Simone grants you the ability to talk.

"When you died..."

That part of Bill's smug monologue had confirmed the obvious conclusion you had already come to. Your mind raced as you extrapolated on that fact given the available clues. You had obviously neither fired Bill nor divorced Simone and given that your intention was to hire new lawyers and cut both of them from any control of your fortune immediately after the upload your **** must have been within hours of the NMI appointment. Years had plainly passed since your last memory of entering the neural mapping interface, It was difficult to estimate from Simone's appearance alone how many. The technology to create a lifelike host body and supercomputer small enough to be housed within it to download your consciousness into had not existed and was estimated to be at least a couple of decades in the future.

"I can practically see those little cogs turning inside there Eli," Bill commented. "Trying to figure out what happened to you, how long you have been out of circulation and what has happened since the upload."

You turn your head to focus on Bill. It is easier to judge the passage of time on your former lawyer than it is with your wife. His hair greying at the temples and the lines on his face would put him somewhere in his fifties you estimate. That would mean somewhere over twenty years had passed in just the blink of an eye from your perspective. Bill takes a seat on the edge of the bed and smiles at you. He is wearing a black velvet dressing gown, his legs and chest bare beneath it. Simone completes another circuit, passing behind you and trailing long nails lightly across the back of your shoulders and neck. Once more you feel long, soft hair brush your skin as her fingers move it.

"I am certain you have many questions Eli," Bill continued affably. "Simone dear, would you like to do the honours?"

Simone comes back into view after completing her circuit of you. Before answering she casually loosens the belt at her waist and shrugs her shoulder so the gossamer thin negligee slips from her shoulders and almost floats to the polished wooden floor. Though you are now convinced that she must now be in at least her mid-forties your former trophy wife's body defies that fact. Her figure, skin and most of all her face could pass as barely more than half her age. Her skin is smooth and sun-bronzed, without a hint of tanlines and her breasts are as firm and pert as ever. She smiles sweetly at you as she drops to her knees by the edge of the bed next to Bill's leg.

"Of course sweety," Simone replies, her hand running up Bill's bare thigh and parting his dressing gown to reveal an impressive and semi-erect cock. "Simone says you may talk."

Nothing feels as though it has changed, but you assume the control over you that held you immobile and silent is keyed to Simone's voice and phrasing. The fact that the command phrase seems so similar to the children's game is a taunt that you have no doubt was intentional. You watch for a few more seconds in silence as Simone grips Bill's stiffening penis before leaning forward into his lap and taking his swelling cock tip between her lush wet lips. With practised and deliberate skill, your beautiful wife begins to unhurriedly fellate Bill's cock to rigid hardness.