Saved from the Scrapheap Pt. 03

This is a slow burn and doesn't currently contain sex, though future chapters will eventually have some.

Many thanks to Dazmine and MindsMirror for helping me with this.

For the first time, I woke up without anyone around. It felt strangely lonely. I removed the charging cable from the port behind my ear and sat up, looking around my room in the bright morning light. Emily's jeans were still next to mine on the floor; she must have forgotten about them last night. I slipped out of bed and stretched, then wondered why I was doing it. It wasn't like I had any muscles. It was just another subconscious gesture meant to humanize me. I wasn't sure if I liked that.

After a moment, I shook off the odd feeling. It was chilly in my bedroom, but a touch to my forehead proved I was still running hot. Forgoing my own pants, I picked up Emily's and went down the hall to return them. Her room was the one place in the house I hadn't gone yet, and I was more than a little curious about what it was like.

It turned out to be pretty much the same as the other bedrooms, just with more... stuff. Framed pictures and artwork covered the sunset-orange walls, a dresser overflowed with practical clothes, and a double bed sat tucked in the corner with its covers in disarray. The whole place felt like Emily - warm and welcoming and a bit messy. It smelled like her, too, a mix of deodorant and cinnamon-scented soap. I put her jeans in the empty hamper and turned to leave, but hesitated with my hand on the doorknob. I had never been told I couldn't come in here. It'd just been the fact that Emily was sleeping and I didn't want to disturb her. She probably wouldn't mind if I looked around...

I glanced over the walls again, scanning the various pictures. There were a few of her and Rosie, always with the both of them beaming. Some photos were of Emily in different places at different ages. I noted that her adorable nature had only manifested in different ways throughout the years. Many of the pictures seemed to feature this house, and quite a number had the same unfamiliar person in them: a man with a ponytail of black hair and eyes like Emily's. Fewer of the photos had a Hispanic woman alongside him or on her own, sometimes holding a chubby dark-haired baby that had to be Emily.

After a while, I turned my attention to the artwork. Some of it was store-bought pieces that showed off her taste for bright color, but there were a handful of amateur watercolors signed 'Emily'. To my surprise, there were also a few watercolors with the signature 'Rosie', one of which was clearly an attempt to portray her mistress sitting on the front steps of the house. It was quite impressive.

I wondered if Rosie ever came in here. It didn't seem like it. During yesterday's exploration, I found the house to be obsessively organized while the garage was, to put it mildly, not. Here, it was also quite clear where Rosie's tidy domain ended and Emily's cozy space began. I went over to the bed and straightened the pile of covers, smiling as I imagined my sleepy savior kicking them off.

In her panties. Her long legs on full display. Her hair all mussed from sleep. Yawning and thrusting her chest forward. Her shirt riding up to show off her bare stomach...

Trying to clear my head of the intrusive thoughts, I took a deep breath. That was a bad decision. The bed smelled like Emily. A lot like Emily. If I leaned in a little closer to the pillows, it was like I was burying my face in the crook of her neck. The thought of doing that while she was on this very bed...

My heart raced, my skin flushed, and my breathing quickened, but I wasn't overheating. At least, not in the literal sense. I was getting very hot.

Without really considering if it was a good idea, I lay down on the bed. It was very comfortable. An even stronger scent of Emily filled my lungs. I curled my arm around a pillow and held it against my face, closing my eyes. It was all too easy to imagine Emily right behind me. Maybe in those cute boyshorts I'd seen, or maybe nothing at all... She'd cuddle closer to me and slip her arm around my body as her breasts pressed against my back...

I snapped out of the fantasy with a surge of embarrassment when I realized my hand was sneaking downwards. I jumped off the bed and finished straightening the covers like I'd originally intended to, then hurried back to my room, my cheeks burning. I couldn't believe I'd almost started masturbating in Emily's bed. What was wrong with me?

The wet, tingly heat between my legs tried to answer that question, but I wasn't having it. Pulling on the jeans I'd worn yesterday, I checked myself out in the mirror. I looked... fine. A bit flustered, but that might have been my imagination. Hoping to take my mind off the unwanted arousal, I headed downstairs and found Rosie in the living room, wearing a practical light blue dress and standing on her tiptoes as she dusted the top of a bookshelf.

