Page 15 of Fembot
Calvin copied him perfectly. He stretched his arms out to the side, resting them on the back of the couch. He put his feet on the coffee table and crossed his ankles like Lucky had done.
“Excellent.” Lucky beamed at Calvin.
“What else can you teach me?” Calvin tried the other position and Lucky had to admit that he looked fucking hot all nonchalant, settled in on the couch like he owned the place.
“What do you want to know?”
Calvin grinned at him. “Everything.”
There was only so much Lucky could teach Calvin in the living room, so he made an executive decision. “Get your shoes on, Calvin. We’re going on a field trip.”
Calvin’s expression flattened. “I’m not authorized to leave the premises.”
And the chances of Lucky getting permission to take Calvin out on the town were slim to none. But if Calvin couldn’t go to the people, the people would come to Calvin.
“Okay, no problem. Give me thirty minutes and you’ll have a ton of people to observe and interact with. That’s how you learn, isn’t it?”
“Yes. I mainly learn from observation and downloading information from the mainframe. But observation is better.”
“Excellent.” Lucky pulled his phone out and sent a few text messages. Throwing a college party was easy. All you had to do was tell people to show up and bring booze, and they did the rest.
“Now, we need to do something about your clothes.”
Calvin looked down at himself, then back up to Lucky. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”
“Nothing, if you’re thirty-five and want to go to bed at eight p.m. Get up, follow me. I think I have something that would look good on you.”
Calvin trailed Lucky into his bedroom. Lucky wasn’t the neatest person in the world, but he tried to keep his room up toan acceptable standard. Unlike Novak, who did shit like make his bed every morning.
Lucky’s room was lived in with its rumpled bed and pile of laundry half in-half out of the basket. He had some junk food wrappers on his nightstand and the standard bottle of lube sitting out in the open. He lived with a couple of guys, after all. They weren’t likely to be scandalized by a bit of lube.
Lucky went to his closet and dug around for some things that he never wore, but that Calvin might like. He reappeared with an armful of options. Over the years, Lucky had gone through many phases of fashion. Grunge. Punk. Flamboyant. Currently, he was in his fuck-it era and wore vintage band tees almost exclusively.
Lucky tossed the clothes on the bed and waved Calvin over. “See anything you like? You can wear whatever you want. Pick something that appeals to you, and I’ll help you style it.”
Lucky watched as Calvin went through the pile of clothing piece by piece. Eventually, he turned to Lucky. “What did you mean by like?”
“Is there a piece in this pile that appeals to you more than the others? Does it catch your eye in some way? Does it interest you? Do you look at it and wonder how it would look if you put it on?”
“There was one thing.”
Lucky’s smile lit up the room when Calvin picked the piece of clothing out of the pile. “Excellent choice, buddy.”
Lucky raked his gaze over Calvin’s body. Hooray for robots with no sense of modesty. “Strip down and try it on.”
He’d have to keep his ogling to a minimum. Right now, he had a robot to dress.
CHAPTER NINE_
WHAT ARE YOU WEARING? (AND WHY DO I LIKE IT SO MUCH?)
Winston could thinkof at least a dozen places that he’d rather be than sitting in a three-hour lecture with Professor Ambrose, also known as Professor Comatose. The man had the most monotone voice in history, and he talked with his eyes almost shut sometimes. It was like he was so boring that he put himself to sleep. His lectures were the literal worst. Couple that with his strict no phones policy, and the students had to suffer through three hours of mind-numbing boredom.
Professor Ambrose was lucky that his course was a mandatory graduation requirement for a few different degrees, or his classes would have been empty. There was no way students would have ever subjected themselves to his classes willingly. Winston wondered, from time to time, if the government had ever thought of using him as a method of torture or perhaps as a research subject on finding a cure for insomnia.
When the lecture finally ended and Professor Ambrose gave out his assignment for the week, Winston just wanted to go home and crawl into bed. Instead, he stopped by the campus library and got a jump on the assignment. He’d never been oneto leave a task to the last minute. Having too many things going on had always made him antsy.
Hours passed without him realizing it until his stomach clenched and rumbled, bringing Winston back into his body. He’d skipped breakfast and had only grabbed a muffin between classes. The night before was the last real meal he ate.
