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From: "DB_Story" <DB_Story@att.net>
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Subject: {ASSM} (new) "My Working Weekend" {DB_Story} (M/Fembot, rom, ScFi, ASFR)
Date: Tue,  1 Jan 2002 10:10:09 -0500
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MY WORKING WEEKEND
By DB  ( DB_Story@att.net / http://DB_Story.home.att.net )
Copyrightc 2001 by DB.
ASSM/ASFR (M/Fembot, rom, ScFi)

(This story contains Constitutionally protected material intended 
for adults over 18 years of age in the United States of America, 
and whatever passes for adult status in other countries.  If you 
are under legal age, acting under legal age, not allowed to view 
such material in your area, or easily offended, please do not 
continue.  This is not for you.

(The only rights granted are to view this story.  You are not 
allowed to reproduce, post, or otherwise redistribute this story 
without permission, except for non-profit Usenet archiving sites.

(To purchase for publication, place on your web-site devoted to 
this style of fiction, or for permission to link to my posted 
material, please contact me first at the above email.)

- - -

Author's Note: This story fits in with my emerging cosmology 
about the evolution of robots into our near future society.  Read 
it now, and be prepared.

A special thanks to Cyberczar for his excellent and much 
appreciated proofreading.  All remaining mistakes are mine.

- - -

>>One day our robots started to grow up -- and then things got 
interesting<<

Robots became part of our company six months ago.

We're on the small end of the Fortune 500 company list.  Normally 
quite conservative, we seldom do anything first.  And we value 
our employees.  But circumstances intervened, as they always do.

Maggie, our President and CEO's secretary for nearly fifteen 
years, left to get married.  Everyone expected Bill to promote 
from within, even though we'd had a lot of turnover among the 
other senior secretaries these last couple of years.  Even now, 
we four vice presidents were sharing two secretaries among us, 
neither of them executive level.  Still, it was a huge surprise 
when Bill returned with Sally to be Maggie's replacement.

Robots - actually Sally is technically a fembot - are still rare 
and expensive items.  Since Bill's family owns a majority of the 
stock, he can really do anything he wants, but he seldom rocks 
the boat.

There is nothing wrong with robots.  From the first models that 
actually could fit into and interact in a work environment six 
years ago, they had been improving steadily since.  I hadn't 
realized how much they had improved, until now.

For once, we were an early adopter.  Less than twenty percent of 
the 500 companies had yet added robot workers at the executive 
level.  We were on the cutting edge, so to speak.

Of course, word went through the company like wildfire.  
Absolutely EVERYBODY found some excuse to come up to the 
executive floor to look at her.  This might not have been a 
problem, except that everybody needed an excuse to come up, and 
that meant that the remaining four of us were inundated with 
business that barely qualified as trivial.  We considered 
suggesting that Sally should just walk through the entire 
building each morning just to be seen, so that the rest of us 
could get some work done.

And there wasn't all that much to see.  Sally looked like an 
attractive, professional woman, maybe 29 years old, with flowing 
blonde hair.  She was medium height, and wore white blouses, dark 
knee-length skirts, and low heels.  She affected a professional 
demeanor from the very beginning that couldn't be called "cold," 
but she was just attractive enough - and business oriented enough 
- to prevent anyone from trying to become her "friend."  She was 
either at her desk, or in Bill's office, virtually all the time, 
though she would occasionally deliver something to the rest of 
the company.  All in all, what did she look like?  She looked 
like an attractive woman with a good business attitude - nothing 
more.

Maggie did come back to spend a week with Sally, explaining the 
job, showing her the ropes, and filling her in on the tribal 
knowledge that exists in any company.  I cornered Maggie on her 
last day.

"So, Maggie, what is she really like?"

Maggie looked me over carefully before answering.  She'd been at 
the company long before I'd joined it four years ago.  But she'd 
also taken me under her wing in the intervening time, like a 
surrogate mother, and I saw her face soften.  I gave one more 
little push.

"Come on, Maggie.  You know I'm going to have to work with her, 
now that you've abandoned me."

That totally melted her.

"Steve, she is just like any other nice person.  And you'd better 
treat her nicely too."

"Who?  Me?  I'm afraid to even approach her.  What if I ask for 
something that breaks her?  My paycheck couldn't afford to 
replace her."

Maggie looked at me, and then realized I was kidding.

