Work sucked less; dog still not well.  After work had to walk to my car in the rain.  I’m writing books set in Portland, so I regarded it as theater training.  Still maneuvering my way to the conclusion of Part 1 while at the same time laying the groundwork for Part 2

I want to show that Gil and Nichole love one another, but at the same time I want to show that they both know there’s something very odd about their relationship.  In other words, it’s a pretty typical guy-gal thing.

She’d not been in her shower long – just enough with the water full-on hot to warm up her surface for him, again – but came out to find Gil quietly asleep in her bed.

It is just a little before 1800… I would make him dinner but have no food besides those few things I use for Mackenzie’s and Nancy’s breakfasts! She made a mental tag to remedy that tomorrow. Of course, there’s no rule I couldn’t make him an omelet for dinner…

She slipped into a camisole and stepped lightly the few feet to the kitchenette. An unexpected pop of hot oil could scar her skin.

“And then who would marry me then?” she said softly to the stove

Warming up a dollop of lard in a skillet, she finely chopped some onion and a little ham. Those were put aside as she quickly whisked up two eggs.

He’s large enough for three, but I am older he’s not a big eater.

With a small hiss the egg slurry went into the pan. At that came a sound of stirring from her bed.

“Something smells good,” he said, standing. Naked, he walked over to her.

“Stay behind me,” she said, adding the meat and onions and folding the egg over. “I don’t want anyone hurt!”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” he said, pressing close. “Hey! You’re warm!”

“I’d a shower, intending for round three, but my man was not up to it!”

“Well…” he began. She could tell he was making up lost ground.

“Not now!” She reached around with her right to ward off his amorous advance. “Your girlfriend has made you dinner and you are going to properly enjoy it!”

Nichole slid the omelet onto a plate and turned, placing it onto the tiny table. She did lean over much further than she needed and looked back at him over her shoulder.

“Be a good boy and eat all your dinner…” her eyes brightened, “and I might give you a dessert! Hey!”

She cried out as he pinched her butt before sitting down. Gil picked up a fork but paused.

“Thank you, Nichole.”

Before she got giddy, she turned away and set about cleaning up the tiny mess she’s made. In a few minutes, processors cooler, she took the only other little rickety wood chair and sat across. Staring.

“I’ve told you that’s rude,” he said.

“I know. But when it’s just you and I, I don’t care!”

He paused the fork just shy of his mouth.

“You really like watching me that much?”

“You especially, but all of my friends!” She brought up her hands and rested her chin into them. “You are all so interesting!”

Gil knew that he was one of three to know what she was. Nichole had been forthcoming about the first, the girl right across the hall. She’d been cagey about the second, the owner of Zom’s. So far, she’d flat refused to tell him the third.

If you Order me, I’ll tell you, she had whispered one night. Please trust me?

Gil hadn’t pushed. Given what he was learning about her near-fanatic devotion to those she considered her friends, he would have guessed it was that mouthy girl, the Mayor’s daughter.

He took the last bite of his dinner. The fork and plate were out of his hands in a flash. She’d already turned about and was rinsing them. He stood and again pressed against her.

“Dessert?” He leered.

“Of course!” She rolled her butt a few times against him. “It’s just… well…”

He turned her about and kissed her.

“I know: face to face. So you can ‘watch’?”

“Mmm! Thank you!” She made a few tiny hops. “Carry me, Master! Like I’m a princess!”

In the few steps back to her twin bed, Gil wondered just what she’d read back in Japan.

With dessert over about twenty minutes later, she lay still next to him, accepting her scolding. Gil could see the faint emerald flicker under her hooded eyes and knew her submission mocked him.

“…don’t care how much noise you make at my apartment block; it’s all guys. But this floor is all girls – and I should be leaving soon – and when you coughed like a tiger and, howinthehell you do it… let your fangs down like that…”

He shook his head but kissed her brow.

“’Sides the grey ghost across the way, you might want to apologize to your neighbors!”

“Hee hee!” she rubbed her face in his chest, barely listening and not caring.

I learn so much by watching! I make my love so happy!

A few minutes later, when they were both getting dressed, she noted his odd sound and looked up.

“Gil?”

“This,” he said, taking his hand from his jean’s pocket. It was, she thought, about the size of a AAA battery. “This is the best the lead electronics tech at Ludlum’s can do, to date.”

He held out his hand. Taking it, she was aware of the minuscule plates to charge and move data. Having no tools at hand, she tried a feature she’d never had course to use. She put it into her mouth.

“What?!” Gil shouted. “Don’t eat it – !”

Her hand came up onto his chest and her eyes held his. He was surprised they didn’t glow, but he did see her irises grow huge.

“Pah!” Nichole said, spitting it into her hand. She took the towel from next to the kitchenette sink to dry it off.

“Miniaturized recording device. About a twelve hour battery charge. Gain of about a forty square meter room.” Now dry, she held it up.

“Professional versions of this are no bigger than a pin head. Still, very clever of this technician to come up with it!” She looked sharply at Gil. “May I keep it?”

“No,” expecting no argument. “It’s their prototype.”

He saw several kinds of unhappiness in her eyes.

“But,” he continued, “were a local programming genius to come down to Ludlum’s, and say, make a deal…?”

Nichole tossed it the short distance to him. In the time his eyes were off her, she embraced him.

“I love you because I do. Yet, at times such as this, you give me greater reasons!”

She tilted her head up and back; lips parted.

He didn’t move.

“Nichole! I need to be go – ”

There was the faintest scrape at her door. What Nichole heard, what Gil could not, was the weeping.

She moved in a blur.