Worn
And tossed to the wind
They shall be my compass
Day and night
Caressing your skin with
Fingertips, lace, and satin.
~ThuArtPeatrick
^500k
Tickles: 8.64
Comments: 5k
Engagement: 24%
The dildo flew across the room and struck the blades of the security drone- shattering its propellers. The machine whined and crashed to the floor in a pile of smoke and debris.
“Great throw!” said Finn. He was leaning against a wooden crate with one hand over his shoulder, where a growing red spot stained the front of his shirt.
“Let’s go!” said Marilyn pulling on his arm.
“Ouch!” complained Finn with a grimace.
“We gotta move,” she said looking down the row of crates filled with sex toys.
Finn took a swig from a flask in his satchel and then stumbled forward following his companion.
“I can’t believe she shot me,” he said.
“Are you sure, it was her?"
“All her activities are baked in the log. She fired the shot alright. The nerve of that broad!”
They exited the warehouse and entered a parking lot. Marilyn dashed towards an aerobike parked near the ramp. An Orca 2300. Excellent taste.
“I told you not to cause any trouble with the MILF,” she scolded him. “All you were supposed to do was write a few simple poems about panties…”
“It wasn’t my fault.”
Finn took another swig from his flask. He limped along with his right arm dangling uselessly as he ran. “I swear I didn’t do anything to Kitty. Hadn’t seen her in a couple of years as a matter of fact. Then she came out of nowhere about a week ago. All of a sudden she starts hitting me in a few pieces I published, leaving nasty comments. Accusing me of plagiarism. Her followers swarmed my site, called me a pervert and went on a scratching frenzy. Can you believe it? My eros took a nose dive, as you can imagine. Now this! Don’t know what’s gotten into her.”
“Poets are not exactly known for being rational. Didn’t you two have a fling a few years back?”
“Nothing serious, I assure you.”
Marilyn hitched up her mini skirt and mounted the bike. “It’s very odd. She stands to gain some views and followers with you out of the blockchain, but killing someone for fame and fortune is rather… unladylike.”
There was a loud screeching across the parking lot and lights flashing in the darkness.
“That’s our feline friend,” Marilyn said looking back. She placed her palm on the Orca’s interface, and the bike came to life with a low rumbling hum.
“Nice trick!” said Finn.
“Get on before she finds us,” Marilyn told him.
“Are you sure you know how to drive one of these?”
“We’re about to find out.”
Finn saddled up behind her and felt a soothing warmth run through him as he pressed himself against her. He wrapped his good arm around her and hugged her tightly.
“Easy there, cowboy. I need to breath.”
The bike lifted off the ground with a hiss, swaying side to side, then with a low whistle, it jetted forward, spiraling up to the top of the tower.
“Gate up ahead,” she shouted. “Don’t have a pass, so we’ll have to jump over it. Hold on!”
The bike accelerated with a burst of clicks and pulses that were vaguely reminiscent of the calls made by orca whales. It raced towards the gate and just as it was about to crash against it, Marilyn pulled on its handles, and the Orca swooped over the gate.
The surprised face of a security guard stared with wide eyes and mouth agape as the bike, and its two riders, flew past his booth.
The craft bounced onto the electric coils printed on the skyway. Their magnetic interaction created a field in which the Orca floated two meters above the road and glided in a rush of speed towards the city. The poly-carbon coils glowed red and flickered in bursts of electricity- like coral snakes slithering across the bay and into the heart of the Hub.
“We got company,” said Marilyn.
“Now what?”
“Kitty drones on your left, ten and twelve o’clock.”
Finn squinted and saw the feline heads flying above the speedway. “Media drones!”
“Modded. So the reel is going to be extra spicy.”
His stomach sank and a knot tightened on his throat.
“You think she’s streaming live?”
“She seems like a nasty sort of girl.” Marilyn reached into her jacket and pulled out a revolver. “I will keep them at bay as long as I can, but you have to take care of Kitty.”
“But that means interfacing with the blockchain,” protested Finn. “I haven’t written anything in a week. You can’t expect me to write poetry from the back of a speeding bike.”
A flash of light burst in front of them in a cloud of smoke and a shower of sparks.
