The Metal Maiden Collection by Piers Anthony

restaurant, I contenting myself only with water. I did not need to explain to anyone; it was obvious that with a figure like mine, I had to diet rigidly. Some of our nocturnal clients were there, including the woman and her husband. Naturally nobody said a word. That is part of the code. But there were some covert glances.
    We got gasoline and still had cash to spare. So far there was no sign of pursuit. Probably Femdroid, Inc., did not want the publicity of an errant or lost unit. But the search was surely on.
    “I need an aspirin,” Banner said as he drove. “Getting a headache.”
    He was human; this abrupt change in his circumstance distressed him. I found aspirin in the car. “Here is one.”
    “But I need a cup of water with it, so it won’t burn a hole in my stomach.”
    “Best not to stop,” I said. “We should continue driving randomly away from town.”
    “But--”
    “I have water.” I got the cup, lifted my skirt, drew aside my panties, and put the cup to my groin.
    “What are you doing?”
    “I am expelling some of the water I drank this morning.”
    “You’re urinating!”
    “Yes, in my fashion. But it is quite clean.” I jetted into the cup, while he seemed to be in danger of losing control of the car. “Eyes on the road, for safety,” I said, and he obeyed. But his breath was fast and shallow, and I liked having that effect on him. I filled the container, dropped my skirt back into place, and handed the cup him.
    “It’s warm!”
    “Yes. My body heated it.”
    He shut up and took the aspirin, drinking the water. “It doesn’t taste like pee,” he said.
    “Real urine would be difficult for me to manage.”
    He had to laugh. “Seeing you pissing into that cup like that--”
    “Not here,” I said. I had of course known it would come to this from the moment he saw me pee. “There is too much traffic. Pull off onto a secluded street and park.”
    He did so, and had at me again in the car. It confirmed that the sight of my urinating had fiercely turned him on. That was a sexual variant I had not encountered before, because my memory bank lacked it. There were of course more sexual forms than could be conveniently covered. That could be useful to know, but I would try not to do it again while he was driving.
    “I just thought,” he said. “The car is traceable. They could have an APB out on it.”
    “Then we must leave the car here,” I said. “But how can we travel? Walking will be slow.”
    “We’ll hitchhike,” he decided. “You should be able to attract a ride.”
    We left the car and walked back to the highway. “Put out your thumb,” Banner said. “I will stand close behind so they know we’re a pair.”
    It did not take long for a car to stop. The driver was a single man. “Sit next to him,” Banner murmured. “Keep him interested.”
    I got in first, sitting close to the man. “Thank you so much,” I said. “Our car stopped and we had to leave it.” This was not the whole truth, but he was a stranger, so it sufficed. “Are you going far?”
    “That depends on how far you want to go.” The man could see into my open shirt, by no coincidence. The view of the partial curvature of the breasts is disproportionately evocative for the average man, sometimes more so than the sight of fully bared breasts, because it seems illicit. Sneak peeks are high on the standard list of attractions.
    I smiled. “We would be very grateful for a ride to the state line.”
    He was interested. “That’s a bit out of my way.”
    I took his right hand and set it on my thigh. “Extremely grateful.”
    “But your man--”
    “Will serve as lookout,” Banner said. “I appreciate the ride too.”
    The man took us to the state line. He pulled onto an obscure side street. Banner got out and watched for intruders. I drew up my shirt and skirt, took the man’s hands, and stroked myself with them. That gave him a burgeoning erection. Then I sat on him in the manner I had with Banner,