Lincoln stepped into the dimly lit lounge. Loud, raucous music throbbed from the club across from where he stood. The nightclub did nothing for him. Bodies too willing. Breasts too fake. If he stayed in there, he’d blow his processors. No, the more intimate, subdued atmosphere of the lounge drew him.
He strode toward the bar and ordered a beer. None of the humanoid domestic stuff satisfied him. He liked imported Gren. The fermented brew had a unique and mostly acquired taste. Hot, it had the consistency of horse piss. Chilled, the hint of sweet with a bite of spice mixed into a sumptuous treat. The alcohol dissipated rapidly from his system—due to the nano-technology used to repair his internal processors and keep him in tip-top fighting shape—but he still allowed himself the indulgence.
He snorted at the thought of being in “fighting shape.” He hadn’t raised his fists or a blaster in over ten years. When the Humanoid Interstellar Military broke apart after the last great insurgence, he’d wandered for a time. His freedom had come at a price. They’d been promised a swift decommission. Precise. Painless. The scientific community at the time was on the fence about what their army of half-humans, half-machines could feel. The thought had pushed some in their community to decry their humanity and to worry about possible ramifications if they could think for themselves. Some warned of government overthrow creating havoc among the humans. Others wanted to enter all the cyborgs into a sexual study. Could they perform like their human counterparts? Would they respond to sensations or emotional stimuli?
While his unit had been liberated and considered free, with the thanks of the Earthling population, the unit he’d worked closely with had been sent to a lab for their sexual experiments. More like disgusting experiments. Each was performed on them under the guise of learning something new about the cyborg existence.
Capitulation was used to see how far they could bend before they broke or fought back. Their bodies were milked. Some of the men were stood in isolation chambers hooked up to what he could only describe as an automated pump. The machine descended from the ceiling when one of the attendants pushed a button on the pad in his hand. While he calibrated the contraption, the other assistant rubbed on some concoction he’d later learned had been a specially engineered aphrodisiac-pheromone compound.
The cyborg’s penis grew erect within seconds—whether from the stimulation of being stroked or the gel applied, he didn’t know nor did he care. Next, the scientist slid the tube over his length then started the machine. Lincoln was left dumbfounded. For hours, they made his comrade spend himself, making notes, touching his sac. Rage burned through him as he viewed the stream.
Hours later, he led the small group of cyborgs through the lab, searching for each and every scientist and assistant, until they had killed them all. He’d had a momentary twinge of fear for what might happen to him and the others.
However, after he rescued all those who were being held captive, including human women who were used as breeders, any hint of fear he thought he’d experienced didn’t matter anymore. An interplanetary investigation had been opened in the days following the liberation of the lab. He’d been given a medal, along with having his face plastered on every news stream imaginable.
Space wasn’t a forgiving place, so within months of the scientists’ convictions, they were executed.
As Lincoln moved up to the bar, he heard the most exquisite laugh. He glanced around the open area as the sound rang out again. There, across from him, sat a beautiful woman and a man. She reminded him of the birth of a star, bright with bursts of color flaring to life. She took his breath away. His groin tightened and his heart gave a hearty thump, reminding him he was alive and not completely machine.
After the incident at the lab, women had flocked to him. He could have a different one every night if he chose. In the beginning, he had. However, after a year or so, he’d decided he yearned for more. He wanted to experience love, the one human emotion no one was sure he could feel. The concept of celibacy didn’t appear to be hard to master, yet putting it into practice had been a test of his willpower. And right then, he was losing the battle.
“What can I get for you, Mr. Lincoln?” The bartender appeared in front of him. His happy disposition was infectious.
“Gren, please. Chilled.” He slid his gaze back to the joyous couple. “They say this is a swingers cruise.”
The man grinned. “Yes. Is this your first time?”
Lincoln gave the man a onceover. His iridescent skin shifted from shades of salmon to hues of dark green and blue. His wide-set yellow eyes were almost reptilian. He had webbed hands with long, thin fingers, which didn’t detract from his unique form. He wore the same festive shirts as the other employees along with blue khaki shorts.
When the man placed the beer in front of him, Lincoln accepted the beverage and took a sip. “Yes.”
“Oh, you are in for a treat, Mr. Lincoln.” He turned slightly, following Lincoln’s gaze. “Excellent beginning.”
“Are they here to swap?” He couldn’t imagine it. They appeared so happy and in love. Their body language was in sync. They leaned toward each other. He twirled a lock of her curly, brown hair around his finger. She gazed adoringly into his eyes. When he said something, her breath hitched, her pulse increased, and she bit her full, plump bottom lip.
“Of course.” The bartender rested his elbows on the frosted glass bar. “It’s their first time as well. An anniversary present.”
“Oh?”
He nodded.
“Humans have strange customs.” Yet, the more he watched them together, the more he wanted a bit of their happiness. “What are they drinking?”
“Champagne. Krillio vintage.” The bartender showed him the bottle on his e-pad. “It was made in 2085.”
