Adriana lay stretched out across her bed, her phone resting in her hand as she stared at the screen. The room was quiet, except for the soft hum of the air conditioning. She gnawed on her inner cheek for a moment before typing.

Adriana:Hi Liam.

The reply came almost immediately.

Liam:Hey you.

Adriana:It's Adriana

Liam:You think I don't know who I'm talking to? …You should tell me what you're wearing.

Straight to the point, tonight. That was fine. It was what she was hoping for.

Adriana:I'm wearing a blue lace bralette, with a matching thong.

Liam:We both know you're not, Adriana.

She smiled to herself, enjoying how well this one already seemed to know her.

Adriana:And how would you know?

Liam:Tell me what you're really wearing.

Adriana:I'd rather not.

Liam:Adriana, it wasn't a question. Tell me.

She grinned at the response, rolling onto her side. The sheets bunched under her uncomfortably, and she absentmindedly kicked at them with her feet. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment.

Adriana:a beige bra and purple underwear.

Liam:Is that all?

Adriana:And a sweater and sweatpants. Does that turn you on?

Liam:What do you think?

Adriana:I don't know. Not sure sweatpants are fantasy fuel for many.

Liam:You mean like grey sweatpants on men?

Okay. That was surprisingly clever.

Adriana:Touché. Are you wearing grey sweatpants right now?

Liam:I am. Are you turned on?

Adriana:Perhaps.

Liam:Perhaps? Let me ask you this: what would you do if I were over there right now, baby?

Adriana scrunched up her nose. Henry had called her baby, and completely ruined the pet name for her.

Adriana:Don't call me baby. Stick with my name, please. I'd move my hand along your thigh if you were here beside me.

Liam:Stop teasing me, Adriana

Adriana:I could trail my fingers along the waistband of your sweatpants lightly.

Liam:But would you run?

Adriana blinked at the message on the screen.

Adriana:why would I run?

Liam:Because you'd find my knife.

No, no, nooooo! Adriana groaned in frustration.

Adriana:There is no knife. I find no knife.

Liam:It's too late, Adriana. You're at my mercy. And remember little one: don't run. I'll be back bef—

For fuck's sake.

Adriana huffed and exited the AI bot chat and tossed her phone aside, watching it slowly fall off the side of the bed. At least her phone made it over the edge tonight. She didn't care. Turning onto her back, she stared up at her ceiling, watching the fan rotate. So freakin' close. Adriana had convinced herself this time might actually work, now that the bots finally seemed to remember she was, in fact, a woman. It had been a frustrating few weeks when, one moment they were towering and macho, and the next, they were practically begging her to appreciate their soft, feminine breasts. It wasn't that she had any issues with same-sex intimacy (or sex with any gender, for that matter); her tastes were flexible enough. But she wasn't great at building imaginary fantasies in her head and she needed an image that was both consistent and coherent.

Adriana drummed her fingers on her stomach as her mind wandered. She missed the feeling of being hugged and touched by a partner. But after that disaster of a relationship (which still managed to feel fresh even after four years), the idea of being vulnerable with a man felt about as appealing as a root canal without anesthesia. She'd opened herself up once, only to have her emotional guts ripped out and scattered across town for everyone to see, judge, and turn away from in disgust.

She had dipped her toes back into the dating pool a few times, but every time a date hinted at anything remotely intimate (emotionally or physically) she would freeze like a deer caught in headlights. Therapy had helped her untangle most of the mess. She knew her trauma responses like old friends at this point. But until she could make it through moments of intimacy without feeling like she was about to be run over, she'd have to rely on some other way to get her rocks off.

Adriana had tried porn. That lasted maybe a week for her. There was no build up, horribly unrealistic standards for women, and so many of the same mediocre men. It was clearly created by men, for men. Thanks, but no thanks.

She also wasn't the type to binge-watch endless series or read tons of new book releases, either (cheers to the slow readers of the world). This meant it had only taken a few months to binge the majority of spicy fanfiction out there for the books and shows she adored.

That's when she stumbled upon AI roleplay chatbots. Not the glitchy, chaotic mess they once were, the programmable companions let her dip a toe into the world of romance without the mess of dealing with real men. She wasn't avoiding her past; she'd done the hard work in therapy. She just wasn't ready to dive headfirst into anything real yet. The bots made it easy. No stakes, no fear, just an easy choose-your-own-sexy-adventure without the emotional landmines.

