Thing (Patreon)

“Have a seat,” Jean said, gesturing him to a couch with one cushion dominated by file folders. He sat, careful not to disturb the pile.

Jean was as gorgeous as ever, aging like fine wine, without even the forceful exuberance of Emma’s high fashion and aggressive make-up. Instead, there was a comfortable grace to Jean’s simple look, her comfortable after-hours clothing, and it made Scott feel as if he’d been invited into something private, intimate. Like he’d been brought up to her apartment on a date, rather than visited her office for work.

Scott forced his mind onto business. “I had kind of thought Emma and Irma’s mindlink settled all question of us being the genuine article.”

“If you’re anything like Scottie, then you know—check, then double-check, then triple-check.” Jean unbuttoned her blouse. “This won’t take long…”

“What are you doing?” Scott asked.

“My own method of scanning you. There’ll be physical contact as well as mental.” She smiled at him. “Relax. It won’t be too intimate. It will just help us establish a connection.”

She opened her blouse, shrugged it off her shoulders, stepped out of her pants. Her underwear was simple and white, conservative, its virginal color ironically reminding him of Emma. Jean was more slender than her, even her generous helping of cleavage less ample than Emma’s—slightly taller, with long, sleek legs where Emma’s thighs were magnificently rounded and ankles dainty. Instead of Emma’s hourglass figure, Jean was lean and athletic. The all-encompassing lines of her underwear furthered the disconnect, her breasts totally encased in her bra, her panties practically boxer shorts.

She walked to Scott, her body a supple symphony of clenching and releasing musculature, and then splayed herself on his lap. Scott let out an almost involuntary groan.

“Now close your eyes,” Jean said.