To Be a Woman by Piers Anthony Read Free Book Online Page B

do?”
    “Plenty.” I told him in detail, and he evidently relished it, and I relished his relish. It seemed there was a voyeur part of his nature. He had never tried fellatio or anal sex with me. I suspected he would in future.
    “Uh--”
    I smiled. “Of course. We're engaged.” I hoisted my skirt as he drew down his trousers, fitted my bared backside to him as he sat on the car seat, took in his turgid member, flexed my buttocks, and felt him erupt. I did not bother faking passion for him; this was merely easing his urgency and required no other justification. Again: men are easy, and this was the one man I truly wanted to oblige. So I did feel a kind of passion, even without invoking the orgasm macro, that expressed itself in my immediate gratification of his need.
    Then we got down to business. “We have enough money for the night, but will need more to travel,” he said. “Do you think--?”
    “I am ready.”
    We rented a unit, and kept an eye out for other travelers. Soon I joined another man in his room for quick sex followed by innocuous dialogue; it turned out he was lonely and wanted the company almost as much as the sex. All I had to do was nod understandingly and agree with his views on anything. My new awareness facilitated this; I had some empathy. He didn't mind that I was another man's girl; in fact that meant that there would be no further commitment, as he preferred. Again, he had no idea I was a machine.
    There were others. I am a quite attractive figure of a woman, regardless of my hairdo, and men everywhere are chronically hungry for sex.
    There was a knock on our door. It was a woman. Was she soliciting for her husband? No, it turned out that she was interested for herself. “I understand you need money,” she said to Banner. “Your girl has been accommodating men. Does that apply to you too? I'm awake alone tonight and horny.”
    Banner, astonished, was silent. Obviously it had never occurred to him that there might be a demand for him too.
    “Yes,” I said. “He will go with you for an hour, for the price.”
    “Here will do. My husband's asleep.” The woman paid the money and stepped inside.
    I sat quietly and watched them strip and clasp. The woman was older, her figure deteriorating, but Banner rose to the occasion, kissing her, fondling her heavy breasts, licking her vulva and, when she was thoroughly worked up, penetrating her and climaxing, doing his best to bring her off too. He was successful; she had a long, labored, but clearly satisfying orgasm. I found that I was not jealous, knowing that Banner was performing only because I had in effect asked him to. Sauce for the goose. Yet I felt a lack; I should have been at least a little disturbed to see him performing with another woman, however justified. I would have to work on that.
    “Thank you,” the woman said as she cleaned up and dressed. “I wish you were my husband. He is never as thoughtful as you are. I seldom come, with him.”
    “My fiance would never let me go,” Banner said, with a pretense of regret.
    “Indeed.” She departed, not fooled about his feigned interest in her, but satisfied. So was I; not only was it more money, it was a kind of vindication of the way I had feigned interest in the men. I had done it right.
    By morning we had plenty of money to travel on. We had breakfast at the nearby restaurant, I contenting myself only with water. I did not need to explain to anyone; it was obvious that with a figure like mine, I had to diet rigidly. Some of our nocturnal clients were there, including the woman and her husband. Naturally nobody said a word. That is part of the code. But there were some covert glances.
    We got gasoline and still had cash to spare. So far there was no sign of pursuit. Probably Femdroid, Inc., did not want the publicity of an errant or lost unit. But the search was surely on.
    “I need an aspirin,” Banner said as he drove. “Getting a headache.”
    He was human; this abrupt