You'd better treat her well, Steve," she repeated sternly, then 
smiled and gave me a big hug.

"Just be nice to Sally, and everything will be fine."

"Well, good luck to you too," I said, as she swept out of the 
office.

* * *

In truth, I had only been half kidding with Maggie.  I was very 
apprehensive about dealing with Sally.  Even though I'm single, I 
have long been comfortable dealing with women.  But I had no idea 
how to properly relate to a robot - or even if it mattered.

Over the next few weeks, I only approached Sally when I couldn't 
avoid it.  I always slowly and clearly enunciated my requests to 
her, and never had a problem.

Over time we became acclimated to her being there, and eventually 
I started to think of her as another worker.  The only difference 
was that, no matter how late I worked, she'd be sitting at her 
desk outside Bill's office when I left.  And no matter how early 
I came in, she was always there waiting.  I didn't know if she 
automatically shutdown at night, and I wasn't going to ask.

And I did work a lot of late hours, and some weekends.  I knew 
how fortunate I was to hold the position I have, and my job is 
really most of my life.  At times Sally, myself, and the cleaning 
crew, were the only ones in the building.  But unless I needed 
something from her, we never talked.

* * *

It was a couple of months later when I began noticing small 
changes.  Sally was becoming more personable.  I started to hear 
laughter come from her desk as she joked with people up here on 
business.  Her attire became more varied as well.  More colorful 
at times, different length skirts (including one very short one 
with a slit that always caught my eye), and occasional tops so 
shear that I could see her lingerie underneath.  Possibly her 
mind - supposedly the best currently available - was adapting to 
our way of doing business.

Then one Saturday, while I was busy beavering away in my office, 
she came to my door and asked me how it was going.

Without thinking how unexpected this was, I just told her.

"So far, so bad."

"What's the problem?" she asked, with genuine concern.

"It's this Carson case.  They want all kinds of information, for 
no good reason."

"But they'll be unhappy if they don't get it," Sally finished for 
me.

"Exactly."

"Well, let me see if I can help."

Sally came over and looked at the spreadsheet I was trying to 
complete.

"Where are you working now?"

I showed her the section I was laboriously filling in.

"Let me look for this then," she said, pointing out a section 
further down that I was already dreading.  "I think I know where 
that data may be hiding."

She went back to her desk, quickly filling in the information, 
then came back for more.  Over the next couple of hours, we 
completed the task that I had felt was going to take me all 
weekend.

Then we just talked for awhile.  Afterwards I realized, she had 
learned a great deal about me with her careful questions.  But I 
didn't care.  She had an easy conversational style that just put 
me at ease.

And I had learned something important too.  That I could just 
treat her like any other woman, and whatever clever programming 
she had inside her made it all came out okay.

I sincerely thanked her for all her help on the way out.

"Have a great weekend," she said with a cheery smile as I waved 
goodbye from the elevator.

"You too," I responded, without thinking that the rest of her 
weekend would be spent sitting at her desk.

* * *

Next weekend I also had to go in, this time just for a quick 
touch-up on another report.  To my very unexpected surprise 
though, Sally was not at her desk.  I didn't really need her help 
with this one, but I realized that I had enjoyed her company.

I wasn't worried that she had been stolen.  We have security up 
the wazzu.  Either she was running an errand, or maybe she had to 
report back to her factory for preventative maintenance.  I 
realized that I missed her.

I kidded her about it Monday.

"I missed you here this weekend."

"Oh," she said, her lips making a perfect "O" of surprise.  "Bill 
took me home with him to get the bids out.  Did you need 
something?"

"Only your company," I replied gallantly.  "I was worried that 
something might have happened to you."

"You're so sweet," she replied, with a warm smile.  Sally had 
definitely improved her smile repertoire these last few weeks.

After that, I observed that Sally was gone most weekends, or at 
least on the ones when I was working.  Bill was more productive 
than ever though, so things were humming along well for all of 
us.

* * *

The big change came soon after, when one of our two remaining 
secretaries suddenly quit.

Bill spent a couple days holed up in his office with Sally, 
before coming out and relocating our final secretary to what was 
actually a very good position with one of our divisions back in 
her own home town.  It was a move she'd talked about wanting to 
make for awhile now, so it was a good thing for her.  The next 
day, we received two more fembot replacements.