“I expect you to write like our lives depend on it,” she yelled.
It always has, thought Finn but didn’t say it.
The Orca clicked and whistled then gained speed.
His heart racing, he tried to concentrate. Trying to write a poem during a high-speed chase from the back of a bike wasn’t the ideal way to summon his muse. But there was no other way to interact with the MILF. He took a swig from his flask.
Concentrate!
He reached around her stomach, searched her with his fingers, and found her. He pressed his face against her. The scent of leather and strawberry. Her small rear end perfectly cradled on his vibrating lap.
Pheromones. Dopamine. Adrenalin. Serotonin. The Rush. The ecstasy of cryptodata and biological interaction. Eros. The sexual cryptocurrency. The gateway to the MILF.
In the distance, he heard a firing gun. But never mind that now, he thought.
In the canvass between his mind and the blockchain, he saw Kitty sprawled on a bed- somewhere in a room overlooking the ocean. Her red hair glowing in the ethereal sunlight. She was clad in red lingerie. Numbers and symbols crawled like ants on her shimmering skin.
He walked around the bed.
She stared at him with her green feline eyes. She writhed and wagged her tail. Legs suggestively spreading apart. The movement causing her straps to come undone and revealing her fur.
~ThuArtPeatrick: Why are you doing this?
~Kitty: Oh hi sweetie! Want to come up and have fun with me?
~ThuArtPeatrick: What do you want?
~Kitty: Nothing personal, love. Just doing my job.
~ThuArtPeatrick: I thought you were assigned to be a poet?
~Kitty: What can I say? I’m a girl of many talents.
~ThuArtPeatrick: Only the MILF can assign jobs. Why would she want me dead?
~Kitty: No idea. Maybe she thinks you’re annoying. I know I do. Now, could you please tell your bitch to take the nearest exit so we can settle this once and for all.
A live video clip appeared in the sky above the ocean. It showed Finn and Marilyn riding the Orca along the speedway. The viewing count displayed along the horizon had reached past a million and climbing. Soon she would have enough eros to trigger an investigation and inevitably a hunt.
She stretched languidly on the bed. Long legs, lingerie, and bubblegum. Feline implants. Whiskers. A single fang poking between her lips. Wicked smile and cunning eyes. One. Nasty. Kitty.
He could see the draft of her poem streaming into the blockchain.
In the rumbling storm that thunders
Of intimacy and passion born
Cries blossomed in the brooding shore
He stands before my bed
Beneath the rain of yestertears
And the blade of your dirty little secrets
Violating my scarred skin.
In the recesses of his attention, he heard another gunshot.
“Kick!” Shouted Marilyn.
“What?”
“Kick!”
“Kick what?”
“Now!”
He stuck his foot out, just as the Orca rotated on its axis and spun up beneath the drone. The machine tipped sideways and tried to right itself up but ended up stuck between a couple of magnetic lines then jettisoned over the edge.
Closing his eyes, he touched her again, fingers eagerly resting on her pubic nest as he rejoined the blockchain.
…my lips on your stomach,
blowing softly all the way down to your mount-
Delightful, my love-
Drowning in forgiveness
Gentle, my love
So that I may hold your fire between my teeth
and swoon in that holy moment.
~ThuArtPeatrick
^3.7m
Tickles: 67.8
Comments: 700k
Engagement: 56%
The transactions were baked in the ledger and soon the stream of events updated the log.
He sat on the vaporous bed and looked out the window. The sky was smooth and impossibly blue. The live feed was no longer streaming. He waited expectantly for her to publish her poem. Without support from the blockchain, her assignment couldn’t be completed. Just one poem.
Milliseconds ticked like eons.
Outside the room, wherever that was, he felt the rush of speed through his meat body. The sensation was vague and the perception distant. That was the genius of the MILF algorithm: it’s ability to cancel “noise” from various sectors of the brain, allowing users to inhabit the pure essence of the blockchain. An essence made of human eros and the neuro-linguistic function of the MILF.
He stood up and watched the empty bed where Kitty had lain, expecting to see her poem published on the satin sheets, but her timeline remained unchanged as the draft faded in the ocean waves.