Manufactured for Sin

11 The Sex Club, part 1

I woke from cryo, feeling strange. It didn't take long to realize while I was running diagnostics, that Greg took some automatic liberties with my hair color and some very subtle body upgrades. For a split second I felt angry, until I remembered I did this to myself, and back in the old book series, I borrowed my wife's body and made some light mods for my own use. That whole argument as to WHO had the rights, given that it was HER spare body, but it was made for me to use. Now I see why she got annoyed. I hate it when she's right, luckily I'll never have to admit my fault, except to myself, and we can just not do that again and avoid admitting we were kind of an annoying dick. Damn, why does she put up with me? My argument was technically valid and correct but, I hate to say...this does feel like someone went through my purse or my phone without permission. It's kinda lightly violating even if I'm violating myself. Then again that's sort of the entire plot of this madness, isn't it? Self violation.

Eight-o-clock rolled around, and I was dressed to kill, metaphorically, I hope, but you never know. Dinner and drinks with an associate always turn into a 2 hour repetitive gambling contest, until your opponent gets drunk enough to fold.

I strolled into the den, expecting from the text, to see paperwork or a computer display of the development, and was instead met with a single blue rose in a vase, along with Greg in the den, On the Kitchen Island was a neatly folded black dress.

"What's this?" I asked.

"It's what you're wearing tonight." He smirked.

"What I'm wearing to what, exactly? I thought this was a work thing."

"Oh you'll be working it, I know how you move in synth-silk. As stressed out as we've been from everything I thought we needed a night out, so I planned us something very special. There's no housing deal. I made that up." He yawned casually.

"A date." I scoffed. "We're dating ourself now? It wasn't weird enough just having sex, now I'm a couple with myself? Makes the blonde hair even weirder, I know we don't favor blondes. So why did I wake up blonde?" I asked, eyebrow raised.

"Anonymity. People go out with their partners, and people go out alone. This is just halfway between those two accepted ideas." He reasoned.

"Greg, we don't have time for this. We got Senator Ralla from tier 2 trying to push a bill for reduction of food rations, and somehow that dick-face human got 2 more senators on his side. We got a murder cover-up, and a blackmail situation, too many things to keep track of already." I grumbled.

"That's my point. We're stressed out, strung along, in desperate need of some relaxation and fun, and we can't even get that from Izleena, or tell her about the other shit. We need a short distraction for a few hours, to keep sane. We're both emotionally drained. To tell you the truth I can't stop thinking about us."

"Oh damnit, you can't be falling in love with me. It's already gone past the comfort zone." I exhaled painfully.

"Then why stop now?" he argued.

"Because..." I said with obvious pause, realizing my answer was absent.

"Because people won't understand?" He asked. "They don't have to, and they can't anyway. Who do we care about more then our own happiness? Before you say our wife, she married a narcissist; she already knows we love ourselvsices. Stop thinking like a public figure and think like someone with needs."

"Greg, we've almost been caught several times now. This is a terrible idea." I sighed, knowing I can't win against myself, especially with him pre-planning.