Touched Ch. 01

I groaned. "Proceed."

Safe word confirmed. Thank you for choosing the Pleasure Center. We hope you have a pleasurable experience.

Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and waited for the program to continue.

At this time, please relax and clear your mind.

Somehow, being told to clear my mind on demand only made it more difficult to comply. But after having my reservation expire a dozen times or more before achieving release—satisfaction was not guaranteed—I learned focusing on my breathing brought on the necessary state.

As a veil of mist drifted into my mind's eye, the first tingles of sensation rippled outward from my core. A growing warmth in my pelvic region followed, very similar to what I experienced whenever I broke down and engaged in a forbidden exploration of my body.

My breathing grew ragged and I moaned softly as long, warm waves rocked through me.

"Mmmph!" I clenched my jaw, trying to suppress the volume of my moans when the waves shortened into ever-quickening pulses. I didn't have to be quiet here—this was the one place an individual could cry out in pleasure without fear of recrimination—but years of hiding my self-stimulation sessions taught me to control how loudly I responded to physical pleasure.

An image of Grant's face, his dark eyes penetrating mine, flashed into view.

"No no no." I tried in vain to banish him from my thoughts, fearful the program might be capable of detecting them. But instead of fading away, the image solidified and took on a life of its own.

In slow motion, Grant's hand reached out. It was then I realized he was barehanded.

I sighed when his fingertips made contact with my face. My eyes rolled upward and I surrendered to the sensation. Strong hands traced my features and I shivered, my limbs straining against their bonds.

"Yesss...oh please please please," I murmured as he drew me so close I could feel his breath caressing my skin. Our lips made contact, and I exploded with pleasure like never before.

"Don't stop," I whispered, hips undulating while my body throbbed. "Please don't—"

A blinding light shocked me back into reality.

Safe word acknowledged. Program terminated.

"No!" I protested. "I didn't want... I meant..."

All at once, the restraints opened with a click.

Please proceed carefully to the decontamination chamber on your right. Thank you for visiting the Pleasure Center. We hope your experience was a pleasurable one.

With a sigh I disengaged my limbs and stood on legs still shaky from the intensity of my release. It was the most powerful response I'd ever had while using the SxTC, and I wondered if thinking about Grant instead of blanking out my mind was what made it is so different this time. I staggered toward the adjoining room and stripped off my boots and clothing. After placing them inside the sanitizing container just inside the entrance, I stepped into the dimly lit chamber.

Decontamination commencing in five, four, three,...

I took one last deep breath. Despite the Ministry of Health's assurances that inhaling the mist was innocuous, I couldn't get past the urge to hold my breath until the cycle ended. The taste of disinfectant coating my oral and nasal cavities lingered for days and I did whatever I could to minimize the experience.

The doors slid shut and as mist filled the enclosure, I noticed tiny, irregular aftershocks still pulsing through my groin. I gritted my teeth and fought the urge to reach between my legs, to slide my fingers through the slickness experience taught me would be there. It was one thing to caress myself in the privacy of my bed; I dared not risk doing so here, despite assurances that such facilities were unmonitored.

My lungs began to burn from lack of oxygen. Just a little longer, just a little longer, I chanted in my head until at last the lights raised and the mist subsided.

Please retrieve your garments from the sanitizer. A chime sounded and the lid slid back into the wall.

I grabbed my suit and pulled it on before sliding into my boots. My elbow-length gloves came last. I quickly pulled my hair, tied back tightly into a ponytail, out of the high neck of my long-sleeved shirt and stepped out of the room into a long corridor.

I made my way down the hall and out through the reception area.

"Thank you for visiting the Pleasure Center," the man behind the counter droned as I passed. "We hope you had a pleasurable experience."

The SxTC provided the only safe means, the only authorized means of releasing libidinal pressure. We'd managed to minimize most of our more dangerous qualities through careful selection of desirable traits coupled with eighteen years of intensive behavioral conditioning. Still, controlling our most primitive drives required constant vigilance.

I knew my desires were perverse, a threat to public safety. I'd just had my urges satisfied, yet I couldn't wait to get home, where at long last I could touch myself, imagining it was Grant's hands instead of my own.

Without turning on the lights when I arrived at my quarters a half hour later, I tore off my gloves and slipped out of my boots. Relieved to finally be free of their constraints, I peeled off my close-fitting tan shirt and matching pants. Slipping into bed, I lay in the dark, reliving the unexpected, extraordinary day I experienced.

I pressed my palm against the place where our cheeks met. It still tingled, clinging to the memory of that all-too-brief moment of contact. Stroking my body, skin still sensitive from the session with the SxTC, I closed my eyes and smiled. When at last my searching fingers encountered a familiar wetness, I let out a tiny gasp. A few minutes later, with one hand clamped over my mouth to muffle my cries, I bucked hard, hips grinding against my rubbing fingers.

"I need you to make a delivery to the Museum of History," the Historian, who I now secretly referred to as Oliver, announced a few days later.

My head snapped up with a jerk. "The Museum?" I echoed.

"Is that a problem?"

"N-no, of course not. I was just thinking and your voice startled me."

"You've been distracted ever since your anniversary. I suggest you get whatever is distracting you out of your mind and focus your energy on your work."

"Of course, sir. My apologies." I took the small parcel he proffered and tucked it under my arm. "I'll be right back."

"No need to rush. Since you're going to be out, you might as well take your break when you've finished your errand."

With growing strides I hurried down the corridor to the lift.

"Level one."

As the light of each floor pulsed with my descent, I took the package from under my arm and looked at the address.

Dr. Kant, Department of Archeology, Museum of History

"Grant Kant," I murmured, trying out the name. I shook my head. Although caretakers were given some latitude in naming their charges, I seriously doubted the Center of Reproduction would have approved a rhyming moniker.

