven't run through any irradiated areas on my way here. The slow lazy clicking indicates to us both that I haven't been exposed to any unexpected radiation. The final step before admittance is a quick scan of the bag I brought with me to carry my coverall and mask, and eventually at some point in the night, my clothes.

Convinced that I'm secure and not a hazard, they say, "Alright, that's 750." The suit uses a voice synthesizer causing their speech to sound robotic and genderless, further obliterating any remaining trace of humanity.

Damn, 750. Well, it's not like I do this all the time.

I authorize the entrance fee in E-Coin and flash it over to the party's account. A year ago a pop-up club like this cost half as much but the State is in the middle of one of their periodic crackdown phases so I guess the higher cost reflects their additional risk.

Of course, if the State really wanted to prevent any of these parties from happening they easily could, but it's been such a huge hurdle for them to get people to mingle, that they don't want to entirely stymie our efforts when we do.

Naturally they would prefer to control the who, where, and when of citizen meetups, and would love it if everyone used their strictly monitored sites, but so many of us are refusing to enroll in them, that they begrudgingly and unofficially allow us to attend these pop-up parties. At least sex is happening at them and inevitably some people will meet and form long-lasting relationships, plus if there is ever a true outbreak they have deniability.

The bouncer confirms my payment then pulls the door open allowing me to step into the party's makeshift screening zone. I glance back at the golden woman taking one last look at her fabulous dress, then move through the doorway.

In the center of what was once a vestibule now stands a portable comprehensive pathogen testing and decontamination pod in sleep mode. Other than a soft light accentuating its open hatch, and some light leaking in from a second set of glass doors opposite the one I just walked through, the room is completely dark.

One of my clients sells new and used screening pods, so even in this poor lighting I instantly recognize the Lifeboat 7. I do web design for them, laying out the product pages and I also program their automated salesperson, so I'm very familiar with all the major brands of screening pods and I've memorized most of their specs. After all, in this day and age knowing what equipment you are entrusting your life to is handy information to have.