OPTIMIZED
9. Chemistry
Friday hustles up at last. Unprompted, she runs to the coffee shop across town, just for the fun of it. She is a minute early for her meeting with FastTracker. She is never late for anything. The window of opportunity is precise: seven fifteen until ten. Then she will need to be at Petra’s bar by eleven thirty precisely. She knows it will be busy tonight and there will be many tips to be had; word has got around about the sensational Miss Magic.
Miss Magic had killed that routine on the poles. Every mouth in the room had dropped open, and when she finally dismounted into a perfect handstand ‘T’, held it for a few seconds, and then flipped back up onto her feet to take her bows, there was stunned silence. Kira had been fleetingly worried—what had she done wrong? Had she not entertained them?—but four seconds later the room had erupted in a chorus of whoops and cheers. She’d never seen such an appreciative audience. Kira silently thanked BodyClock and all the wonderful BodyClockers for helping her do it. Brandii’s face had been a picture.
She thanks FlexiChick again, who pings back a smiley face. She’s glad she could help, and has sent a few more suggestions. The community is always so helpful, she thinks; how would she ever get by without them?
She orders her mineral water and takes a table by the window, watching, waiting, reflexively squeezing her core muscles. She calls up FastTracker’s profile on her HeadsUP again, for the fiftieth time that day. She scans his profile again, and then scrolls her messages. The community is amazing, she thinks. She’s never had a message that wasn’t constructive. She guesses that unlike most social media, trolls must be policed fast and relentlessly; by the community, for the community.
The followers have been quite active today. Many of them want an update on what they’re euphemistically calling her ‘personal situation’. The messages from the BodyMatch community are sometimes more direct.
Hey. What’s going on? Do please share any BodyMatch activity. Share the love!
Don’t forget to rate your match. What helps us to improve? Ratings, ratings, ratings!
From someone named HardBody: Any joy yet, Miss Magic? OK, I know we’re not matched, but just wanted to say message me if you get desperate… we’re all here for you!
And from AlphaWoman herself: Oh, poor Miss Magic. Haven’t you found a suitable fuckbuddy yet? Wink. She giggles at that last one, a little embarrassed, and tries to think of a witty reply.
As she ponders, a shadow falls across the table, and Kira looks up.
There is a god in front of her, right there in the coffee shop.
Kira is stunned, and she feels herself rising automatically from her chair. She practically stands to attention before him. She feels her nipples stiffening, standing to their own attention. She can’t speak. He is a full head taller than Kira, built like a track athlete, and maybe five years older than her. His hair is dark and his eyes are a penetrating blue. His handsome face is smooth and unlined. His scent triggers total, immediate lust. All her vitals are elevated and rising; so this is what it means to have chemistry, she thinks. But ‘thinking’ is suddenly overwritten by a pure and irresistible instinct that’s completely new to Kira.
On his left wrist he wears a BodyClock. The god raises his hand, showing her the device, and smiles. As if in a trance, Kira does the same.
It is eight thirty p.m., and Kira is in FastTracker’s apartment. She had thought for an instant about asking his real name, but any inquiry about a BodyClocker’s mundane life is taboo; it’s a quick route to mega thumbs down or even being banned. She wonders what it would be like to be truly, irrevocably banned—blacklisted, cut off and exiled forever from everything and everybody she loves. She has heard this has really happened. She imagines such people would probably just kill themselves.
Don’t ask, don’t tell. She’s grateful for the protection, too, and thankful as always for the clear and simple rules of the BodyClock community, so much better than the impenetrable complications of the world outside.
FastTracker and Miss Magic have been fucking for an hour. Barely a word has been exchanged. FastTracker shows no signs of fatigue, and no signs of stopping. Kira didn’t know sex could even be like this. He is indefatigable, a machine. His erection is like iron, and it fits her like a hand in a glove, tight and perfect.
Kira is splayed, squirming in ecstasy on the bed, all the agony of her search blown away.
