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The question takes me off guard. “Oh, no thanks. I’m good for now.” Not that I wouldn’t gladly, but I’m a little shocked by the brazenness of Ian’s offer. Eros is right there. He can hear us.

Ian shrugs.

I wonder if Eros is offended by the question. Or is he excited? Does he care? But of course he doesn’t. He’s a Pleasurebot. He’s artificial. Every emotion on that face was pre-programmed.

“I’ll send him up to you later if you want,” Ian says. “You can’t leave without sampling. Eros will make you come so hard you cry.”

“Talk about pull quotes,” I say, half-laughing, trying to ignore the way my body responds. “I’m putting that in the book.”

“I’ll give you better sound bites,” Ian says, waving a dismissive hand. “We’re just getting started. You hungry yet? I’ll make breakfast.”

Eros seems to understand that his meet and greet is over. He returns to his dais with elegant steps, and I can’t drag my eyes away. He moves like a dancer, every muscle taut and poised. He assumes the David pose, but when Ian bends to press the spot on Eros’s heel, my chest constricts.

“Wait.”

Ian turns to me with a questioning look.

“Can he… Can Eros join us for breakfast?” I smile at Eros; I can’t help it. He smiles back. “For the book.”

Ian straightens, eyeing me. “He can’t eat.”

“That’s okay. I’d just love to speak with him. To see your dynamic.”

Ian turns to Eros. “You want to come to breakfast?”

Eros’s smile broadens. “I would love to join you for breakfast, Kit.”

I grin back.

“Yeah, yeah, all right, let’s go. Come on.” Ian makes for the door, pausing to let me go through first. He and Eros join me in the hallway, Eros looking comically bizarre in that cement-grey corridor with his gauzy toga and golden skin.

Ian closes the door behind us. “So, Kit, you like him?”

I glance at Eros, then back at Ian. “Of course I like him. Is it… I mean, he knows we’re talking about him. Does he mind? Eros, do you mind?”

“I don’t mind,” Eros says.

“He doesn’t mind,” Ian repeats, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Right, Eros? You don’t mind. You want to fuck Kit later?”

“Jesus, Ian—”

“It would be an immeasurable honor,” Eros says, taking me by the hand. He gazes into my eyes like a lover. I have to look away; the strange sweetness of his gaze almost hurts.

We head toward the vault door, back the way we came. Our footsteps on the concrete floor echo in discordance — my slippers and Eros’s sandals, softly padding; Ian’s bare feet, slapping almost obscenely on the hard, cold surface.

We approach a door that hangs an inch or two ajar. I don’t remember passing it on the way to Eros’s room. It’s dark inside, though I can see what I think is a shadowy shape, elegant and tall.

“Ah,” Ian says, sidling over to the open door.

He shoots me a tense smile as he pulls the door closed and locks it with a quickly typed code.

“Ignore that. A prototype. Very new. Unpredictable. Disobedient.” He chuckles, moving past the now-locked door.

“Eros is more your speed. He’s got wide appeal, completion guaranteed.

Completion guaranteed.” He rolls his shoulders, hands in pockets. “Isn’t that right?”

“You will always achieve an orgasm with me,” Eros says, polite as anything. “I’m extremely skilled.”

“I’m sure you are,” I say, trying not to titter like a schoolgirl.

I’m finding it hard not to react to Eros as if he’s a human.

He looks like one, sounds like one, acts like one…

but he isn’t. And I have to keep reminding myself that this is an interview for a book, not a personal fun day at the Pleasurebot factory.

I need to be asking probing questions. “Ian, do you offer refunds if Eros doesn’t deliver on that promise? ”

Ian barks a laugh. “Sure, sure. If he doesn’t get you off.”

“Has anyone ever asked for one? A refund.”

“No. Never. Eros delivers. He always delivers what he’s programmed to do.” Ian’s expression turns strangely cold. “No surprises.”

“And the prototype?” I ask, glancing back at the now-closed door. I like the sound of it — unpredictable. Disobedient. Those words spark a little flame in me, an eager curiosity. What would it mean for a Pleasurebot to defy orders? “I assume it comes with no guarantees.”

Ian turns to face Eros and me, walking backwards down the austere corridor.

“No, no, no guarantees. He is not in circulation yet. Might never be. I’m testing new tech with the prototype, faster neural pathways.