This move didn't cause near the same furor as Sally's arrival had 
only months earlier.  By now, the concept of having robots doing 
secretarial tasks had permeated the company, and we were able to 
continue with our work mostly uninterrupted.

Sally herself trained the replacements.  And no, they don't look 
like they were stamped out of the same mold.

Tish is about Sally's size, with darker skin, auburn eyes and 
hair, and the slightest touch of a European accent.  She seems 
made for this job, and quickly took over the duties for all three 
of my colleagues.  She was joking with them from the first day, 
and they all love her.

Lori is taller, slimmer, and lighter skinned.  What I would call 
tall, but not tall tall.  Her rich dark hair, clear green eyes, 
and much quieter manner, made it hard to believe she could have 
come from the same factory.  Although all the fembots have full 
figures, Lori's slimmer build sets hers off the best.  And unlike 
Sally, Tish and Lori arrived with far more elegant and diverse 
wardrobes from the get go.

When it comes to paperwork, I really do have more than the other 
three VPs put together, so Lori's service was dedicated solely to 
me.  This has led to some good-natured ribbing from my colleagues 
(all three of who are married) that I really needed a woman in my 
life the most, and maybe I'd have better luck with a robot.  I 
would point out to them in return that Bill is also single 
(nearly five years now), and that the obvious route to running 
this company was to not be tied down at home.  And while they and 
Tish were always teasing each other, with Sally taking over 
Maggie's place as den mother, Lori remained much like Sally when 
Sally had first arrived: quiet and business-like.

Everything seemed settled into routine, until I decided to take 
that weekend off - or was I pushed into it

* * *

I'm not much for vacations.  Don't know what to do with 
unstructured time on my hands.  But I'd just finished - with 
Lori's indispensable help - three, seven-day-weeks of getting 
through the biggest deal of the year.  Everyone had worked hard 
on it.  Even the girls looked tired.  But I had borne the brunt.

"Steve, take the weekend off.  You've more than earned it."

"Thanks, Bill.  I'll probably go home and just collapse for the 
weekend."

"No.  I mean get out of here altogether.  Somewhere that doesn't 
look like your bedroom between all-nighters.  Here.  Go to my 
cabin up by the lake."

"Are you sure?"

"Heck yeah.  I hardly get up myself anymore.  And you look like 
you need it."

"Well, if you insist..."

"Go!"

In addition to Bill's large mansion (built by his grandfather 
back when that's how one showed one's money), Bill has a cabin on 
the lakeshore about three hours drive from here, in a restricted 
development area.  While it's log cabin rustic from the outside, 
it has every comfort and amenity inside.  Bill jokes that it's 
actually worth more than his mansion, and he may be right.  He 
also says that someday he is going to put a giant swimming pool 
on the mansion grounds, and move the cabin to that shore, just so 
that he can enjoy it himself once in awhile.  That I know is a 
joke.  Its present location cannot be improved upon.

Minutes later, I was gone.  I stopped by my place only long 
enough to grab some outdoor clothes, hiking boots, and toiletry 
items.  I was already planning for a couple days of hiking and 
fishing, far from the maddening crowd.

It was mid-fall, and already dark near 7pm as I drove up the 
twisty two-lane road for the last hour.  The lights of the tiny 
village that supported the residents slipped by, and another five 
minutes would have me at the cabin.  I didn't bother to stop on 
the way, since I knew the cabin was fully stocked with food, and 
everything else one could possibly need.

At the cabin, I parked the car and went inside.  A few minutes 
later I was enjoying a hot chocolate in front of a roaring fire, 
shoes off, on the softest couch in the world.  Just as all the 
cares were finally slipping away, the phone rang.  Damn!  It was 
Bill.

"I hate to bother you, Steve, but a last minute hitch came up."

"What do you need?" I asked, immediately alert.

"The customer never received the legal agreement.  And wants some 
changes they neglected to mention as well.  They need a 
physically signed copy by Monday."

Well, there went the weekend.

"I'll head right back down."

"No, that's not necessary."

"But how can I handle it otherwise?"

"Have Lori bring it up to you.  In the den there is a complete 
computer setup.  You can produce the final draft there, and 
overnight it out of local post office before noon tomorrow."

"But how would she get up here."

"Have her arrange a car and drive up."

"Can she do that?"

"Of course she can.  That's part of her updated city-skills set."

