With a coy smile she bit her bottom lip, “I’m nervous, it is my first time you know?”

Blushing a little, she went on, “Well my first time since … changing.”

Smiling, he pulled her in close, causing her hands to fall upon his bare chest. He felt strong and defined. She pulled away slightly and with one finger, traced the lines of his tattoos down towards his abdomen, rising and falling with the contours of his muscles. His smell was as intoxicating as it was subtle.

She knew he didn’t really smell like that, or, for that matter, possess that body. She knew that at some level, it was all just a beautiful illusion, conjured by the connection formed between their combined software. Something to do with neuro transmissions, projection overlays, and schema reconstruction…

Seriously, being a voyeur in the modern age sucks. There’s nothing to see. All anyone ever does is sit at home watching television. Together or alone, they stare like zombies at a screen. They don’t bother to move, talk, or do much of anything.

Where’s the drama?

Back in the day, you could peep though someone’s window and see some real action. Scarcely would a night go by that you wouldn’t see someone fighting or fucking. But now the only action is on those God damn screens…