Buying Time

I had to admit it — I was an addict. A sex addict. I was no damn good at all at relating to real people, so that pretty much left the sex machines for physical release. And an unfortunate side-effect of being such a boob in social situations was that I couldn’t hold down a job for very long. If there’s anything more pitiful than a sex addict, it’s got to be a friendless, jobless, *flat broke* sex addict.

I was about to go cry in my beer — if I could scrounge together enough for a beer, that is — when I caught the flashing notice on the sex machine display screen.

NOW HIRING. Sex Machines, Inc. [SM, Inc.] has openings for Customer
Service associates. Earn a good wage doing something you enjoy! Choose
your own hours. No experience necessary. Just enter code SEXYY%543
to start an EXCITING and GLAMOROUS new career.

Customer service? I guess you might call it that, since it *did* involve “servicing customers.” It had a much nicer ring to it than prostitution. Still, it was an intriguing notion, all the more so since I didn’t have a hell of a lot of options.

I spent an hour filling out questionnaires on an ancient vintage input terminal in the potted-palm studded lobby of the SM, Inc. Tower. My employment history, references, general state of health, and sexuality index — all the usual stuff. Though why did they need to access my genetic and psychometric profiles? It wasn’t as if I were applying for a high-level security position, after all. But since I was hardly in a position to play stubborn, I thumbprinted the waivers.

The terminal printed out a visitor’s pass. I was to report to room 13703. Hoowhee, the one hundred thirty-seventh floor. Moving up in the world, I was.

“Kindly step into the testing lounge, sir,” the receptionist said. She was a cute little package, a tiny blond with curves in all the right places. Her eyes were icy steel marbles.

The door clicked shut behind me. The only furniture in the room was a padded mechano-table with restraint devices at each corner. There was a very tall woman standing on the far side of it. She looked at me. Her eyes widened momentarily as if she knew me from somewhere, but I couldn’t tell for sure.