"Good morning," I said hesitantly. The redheaded android looked over and gave me a nod.

"Good morning, Lisa." She turned back to her cleaning. "What are your plans for today?"

"Um... I don't know."

"Would you like to assist me with the chores?"

Surprised at the offer, I took a moment to consider. It wasn't like I had many other options, and the thought of doing something productive for Emily appealed to me. I could also hopefully get to know Rosie better; maybe this was her attempt to break the ice. "Sure. Where do I start?"

"How much do you know about cleaning?"

With no memory of having done it before, I had no clue. "I'm... not sure."

"I see." She turned around and handed me the duster. "Most androids are able to perform light housework. Use this to clean the tops of surfaces, please. I will retrieve the vacuum."

She headed down the hall, and I started to sweep the feathery tool over the furniture. It was easy, since there was hardly any dust to begin with. It seemed like this was something Rosie did fairly often. By the time she had brought the vacuum in and filled the air with a low roar, I finished with almost everything in the room. She sent me on to the next, and we gradually worked our way through the whole house, including a brief sweep through Emily's room where I tried to breathe through my mouth. Going in there again did give me an excuse to bring up something I'd been curious about, though.

"You can paint?" I asked Rosie, following her down the stairs while she carried the vacuum under one arm. "Those pictures, they had your name on them."

"Mistress attempted to teach me," she replied. "It is something which I have no programming for."

"They were good. I liked the one of Emily."

She was silent as we reached the ground floor. I glanced over to find her face unreadable, and she eventually murmured, "Thank you."

After a pause, I asked, "So... how long have you two been together?"

"It has been almost two years since she brought me home, though I was not conscious for the first several months." She set the vacuum inside the hall closet and paused. "I have finished ahead of schedule because of your help. Would you like to assist me with the next task?"

I hesitated again, but nodded. "Sure."

She led me to the washing machine and dryer tucked into the corner of the small pantry, and I helped her empty the dryer into a laundry basket before refilling the machine with another load. We folded the dry clothes in the living room, staying quiet until another question popped into my head.

"Does Emily have a boyfriend- or a girlfriend?"

Rosie paused with her hand inside a sock. "Not that I am aware of. She has referenced having partners of both sexes before she brought me here, but I do not know of any since then."

I tried not to let my excitement show on my face. There had been a nagging worry in the back of my mind that Emily was straight or already committed, but hearing that gave me hope. Though... if Rosie had been with Emily for two years and never heard about any current relationships, Emily probably hadn't been in any. I couldn't see her hiding that kind of thing from Rosie. Was there a reason for the dry spell? Was it because of Rosie? Actually...

"You two have never... been together, have you?"

Rosie gave me a look. Her expression didn't change from coolly polite, but the stare went on for long enough to make me regret asking. "No."

"Oh." I folded a few shirts and set them down, then just sort of blurted out, "Would you want to?"

"Of course," she said without missing a beat, and I was lost for words for a few moments. I didn't know what I had expected, but that wasn't it.

"Oh," I managed eventually. "Then have you ever... tried...?"

"No. It would be improper."

Her tone was final, but I pressed on, too curious to leave it there. "Why? How do you know she wouldn't want to at least try?"

"In two years, Mistress has not expressed a desire for anything but friendship," she said in a small voice. "She has declined my offers of sexual service. I cannot also force her to reject me romantically."

I didn't know what to say to that. It dampened my own hopes quite substantially. We finished folding the laundry and carried it to the upstairs bedrooms, then started on the batch that was fresh out of the dryer in silence. I wasn't sure how much time had passed before she surprised me by speaking up again.

"Do you truly have no memories of your previous life?"

It took me a moment to formulate an answer. "Sometimes... Sometimes things feel familiar, but the earliest memory I have is Emily waking me up for the first time."

"You are different than I expected. Perhaps that is the reason." She was quiet for a while, then added, "I see why Emily likes you."

That admission made me oddly happy. I wasn't sure what I had done to make her opinion of me change so quickly, but it felt good to have some level of acceptance. We finished the second load of laundry in a more comfortable silence, and she turned to me after we tucked away the last of it in Emily's dresser.

