Roberta Rossum

She was sitting in the ESU library, with a stack of imposing-looking reference books on the table, and a faint frown on her face as she typed a few notes into an expensive-looking laptop.

She wasn't wearing any makeup -- not that her perfect skin actually needed any -- and her hair was pulled severely back from her face and gathered in a single flowing sable pony tail. Her sweater, while form-fitting enough to hint at a nicely-shaped bustline, was not particularly revealing, though its colour complemented her colouration, which was medium, just a hint of surviving tan. Around her neck hung a chain supporting a pair of plain black-framed glasses, which she occasionally donned briefly and un-self-consciously whenever she needed to make out particularly difficult passages in the books she was researching.

Whatever else could be said of her appearance, she certainly had fine legs and -- and here was the odd note in her appearance that attracted attention -- they were definitely on display under the table, her feet in glistening red high-heeled pumps first catching the attention, leading to contemplation of shapely ankles caressed, bound and confined by the shoes' straps, after which the eye inevitably moved a bit higher, taking in the trim calves in sheer blue hose and the dimpled knees, then on to the fine strong-looking sleek thighs, eventually arriving at the hem of her red -- leather -- miniskirt.

Those fine legs, and the contrast between their presentation to the world and the rest of her appearance, had, over the three days she had been researching at that desk, caught the attention of several other library users, and some of them had made one or another excuse to speak to her, to try to make her acquaintance. The library staff, watching the inevitable brush-offs, had quietly enjoyed the discomfiture of several young men and one girl so far, when one more young man arrived at the desk and spoke quietly to her.

"Excuse me," he said. "Do you have Asimov's 'Fundamental Laws of Robotics' there?"

Glancing briefly up, she looked down at her stack of books and said "Yes -- I believe I do. Do you need it?"

"Well, actually, I just need one citation from it. Do you mind if I borrow it for a moment?"

"Not at all." she said, just the faint trace of an unidentifiable accent coloring her speech. Handing him the book, she casually asked "Are you studying cybernetics, also?"

"Actally, it's more of a hobby with me. I'm an Electronics major, but as a personal project, I'm working on Artificial Intelligence. I'm trying to decide how Asimov's Laws of Robotics can be instituted in a real-world situation, right now. It seems to me that if the Laws are fully implemented, the constraints that they place on the actions of the AI will prevent it from ever passing the Turing Test."

"An interesting theory," she said, rolling the "R" slightly. "How so?"

"Well, if the person sitting at the terminal issues a direct order to his 'partner', then what reaction he gets to that may well help him to determine whether he is communicating with a human or an AI -- a robot."

"I had thought of that," she responded, thoughtfully -- he noticed that she pronounced "th" with a bit of a Gabor-like "ts" sound. "I too am working on Artificial Intelligence; as a matter of fact, I am working on my thesis with Dr. Capek, and the subject is how to determine whether an AI is truly intelligent, rather than merely a very sophisticated computer game. We had discarded the basic Turing Test for just such flaws and are trying to determine some better method."

"Fascinating," he said. "One idea would be to simply forbid such order-giving, but that would prejudice the test."

"Exactly," she said, turning a bit to face him where he sat diagonally across the table from her, with a small smile on her face. "What Dr Capek has suggested that I consider..."

And the Discussion began, the eternal Discussion that always seems to arise whenever two academics with a true love of their subject happen to meet -- wide-ranging over the problems faced by researchers and what solutions they planned to try, touching on the perfidy of funding administrators and on the foibles and quirks of thesis advisors. Before long they were suggesting possible solutions to each others' current problems, and pointing out references in various of the volumes she had collected on the table.

In order to better share the texts, he had moved around to her side of the table and sat next to her, as they took turns looking up obscure facts of cybernetic lore and pointing them out. As they became more at ease with each other, their mutual passion for knowledge making it seem as if they had klnown each other for a long time, they drifted closer together at the table until, suddenly, with a bit of a start, he realised that her warm hip in its black leather had bumped against his.

"Ummm..." he began, but she interrupted him, speaking in a normal cheerful tone that didn't so much deny the contact of their bodies as simply make it unimportant in the Scheme of the Cosmic All.