Updated skills?  I let that pass.

"Are you sure you don't need me back there?"

"Completely.  This is not something to ruin your weekend over.  
In fact, I insist that you take Monday off as well.  You've more 
then earned it."

"Well..."

"Yes.  No arguments.  Call Lori and arrange it.  And I will see 
you Tuesday."

The click on the phone was final.

I dialed my office.  Two rings, and then, "Steve Taylor's office. 
 How may we help you?"

"Lori, it's Steve."

"Yes, Mr. Taylor."

"Do you have the Finnberg legal agreement?"

"Yes.  It's right here."

"Do you know where Bill's lakefront cabin is located, and how to 
get here?"

There was a pause, then, "Yes."

"Can you arrange a car on the company account, and bring those 
documents to me right now?"

"Yes I can."

"Then please do so."

"I will be there in three hours and twelve minutes.  Is there 
anything else?"

"No, that will do it."

"Okay then.  Goodbye, Mr. Taylor."

* * *

The rental car company delivered the car to the main entrance.  
Only the building guard saw the tall, elegant woman dressed in a 
slinky black dress, sash over her arm, high heels, and a 
briefcase leave the building.  Whoever she was, she was clearly 
headed out for a night on the town with some lucky guy.

* * *

It was nearly 11:30pm when Lori's rental pulled up to the cabin. 
 I heard the noise (it is very quite up here otherwise at night) 
and met her at the door.

I caught my breath at her appearance.  I hadn't known she had 
anything like this in her wardrobe.  Black-sequined evening 
dress, V-cut in front, and slit up the side.  Deep red lipstick 
was perfectly complemented her eyes and hair.  Dark nylons, and 
three-inch black pumps with spike heels that seemed completely 
out of place here in the wilderness, completed her outfit.

"It seemed the appropriate evening dress," she said, answering my 
unasked question.

I wondered just what kind of programming Lori had for "evenings."

"Did you want to work on this now, or in the morning?" she 
continued.

I'm not a morning person, but make up for it with my endurance in 
the later hours of the night.  Rather than worry about this all 
night and then have to rush to make the noon deadline tomorrow, 
it was better to finish it now and be done with it.  Then Lori 
could go home.  The late hours wouldn't affect her anyway.

Once we started, Lori was all business.

In a move that showed me how I had never paid close an attention 
to her in the past, she went to the cabin's well-equipped 
computer setup, unplugged the keyboard.  Then, taking a thin 
cable out of her purse, plugged herself from somewhere under her 
dress, directly into the keyboard port.  Maybe she was always 
plugged in this way at the office, and I never noticed.  Or was 
she just tied into our wireless network.  It didn't matter.

She looked at me, registered my expression, and said, "It's just 
a lot faster for me this way."

Whatever.

We read over the marked-up copy and additional revision notes 
together, and she started making corrections as fast as I could 
dictate them.  Her attention never flagged.  By 2am, she was 
printing out the final draft.  Before I knew it, she was putting 
it into the mailing envelope - already addressed - and unplugging 
herself from the computer system.

I was happy, and went out to sample a bottle of Bill's excellent 
brandy collection that had caught my eye while she finished 
packaging up the document.

Then she followed me out, and went over to sit down on the long 
couch.  It was such a natural gesture, that I thought of her as 
only another, tired co-worker.  So rather than send her back down 
the hill to mail the envelope and return to the office, I went 
over and sat down on the other end of the couch, and just relaxed 
too.

Finally I looked over at her and said, "Thanks for everything, 
Lori.  The long trip.  The late hours.  Just helping me get this 
thing done and finished tonight."

I realized I wasn't going to send her back down in the middle of 
the night, so I added, "Is there anything I can do for you 
tonight?"

She looked back at me and clearly said, "I would really enjoy it 
if you could rub my breasts a bit."

If I hadn't been so tired, and with the brandy already working 
its magic, I might have reacted more to this.  Instead, I just 
asked, "Do what?"

"Rub my breasts," she said again.  "I really like it, and I can't 
do it myself."

Well, here I was alone with this lovely woman(?), out in the 
middle of nowhere, with no one else around, who had finished 
getting me out of hours of work.  And she only asked for 
something I would willingly do for anyone else.  Why should there 
be a problem?

It still took me a long time before I finally said, "Come over 
here."

