Page 7 of Power

He dropped his finger from his mouth and leaned back in his chair. “I do. How is what you’ve done different from what is currently available?”

“Most facial-recognition software uses special algorithms to identify a person from certain traits specific to their face. However, the software that already exists is only specific to a certain type of demographic.”

“Caucasian men,” he added.

“Yes. Specifically, Caucasian men over the age of forty. Available software suffers from large margins of error when trying to identify other races or women. Our software has the highest accuracy available for identifying demographics other than older white men.” Speaking about what I knew was a lot easier than I had feared. It helped to ease my nerves.

“Would someone be able to trick your software from identifying them accurately?”

The short answer wasno. But I wasn’t sure why someone would try to trick the software. It was meant for social media use.

“Cloaking” was used to hide from facial-recognition software. It involved changing pixels of an image to trick the software, though the cloaked image remained virtually indistinguishable from the original image to the naked eye. A person could use cloaking software to alter their facial features in pictures. Many of those altered pictures would be uploaded and linked to a particular person, thus preventing facial-recognition software from “accurately” identifying a person when a real photo was uploaded. The government had their own version of facial-recognition software that was unaffected by cloaking. Ours was the first facial-recognition software meant for social media use that was also unaffected by cloaking.

I had implemented a feature that could cloak any image of a person, so that if a person tried to cloak their own photo, our software would have already altered the uploaded image, beating the person to the punch. It would use various combinations of the cloaked images it generated to identify a person who was trying to hide their identity.

Shyam slowly stood up from his chair. I hadn’t even answered his question yet, so I wasn’t sure what this meant. I stopped talking as he stalked toward me like a panther, his strides quiet but ready to pounce at any moment.

I turned to face him when he reached my side. He turned me back to my original position, facing the conference table. I felt warm hands inch the hem of my shirt up, exposing my midsection. Goosebumps spread all over my body.

“Go on,” he whispered in my ear from behind. His breath caressed my sensitive skin.

Still unsure, I kept talking. “No…our software is still…able to accurately identify people…even if cloaking is used.” My voice came out between panting breaths.

One of his hands rested on my waist, as the other pushed on my upper back until my chest met the surface of the table. I turned my head back to see him standing behind me with a satisfied look on his handsome face. He pressed my face down on its side so I couldn’t see him anymore.

“And how did you do that?” he growled as he stroked my belly.

It was getting more difficult to concentrate on my presentation. My body was on fire with anticipation. “A built-in feature,” I managed to say.

His hand roamed from my belly to the button at the top of my jeans. With steady fingers, he undid it and lowered my zipper ever so slowly. Oh God, what was he doing?

“What kind of feature?” he asked. I felt him move in closer to me, so his cock was pressed against my ass through my jeans. His hand moved under the waistband of my panties and grazed the scant amount of hair that I kept there.

“One that could…cloak images…forreference,” I managed to say. I didn’t know how I could keep talking at this rate. I was so needy that my pussy ached.

“You’re a smart girl,” he said as he slid his hand lower and found my clit. I couldn’t hold back the moan that escaped my lips. I knew he heard it too, because his cocked jerked against my ass.

“Bolo,” he said gruffly in Hindi.Tell me.“Can this be used to find the location of a person?” His fingers rubbed a single tight circle on my clit. My body jolted with pleasure from his brief touch. He weaved his free hand into the hair on the back of my head and held me in place. His dominance satisfied me.

He continued massaging my clit. My palms pressed into the table in front of my head. My panties were so wet that they slid against my swollen flesh.

“Yes,” was the only answer I could manage. Pleasure was building. His fingers moved faster, applying more pressure. I was almost there. I felt like I would die if he stopped.

“And there is no way to block the integrated cloaking feature?” he asked gruffly as he rubbed his dick against my ass. It was all too much. I couldn’t answer. I was ready to burst.

He grew impatient when I didn’t answer him and stilled his hand. I cried out in frustration.

He yanked on my hair to turn my head to face him, and I yelped at the pain. “Bolo, Ms. Becker.” His eyes were full of force.

“No,” I blurted, “there is no way to block it.”

“At all?” he demanded as he pulled my hair harder.

“Only if someone physically altered their appearance,” I answered quickly, desperate for him to continue stroking me.

He seemed happy with this answer and loosened his hold on my head. He didn’t force my face down to the table again. Instead, his fingers worked faster on my clit, bringing me back to my threshold. Then he slipped a finger inside. “Oh God!” I moaned.

“Come for me,” he growled.

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