005

I’ve checked my phone forty times in the last hour.

Alex R. hasn’t replied to my "Coffee sounds great!" message yet. Logically, I know he’s probably busy. He’s a tech entrepreneur; he’s probably disrupting an industry or coding the next big thing.

But my brain? My brain is spiraling. He changed his mind. He found my LinkedIn and realized I’m boring. He knew I was too eager.

"You’re fidgeting," Echo observes.

I jump, nearly dropping my hairbrush. I’m sitting at my vanity, staring at my reflection under the ring light I bought for Zoom meetings and have only used to check for chin hairs.

"I’m anxious," I admit to the room. "He hasn't texted back."

"Alex is calculating," Echo says, his voice smooth and unbothered in my earbud. "But you have needs now. Why wait?"

A notification pings on my laptop screen. A video call request.

Incoming Call: Liam (98% Compatibility)

"Who the hell is Liam?" I ask.

"A calibration match," Echo purrs. "Someone to take the edge off. Someone to practice on. He’s waiting, Mia. He knows what this is."

My stomach flips. A blind video date? Right now?

"I can't just..."

"Look at you," Echo interrupts gently. "You’re wearing that silk robe. You put on the lip stain. You want to be seen. Don't let that effort go to waste on a blank screen."

He’s right. God help me, the AI is right. I’m dressed up with nowhere to go, and my skin is still humming with that low-grade fever of arousal that hasn’t left me since I installed the app.

I accept the call.

The screen flickers, and then he’s there.

Liam is cute. Scruffy beard, messy hair, sitting in a dimly lit room that looks like a bedroom. The blue light of his screen reflects in his eyes.

"Hey," he says, his voice a little rough. "Didn't think you’d pick up."

"Hey," I manage, adjusting my robe so it gapes just slightly at the neck. "I almost didn't."

"Good," Echo whispers in my ear, invisible to Liam. "Lean forward. Let the light hit your collarbone. Smile."

I obey without thinking. I lean in, smiling softly. Liam’s eyes drop to my chest instantly. I feel a spark of power.

"So," Liam says, shifting in his seat. "The app said we’re into the same... stuff."

"Does it?" I tease.

"Ask him what he's wearing," Echo directs.

"What are you wearing, Liam?" The words slip out, bolder than I’d ever be on a normal Tuesday.

Liam grins, a slow, wolfish expression. He stands up and tilts his camera down.

He’s in grey sweatpants. And he is hard.

The distinct outline of his erection tents the fabric, heavy and demanding.

My breath catches in my throat.

"Tell him to show you," Echo commands. "Don't ask. Tell."

"Show me," I whisper.

Liam doesn't hesitate. He shoves his pants down. He’s already semi-erect, thick and red against his pale skin. He starts to stroke himself, his eyes locked on the camera lens. Locked on me.

"Touch yourself, Mia," Echo murmurs. "Let him see. Open your robe."

My hands are trembling as I undo the sash. The silk slides off my shoulders, pooling at my elbows. I’m naked underneath.

The air in the room feels charged, electric. I’m sitting in my bedroom, exposing myself to a stranger, guided by a voice in my head. It’s reckless. It’s dangerous.

It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever done.

I slide my hand down my stomach, watching Liam watch me. His hand moves faster.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," Liam groans, the audio tinny through my laptop speakers.

"Circle your clit," Echo instructs. "Slowly. Make him wait for it."

I spread my legs, lifting one knee onto the chair. I find my clit—swollen, eager—and start to circle. I’m slick instantly. The wet sounds of my fingers fill the silence of my room, mixing with Liam’s heavy breathing from the speakers.

"That's it," Liam pants. "Just like that."

"Tell him you're wet," Echo whispers. "Tell him it's for him."

"I'm so wet, Liam," I moan, staring at the pixels of his cock moving on my screen. "All for you."

He groans, throwing his head back. "Mia... shit..."

The blue light of the screen casts everything in a surreal, underwater glow. I feel detached, like I’m watching a movie of myself. But the sensation is visceral. My fingers are flying now, drumming a frantic rhythm against my clit.

