Page 2 of Caught A Vibe

Maybe a new specialized controller for VR sim games? And the indent on the top of the base? Some kind of haptic feedback? Or an ergonomic thumb grip?

My list of questions grows.

It’s not often a new device throws me, but this one has me stumped. I can’t pin down the reasons for these design choices. With no epiphany imminent and my brain jonesing for answers, I impatiently glance over to see if the woman is free yet.

“So, what do you think?”

I spin to my right, startled, and find a different woman than the one I expected. She is stunning. The noisy hall fades as my hyperfocus kicks in, and she consumes my senses. Tall and curvy, this woman has long, bright red hair I’m pretty sure is a wig, but it’s the intelligent eyes beneath the choppy bangs that fluster me. I glance down so I don’t stare, and end up in troubled waters for my efforts. Her dress hugs her body, and sky-high heels tilt her hips and ankles into exaggerated curves. Won’t her feet hurt after a full day on this concrete floor? And how did she manage the mile from the hotel in those?

My mind chases these questions until she clears her throat, drawing my attention back up to her stunning face. I stare. Silently. Rudely. Just as I feared.

She winks at me, and I fake a cough and struggle to shake my words free.

Come on. Get it together.

I know how this works. Companies pay a beautiful model to work the booth to attract male attention to the product, but the models rarely know any details. I can’t afford to get distracted if I’m going to get the quotes and specs I need for my article. The other woman is the person I really need to talk to.

“It’s, uh, interesting. I’ve got a few questions though, so I’ll wait until she’s free.” I nod over her shoulder toward the woman still engaged with the other journalist. Red isn’t having it. She sticks her hand out, and I reluctantly shake it. The sensation of her skin touching mine short-circuits my brain, narrowing my focus to our point of contact, and I struggle to comprehend the words coming out of her mouth.

“Well, I’m Penny Maxwell, lead engineer and CEO. I’m sure I can answer any questions you have.”

I drop my gaze to her name badge to confirm her identity and get snagged by her impressive breasts that seem to defy gravity with no visible means of support. That paradox scrambles my curiosity. I catch myself staring again, and a warm flush spreads over my cheeks. Oh God, I’mthat guy. But I don’t wantherto think I’m that guy, so I close my eyes and rally my wits.

“Oh, uh, excellent. Yeah, so first impressions… It’s sleek, modern, flexible, intriguing. You’ve made some significant modifications to ‘classic’ design. Can you explain your motivation?”

That sets Ms. Maxwell back on her very sexy heels. Her expression shifts from amused to mildly approving. “Sure. The classic design is a one-size-fits-all approach. Our goal was to make something customizable for everyone. One major change was locating the control buttons on the underside of the base, so they are easier to reach while it’s in use.”

I nod, though I don’t understand how that could be the case. Am I looking at it from the wrong angle?

“Can you talk about the trigger location on the Me-O?” I flick my finger over the hidden marble again to demonstrate.

“We gathered extensive medical data and measurements to ensure theMy-Owould work comfortably for everyone. Here, let me demonstrate.” She covers my hands with hers, cranking the joystick back until it almost lays flat. Bending it forward at different angles and lengths, combined with slight twists to either side, Ms. Maxwell explains, “See? Any angle and depth can be accommodated with one device.”

I respond to her open smile and enthusiastic tone with a thoughtful nod, despite not having a clue what she is talking about. I can barely focus on what she’s saying because she is touching me again and that undercurrent of electricity arcs between her skin and mine. I have no idea what my face is doing, but she chuckles.

“You’re not the first guy to walk in here and be confused. How about I turn it on so you can get a feel for it?”

She pushes the round button on the front and the thing comes to life in my hands, gears and motors whirring. How the hell does this thing work as a game controller if it moves on its own?

“Go ahead. Push the control buttons.”

Before I can process my confusion, she wipes my mental slate clean.

“Okay, so this,” she says as she moves my hand to slide up and down the joystick, “is inserted in the vagina to align with the G-spot.”

My hand clenches reflexively, the only reason I don’t drop the thing from shock. She slides her fingers between mine to engage the controls.

“The buttons are completely accessible while the MiO is inserted, allowing the user to control the speed, rhythm, and range for a customized experience. The flexibility allows people with vaginas to align MiO’s signature come-hither motion to their precise internal anatomy.”

She moves my thumb to cover the open oval on top of the base, and it seals, creating a rhythmic pulling sensation, like someone is sucking on my fingertip. For a brief second, I imagine her mouth surrounding my thumb as I grip her chin, and I blink hard to push the image aside.

Not. That. Guy.

“This part of the base provides suction to the external clitoral gland, mimicking oral stimulation.”

This image is quickly replaced by another even more dangerous.

I can feel the blush burning down to my chest. How the hell should I react to getting my thumb sucked off by a sex toy?

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