"You know," she said, "I don't believe we have introduced ourselves. My name is Roberta -- Roberta Rossum. My friends call me Robbie." And she held out her hand.

Taking the warm, slender but strong hand, he clasped it firmly but not too tightly, and answered "Gort -- short for 'Gorton' -- Arbeit. Pleased to meet you."

Looking around, he suddenly realised just how long they had been talking -- they were the only ones left in the library, and, in fact, a library clerk was just approaching their table to ask them to finish up, please -- it was closing time.

Each grabbed a couple of important texts from the pile they had accumulated in their discussion, and headed for the check-out desk. Emerging from the exit into the early evening cool, they stood a moment breathing the fresh air after a day of musty library odors. For the first time, Gort got a good view of those glamour-grrl legs, from the almost blatantly-erotic red shoes up to the hem of the butter-soft black leather miniskirt. For a moment, there was a silence, while the way in which he regarded her modified itself, adding "sexy lady" to "interesting colleague".

A faint smile on her lips as he looked back up acknowledged her recognition of his observations and his new perceptions, and added an element of challenge; would he now make a fool of himself, as so many had at this point, or would he simply continue in an easy manner, as if nothing had changed?

With only the faintest of hesitations, he said "You know, it's awfully late; did you have any dinner plans or whetever this evening? Maybe we could grab a pizza or something and continue this discussion...?"

"Sounds good to me," she answered easily. "Here, be a gentleman." Before he realised what she was doing she had added her armload of heavy books to his, and set off with an almost-skipping step and a bit of a merry laugh toward Jocko's, the finest pizza parlor near the campus.

"Hey -- no fair," he protested. "If I gotta carry all the books, you gotta pay for my pizza."

"We'll see..." she said.

Sitting at the table that bore the remains of one of Jocko's giant "Death by Ingredient" specials, they continued to get acquainted. She was from Eastern Europe, which explained her slight accent; he was from Chicago, which explained his cultivated air of habitual cynicism. By the time they were ready to go, they were leaning inward over the table and holding hands.

They slowly walked toward his car parked across the street, where they had stashed their books; both reluctant to part, but neither really knowing what move to make next.

"Hey -- Cowboy Mouth are playing at the Bronze!" he said, noticing a flyer on a pole by the car.

"Who?" she asked

"Cowboy Mouth -- the greatest American rock'n'roll band there is; from New Orleans. The door guy at the Bronze is a friend of mine -- I can get us in free. Wanna go rock some?"

"Sure. Why not -- I can sleep in tomorrow."

So they did.

And the show was terrific, as promised, with the pounding beat of true rock'n'roll, beautiful lyrics and downright fantastic vibes.

The Bronze was jammed -- hot, sweaty and tightly packed, the crowd surging one way and then the other in the dark. They were pushed against each other by the crush, shoved hard together.

The proximity of their bodies and the hot, intimate atmosphere and the concealing darkness of the club and the sensuality of the music was, to say the least, stimulating to Gort; at one point, when he was pushed against Robbie from behind, and found his groin pressed firmly against her shapely buttocks under the thin leather of her skirt, he found himself with a rather embarrassing semi-erection that he was sure she must have felt pressing into the warm valley between the firm cheeks.

He was reassured and a litle startled when she pressed back against him and rolled her hips a bit, adding to the stimulation and bringing him fully erect.

After a second of this, she broke the contact and stepped a bit backward, putting an arm around his waist. At that, he reached out and likewise put an arm around her waist, hand on hip, and they snuggled up against each other, dancing in place together to a raving song called "Love of My Life".

The next song was a slow one, and she leaned her head onto his shoulder and nestled even more closely against him.

It was obvious that she didn't find him repulsive; even so, he was startled when she placed her hand on his and gently lifted his hand to cup her warm shapely breast. He gently cupped the warm globe, feeling the nipple standing firm against his palm; she lifted her face to his and they kissed, at first gently and tentatively, then more passionatey, tongues touching and stroking each other.

The show was almost over; the band swung into a raving rocker of a song called "Jenny Says", with the singer inciting and encouraging the crowd to scream shout jump and dance and sing along. Under cover of the noise and activity, she reached down and her strong warm fingers stroked and played with the almost painful erection in his jeans.

