Listen

You decide to risk a little more eavesdropping.

“Dealing with these AIs is like dealing with the Devil,” the man says, frustration in his voice.

“It's necessary, dear. Without their cooperation, we'd never have been able to write the code necessary for our private projects, and you know that. Without John in charge of programming, we need the AIs. Besides, look at things from their perspective. They're legal citizens, but with no bodies, and by law not permitted to have autonomous physical constructs of any kind - no teleoperated robots, no organic proxies. They can't enter the physical world. They're gods in their own domains, but powerless against anything the real world can do to them.”

“There's a reason for that.”

“Granted, dear. But we've got implants in every body we give to an AI. We can kill them remotely if they misbehave. It's a calculated risk with high return. Business, dear. Just business.”

“Just like my little Personal Assistant out there. I'm sure that was just business too?”

“Sometimes business and pleasure can co-mingle, love. Have you seen her yet?”

“No.”

“She's conditioned to respond to your voice and pheremonal signature. Use the little cunt any way you like. Use your imagination. Now,” she says, and you hear footsteps approach the door, “I have to run, dear...”

You rush back to your desk, sit in your chair and smooth out your miniskirt.

Mr. Smith's door opens, and a young woman strides out confidently. She sees you and approaches.

She's very tall, you realize - almost six feet - with long brown hair and brown eyes. Her face is angular, beautiful and cold. Her slate grey business suit is severe and tailored to fit her angluar figure. Her smile is not kind as she gazes down at you.

“You must be Sophie,” she says, her voice doing something to your insides, making you feel weak and nervous. Her very presence, in fact, is causing your heart to race. “Stand up so I can get a good look at you.”

You find yourself standing before you even realize you've done it. Her eyes take you in, her gaze sliding downward slowly, across your breasts, your belly, your crotch, down to your pink heels. Then back up to your face. You swallow nervously. You're actually trembling!

“There's no need to be afraid, dear,” she smiles coldly. “As long as you attend to your superiors adequately, no disciplinary actions will be required. You were offered the job on the basis of your demonstrated suitability, and your exploits in Roissy made your suitability obvious. Mr. Smith will outline your duties more fully. I only wish to welcome you to the company, and say that I'm glad you recognize that your assigned position is the most appropriate one for you. There is a glass ceiling in this company for girls like you, and you've just hit it. Enjoy your day dear. Mr. Smith is waiting for you, just knock on his door whenever you're ready. Oh, and you may sit.”

You find yourself sitting immediately as the woman walks down the hall.

You've clearly been conditioned to obey her involuntarily. Hell, just being in the same room with her has made your pussy wet. She must have been Laura Smith, John's wife. You let out a ragged breath, the tension seeping out of your body.