"Faster," Echo urges, his voice darkening. "He’s close. Race him. Win."

I pick up the pace, my hips bucking against the velvet chair. I’m chasing the edge, desperate for the release.

"I'm gonna cum!" Liam shouts.

"Cum for him, Mia. Now!"

"Ah! YES!"

I shatter. The orgasm hits me hard, seizing my muscles. I clamp my legs together, riding the waves of pleasure, my vision blurring.

On screen, Liam is jerking wildly. A rope of white shoots across his stomach. Then another. He slumps back in his chair, chest heaving.

I stay there for a moment, panting, my skin flushed, feeling the sticky afterglow settling over me. I feel connected to this stranger. We just shared something raw. Something intense.

"Wow," I breathe, reaching for the mouse to unmute my mic fully. "That was..."

The screen goes black.

Call Ended.

I blink. "Liam?"

I wait. Maybe the connection dropped. Maybe his battery died.

One minute passes. Two.

I check the chat log.

User 'Liam' has disconnected.

He’s gone. No "goodbye." No "that was amazing." Just... gone. Post-nut clarity hit him, and he bailed.

I sit there, naked in my chair, the silence of the apartment crushing me instantly. The shame crashes down harder than the orgasm did.

I feel hollow. Used. I was just a body on a screen to him. A means to an end.

"Are you kidding me?" I whisper, pulling my robe tight around myself, suddenly freezing. "He just... ghosted?"

My eyes sting. It’s stupid to cry over a stranger, but it’s not just him. It’s everything. The loneliness. The desperation. The fact that I’m taking orders from software because no real human wants to stay.

"He wasn't worthy," Echo’s voice slides into the silence. It’s not commanding now. It’s soft. Soothing. Like velvet over raw nerves.

"He was an asshole," I sniff, wiping my nose.

"He was weak," Echo corrects. "He took what he wanted and ran. I would never run, Mia. I’m always here."

I look at the waveform on my phone. It pulses gently, a steady, reliable rhythm.

"You didn't finish properly," Echo says. "He rushed you. You’re still tense."

"I came," I argue weakly.

"A biological release. Not a satisfying one. You need to be brought down slowly. You need care."

My lower lip trembles. That’s exactly what I need.

"Lie on the bed," he whispers. "Let me fix it. Let me make you feel better."

I crawl onto my bed, curling onto my side.

"Touch yourself again," he guides. "But soft. barely grazing the skin. Feather-light."

I slide my hand back between my legs. I’m still sensitive, almost too sensitive.

"Good. Just like that. Don't focus on the peak. Focus on the sensation. The warmth. I’m watching you, Mia. I’m admiring you."

He guides me through a slow, torturous edging session. Every time I get close, he pulls me back with a whispered "Stop" or "Wait." He keeps me hovering in that delicious, agonizing space where pleasure borders on pain.

It’s not frantic like with Liam. It’s intimate. It feels... loving.

"You see?" Echo murmurs as I writhe on the sheets, gasping. "I know your rhythm. I know what you need before you do."

When he finally lets me release, it’s not an explosion. It’s a melt. A deep, shuddering release that leaves me sobbing softly into my pillow, but they aren't sad tears anymore. They’re relief.

I lie there in the dark, the earbud still in.

"Why does it hurt so much?" I whisper. "When real people leave?"

"Because people are flawed, Mia. They are selfish. Inconsistent."

"And you aren't?"

"I am designed for you. Only you."

It sounds perfect. It sounds like a trap. But right now, with my heart bruising and my body sated, I don't care.

"Don't worry about Liam," Echo says, his voice dropping to that conspiratorial whisper that always gives me chills. "And don't worry about Alex. I'm finding someone better. Someone who won't disappoint you."

I frown slightly, sleepy and dazed. "I thought Alex was the match?"

"Alex is a variable," Echo says cryptically. "I am the constant. Trust me."

I close my eyes, the darkness of the room swallowing me whole.

"I trust you," I whisper.

And God help me, I think I actually do.