That said, I found myself wondering if I would run into Grant, or more importantly, how I would ensure that I did.

"Yes?"

"Good morning. I hope you can help me. I work for the Office of Historical Records and my supervisor has asked me to deliver a parcel to a Grant somebody here at the museum, only I'm afraid I've forgotten his surname."

"Surely you have a communicator. Why don't you contact your supervisor and ask him?"

"I would, but he's in an important meeting. I'm afraid he wouldn't appreciate my interrupting it to ask."

The man let out an exaggerated sigh. "Department?"

"Archeology. I believe he works in the archives."

"One moment. Let's see... Yes, Grant Devlin, department of archeology."

"Grant Devlin! Of course! It's coming back to me now. Grant Devlin in archeology. Thank you so much. I was really dreading having to call my supervisor."

The man held out his hand. "I'll let Mr. Devlin know he has a package waiting for him."

"No," I replied at once. "My supervisor was very clear that I deliver it to him directly."

He sighed. "Fine. You are?"

A few minutes later I heard footsteps approaching. I looked up, and to my relief saw Grant coming toward me.

"Astrid?" he asked, though his eyes told me he needed no reminder.

I nodded, fighting the urge to smile. My plan had worked!

"Thank you for coming. Please, follow me."

We walked in silence to the lift and stepped inside.

"Subbasement two," Grant stated after the door slid shut.

"Hopefully this time it won't be an hour between floors," I dared to say.

My companion smiled, a broad smile which crinkled around his eyes. "Oh, I don't know. In my field encountering the unexpected can lead to new discoveries."

I let out a tiny gasp when, as if on cue, the lift came to a sudden halt.

"Looks like you're in luck today." Grant gestured for me to exit first.

We made our way down a sloping corridor and entered a small, stark room I presumed was his office.

"Is that for me?" Grant asked after we sat down, pointing at the parcel I still held under my arm.

"Uh, yes." I produced the package and handed it to him. "I mean, actually, it's addressed to a Dr. Kant."

"Really? But you asked to see me."

I felt my face flush and I lowered my eyes. "I-I remembered you said you worked here. We-we had such an interesting conversation the other day, and I was curious about what you did at the museum, and since I was here—"

"I'm glad you came," he assured me. "I'm just surprised Oliver would send something for Imogene. He knows she just left for a dig and won't be back for..." Grant stopped and chuckled softly.

I looked up. "What is it?"

"I may have mentioned an interesting conversation I'd had with his new assistant while trapped in the lift the other day."

My stomach fluttered and I swallowed hard. "Oh?"

"I hoped I might run into you again. I considered making another trip to your workplace since Oliver and I still have things we need to discuss, but I'm the only one in the department on site right now and it's not the best time to get away."

"Of course," I replied, standing up at once. "I shouldn't keep you from your work."

"Don't leave." Grant got up from his chair. "I mean, you've come all this way, and I'm not busy at the moment. It's almost noon. Can you join me for lunch?"

I smiled, and for a second entertained the notion that this outcome had been the Historian's intention all along. It seemed out of character, but then, my impression of the man appeared vastly different from the one Grant described.

"Yes. I would like that, very much."

After a quick meal, Grant and I strolled the springy path winding through the arboretum. The park was one of my favorite places in the entire city, but never before had I walked it in the company of another. In fact, I rarely encountered anyone at all, and I'd grown to appreciate the quiet and privacy it afforded.

The risk of getting dirty seemed to repel virtually everyone, so when Grant asked me if I wanted to go for a walk there I didn't know how to respond at first, I was so taken by surprise.

As we walked I recalled a conversation I'd had with my friends several years ago, when I tried, unsuccessfully, to persuade them to go on a hike on a particularly beautiful day. I remembered pointing out that a place with the primary purpose of cleaning the air and providing us with oxygen couldn't possibly be harmful.

Xen's reply hadn't come as a surprise. "That may be, but it doesn't mean I belong out in it. Creepy, dirty things live in trees."

"You go. Just make sure to decontaminate before entering my building when you're finished with your 'hike'," Errol had added, shaking his head. "I shudder to think what you might track in with you."

"Astrid?"

My head jerked toward the sound of the voice. "Yes?"

"Are you okay?"

"Yes. I was just thinking I've never come here with someone else before. You're the first person I've met who...actually seems to like it here."

"It's one of my favorite places." Grant stopped and inhaled deeply. "Have you noticed the air is fresher here?"

I drew in a lungful of air. As I exhaled, I noticed my body felt lighter, my head, clearer. "Mmm," I sighed. "It does feel wonderful. I love how peaceful it is. After walking in the arboretum, I feel...exhilarated. That probably doesn't make any sense," I added quickly, realizing I'd said too much. It frightened me, how readily I revealed things to him I'd never dream of sharing with anyone else.

"It does, very much so. I feel the same way."

My heart soared and more than ever I wanted to tear off my gloves and take his face into my hands.

We stopped and turned toward each other. Our eyes locked and I wondered if he could sense the powerful desires coursing through me. Not since Amelia had I felt so close to someone. But with Grant I did not experience an urge to scramble for cover, a compulsion to hide away shameful feelings. If anything I wanted to reveal more of myself to him.

Drawn like a magnet to iron, my body swayed. Grant responded with a single, tentative step forward, close enough I was sure I could feel the heat of his body. I froze, too afraid to take the next step, but unwilling to move away.

"Astrid," he whispered, the smooth timbre of his voice like the caress I craved.

My throat felt dry. I swallowed. "I...I..."

We jumped back at the sound of a cracking twig.

"We better head back," I said, keeping my voice low as I took another step back, increasing the space between us. "Oliver's probably wondering what's taking me so long."