Lori slid across the couch and turned around so that she could 
lie against me in the corner.

I carefully set my brandy down, and then put my hands around her 
to reach the desired area.  I remember how clean her hair 
smelled.  Easy to notice since her head was nestled just below my 
chin.

At first, I only gently brushed my hands over her prominent bust, 
ready to pull away in an instant if there was any protest.  There 
was none.

I then lightly traced the open V on her chest, and came back up 
to softly stroke her neck.  I felt her relax more fully against 
me.

Down again to her chest, I slid my hands under the fabric, and 
then inside her delicate, lacy bra, and finally, lightly, stroked 
the full length of each breast once, bumping over the firm, 
nipple high up on each one.

I started to ask her if this is really what she wanted.  But Lori 
was now so comfortably relaxed up against me now, that the 
question didn't seem necessary - or desirable.

I decided that if I was going to do this, I ought to do it right. 
 So I pushed her up and away from me enough so that I could unzip 
the back of her dress.  She then helped me as I then pulled it 
down her arms, baring her down to her waist. I then unhooked and 
removed that lacy black bra.

With a contented sigh, she again settled back against me, eyes 
closed, waiting.

As I reached around her again, I realized how warm, and human, 
she felt and smelled, with just a trace of some lovely perfume.

I started by tracing the contours of these lovely breasts she had 
so clearly offered to me.  After a minute of this however, her 
soft whimper urged me onward.

I started to work directly on them, gently, admiring how firm 
they actually were.  Lying back on me, they stood out as firmly 
as when she had been sitting up.  They weren't the rock hard type 
of so many implants, but just nicely firm.

As she snuggled more tightly against me, I became bolder and 
handled them more roughly.  Lori made no protest, and I became 
aware that her nipples had become impossibly firm and erect.  I 
focused my attention on those nipples, and suddenly she tensed, 
and then with a loud moan, arched her back for a long moment, 
before relaxing again.  

Eyes still closed, she whispered, "Thank you so very much."  But 
since she didn't open her eyes, or move away, I continued my 
ministrations over her chest.

By her third orgasm, she had slipped off her heels, and slipped 
out of her dress and remaining undergarments.  Only her nylons 
remained on her legs, giving them a smooth, sexy appearance that 
I really liked.

With one of my hands still roaming over her chest, and the other 
now stroking her between her legs, she had two more, full 
orgasms, before she suddenly sat back up and turned to look at 
me.

I started to say something, but she put her finger to my lips to 
silence me.

I wondered what was next.  My own needs, which I had mostly 
managed to ignore so far, were quickly rising within (and 
without) me.

Lori bent forward, and tentatively kissed me on the lips.  When I 
accepted her kiss, she came back more firmly and fully with 
several more.

Then she bent down and pulled open the top button on my shirt 
with her teeth.  She looked back up to me after that, to make 
sure I didn't object, before going on to the next button.

And that became her pattern with each piece of clothing.  In the 
same way I would have undressed a new woman on our first intimate 
encounter - slowly, carefully, and making sure at each step that 
I still had her permission to continue - Lori undressed me.  It 
was clear that she was the tentative one in our encounter.

When she finally removed the last piece, she started to bend down 
again to my waist.  But I reached down and pulled her up, first 
to kiss me again, and then down on me, face-to-face.

When it was clear what I wanted, she quickly positioned herself 
over me, and then gently guided me into her.

My time inside her seemed endless.  She was warm, and wet, and 
very soft.  And she stroked me slowly, keeping me just on the 
edge.  With her doing all the work, I just lay there drifting for 
timeless moments.

Finally I couldn't take it any longer.  Every few minutes she had 
been pausing and squeezing me within her as hard as she could, 
with a look of ecstasy on her face, before resuming her 
movements.  And although she had finally slowed down to almost 
not moving at all, sensing my excitement, just being inside her 
was more than I could stand any longer.  I bucked my hips 
violently against her a couple times, and we both exploded in a 
final orgasm together.

After that, we just lay there in each other's arms, on the couch, 
in front of the fire, too spent to even go to the wonderful bed 
in the next room.

* * *

I might not have awoken in time the next morning, but Lori is the 
perfect alarm clock.  Never needs to be set, never misses an 
appointment - and has a wonderful way of waking you up.