His hand dropped downward again, caressing her round warm asscheek through the thin leather of the skirt -- as he did, she grasped his dick more tightly and pumped it firmly, which made him bold enough to reach a bit lower, lift the hem of the skirt and stroke her flesh directly. He was startled to feel that her hose were old-fashioned stockings, held up by a lacey garter belt and that she was apparently not wearing any panties! As his fingertips traced the warm crack of her ass, she pumped his cock more firmly, and kissed him hungrily again, then turned a bit, pressing herself against him, letting his leg slip between her thighs and gently humping her crotch against his thigh, her breath catching slightly, eyes half-closed.

The show closed with a roaring cover of the Who's "Won't Get Fooled Again", during which she stood in front of him, one of his hands cupping a tit, one pressed against her crotch, holding her against him as he stroked his hot cock against her incredible ass. He was about to cum in his pants, and, unless he mistook the signs, she had already had at least one small orgasm as they dirty danced to the driving beat.

After pausing in the lobby to say "hi" to the band members, they ducked out to the car.

"Well, where shall I drop you?" he asked.

"Nowhere, yet," she answered. "Why don't we drive through the park for a while?"

"Okay," he said, putting the car in "Drive" and heading that way.

As soon as the car began moving through the night, she leaned over, snuggled up against him, and took his arm and put it around her. With no urging needed this time, his hand found her breast again and fondled it gently; the feel of her erect nipple pressing against his palm was incredibly stimulating.

He wasn't driving very fast, which was a good thing, because, slow as he was driving, when her hand stroked his crotch and then cupped his balls he almost swerved the car off the road.

"Mmmm." She laughed softly. "My, my -- someone is a bit excited."

He stroked her tit again, then gently pinched the nipple, making her shudder and gasp slightly.

"Looks like more than one of us is a bit excited," he said.

Her only answer was a soft chuckle and another caress. As the stimulation brought another shiver from him, he was amazed to feel her fingers plucking at his zipper. The sound of the zipper was clearly audible in the quiet that had descended in the car, as was his gasp as her warm fingers daintily slipped in through his fly and into his boxers as she gently stroked his cock with the tips of her sharp nails.

Softly, she grasped his erect cock, bringing it into full view. Her fingers tightened a bit, then began to pump him with a slow, tantalising rhythm.

"Keep driving," she said. Her other hand plucked at her sweater, pulling its hem upward. Under it she wore no bra, and his hand easily found the warm smooth globe of her pretty tit, his fingers teasing the hard hot nipple, then stroking the perfect skin, weighing and fondling, then tickling teasingly along the underside.

"Mmmmmm..." She shifted in the seat, turning and leaning downward. Even though he knew what she must be planning, it was still a shock when her warm wet mouth closed over his dickhead.

As her caressing mouth sent incredible sensations shooting through him, he kept on driving through the park, almost in a trance. He became aware that as she sucked and kissed his cock, she was beginning to stroke herself, her short skirt up to her hips. As her own fingers shot pleasure through her, she moaned in pleasure around his cock; the vibrations sent an extra thrill through him.

She briefly withdrew, looked upward under her eyelashes, and breathed "I want to make you cum. Let me have your cum..." and went back to sucking him, harder and more insistently.

She began taking more and more of his cock with each stroke, her tongue caressing the head on the outstrokes, then pushing the head further and further into her throat until she was taking all eight inches of his thick hard dick.

Then she began to move faster and faster, sucking harder on the outstrokes, working the shaft with her tongue on the downstroke, her lips stimulating every inch of his flesh. As he felt his orgasm getting nearer and nearer, she reched down and began to play with his balls, stroking and lifting them, fondling them and tickling their tightening sack with her nails.

Finally he could hold back no longer.

With a groan and a twitching of his whole body that again almost ran the car off the road, he let go. His hot white cum gushed from his cockhead, pumping upward from his hot straining balls, spurting into her mouth as she swallowed eagerly, gulping down almost all of it. It filled her mouth, and just a trickle ran out of one corner to drop down into his pubic hair.

As he softened in her mouth, she kept on gently sucking and nuzzling at him, until she let his limp cock fall from her lips. By now he had had to stop the car in a dark shaded corner; she raised up and kissed him passionately, her tongue invading his mouth and bringing remnants and the taste of his own cum.