Lincoln glanced at the price. He had enough credits. More than enough, in fact. As a cyborg, he didn’t need much. Every night, he replenished his nanos with a cocktail infusion supplied by the government that created him, and food was a surprising treat when he experienced hunger. “Send them a bottle to their room. Have the note say, ‘Congratulations on your anniversary.’”
“You don’t want to leave your name?”
He shook his head. “I will introduce myself later.”
The man smiled. “Very well.”
Lincoln continued to watch the couple off and on for an hour. No matter how much he tried to pull his attention away from the woman, he found himself inexplicably drawn back to her. Maybe it was her laugh or the attentive away her husband doted on her that captured his attention. He didn’t understand it. He wanted to. If he was going to be a normal, integrated part of society, he had to learn their subtle nuances. He needed to know how people ticked, not just in a battle-ready type of way, but in their day-to-day living.
While others mingled around him, he sat on his stool at the bar and observed everyone. A couple—Wrens, he believed—danced so close together he couldn’t tell where one began and the other ended. Another human couple was engaged in a mating ritual. He believed the slang term to be “swapping spit.” Though a lead-up to heavier foreplay, he never understood why it was called swapping spit when he never exchanged salivary fluids with a female.
The chimes in the lounge rang out, and the small stage near the back of the room was lit in brilliant multicolored shades. A man wearing a sequined jacket which caught the light perfectly, casting mini-prisms around the room, strolled across the stage. “Good evening, everyone! Welcome to the first night of the Vega Space Vacation’s Swingers Cruise.”
Anticipation crawled through Lincoln as he tensed with expectancy. Whatever happened this weekend, he hoped to find a suitable, welcoming partner or partners.
“Tonight, we’re going to take it easy on you. Many are new to the swingers lifestyle and aren’t fully aware of what they are getting themselves into or what expectations others might have for them. There are singles here who wish to share with couples, and couples who wish to exchange partners. There is no judgement here.”
The curtain behind him parted, unveiling a screen with a list of activities for their weekend. No one had to participate in all, but there were trust-building exercises included to allow people who didn’t know each other to get to know one another before taking the plunge and fucking. Lincoln had no illusions about why he was there. Still, he couldn’t get the woman and her husband off his mind. He glanced up to where they were sitting, and both were enthralled by the presentation.
Would they allow him to join them?
Only one way to find out, and he promised himself it wouldn’t be tonight. He’d sent them the gift. A first step to showing his intentions. Tomorrow, he would join the couples on a small retreat to the Allustria Falls off the Cape of Jenus, number two on the list behind the speaker on stage.
According to what the man said, there were mineral springs dotting the area, along with spectacular views of the island and hidden treasures meant to be discovered by everyone. Lincoln hoped the hidden treasure he found had curly brown hair, sparkling hazel-green eyes, and a melodic laugh.
As he finished his beer, a human female sidled up next to him and rubbed her hand down his arm. The scent of her arousal was pungent, fake. His hands curled into fists.
“Hello, handsome.” Her lilting voice did nothing for him. Her presence repulsed him.
“Not interested,” he replied through clenched teeth.
She pouted. Her nails dug into his flesh. “Why not? Aren’t I beautiful?”
He didn’t dare look at her. He kept his gaze fixed on the woman and her husband who’d garnered his attention. “No. I would greatly appreciate it if you’d remove your hand from my arm. Please.” Rage boiled in his veins. The visceral reaction surprised him. He only had eyes for one person, and this woman wasn’t it.
“You’ll do what I want,” she snarled, leaning into him. The overwhelming scent made him nauseated, if a cyborg could get sick to their artificial stomachs.
“Is there a problem, Mr. Lincoln?” The bartender, whose name he hadn’t yet learned, came back over to him to replace his empty glass.
He glanced at the nametag on his shirt. “I don’t believe so, Jimmy. I was explaining to this lady that I wish to be on my own tonight. She was just leaving.”
She abruptly let go of his arm. “You don’t have to be rude about it.”
He snorted as she stomped away. The minute the air cleared of her perfume, he breathed easier. “Thank you, Jimmy. I owe you one.”
“Nonsense.” He held up his hand. “It was my pleasure.”
“Thank you.” He grasped the beer in front of him and brought it to his lips. “For what it’s worth, her perfume was hideous.”
Jimmy gave a solemn incline of his chin. “It did have a cloying scent about it, didn’t it?”
Lincoln gave a wry chuckle. “And then some. Are you sensitive to smell as well?”
In a coy gesture, the bartender tapped the corner of his mouth. “I can decipher millions of scents. It’s all part of my Exluxian biology.”
So, he was reptilian after all. “Impressive.”
“Thank you.” He grinned. “The bottle of champagne will be waiting for the lovely couple when they arrive at their room.” He grabbed his e-pad and stepped over to another customer.
It would be tempting fate to ask what else could go wrong after his little debacle with the female, but he didn’t. For now, he’d plan an opportunity to bump into the couple that caught his attention and see where the road took him next.