Her Alpha Lover: A Draken and Charli Boxed Set (16 page)

Draken: Sleep well, baby.

The night had been hell for Charli. Draken knew it, too, the diabolical man. He knew she'd spend the night tossing and turning in bed, hyper-aware of her body, unable to fill the aching void in her sex. She didn't dare touch herself again, because she knew what would happen.

So what? You should have just fired off your engine and damn his orders. He'd never have known.

Oh, yes, he would. He reads your body language too well. If you take an unauthorized orgasm, somehow he'll know. He has a preternatural awareness of that stuff, just like Rani, who's known you for seven years. Hasn't Rani been telling you you need to get laid for months? And now look what happened.

The question she was dying to know: Had Draken suffered as badly as she had last night? At least he'd had some relief by his own hand. Maybe he'd even called a woman after he stopped texting Charli.

She moaned just thinking about him effecting his own relief. But when her mind went to picture Draken in bed with another woman, she found her hands curling.

Would you actually get into a cat-fight over that bastard?

Probably. Foolish Charli! He'd laugh at your presumption. You're not his girlfriend, remember.

But when Charli checked her phone as she was getting ready to leave for work and found his text waiting for her Friday morning, her eyes widened.

Draken: Morning beauty

Draken: At work yet?

Charli: Getting ready, Mr. Almatto. What do you want?

Draken: Mm. Tetchy in the mornings, are we. Can you change your plans today?

Charli was chagrined to find herself wanting to send an unequivocal
yes
.
Especially if it means I'll get to see you and you can give me that orgasm you made me need ALL FUCKING NIGHT.

Charli: Maybe. What do you have in mind?

Draken: I'd like you to come for an interview.

Charli: A job interview? I'm already employed as you well know.

Draken: Temporary work. Official stuff through an agency.

Draken: Can you call in today?

Charli: With what excuse?

Draken: Simply tell your boss the client asked for your services all day.

Draken: I can vouch for its effectiveness. My employees use it on me all the time.

Draken: Besides it's true. I am your client and I am asking you to come to an all-day interview.

Charli: What kind of job?

Draken: Product demonstration. We need demonstrators. Pays well.

Draken: No assurance you'll get the job despite my inviting you. You're competing with four other candidates.

Charli: Interviews for a product demo job for Almatto Tech Sport? That's weird. Sure OK I guess I can do it.

Draken: Actually for a new division, ATJ, not ATS.

Draken: I'll explain when you show up. Be there at nine sharp.

Charli: Be where?

Draken: Seven Tech Tower. 9th Floor. Talk to desk attendant after you get off the elevator. Are we confirmed?

Charli: Will you be there?

Draken: For at least part of it. I'm trying to arrange to be there the whole day.

Charli: OK. What kind of dress?

Draken: Formal business wear, as you'd wear for any interview. Don't forget your glasses.

Draken: No panties, though. I never want you stepping inside Seven Tech Tower wearing panties.

Draken: Or pants or tights or anything covering that pussy.

Charli: What, never ever? Even after you tire of me and we're like strangers who don't even pass in the night?

Draken: Never ever. For the rest of your existence, you may not cover your pussy in my building.

Charli: A very strange man, you are.

Draken: It's called eccentricity in my circles.

Draken: Is your clit throbbing this morning?

Charli: Yes.

Draken: Not enough I'll bet. Put your finger down there and knock it around until you're about to come.

Draken: Right before you do, remove your finger.

Charli: Oh God I don't know if I can. I swear I'm already close. What if I mess up?

Draken: You can. Messing up will not be tolerated. Text me when you're done.

Charli: Done.

Charli: Bastard.

Draken: Aching, darling?

Charli: Yes

Draken: Do you have a gym membership?

Charli: No

Draken: I'll put you on my membership here.

Charli: You mean in the tower? So I'd have to work out without underwear? You must be nuts.

Draken: You'll need some release by the end of the day.

Charli: What does that mean?

Draken: It means if you think you're frustrated now, you have no idea.

Charli: Aha! I knew there was something weird about this interview.

Charli: I changed my mind. No interview.

Draken: Did I mention the pay is a minimum of a hundred thousand dollars if you get selected?

Charli: Damn you to hell Draken.

Charli: What do you have up your sleeve?

Charli: SORRY. I meant Mr. Almatto.

Draken: Would you like your punishment for your transgression today or on Monday?

Charli: You're serious aren't you. Why does everyone else get to call you Draken but not me?

Charli: Mr. Almatto makes it sound like you're my Italian teacher or something.

Draken: You know why.

Charli: Monday then. And bye. I have to go if I'm going to be there by 9.

Draken: Don't be late.

Charli wasn't late. But when she got to the door marked Almatto Tech Joy―wait, what, Joy? Was that seriously the name of the company?
―
she was the last interviewee to arrive. The four other women sitting in the reception area looked up at her as she entered.

All women? What kind of job is this?

The question took on more meaning as she looked around. The place looked at first like every other waiting area she'd ever seen, until she noticed the art on the walls. Instead of the usual sterile still-lifes or landscapes, the photos were black-and-whites of women and men wearing passionate expressions, showing flashes of skin. Was that a naked breast? And what was that man doing with his hand down by his belly? And was
that
a―

Oh, boy.

Joy
.

"Hello. You're here for the trial run," the cheerful receptionist said when Charli just stood there with her mouth open. "Name?"

"I'm Charli." She shoved her glasses up her nose. "Uh, Charli Fontina."

"Sign here, Ms. Fontina."

Charli stared down at the form with lots of small print shoved in front of her. "What is this?"

"It's a release to do with the use of recordings. It basically says we can use any recordings we make of you today freely for internal operations - that means not for distribution outside of ATJ. Read it if you like."