"Thank you for your help. There are other tasks that I will work on by myself, but you may do whatever you wish around the house. Please find me if there is anything you need."

"Okay." As she started to walk away, I remembered something I had been intending to bring up since yesterday. "Oh, there is something. Emily said I could share the makeup, but she wasn't sure where you put it."

"The bag is in the downstairs bathroom."

"Thanks. I think I'll try my hand at that, then." I moved past her, but she touched my arm and I turned to face her. "What is it?"

"May I help you?" she asked, almost hesitantly. "I am naturally proficient in my own, but I am not yet fully experienced with Mistress's and I have some free time because of your assistance."

It took me a second to understand. "You do Emily's makeup for her?"

She nodded. "When she requests it."

Could Emily not do her own? I couldn't imagine her asking otherwise. It probably pained Rosie to do anything less than perfectly for her mistress, and I quickly made up my mind. "You can practice on me if you want."

She gave me a small smile for once. "Thank you."

I went to the bathroom with her in tow and stood in front of the mirror as she picked from the dozens of little containers. Even at a glance, I knew that I had knowledge of this. Different styles and possibilities paraded before my imagination, coming from an unconscious place in my memory, but I held still and let Rosie take the lead. She gently moved my face this way and that, working over me with the tiny brushes. There was immediately a problem in that me, Rosie, and Emily all had quite different skin tones, but she did her best without using any foundation. I watched the mirror out of the corner of my eye as my features were gradually highlighted and accented.

Eventually, she took a step back and looked me over. "What do you think?"

I checked out my reflection and smiled. I looked good. Attractive. Maybe even sexy. Hopefully Emily would appreciate the change. "You did great. Thank you."

She bowed her head. "You are welcome. I will go to my other tasks now."

She slipped out of the bathroom. Now with nothing to do, I ended up wandering through the house, trying to find something to occupy my attention. A glance out the living room window showed it to be a beautiful day, so I found a pair of tennis shoes by the front door that fit and called out to Rosie that I was going on a walk.

"Do not go too far!" she replied from somewhere in the house. "Return before sunset, otherwise I will come find you."

That sounded slightly intimidating until I realized she was probably considering the possibility of me overheating. If I had to turn off in the woods, it would be smart to have her come look for me before it was dark.

I headed along a small trail between the towering trees, enjoying the fresh, crisp air and the scent of pine as dry needles crunched under my feet. It wasn't as cold as it had been yesterday morning, just pleasantly cool as I spent the afternoon exploring around the house. There were a few interesting spots to discover, like a meadow full of wildflowers and a shallow cave underneath a boulder, but it was mostly just nice to spend time outside.

When the sun started sliding towards the horizon, I went back to the house and found Rosie in the kitchen, chopping onions with a large knife. She nodded to me as I entered and asked, "How was your walk?"

"It was good." My eyes drifted to the blade moving with somewhat frightening efficiency in her hands. "Do you... want any help?"

"Do you know how to cook?"

I looked around aimlessly. I knew the words, but unlike the makeup I had no idea where to start. "I don't think so."

"I was designed to be an excellent cook." There wasn't any bragging to her tone; it was simply the truth. "I will teach you the basics, if you wish."

I shrugged. "Okay. It'd be good for me to learn."

"Please wash your hands, then," she said. "You are not as waterproof as I am, so be careful."

She showed me how to properly chop and dice with the chef's knife, and after a bit of practice I successfully repeated the technique on the various vegetables she passed to me while buzzing around the kitchen, doing everything else. I probably ended up with less than a quarter of the work, but the thanks she gave me when she took the products of my cutting board seemed genuine.

We were cleaning up the cooking debris and waiting to take the dish out of the oven when the hum of an engine and the crunch of gravel alerted us to the truck pulling up outside. We exchanged glances, staying frozen for a few moments, then wordlessly set down what we were doing and went to stand at the front door. Emily opened it after a minute and broke into a radiant smile when she saw us waiting for her.

"Hey!" She wrapped an arm around each of us and pulled us into a big hug, rubbing our shoulders and planting kisses on both of our foreheads. "How are my girls?"

"I am well, Mistress."

"Good," I replied, smiling.

