Bald Ambition

There was a fibrous partition that sectioned off the bathroom space to the rest of the club. When Isabelle disappeared behind it your sensor struggled to properly continue reading her. You wondered if your task was over, or if the Doctor had simply forgotten about your limitations due to how heated she had become. This would not do. You had to continue observing, said the inner module of curiosity that blazed its signal through your neural network.

“Excuse me, Elvis,” you said. The barkeeping robot’s head rose to attention then turned to the direction of your voice. It didn’t have a face capable of displaying many emotions, but the tilt of its head indicated puzzlement. The Dyno-11 focused its sensors onto you, the metal ball sitting on the bar.

“Good evening sir,” it said, apparently unconcerned with your being an disembodied voice. “What would you like to start with tonight?”

You hoped its availing applications hadn’t been restricted to only serving beverages.

“Can you take me towards the bathroom area please?” you asked politely. The Dyno’s head tilted the other way. You realised now this was a programmed response to indicate it was processing a request.

“The bathrooms are located to the right of the front entrance,” Elvis the robot informed you. “When you enter the club, you will see the lighted sign above the DJ posters. There are male, female and unisex bathrooms available. What time do you expect to arrive, sir? Would you like to order a drink ahead of time, or reserve a booth?” So it thought you were some kind of communication device a patron was using to call ahead. The Dyno was a clever system, but not very smart.

“Can you please show me the sign?” you asked then, and the service android made an evaluation of your form factor, noting your ‘camera’. Its ingrained drive to be helpful made its decision.

“Certainly sir, just one moment,” it confirmed with a nod. The Dyno had assessed correctly that nobody was all that interested in ordering drinks from his bar at the current time, customers preferring to mill around the larger bar that aligned with the dancefloor proper. It put down its glass and rag then reached over to take the Doctor’s thing’s off the bar, folding the sweater over an arm and firmly clutching her pair of glasses in one hand. It picked you up with the other.

The robot carried you at chest height, and its smooth gait ensured that your ride didn’t contain a single jolt. You were almost floating. It’s joints whirred a little louder than a newer model’s would, though you couldn’t be sure if it was a cosmetic affectation or signs of actual wear and tear. In any case, it strode competently past the dance floor, the entryway you had originally passed through now in sight. On your left were indeed a row of digital posters showing the smiley, cool, or robotic faces of various DJ’s scheduled to play the venue in the coming days. Above them was a glowing blue sign pointing to the toilets. Below this, Isabelle was pressed against the wall between two posters as the bald dancer kissed her.

“Dyno-11, protocol check please. Code E-R 7781c,” you ordered the barkeeping robot, and it accepted your reboot input and chimed affirmatively. You had a copy of the service manual for almost every android developed by Airmed Technologies in your banks. A simple command and a correctly emitted frequency could **** this Dyno model to undergo a soft systems check that would last about two minutes and root it in place. You wanted to ensure you had enough time to observe a rather important interaction going on by the bathrooms, the heat from both bodies now reaching a somewhat ‘critical’ state. You were indeed learning about many different facets of affection.

“What’s your name?” the bald man finally panted out as they momentarily broke a kiss. Isabelle smiled at him, stroking the bicep of his prosthetic arm.

“Izzy,” she decided, then pulled him in again to kiss him deeply. Their faces flushed with more heat, and you changed some of your assessment of the current dynamic. The dancer wasn’t so much pressing the doctor into the wall as she had been pulling him into herself. If the wall hadn’t been behind her they would be on the floor. Now Izzy’s foot rose, her knee hooking onto the man’s hip. Their lips parted again.

“You gonna ask me my name?” he wondered, grinning. Isabelle shrugged and enveloped his mouth, and the unnamed man seemed not to care that he went unanswered and grabbed onto her leg. Her dress rode all the way up to her waist now, sheer black stockings shimmering. When she planted that stiletto back on the ground she was straddling his lower prosthetic. You could see it under the man’s jeans filling the left pant leg, the lack of self generated body heat in that limb reaching all the way from the floor up to his pelvis. Izzy ground her crotch against him needily, enjoying the rigid hardness of his completely artificial thigh.

Warmth pulsed up from her crotch as she rubbed herself to his part, the man’s actual hand gripping onto her ass cheek and squeezing as his lips went to her neck.

