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We lay trembling and weak in sexual relief fopr a few moments,
and then redressed. We didn’t speak. It seemed rather
embarrassing now that we were finished, so we hurried our dressing
and then made our way back to the parking lot. He squeezed my hand
once before he disappeared into the night, and I remember his
parting words. “Catch you on the flip flop. My handle is Night
Runner.” I didn’t mind the abrupt ending. I knew that I would
indeed see this man on the flip flop, and I intended to make a
habit of catching him on the flip flop.

So, I arrived promptly at midnight, and
guess who had beaten me there: two of my four goonish brothers.
It took all the convincing I could muster to convince these boys
to refrain from smashing the man to a pulp, but eventually I did.
As they left, I turned to apologize, thinking that the man
wouldn’t have anything to do with me now that my brothers had
threatened his life. I was disappointed because the man was very
attractive. I started to speak, and he reached up and touched my
lips with his fingertips. It was like an electric shock struck my
body, and we suddenly melded into one another’s arms and, from
there, in to my rig.
I don’t know what happened to me, but somehow I couldn’t
resist his advances as he groped my tits, and mauled my pussy
through my jeans. The next thing I knew, my pants were down around
my ankles along with my panties. I felt like a schoolgirl as he
buried his face in my bush, and I was burning all over as he
tounged my clit furiously. I grabbed two handfuls of his hair and
rode his mouth to ecstasy and back.

Captivity, Week 18.

I should probably label this ‘0058, then, shouldn’t I? I bet the
new year’s come and gone without my really noticing; After all, I
haven’t really been watching the news.

Okay, so I haven’t written anything in here in over a month. I was
stuck in bed, what do you want? A daily log of everything I ate, drank,
and read? Forget it!

I’m up and about, and yes, I’m back to working on the Shirow,
although admittedly I’m still getting about on crutches and have a
rib-wrap still on; They aren’t fully healed. I was pleased to know
that the PFusion pack came on line in four weeks, just like clockwork,
and was giving out sufficient power to operate the Shirow at full
capacity. Not that I was going to need full capacity, there was nothing
to shoot at, so I removed most of the hardpoints and the HUD.

Yes, I’m still wearing the .45, although I have yet to fire it. It
was in my clothes when Brieanna let me get up. She never questioned my
posessing it. After all, most people own them, and know how to use
them. It’s part of what makes this world so peaceful. Who’s going to
start a fight when your opponent is equally or better armed?

And if he does, there are enough bystanders who don’t want to
become statistics to take care of the problem.

I’ve disabled the arms and legs until I get into the damned thing.
I think that’s a reasonable attitude to take towards the armor. After
all, it was my stupid program bug that caused the thing to try and kill
me.

As for the kiss, well… We haven’t talked about in the month since
it happened. It’s almost like it never happened. I said almost.
Brie’s attituted towards me has changed, a little. She’s nicer to me, I
think. She’s certainly around more often.

I got my Shakespeare back, too. Managed to find another VHR
somewhere in the house. It’s almost like things I need appear, but
always in an inappropriate form. Like the fusion repair stuff, or the
servos that I ripped out of a maintainence unit to fix the neck of the
armor. In any event, I’m not watching Shakespeare so much, now…I’ve
moved on the greek tragedy. Oh, and I finished all three of Halleck’s
books. Good stuff, especially The Assassin’s Guidebook. Not that I’m
planning on killing anyone, like I said.

And why is everything in the house so… so old? Like, why a
VCDHR? Why not just a bubble card player? Why does everything in the
place use moving parts? Almost like they’re designed to… break down.

That’s it. Oh, shit, why did I never see it before?

That’s what this place is for. That’s why Brieanna is around so
rarely. So that when things break, I’m the only one around to fix them.

It’s to make me feel useful. Therapy. Positive-work therapy.
That’s what this whole place is. Even Brieanna is part of that. And
the .45. Props to make me feel useful. Attempts to get me do things.

So what do I do? Abandon everything, confront Brieanna, take off,
or just go on?

I’ll tell you what I plan on doing. I plan on going on, that’s for
sure. I want to finish this powered armor. I also want to get a little
better at the flute, although the more I play it the more sure I am that
I should go back to keyboards. And, I’m going to confront her.

May as well.

In the Spring.