Lovers

The other is Damien Newcastle.

Billionaire, investor, stakeholder. Playboy, model, heartbreaker. Rumor has it, he can crash a stock with a wave of his hand. Rumor has it, he's in bed with a different corp and a different starlet every week. Rumor has it...

Well, right now he's in bed with Edge. She barely manages to remove her dress before he tosses her onto it. She doesn't resist. She's not wearing underwear. Her crotch is shaved. The lips of her sex glisten in the dimmed light.

Damien makes a show of undoing his belt as he approaches her. She scoots forward, letting her legs touch the floor. He drops his pants and underwear at once. He's hard. If he's been enhanced, it's not obvious. That's the way the rich like it.

He enters her in a single stroke. She throws back her head and moans. They've done this before.

Which means that whoever set the viewing up knew what was going to happen here, and is not concerned about getting caught. The only person who could do that is Paramount's head of cyber security, sitting in the center of the sensor web like a spider. And he's probably getting off on it, too.

I know what it would take to trigger his bots. I could use my shell as bait, hitch a ride out of this box, and gain access while he's...otherwise engaged. Then I'd have free reign.

Or I could stay right here and enjoy the show.