Page 51 of Even Robots Die
As I enter my room, I drop the spoon on my desk and ponder my next move.
I should be sleeping, I know that, because I’ll be once again awake when the smallest noise comes from her room, but I also have a raging hard on that I should be taking care of.
Except, it feels so wrong to touch myself with the image of her in my mind.
I drop my hand to my cock and grab it.
I’m so fucking weak when it comes to her.
I squeeze myself as I replay Florentine’s face of ecstasy when she was licking her finger earlier.
I pick up my speed as I imagine my cock getting swallowed by her. I squeeze some more as I see my hands squeezing her breast as I pull one of her nipples in my mouth.
I pick up more speed when I imagine how well she would take my cock.
It feels so wrong.
I come in my hand as I imagine painting her body with my cum.
It feels so wrong, and yet, it feels so right.
And as the last drop of my cum falls to the ground next to my desk—no, I didn’t manage to go further away—there’s only one thought that plays on a loop in my mind.
I’m so fucking screwed.
31
Florentine
Isleep like the dead.
When I finally wake up, the sun is high in the sky and it’s a miracle it didn’t wake me up earlier than that because the blinds are completely open.
For the first time in days, I feel rested.
I brush my teeth, put some deodorant on, change my shirt, add overalls on top of it, and then I’m on my way to the kitchens.
I don’t think there will be anyone there, because it’s too late for breakfast and yet too early for brunch.
When I arrive there, it’s empty—no surprise here—and I go to the pantry at the back of the kitchen. This is my first time at the back of the kitchen and I’m surprised by the size of it, but also by the quantity of pre-made food boxes there. I knew that they had some kind of meal preparation duty and that it wasn’t someone doing all the cooking, but I realize now that most of what I’ve eaten here so far wasn’t homemade.
No wonder I liked the pizza so much yesterday. It was probably the first homemade meal I had since I arrived.
I take a look at what’s at the back and I’m surprised to see a pile ofpains au chocolatandcroissantsunder a glass bell. On top of the bell, there’s a sticky note that says “take one at your own risk”.
Well, okay. I guess someone—and I definitely know that someone is Brice—is very cranky about their pastries.
I move along and find some bread and jam to go with my coffee. I eat slowly, appreciating the silence. The first day in Blois I couldn’t stand the silence because it was so at odds with what I was used to, but now I’ve come to relish it. I don’t know how I’ll survive the hectic and noisy way of life when I’m back home now, though.
Because I tasted silence and I can’t say that I hate it.
I finish my coffee, pass the mug and spoon I used for the jam in the instant cleaner, and put them back where I found them.
I walk to the lab with a pep in my step but I stop short, because waiting for me on my desk is a coffee and apain au chocolat.
I chuckle at the pastry. I guess the cranky person that didn’t want people to take their pastries was none other than Brice.
Weirdly, I think it suits him very well.