Charli scanned the document, then scrawled her signature. "I, uh, wonder if you could tell me what this is exactly―I mean, what is Almatto Tech Joy anyw―"

The Curse of Draken's Building was upon Charli again, and her poise had deserted her. Just being in the same building as the Big Man apparently made her lose her mind. She was interrupted mid-stammer by the door to the inner office opening.

"Greetings, everyone." A tall beanpole of a man in glasses whom Charli had never seen before smiled at the room at large. "Welcome to Almatto Tech Joy, where tech meets sex and has a fiesta." Laughter greeted his slogan, except for Charli, who stood there with her mouth wide open. "We're ready to start. Will you ladies all come with me?"

Nobody spoke as they trailed the man through corridors. Charli hung back, feeling the outsider here as she choked on the thick perfumed air in the women's wake. The women walking ahead of her looked scarily sophisticated in their elegantly tailored suits. Not only that, but they had flawlessly slim figures, notably flatter than Charli's. Two were blondes, one a brunette, and one a redhead―and all were stunning.

In comparison, Charli felt short and dumpy in her new black suit that failed to shape to her bosom and hips. Off-the-rack business suits just weren't made for pocket Venus figures like hers and always looked bulky on her.

She soon found herself passing through a doorway labeled
RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT
and led to a surprisingly large
auditorium where there were dozens of people milling about.

Most wore suits, but several in their white lab coats looked to be scientists. And on the stage was a strange-looking metallic chair that had odd gizmos and levers on it. A sign above it read
ROBASM
.

The man who'd fetched them hopped up onto the stage and grabbed a microphone, which Charli thought was overkill until she looked around and saw even more people sitting in the audience.

"Thanks for coming, everyone. I see we have investors, developers, researchers, administrators, production staff, even a couple of press people...have I missed anyone?" the man said, his voice booming through the mic. "Oh, yes, the applicants. Thanks for coming, ladies." He winked toward Charli's group. "We're glad to welcome you to Almatto Tech Joy, the newest and, if I do say so myself, most innovative division of the Almatto Tech Corporation. I'm Gordon Howing, and I'm leading the research team here at ATJ. Today as you all know we're moving through the final steps before launching the pride and joy―see what I did there?―of Almatto Tech Joy's production line, the world's first true robotic pleasure machine intended for mass market worldwide distribution. R&D teams in Japan, Germany, and here have been working on this project for close to four years, and it just came out of testing. Today is both a practice demonstration and a screen test, if you will, to select our top demonstrators. The two lucky people selected will be doing product demo for the actual launch as well as other promotions in the next twelve months."

Charli was half listening, half scanning the room. She didn't see Draken Almatto anywhere, or even his assistant, Matthew. She did see a PR rep from the company she worked for―Nancy Jackson, a gossipy woman who noticed her with astonishment and waved. Embarrassed, Charli waved back, then faced the front again.

Gordon was continuing: "We're on a tight schedule today. It's already ten after nine, and we're slated to announce the chosen candidates by 6 p.m. We'll be breaking for lunch and also between each candidate's trial as we're working with just one prototype and the machine will have to be sanitized each time. We're still waiting for Draken to get here, but as soon as he does, we'll get started."

"Is that the Robasm?" someone shouted.

"The very same," Gordon confirmed. "It's in its fifth and, we hope, final permutation before launch."

"Can you tell us anything about it now?"

"With pleasure." Gordon smiled. "The Robasm is a robot, sex platform, and sex toy rolled into one. It is portable and ultimately cost-effective, though the early adopters are expected to be paying in the mid six digits. Although there is a Robasm model for men in development, the targeted users for our first model are women from four feet ten inches to six feet three inches, and up to three hundred fifty pounds. We're proud of the Robasm's range and its safety features, which include several patented sensors the like of which you've probably never seen before...but what you probably want to know is exactly what it does, right?"

There was general laughter and hollering.

"The Robasm," Gordon said impressively, "is designed to pleasure women sexually. It uses penetration, friction, positioning, massage, and psychologically adaptive programming to maximize a woman's pleasure."

"What is psychologically adapting―whatever mumbo-jumbo you just said?" a woman in the audience called out.

Gordon chuckled. "It just means that it responds to a user's preferences without the user's explicit direction. The Robasm can accelerate or delay orgasm, or do a mashup of both."

"Amazing," came a comment.

"Isn't it?" Gordon said enthusiastically. "It also ties into the reason we're selecting two demonstrators today. Our research suggests the Robasm is best optimized for two distinct functions―one, to propel a woman toward orgasm. And two, to stop a woman's orgasm."

That got laughter. "Who wants a robot that blocks you from having an orgasm?" somebody shouted out.

"Many women find delayed gratification prolongs their pleasure. On the table you'll find several eye-opening studies cited. With that in mind, we'll be selecting one candidate who has difficulty achieving orgasm and needs a few assists. But we'll also be choosing a second candidate who prefers her orgasm delayed with a firm hand. The candidates chosen will be demonstrating how the Robasm performs for them based on their customized needs."

"Difficulty achieving orgasm. So you're saying half your target market identifies with asexuality?" somebody said disbelievingly.

"Not at all," Gordon said. "Our market is as horny as anyone seeking sex toys. They have all the hormones."

Amidst the general laughter, Charli muttered, "Why is it that men have libidos, but women have hormones?"

"What?" The redheaded candidate turned to her. She was nice-looking in a sleek, poised, lawyerish sort of way. But her lips were thinned and she seemed unhappy.

"We're at the mercy of our hormones, while men are made powerful by their libidos," Charli said. "It's just the way we talk about it. Maybe that's not really the way it is, but it makes us sound bad."

"I've never thought of it that way," the woman said, frowning.