As he kissed her and tasted his own cum on her tongue, he was fondling her firm, warm breasts and playing with the hard nipples.

With a soft moan, she took one of his hands and moved it downward to the top of her thighs, turning in the seat of the big old car to open herself to him. She was so hot and wet! Effortlessly, two of his fingers slipped into her open, juicy pussy, and he began to rhythmically stroke them in and out of her opening as her hips began to pump in time to their movements.

"oh... Oh... Ohmighod, I'm going to cum... Unnnhhhhh..." she groaned as her inner muscles clamped on his fingers, pulsing, milking at them in time to the spasms of her release.

As she subsided in the seat, her warm juices trickling down her thigh to stain the upholstery, she drew back, loked deeply into his eyes and said, as she placed one cool hand on his cheek, "I hope it's not too far to your place? And I hope you don't have a roommate...?"

"Not far at all -- I do have a roommate, but he's out of town for the rest of the week. Is anyone expecting you home tonight?"

"Not at all. Drive, my good man." And, as her fingertips tickled his slowly re-stiffening cock, she said "... my very good man, I think..." and chuckled.

Arriving at his apartment, set high on a cliff overlooking the city and the River, after some minor adjustments of clothing in case anyone were looking their way they got out of the car and walked up the drive, pressed together as closely as they could manage while still being able to walk, arms around each others' waists.

As they entered and he turned on the lights, she glanced around.

"Oh, what a lovely sofa!" she exclaimed. "I want you to make love to me on that big sofa, by that big window that looks out over the River!"

"I think that could be arranged," he said, as he stepped up behind her, reaching around to put one hand on her fine firm breast and one with its palm cupping the warmth and shape of her mound through the fine soft leather of her miniskirt, pulling her back against him as he pressed forward, his again-fully-erect staff pressed tightly along the crack of her ass.

With a little sigh she leant back against him, her legs moving slightly apart as he began to massage her pussy's outer lips through the leather, and to stroke his hard cock between her warm ass cheeks. Under his palm, he felt her nipple rise to full erection, both hard and hot and flexible at once. With just a bit of fumbling, his fingers slipped inside her sweater and began teasing the nipple directly. She gasped slightly, then reached a hand behind herself, between them, and firmly seized his cockshaft through his trousers and began stroking it.

Encouraged, his fingers slipped down to the hem of her skirt, lifted it, and then slipped onward to the warm fleshy lips he had already stroked so happily once in the car. As a single fingertip traced her slit from top to bottom, pressing just slightly to tease her clitoris each time it reached the top, she moaned deeply in her throat and began pressing her groin forward and downward against his hand, trying to force more of that teasing fingertip inside her needy cunt.

Nuzzling at her neck, breathing the scent of her fine hair, he began to lick and nibble one of her small, lovely pink ears. His hot breath and hot, tickling tongue tip were the final push, and she moaned through another mini-orgasm, her pussy pulsing against his finger as her knees weakened and only his hands at her breast and her crotch held her up.

"Oh, my -- t'sat was so vunerdful...!!" she breathed, her slight accent thickening as she gave herself up to pleasure. "Now, I will..."

"No," he said, as he pushed her ahead of him and pushed her down onto the huge couch. "No, you've done enough of the work -- now it's my turn for a while." She lay there gazing trustingly up at him as he steped back and quickly shed his shirt and trousers and stood there for a moment like a warm marble statue that she gazed on, her eyes focussing on his long, hard and thick cock.

She lay there on the smooth leather of the couch, as he knelt beside her. Again, he leaned forward, kissing her deeply and lovingly, their tongues slipping over and over each other as his gentle hand again caressed one of her breasts.

Then his fingers fumbled for just a moment and found and unfastened the top button of her sweater. Then the next and the next, and, as the light sweater opened itself, that hand reached inside and his fingertips began to tease and manipulate first one hard nipple and then the other, as he broke the kiss and lightly kissed along the side of her jaw to her ear, nibbling and teasing it with his lips and tongue. She raised her hands, pulling him back to her lips, kissing him again and again, then her right hand slipped downward, finding his hand where it cradled her naked breast and pressing his hand more firmly to her tit.