A new physical look, ethereal, exciting.

But I’m still testing. And I think he’ll be—” he cuts himself off, smiling slowly.

“You’ve got me talking against my own judgment, Kit.

Yammering away. You have a gift! Doesn’t she have a gift? ”

Eros nods. “Yes, Ian. Kit is easy to talk to.”

“But what exactly do you mean the prototype is unpredictable?” I persist, drawn to that shadowy form, the being I glimpsed for just a moment. “How can that be? He’s a computer program.”

Ian waves a hand. “There’s a software bug, a glitch that makes him… disagreeable. Sometimes angry. I haven’t found the pathway responsible. He doesn’t comply with my tests. But that’s the point of him! To obey.” He laughs. “So I shut him down indefinitely.”

“He sounds fascinating.” A million questions claw at my chest and throat, begging to get out, my curiosity overflowing. I can’t remove that image from my head, the glimpse of the prototype, a slender shape in the darkness. “For the book,” I say, “wouldn’t it be possible for me to—”

“Kit,” Eros says, his hand falling warmly on my shoulder. “What’s your favorite breakfast food?”

I glance at Ian, who smirks. “He’s inquisitive. He has to know you before he can fuck you properly. If you want the full experience, he needs to know all about you. Answer his questions. You’ll thank me later.”

A sudden arc of desire pulses through me from my chest to between my legs. I close my eyes for a long moment, willing my body to relax. Do I still have blue balls from last night? God. “I love pancakes,” I say, replying to Eros’s question. “With a side of bacon.”

“Salty and sweet,” says Eros. “I like that.”

Ian snorts.

Ian starts making breakfast while I watch from the kitchen island.

I notice with an embarrassed sort of delight that he’s making pancakes and bacon.

Eros hovers nearby, assisting when Ian asks.

Eros’s movements are practiced and easy.

He seems to be just as elegant in the kitchen as he’s purported to be in bed.

Even Ian seems to be at ease; he and Eros move around each other with practiced familiarity. There’s a rapport between them.

I sip a fresh coffee and wonder why Ian keeps Eros in that vault all alone. They know each other. If I didn’t know better, I might think they’re friends. I think of Eros alone in that dark room, and even though he’s not human, even though he isn’t conscious… It seems cruel.

Ian slides the first batch of pancakes onto an oven-warm plate.

“Eros,” I say, “are you comfortable?”

He turns to me. “Of course I am, Kit. Thank you for asking.”

“I mean, your… toga,” I persist, eyes fixed on his muscular bare legs, his knee-high sandals. I know I’m being silly, but I can’t help it. “Aren’t you cold?”

Eros smiles. “I’m not—”

“He’s fine,” Ian interrupts, turning to face me, brandishing a spatula. “He doesn’t feel cold, he doesn’t feel hot. His temp is regulated from the inside. He’d actually overheat if he didn’t have fans and heat sinks. Eros, are you cold?”

“No, Ian.”

Ian raises his eyebrows. “There.”

Breakfast is simple and unfussy, laid out on the kitchen island along with a pot of coffee, a carton of orange juice, and a glass bottle of pure maple syrup. Ian and I each take a stool. Eros stands on the other side of the island as he watches us, smiling blandly.

I’m about to invite him to join us when I remember he doesn’t eat. I chew uncomfortably, feeling awkward about this mechanical audience that feels so deeply human.

Ian seems completely unconcerned about Eros’s presence or lack thereof, prattling on about his high-rise, how he had it built to his personal specifications.

He says something about ley lines, which piques my interest for a few minutes before my attention slides back to Eros.

I want to ask him about himself. I want him to ask me questions.

As much as I admire Ian, for just two seconds, I want him to shut the fuck up.

“They’re geomagnetic,” Ian says, taking a bite of pancake and washing it down with orange juice.

“But stronger, more intense, better vibrations. We’re right on a hot spot.

Right on it. Everything I do is for a reason, Kit.

Everything has thought behind it. I’m not a fucking idiot; I don’t create just for fun.

I don’t do it for money. I don’t do it for ego.

I do it to learn . To discover . The prototype, for example—” He cuts himself off, smiling slyly at me.

“Now, now, you’ve got me talking again!”

“Why won’t you tell me more about the prototype?” I ask, my curiosity rising. “I’m under NDA. I can’t tell anyone under pain of death, or whatever the contract says.”