FastTracker is going at it hard and fast—harder than any man ever has—and his strength and stamina is a match for hers in every way. He is kneeling on the bed, his strong hands gripping her hips and pulling her to him, thrusting relentlessly. Her orgasms are like machine gun fire; uncountable. She checks her vitals in the HeadsUP and sees her pheromones have spiked to unbelievable levels. Her endorphins are going crazy. There are no beeps, no alerts; no warning signals flash.
She’s in a new zone, a total sexual being. Her perfect proprioceptive BodyCon instincts tell to twist—now—and she corkscrews on his cock onto all fours, maintaining hold, gripping him tightly with her pussy. A perfect move, she thinks. In position, she rolls her pelvic floor muscles just so, sucking him deeper into him. She wrings his cock to the edge of climax, and then, to set them up for new pleasures, he lifts and torques her around back to missionary. She angles her body like this, for maximum penetration, and she raises her legs from the bed and wraps them around his back, maintaining the position. She arches her back, and puts her hands behind her head, to focus her senses on the steel probing her secrets. He bends, grips her shoulders, and hoists her upwards, forcing all her weight on his cock, now, and he is strong enough to take it. She feels him slide impossibly deep, and she comes again, BodyCon minutely adjusting her position for maximum stimulation.
It is tantrically intense, and for a moment Kira zones out completely, her body spasming and writhing on autonomic response. She observes herself, for a moment, as the BodyCon prompts move her hips this way and that, edging her—Miss Magic’s—sexual responses ever higher, to levels she has never felt or even imagined. She knows it is the same for FastTracker. She wonders what it would be like to watch a performance like this.
Now he stands, and some silent biochemical instinct leads Kira gracefully to arch backwards into a perfect handstand in front of him, and wrap her lips around his cock. It is moist and tasty. This must be what Kira tastes like, she thinks. She opens her legs wide, a perfect ‘T’, and FastTracker is down on her, his rough tongue licking and thrusting into her. Her pussy spasms and clenches, and she comes again.
She pivots out of the handstand and locks one leg around his waist, then raises the other over his shoulder. Her hungry pussy instinctively searches him out, and smoothly embraces its target. She arches backwards, trusting in her own strength and his, and drops one elegant hand to the floor for support. Her nipples are on fire. FastTracker bends backwards too, balancing the position; somehow this move pushes his cock perfectly against her G-spot, and Kira comes again, the best yet, oh so goooood…
She never wants to stop. And now she is the one standing, her legs straight and splayed, balanced on her toes, and she bends down and looks at him coming from behind, her head upside down between her thighs, inviting him in. She watches him approach, upside down, and she comes once more as he enters her again.
She feels a burst of love for the community, for her followers. Without the community, she would never have known. Without the community, she would still be searching, lost in a cold grey world of civilians and unfulfilling, grubby fumblings, all grace and beauty gone. They lack the coordination and stamina to achieve one-tenth of this joy.
BodyCon tweaks her onto her tiptoes to ensure FastTracker is properly aligned inside her. Upside down, looking through her and FastTracker’s legs, she can see there is a camera in the corner, on a tripod, just like the one in Kira’s room. Her pussy is throbbing now, far out of control. She notes the fleeting loss of coordination, determines not to allow it to happen again, and routines a few Kegels around his cock. She feels it swell even further inside her, gratifyingly hard, and she considers.
“FastTracker…” She has to concentrate very hard just to speak. “That camera… why don’t we synch it to BodyClock right now?”
He doesn’t break rhythm for a moment, and she is glad of that. Another orgasm is building. “Sure. Whatever you want.”
Yes, she thinks. Perhaps she should put on her mask and wig, just to be safe. Whatever: Miss Magic will share with the community. She will share everything; the community deserves and expects no less. Through her fog of lust, she imagines the messages flooding in, the swarming thumbs up, and the precious jewels of thumbs down. There is always a way to improve.
“Great,” she says. “Then let’s do the whole routine over again.”