There weren't a lot of women in the engineering program, I guess, but I wasn't at all interested in being a trailblazer. I went to college and studied engineering, and all my teachers and advisers made a big deal about it. I guess most people would have called them toys or robots, but I always preferred "automatons." Which may be my heavy-handed way of trying to give them a life of their own. As early as I can remember, I loved little wind-up gadgets and spring-powered items, working my way up to electronic devices with capacitors that could store energy.
With a nimbleness that surprised me, he hitched up the skirt of my dress, pulled my panties down to mid-thigh, and rammed his way inside me.Ī moment later, Burly's weighted balls slapped into my clitoris, sending a shiver of pleasure up my spine - exactly as they had been designed to do. On the wall in front of me, the shadow of a large and very masculine figure rose: I recognized it at once as Burly.īefore I could react, he was on me, pushing my head onto the floor and pulling my hips up. Just as the possibility entered my mind that somebody might have gotten in through the opening, I spotted movement in my peripheral vision. My left flank caught a bit of spray from the blown-out window. I had been very lucky that there hadn't been a fire. I could see more scorch marks on the surge protector and on the wall under the desk. Its screen was blinking a sickly shade of green. Could all this have been caused by a lightning strike? It was hard to tell in the dimness, but I thought I could see a black, charred mark in the alcove above the bay window. I must have left it on, because its pale light was casting enormous shadows on the opposite wall. Papers were strewn everywhere, some flapping in the breeze. One corner of my desk had collapsed, and the books on the shelf above it had crashed down on top of it. The bay window that looked onto my backyard was broken, and rain and wind were whipping around inside. The living room looked normal, as did the kitchen, but when I opened the door to my office, it felt as if I had walked into a different world. I put down my umbrella and took off my heels - I had been out on a date, so I was wearing a black cocktail dress and not a lot more. Once I opened the door, I could smell the ionized air - like walking into a laundromat with 20 dryers going at once. I don't mean that I got spooked, I mean that all the hairs on my head, which I had recently dyed pale-moon blue to match my eyes, stood at attention, as if they were trying to get as far away from each other as possible. That was the night of the big thunderstorm, and, as I slid the key into the door and turned it, my hair stood on end. I came home late last Friday and found my house a shambles.