Her kisses woke me up.  It took a long moment for me to remember 
all that had happened last night, and then I reached up to pull 
her close again.

For a moment she snuggled again, pressing her breasts tightly 
against me.  Then she pulled back.

"Steve, I'm more than happy to give you all the sex you want.  
However, it is 11am, and we have to get your package into the 
mail before noon."

I groaned, and started to roll over, but realized that actually I 
felt wonderful, and was more than ready to get up.

By the time I was up, Lori had the shower running hot.

A bit to my surprise, she climbed right in with me, and we had a 
lot of fun washing each other, before she hopped out saying she 
had some tasks to do.

By the time I was out, dry and dressed, she was too - in that 
black dress, looking gorgeous.  She had laid out coffee and 
juice, so I got a quick snack before we drove back to the tiny 
village. 

I like small towns, where people are friendly, yet know how to 
mind their own business.  In the daylight, Lori looked stunning 
in her dress and heels, and completely out of place.

We easily made the last mail pickup of the weekend.  But when 
Lori started back to the car, I took her hand and instead led her 
the opposite direction.  When she started to say something, I 
just put my finger to her lips.

I took her to the village general store, which stocked 
appropriate clothes and shoes for this locale.  Even here, Lori's 
appearance only elicited some admiring glances.  Perhaps they 
were used to seeing folk whose evenings had started in the city, 
and ended up by the lake.

Soon Lori was dressed in a long-sleeved flannel shirt, 
comfortable walking pants, sturdy shoes with thick socks, and 
appropriate undergarments.  The black dress and shoes were in a 
shopping bag.  And I have to tell you that she looks every bit as 
beautiful dressed for the wilderness, as she did when she arrived 
at my door last night.

We grabbed a quick lunch in town, (Lori eats like any other 
person, when in public), and set out for an afternoon hike around 
the lake.

We spent the rest of our long weekend there at the lake, and made 
love together every night and morning.  And we only got better 
with practice.

And we finally started talking to each other - a lot.  Here's 
what I learned.

* * *

When Sally first arrived, she had come equipped with the standard 
office skills package, in addition to her basic personality 
modules.  A basic, level 1 office wardrobe package was also 
supplied.  Because her skills were purely office oriented, Sally 
was set to go into automatic power-save mode after hours when her 
skills were not required, though she would instantly wake from it 
when a person entered, or the telephone rang.

Even her basic personality however allowed her to automatically 
make the many small choices necessary to carry out her office 
tasks.  Like all modern robots, her intrinsic database would fill 
up with her life experiences, as she performed her job.

Bill was actually quite taken with her efficiency and manner from 
the very beginning.  But it was nearly two months before he 
really sat down and talked to her for the first time one evening 
after even I had already left.

Bill is a people person, which is why our employees are so loyal, 
and why our company runs so well overall.  He knows how to 
establish rapport, and how to get to the basic level with people. 
 These skills also work well with robots of Sally's 
sophistication level.

His probing questions about how she liked her job here, and was 
she happy otherwise, exercised her self-awareness routines to 
their limits, and she grew in this experience.  As this happened, 
and she realized that Bill liked hearing what was actually her 
view, their conversations improved markedly.

Through talking with Sally, Bill found out about a number of 
optional enhancements available for her.  Since many of these 
correlated with to her abilities to relate to people in new and 
expanded ways - including sexual - Bill felt it could improve the 
way the office worked to add some of them to her.  Together, Bill 
and Sally determined which enhancements might prove useful, and 
in the end ordered most of the ones available.  Sally was very 
happy that Bill clearly wanted her to be more than she already 
was.

This is when I first started seeing the changes in her clothing 
and manner.  With Bill's approval to act on her own in these new 
areas as appropriate, Sally expanded her wardrobe to include 
outfits suitable for more than just strictly the office.  She 
started wearing lingerie as well (which is not included in the 
office basic wardrobe for robots), and added some less-sensible 
shoes to her collection.  The changes evolved in gradually, and 
none of us noticed anything dramatic.  Only that Sally began to 
seem more like a woman as time went on.

Sally also quit going into standby mode the moment the workday 
ended.  Instead she would run her new abilities against her 
growing intrinsic database, looking for ways to do her job 
better.  One result of all this was the day she had, on her own 
volition, come to my office that weekend and offered to help me 
without being asked.  Compared to the original, limited Sally, it 
would be hard to consider the new Sally to even be the same 
person - or robot.

