The future of her friend's pussy is in her hands

The indoor hot-tub emptied, the cliques of party-goers broke apart. The holographic pool tables lay fallow, shimmering balls littered across their green, felt surfaces. The last in the line for fresh beer took their drinks and joined the audience. Everyone at the party now stood around its central, round table of virtual terminals, enclosing it in a solid ring two people deep. Circumscribed in this net of speculation and anticipation, the two teams of two sat and prepared at opposite ends. Corban coached his own star racehorse with jokes and emphatic gestures. Sam massaged Isabelle's palms.

In the crowd, men and women three or four years Isabelle's senior chugged their drinks and chattered with their neighbors. When it came to pointing and snickering, the attention was wholly on her. Even in Sam's firm grip, her hand was shaking.

"Why did you sign me up for this," Isabelle hissed, trying to keep her voice low. "And why did you bet... well, that?"

"What did I tell you before?" she replied calmly, and begun working at Isabelle's fingers. "Stay cool, stay relaxed, and everything will be fine."

"What do you mean everything will be fine? I've never competed against someone in a hacking challenge before. I barely even know the system we're trying to hack into!"

"The college's mainframe is not going to stump you." Sam's thumb pressed into her muscles. "Your father is Henry Albright, okay? The leading manufacturer and developer of wetware technology. All those little toys of his you cracked? All those firewalls you snuck through? This system will be nothing to lady who reprogrammed a Jekyll bot into Hyde."

Isabelle bit her lip. Across the table, Corban and his prodigy were laughing, shooting the shit, and giving each other little punches to the shoulder. They certainly weren't sweating. Isabelle ran a finger through one of her armpits. Her body wouldn't stop.

She rubbed it into her jeans. "You still haven't told me why," she asked.

Sam finished her left hand and moved onto the right. Isabelle closed her fist. The muscles felt good.

"Sam?" she asked again.

Her friend paused, then said, "I'd hate to see you become what you were raised as." Her thumbs dug a little deeper. It almost hurt.

"What do you mean?"

"You've spent your whole life kept in the packaging, like some collectors doll. You're not valued at what you are or have, but what you don't have. No chips, no scratches, no replaced parts. That's all Corban sees too, and he's not the only one. It's demeaning and it's gross. I want you to show them otherwise."

Isabelle looked back to Corban and his friend, still joshing like there was nothing to prepare for, no serious threat. She breathed that reality in deeply. That sizzle in her skin dulled. The warmth between her legs cooled.

The eighteen year old sighed and hung her head. "Just a few minutes ago, more than anything else, I had just really wanted him to take me upstairs, have is way with me, and not care. Would it have been fun?"

Sam smiled. "For a bit, yes, but you can't ignore how people look at you forever. I was eighteen once too, you know. So trust me, I know how this goes. There are good guys for what you want and then there's bad. Corban is bad. Maybe somehow, some day, we'll find a way for you to have a good one... in every way you want." She finished the last finger and planted her hands on Isabelle's shoulders. "You look great in those clothes, and the tattoo is awesome. You ready?"

Isabelle smiled back. "Yes."

"Great. Just remember: my cunt is on the line."

With that, Sam gave her a pat on the back, and gave Corban's man the signal. The two hackers cracked their knuckles and took their stations.