"I'm glad." Emily gave us one last squeeze before pulling away and setting her heavy canvas work bag down by the door. "Lisa, any overheating problems?"

"No, I was fine today."

"Alright, good. I'll get to that in a tick. I gotta use the bathroom." As she headed down the hall, I noticed Rosie's pale cheeks were tinged pink and her fingers were lingering on her brow. For the first time since I'd met her, she seemed almost flustered.

"Are you alright?"

"Mistress does not normally do that..." she said softly, watching Emily walk away. She came out of her daze and composed herself as soon as her mistress left her sight, though blushing seemed to be an involuntary response even for her. "I will take care of dinner while she tends to you."

She turned on her heel and strode into the kitchen, leaving me both amused and confused. Emily had kissed me on the forehead quite a bit already. Why was it different for Rosie?

"Hey," Emily called when she came out of the bathroom, pulling me out of my thoughts. As I went to her, she studied me more closely. "You're wearing makeup."

"Yeah," I replied, raising a hand to my cheek self-consciously. "Rosie did it for me."

"I like it," she said, flashing a smile that filled my chest with giddy excitement. "She knows what she's doing. You look really cute."

"Thanks," I managed, hoping the heat in my face wasn't too noticeable.

"Anyway, if you're not in the middle of something, come on." She headed for the garage, and my elation at her compliment faded as I realized what she meant.

"You just got home... You don't have to fix me right now. I'm okay."

She looked back at me, the cheerful light in her eyes dimming. "What else should I be doing?"

I instantly regretted speaking up. "I don't know... Relaxing, having dinner..."

"This is relaxing," she said gently. "Working on you two helps me unwind, and frankly, I don't think I'll be able to breathe easy until I know you're safe. Dinner can wait."

"Okay," I mumbled, and let out a small sigh, frustrated with myself for making the same mistake as I had last night. She flicked on the lights in the garage, illuminating all the clutter, and gave my shoulder a pat as I went to lay on the all-too familiar table. Grabbing her computer and tools, she plopped down in the chair next to me and cupped the side of my head.

"Right. This shouldn't take too long, but you'll need to be off for it." She rubbed my cheek with her thumb. "See you in a bit."

"See you-"

"...then," I finished, a little dazed. I hadn't been turned off mid-sentence before, and it was far more disorientating. I sat up, letting my legs dangle over the edge of the table, and found Emily sipping a cup of milky tea as the door to the house closed behind Rosie.

"Hey," Emily said after swallowing, giving me a little wave.

"Hey," I replied after a moment, still a bit off-balance. "So... am I fixed?"

"Yup," she said with a smile. "You should be good to go."

I let out a relieved breath. I had undoubtedly caused Emily some unneeded stress, but I was safe and she was happy. That was good enough. "Thank you. What was causing the overheating, anyway?"

"Your..." she began, then hesitated. "It was just your processor not getting enough cooling."

I stared at her as she failed to meet my eyes. I had never seen this expression on her before. She looked almost... guilty? Suddenly curious and a little worried, I pressed, "Was that it?"

"Yes," she said too quickly, then glanced up to meet my gaze and instantly crumbled. "No. God. Sorry. I'm a terrible liar." She leaned in and took both my hands in hers, her warm brown eyes earnest as she stared up at me. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course," I said, both bewildered by her odd behavior and distracted by the feeling of her rough hands on mine. "What's going on?"

"Well, there's this... thing. About you. I think- I think it'll be better for you if you don't know about it, but- you have the right to, if you want." She let out a heavy breath. "Shit. It's hard to explain without just saying it. Sorry. I know I'm putting you in a tough spot, but I can't lie to you."

There was something about me... something unusual that made me overheat? What reason could she have for not wanting to just tell me? Her face was serious and slightly worried, her thumbs rubbing across the back of my hands as she waited for my answer.

"Can I ask you later? If I decide I want to know then?"

"Yeah," she replied, a brief smile crossing her lips. "Of course."

I considered it for a while longer despite having already decided, not wanting to let go of her hands just yet. Finally, I said, "If you think it's for the best... I don't want to know."

"Alright." Obvious relief washed over her as she beamed at me. That alone was worth not knowing. She stood up and tugged me down from the table, her hands still in mine. "Ready for dinner?"