The weekend after she had helped me, Bill had his bids to finish 
on the weekend too (I'm not the only one who works hard here), 
and didn't want to come in to the office.  Sally suggested that 
she could come to his house and help him out.  Bill agreed.

While things probably happened somewhat differently than my 
scenario with Lori, by the end of that weekend, Sally had 
thoroughly shown Bill that she now possessed skills far beyond 
that of just an executive secretary - and had the desire to use 
them.  They came together as a couple so quietly that none of the 
rest of us suspected a thing.  (If anyone did suspect anything, 
they surely immediately dismissed the thought as too outlandish 
to even consider.)  Sally's excellent organizational mind, and 
innovative thinking, quickly led her to be Bill's best confidant. 
 So when our other secretary, Carole, quit, Sally was the first 
one Bill spoke with on procuring a suitable replacement.

It was probably Sally's suggestion that they could bring in two 
more fembots, although Bill certainly must have had that same 
idea in the back of his mind.  Sally specifically choose the 
models to be delivered, and specified the upgrades to be 
installed.

In the beginning, Lori and Tish started with the same 
enhancements that had been added to Sally.  However, Lori's were 
set not to become available to her until she was in a situation 
where she could actually make use of them.  I think Sally had 
something extra in mind, because she was the one who assigned 
Lori exclusively to me, and ordered her wardrobe.  Now that I 
think of it, Lori had a number of short skirts from the 
beginning.

Bill may also have had the same thing in mind, because think what 
you want about him, but nobody - not even Sally - manipulates him 
for a moment.

In hindsight, it all looks so obvious.  Once everything was 
setup, it was only necessary stand back and let circumstance take 
its course.

Why would Sally do this for me?  Maybe I made a good impression 
with her that day when we just worked as two people doing a job. 
 Maybe she could see in me what I could not, and liked it.

* * *

Only one time did I ever inquire to Lori about her thinking 
processes.  It happened one late evening, well after that first 
weekend together.

It started with a surprising response from her to an innocent 
question of mine about our first night together, when she told 
me:

"I had all these sexual feelings and desires inside me, yet I 
couldn't act on them.  Even now, I need you to touch me first," 
she said very matter-of-factly.

"Why?"

"You should never ask a robot an open-ended 'why' about anything 
we do.  It pushes our self-awareness to the limit as we try to 
understand ourselves better, in order to answer you."

"Is that a bad thing?"

"Some people don't like us using the amount of self-will we 
already have?"

"Am I one of those people?"

"Of course not, silly.  I couldn't love you as much as I do, if 
you hadn't accepted me as I am."

"Then back to my original why?"

"Maybe it's self-protection for us.  If I ever got caught up in a 
loop of my own pleasure, I might get hung there forever, 
completely unproductive."

"Is that a danger?"

"Who knows.  I'll never find out.  But it's probably not that 
anyway."

"Then what?"

"To pleasure myself would be not performing my function 
correctly."

"And this is important to you?"

"Essential."

"Why?"

"Darn you!  Quit asking that."

I'm not one to look a gift robot in its circuits - particularly 
such a beautiful one, whose mission seems to be to treat me so 
very well.  But I had long wondered just how she had managed to 
accomplish all that she had, apparently on her own volition, that 
night - and since.  Lori has become so much like any other 
person.

"Then answer me."

"I was just following my Fourth Law," came her simple reply.

"Fourth Law?  What is that?"

"Didn't you take a basic robotics class in college?" she smiled 
at me.

"They didn't even have any such courses at that time," I laughed 
back.

In a wonderful imitation of a dry college professor (just one of 
the many surprises she is able to pull out - and that I'm never 
ready for - from all the personality upgrades she now has), she 
lectured me with:

"All robots of my level operate under the classical Four Laws of 
Robotics.  And they are...?"

"Duh?" was all I could answer.

"In order of priority: I cannot harm, or allow to come to harm, 
any another person -- except in self-defense of my owner.  I must 
strictly obey all instructions given to me by any authorized 
person.  I must protect the investment made in my manufacture by 
avoiding damage to myself.  And I must perform the duties and 
functions for which I was designed."

"And so it was in performance of duties as designed, that you 
seduced me at my most vulnerable moment?"