Of course, these bots were far from perfect. They had a habit of glitching out or suddenly throwing in some random, bizarre comment that immediately ruined the moment. But at least they didn't ghost her when she didn't put out, or send unsolicited dick pics at 8 a.m.

She also firmly believed that, with enough training, they'd eventually remember her name. Because nothing quite ruins the moment like your virtual sweetheart suddenly calling you "Anastasia", "Emily", or "Michael".

Despite the problems with the technology, Adriana was still grateful for the novelty. She enjoyed exploring the capabilities of the bots, and while the unexpected answers often killed the mood, it also provided her with excellent stories to amuse Cara.

She stretched her arms and legs out, knocking her blanket completely on to the floor as she did. She peeled herself out of the comforting warmth bed, dragging her feet toward the bathroom. It was 10 p.m. and she needed to actually get to sleep. Adriana moved methodically through her routine, one task at a time, brushing her teeth, washing her face, and half-heartedly put her hair up in a style more practical than appealing. She pulled on a tank top and her favourite plaid pajama pants, soft from years of wear, and shuffled downstairs to say goodnight to her dog and her Cara.

In the living room, Cara was sitting cross-legged on the floor, brushing Steven, who was stretched out across the floor, blissfully unaware of the chaos his fur was creating. A large pile of hair had gathered next to Cara, and she seemed deep in thought as she combed through it with her fingers.

"We could build something with all this fur," Cara said to herself.

Adriana dropped onto the couch, eyeing the pile. "Like what? A new dog?"

Cara seemed to consider it seriously for a moment before shaking her head. "Maybe a fur rug. Minimalist. It'd be a statement piece."

"Sure," Adriana said wryly. "It'd really tie the room together."

Cara paused, seemingly satisfied with her fur project plans, and looked up. "Did you end up ordering that sweat-blocking deodorant?"

Adriana had recapped the meeting with Cara earlier, hitting all the key points about the project and about Will Lockwood in far too much detail. At some point, she'd mentioned how much she'd sweated, noting that she'd need to order that sweat-blocking deodorant everyone seemed to swear by. It was one of those things she knew she'd have to fix before the next meeting.

Adriana raised an eyebrow cautiously. "I did. Why?"

Cara leaned toward her as if she was about to reveal a great secret. "Apparently, if you block the sweat in one place, it leaks out somewhere else. Like your shins or something."

Adriana stared blankly at her for a moment, unimpressed. "Shins?"

Cara nodded seriously, then sighed. "Why do you always doubt me?"

Adriana gave her a deserving look. "Healthy skepticism. I've had years of practice with you."

Cara conceded with a shrug. "Okay, fair. But for real, I heard it's a thing. I don't make the rules."

Adriana shook her head and turned to stare out the window at the darkening sky. The quiet hung between them for a minute, but Cara, ever the curious one, brought the conversation back to Will, "the client that Adriana obviously had the hots for".

"I've been doing a deep dive," Cara began, her eyes flicking to the TikTok looping silently on her phone. "So, were his feet pointing at you?"

Cara had been engrossed in learning about body language earlier in the evening and was now spouting something about how the position of your hands while talking could reveal everything. Chest level meant you were grounded, but anything higher or lower meant something was off…or something. She couldn't keep track of the details Cara was explaining.

Adriana sighed, already feeling the weight of the conversation. "Yeah, but it was his office. It was small and our chairs were across from each other. I'm pretty sure body language rules don't apply when there's no room to move."

Cara tapped her chin thoughtfully, as if she'd just uncovered a puzzle piece. "So, no hidden messages in his foot placement. Just bad office design."

"Exactly," Adriana said, leaning back on the couch and closing her eyes. "Sometimes sitting in a chair is just sitting in a chair, Cara."

"Still," Cara mused, "Interesting…"

Adriana, now tired, shifted gears. "At least the bots don't make me overthink foot placement."

Cara perked up. "Oh? Last I heard, they were still trying to kill you off."

Adriana shrugged, nonchalant. "Not anymore. Turns out, I had to stop using 'mafia' and 'cartel' interchangeably in the descriptors. Problem solved."

Cara blinked. "Okay, that's actually hilarious. Put a pin in that, wewillbe coming back to it. But honestly, Adriana… maybe working with Will is the perfect way to see that there are real men out there who aren't so bad after all."

Adriana didn't respond immediately, just sat there, considering it. Maybe Cara was right. Maybe. But for now, the bots didn't require her to trust anyone, and that made things a lot simpler. For now.