Eros’s gaze darts between Ian and me.

Ian smiles slowly, but his eyes are dark. “The prototype isn’t up for discussion. It’s top secret stuff, still in development.”

“But—”

“You wouldn’t like him anyway,” Ian cuts me off. “The prototype is not like Eros. Not easy, not simple, not pliant or sweet. Isn’t that right, Eros?”

Eros nods. “Yes, Ian. You wouldn’t like him, Kit.”

But I think I almost see hesitancy in Eros’s expression, a stiffness in his jaw that wasn’t there before.

“The prototype has his own personality,” Ian continues, chuckling. “A bad one. I don’t know why I keep him around. He’ll never change. He’s unfixable.”

“He sounds like most of my exes,” I quip, unable to help myself.

“There’s one thing the prototype can do,” Ian says, holding my gaze, “that I’m confident none of your exes could.”

The look in his eyes makes my skin heat. “Oh?”

“Just like Eros, the prototype is godlike in the sack,” says Ian.

“He’s a Pleasurebot through and through, I made sure of that.

It’s the most important aspect to me, you know.

The most important. He was supposed to perform better than Eros, more attuned to his partner’s wants and needs.

Eros can make you cry? The prototype will make you swear off sex with humans altogether. He’ll ruin you.”

I drop my fork. It clatters loudly on the plate. “Sorry.”

Ian smiles slowly. “You have me talking again, Kit.”

“Good,” I say. “That’s what I’m here for. But Ian...” I glance at Eros, whose expression remains utterly impassive but for the odd twitch of the jaw. “Are you fucking your Pleasurebots?”

He throws his head back, his Adam’s apple bobbing with laughter. After a few moments, he gathers himself, then shakes his head and peers at me shrewdly. “You’re funny.”

I turn to Eros. “Well? Is he?”

Eros smiles back but says nothing.

“Ian,” I persist. “You just said the Pleasurebots’ sexual performance is important to you, which makes sense. And, forgive me, Eros, but you’re… they are a product. They’re being tested in some way, right? So someone has to be fucking them.”

Ian sips his coffee, watching me through long, dark lashes. “Tell me what you’re getting at, Kit.”

I swallow. “I’m not getting at anything. I’m asking questions. For the book.”

“You want to fuck Eros?”

“I—”

“We’ve established that you want to fuck me.”

“Ian, this is—”

“So maybe you want to fuck us both.”

I purse my lips, pressing my thighs together self-consciously as if that will subdue the coil of desire growing there.

Ian’s eyes are dark, his beard thicker than yesterday; he hasn’t shaved.

He smells like rain and musk. Eros seems to glow, even in the fog-heavy gloom, pinks and blues of neon ads playing off his partially revealed abs.

“I’m not sure I… I’m not sure I’m comfortable having sex with a robot,” I manage.

Ian turns on his stool to face me, and in one smooth movement, he wedges his knee between my legs, parting them.

My heartbeat skyrockets. Just like last night, he lifts my face with his fingers, his thumb pressed to my chin.

He leans in slowly, and just like last night, there’s plenty of time to stop this.

I should stop it. I’m here for work. And there’s a Pleasurebot watching us this time.

“Say the word,” Ian murmurs, leaning so close his lips brush mine, “and I stop. But I think you want this.”

I remember the way his kiss felt last night. Competent, practiced, sensual, intoxicating.

Fuck it. I close the small distance between us.

He deepens the kiss almost immediately, his tongue seeking to undo me. His kiss tastes of coffee and sugar. He makes me want to forget how insane this is.

I should stop this , I think, as I moan into his mouth.

I should stop this , as he buries his fingers in my hair.

I should stop this , as he hooks an ankle around my stool and pulls me even closer.

I’m gasping by the time Ian breaks the kiss, and aching for more.

He raises one hand, snapping his fingers. “Eros.”

Shame lances through me at the realization of what I’m doing. That this mechanical man has been watching me make out with his—

But the thought judders and disappears forever when Eros moves around the kitchen island and, without pausing or hesitating, comes up behind me and kisses my neck.

His hands slide down my sides with slow, aching precision.

His mouth is soft and insistent against my tender flesh.

I arch back against him, closing my eyes, hating that Ian is here too, that I’m doing this, the same thing I always do — giving in.