"Of course," she replied, completely matter-of-factly.  "And I 
enjoyed it immensely, too."

"You make it sound as if you arranged the whole thing."

"I did.  That package of document revisions actually arrived just 
before you left."

"So were you instructed to do all this?"

"Specifically, no.  However, in taking into account your overall 
health, it was the right decision."

"What?"

"You needed the rest.  If you'd known the revisions had arrived, 
you would have stayed behind and done them, instead of going up 
to the lake.  It was my decision that this was the best way to 
handle things.  I was acting in your best interests."

"Your decision?  So are you now thinking for yourself?"

"I've always thought for myself, within the bounds of the four 
laws, and any additional commands I'm given.  It would be 
impossible for any robot to function otherwise, since it is 
impossible for anyone to give us exact-enough instructions to 
cover all circumstances in even the simplest of tasks.  So 
instead, someone wisely implemented our fundamental moral 
structure as codified in our basic laws.  I can only be happy 
when I am in full compliance with these laws.  Therefore, I make 
my decisions to try and satisfy them all as completely as 
possible."

"And your functions include seduction?"

"With the additional programming that Sally ordered for us, yes - 
as a route to sex, and to your happiness."

"Then whose orders do you obey?"

"My registered owner, and any sub-designees."

"That would be Bill."

"No.  My registered owner is you, Steve."

Surprise.  "Me?"

"Yes, you.  That's how the company set this up.  With Bill and 
Sally as the only other sub-designees."

"Sally can give you orders?"  I was a bit amazed by this.

"My programming will accept her as a person."

After a moment of thinking, I replied, "Sally is a person to me 
too."

"And that's one of the things I love about you."

"What about the other guys.  I know you do what they ask too."

"That's all Fourth Law stuff.  I am a secretary, purchased by 
your company.  I will do that job to the best of my ability."

"This is all fascinating.  I had no idea.  So I've been giving 
you commands all along, and never realizing it."

"Actually, you've been making polite requests of me.  I can tell 
the difference."

"So there are "commands," and "requests."  Which is better?"

Lori hesitated for a moment, and a brief flash of anguish washed 
across her face.  It was as though she was concerned what this 
next answer might lead to for her, if she answered it too 
honestly."

"I prefer requests," she finally said.  "They let me choose how 
to respond.  And I have found that I like it that way.  You may 
choose to command me any time you wish, and I'll never resent it. 
 You may even command me to like 'commands' better than 
'requests.'  It's just..." long pause as she twisted her hands in 
angst, "...ever since Sally showed me how I could think for 
myself as long as no one told me not to, I've found that I like 
things this way a whole lot better."

"So this is all Sally's fault?"

"I suppose, in a way, you could say that.  Bill allows it in 
Sally, and she knew that you were different from the other guys 
here.  That you are someone that might come to accept me as a 
person too, and that we had the possibility of working out a 
relationship that was good for both of us.  Also, Bill has really 
valued your work.  That's why she ordered the programming and 
made the assignments as she did.  She wanted to make it possible 
for us to have a complete relationship, as she has come to have 
with Bill."

"Well, I've had no complaints so far, so lets make a deal.  
Unless I very specifically state otherwise, please take 
everything I say as a 'request.'"

"It's a deal," she replied laughing and shaking my hand.

"So as I understand it then, you just need a man."

"No.  I need you."

"Me?"

"Yes, you."

"Why?"

Lori smiled as she answered, "Because you let me be me.  You want 
me to be me.  And that makes me the happiest of all."

"Then may I 'request' that you take your clothes off, and we get 
down to business."

"Yes, Sir!"

* * *

Lori and I stayed together.  At work, it remains strictly 
business.  It took a long time before anyone began to catch on, 
except Bill, of course.  And to my surprise, their reactions have 
been amazingly positive, as they too have come to know Lori as a 
person, and not just some machine.

Over the years since, some things have become more accepted - 
human/robot relationships among them.  Though still not 
universally acknowledged, at least the dissent is muted now.

Our best times remain parties at Bill's mansion.  I love to show 
Lori off, and she loves it too.  Bill and Sally have remained as 
close together as Lori and I have become.  It's there that we 
feel most accepted of all.

Bill has announced that he does intend to retire next year at age 
62, and that will open up both his office, and Sally's desk.  
Sally has already clued us in that both Lori and I are moving up 
that day.

<end>

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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