“Ohhh fuck…” Isabelle panted, still rather focused on his left side, caressing the flexible bulge of his other, artificial bicep, the surface of it not quite soft but presenting some give to her probing fingers. “Can you feel this?” she asked him in his ear, and she squeezed that fake arm. The man did not seem the least but put off by this woman’s obsession with his prosthesis, letting out a short chuckle which he then muffled against her mouth.

“Just a normal bit of dead-gear,” he told her, using one of the colloquial terms for this kind of regular prosthetic, controlled via his nervous system but unable to provide haptic feedback to its user. “Can’t afford the touchy feely...” That didn’t seem to disappoint the doctor as much as you thought her leading question might, and she just smiled and kissed him wetly again. Human interactions of this intimacy were rather moist and sweaty, you found. “But you can feel it, babe,” the bald man said then, and with the exact same movements he would have made with a real arm, he ran his mechanised hand up her leg, slipping it up her inner thigh. “Can you feel this?” Whatever the man found there made Isabelle gasp and she buried her face into his shoulder for a minute to whine while this stranger from the dancefloor started rubbing her pussy through her undoubtedly soaked stockings and panties. “Been needing to grease up my knuckles a bit,” he growled into her ear and you witnessed the furnacing heat that she was even now imparting onto his metal fingers.

Her arousal was very high, your gauges nearly rising in time with her heart beats. The pleasure building from her core sent rings of pulsing light through her form that only you could see. It would only be a matter of time before she - Then she pulled back, put hands onto his chest and pushed him away. He was quite a lot of man to shove so she didn’t move him very far, but he dropped his hand away from her crotch quickly while his other arm still held onto her waist.

“Sorry,” the doctor panted, pressing herself against the wall now to maintain a modicum of distance between them, though they were still radiating heat into each other. “I… shouldn’t have…”

“That’s okay,” the bald man said, the surprise on his face flipping to a soft understanding in an instant. “I just thought… I think I got a bit worked up too y’know. Maybe got too much blood and not enough body parts. I’m sorry,” he repeated back to her, and took a step back. The mood had somewhat dimmed, yet the heat around the necks grew brighter.

“No you did nothing wrong,” Isabelle assured him, quickly fixing some of her errant strands of hair while smoothing down her skirt. “I just um… I got a bit too excited and forgot… where we were.” They were standing just outside the toilets in plain view of the entryway, but nobody would have actually paid them much attention even if they noticed a couple embracing under neon lights. You were the only one watching, Elvis still yet to fully reboot.

“I get it, that’s okay,” he said, his confusion abated, and he wiped some sweat from his brow and almost seemed relieved. He certainly did not seem offended by anything, and you supposed a man missing two entire limbs might be thicker skinned than most. He looked down at his jeans then and snorted. “You really did get pretty excited huh?”

Isabelle followed his eyes then covered her gasp with both hands.

“Oh god, I’m sorry!” she nearly squeaked. There was a rather prominent stain on the thigh of his left leg now. The patch of her prolific wetness probably would have been felt through the denim if she had been grinding on his non-artificial leg instead. He only laughed then leaned in.

“That’s actually one of the hottest things I’ve ever seen,” he told her quietly, and she dropped her hands to reveal a smirk, slightly proud, slightly embarrassed.

“Send me your ID and I’ll take care of your next laundry bill,” she promised him.

“Throw in one last kiss and it’s a deal.”

She made the deal, pressing her lips to him for one more prolonged exchange of heat. As they broke apart the still nameless bald man raised his prosthetic arm and a glimmer of circuitry near the base of his palm glowed brighter. Isabelle lifted her wrist to it, her dark metal bracelet giving a short and soft beep. The man’s eyes widened seeing her jewellery. “Wow, old school,” he said, seemingly so impressed he had to take hold of the loose band on her arm to check that there really wasn’t some other chip embedded in her skin. “Did I really meet a girl tonight who could spin on those heels who’s still unplugged?” he asked the world in genuine amazement.

The doctor shrugged without commenting and twirled away from him. She didn’t seem to be surprised to see you standing there with the Dyno and picked up her sweater and glasses.

“Will that be all for tonight, miss?” the barkeeping robot asked, protocols picking up exactly where it had left off. She plucked your sphere out of its grasp.

“All good, Elvis,” she said, putting her glasses back on, smiling warmly. Every inch of her was still very warm. You sensed a simmering frustration in her but she didn’t outwardly show it. “I think we made some good observations, didn’t we?” This was directed at you, and you affirmed her query monosyllabically. Her gaze drifted over the Dyno’s shoulder, the bald man winking at her as he returned to the dancefloor. She spun around and made an exit.