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Robot whumpee gets some serious logical damage and needs a memory clean up (NOT full wipe) that results in what we'd call an amnesia.
Whumpee remembers some stuff about themselves but they forgot most people they met and they get robotic versions of nightmares about the event that led up to this (that's their deep memory scan kicking in when they're in sleep mode). Their visions are glitchy, with visual dropouts. If you've ever watched a corrupted H.264 or MPEG-2 stream - you know what I mean.
Their memory file system, or whatever you'd call it, memory table?... Is not full for the time being. Some slots that used to be occupied are now filled with blank files to prevent overwriting. But that results in whumpee struggling to focus and remember stuff, because their memory algo constantly stumbles on those blank files.
Of course there's a caretaker who helps whumpee, who keeps them safe and maintained.
Eventually the silly robot restores the memory table and their memory scanning algo fully restores every slot to it's previous state. During this, whumpee has a very, VERY nasty and detailed nightmare about what happened before that clean up. No longer glitchy, now it's clear and scary.
The caretaker wakes up to terrified stuttering robotic screams and rushes to comfort the whumpee who finally remembered everything.
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I could tell Agnes was in a bad space the second she tossed her keys onto the kitchen counter, pulled open the fridge door and reached for an iced cold beer. She didn't look at me; didn't acknowledge me as she popped the cap off with the bottle opener that stuck to the fridge and slammed back her drink.
Her eyes were downcast as she chugged; drinking until the bottom only had a thin layer of foam on the bottom. She put the bottle down on the counter next to the discarded bottle cap before I heard the fridge open again and another hiss of air escaping the sealed bottle of beer.
"Do you wanna talk about it, Baby?"
What more could I offer her than some support? Whatever was eating Agnes, I knew it was something deep. She was usually good at brushing things off and settling her loses but this...whatever this was, was eating her from the inside out.
"Nothing, Vidal. Drop it."
"I'm not going to do that. Not right now...not whatever this is...what is this?"
"Just some fucking asshole getting the best of me."
"And who's the asshole, Agnes?"
"Me."
-
Vidal watched me as I put the empty bottle next to the first one on the counter; turned slightly now so I was facing her with my arms crossed over my chest. I could feel the warmth of my shirt underneath my flannel shirt and the way my jeans pressed against my legs and thighs. The heavy construction socks that Vidal hated kept my feet warm; a giant hug. A giant plate of armor.
I was impenetrable then; only letting in what I wanted to and I could see on Vidal's face and in her eyes that she wanted in.
"You're not, Baby...you're not an asshole."
I scoffed at Vidal's words as I shook my head and dropped my gaze from her face. She was doing that fucking thing where she tried to see right through me; right into me. She saw me before even I saw myself. She was trying it now.
I peeled myself off of the fridge and felt the sweat on my back; in between my shoulders as I walked forwards and then past Vidal. I left her in the kitchen with the two empty beer bottles sitting on the countertop; their respected caps scattered carelessly there as well.
I heard her sigh behind me and then the soft footsteps as she followed me. I knew she would, always would. She needed to get to the bottom of this just like the good little detective that she was.
-
I watched in silence as Agnes trudged towards her spot on the couch; sitting down with a small humph through her mouth. She was tired; painfully so and I couldn't help but to stand there, stand over her as I watched those tight shoulders roll back and try to unwind from whatever burden she was carrying tonight.
"If you won't tell me...tell me what can I do?"
I whispered to her as I stared down at her face; the top of her head where her hair was parted in a messy line that was never perfectly straight. More loose strands of hair framed her face as her ponytail threatened to come undone.
Agnes was unraveling right before me and yet, I knew it wouldn't be so.
"Make me forget it."
I knew better than to poke and pry with what 'it' was but I knew from the pain in Agnes' voice that she really did need to be taken away from whatever it was. I took the empty spot on the couch beside her and pressed into her; closed the gap between us with my thigh pressed against hers. She sucked in her breath like she was nervous.
My hand reached over across my body and hers to fumble at the first button on her flannel. I must have reacted before my body did; gasping loudly as her hand reacted much faster than mine; grabbing my wrist to stop me. She had never grabbed me like that; never that hard with her blunt nails digging into my skin. The look in her eyes were wild; scared. An animal caught in a trap that knew its time was up.
Agnes was scared; uncomfortable. A splinter that throbbed and pained her in such a way that she didn't want to pull it out nor leave it in. Damned if you don't and damned if you do.
We sat like that in silence with her hand around my wrist as her eyes read over mine and in some way, begged me not to touch her without her clothes on. She wanted them on; all of them. Needed that shield, that band-aid to make this go smoother, sweeter.
I understood in a way that made my stomach drop and goosebumps appear on my arms.
-
I slowly let go of Vidal's wrist and knew it would be bruised over by the morning. Closing my eyes and swallowing back the acid I felt in my throat, I sunk back into the couch and waited for Vidal to take over. I had faith in her; always did with these kind of things.
She saw right through me. Te veo. I wasn't going to question her methods because I knew she would be able to deliver.
That hand I had held onto pulled back ever so slightly but not fully; just enough so that she could find the swell of my breast against my shirt and cup. I wish I could feel her skin against mine and the way her fingers warmed to the touch; the way her nails scratched over my hardened nipple and caused prickling over my skin. I wished for it and knew I couldn't have it; not tonight. I sucked in my breath and pulled my eyebrows in as I focused, focused hard on the layers between me and my clothes and Vidal's hand and fingers.
"Don't worry, Baby, I can still blow your mind..."
And I knew in that instant as Vidal continued to grope me through my shirt; that deep blue and black flannel that she loved. The first thing she ever saw me in, that she was telling the truth. I knew instantly, from that and, the sensation of her right hand moving over my thigh to cup the crotch of my jeans.
I sunk deeper and deeper and felt the muscles in my lower back loosen as I rolled my hips voluntarily towards her cupped hand. The friction that already existed between my boxers and my jeans; the tightness of my belt between my hips was going to throw me over the edge.
Vidal knew it and so did I.
-
I moved myself in a little closer; wanted Agnes to feel my shoulder press against hers even though it was in constant movement from my hand. She was helping herself as she rocked into my cupped palm; her toes curling against her socks as they tried to grip onto the carpet below. I watched from the corner of my eye as her right hand gripped the edge of the couch cushion while her left, grabbed my thigh. An anchor and armor were Agnes' go-tos. Who was I to challenge that?
I brought my face in closer as well and pressed soft kisses on the collar of her flannel shirt; felt the well-worn and well-loved fabric brush against them. Her armor needed love just as much as she did; recognition for all it did for her. She wouldn't be here and this open with me, this vulnerable with me without it.
I owed that blue flannel shirt a lot. I owed it her. Agnes.
I could tell Agnes was getting close with how short her breaths were becoming; how much longer she held them before pushing them through pursed lips. Her eyes still closed; forehead still scrunched and, her knuckles turning pale. She was rolling her hips faster as she tried to chase the friction and the warmth that she must have felt through her jeans from my hand; the weight against her as I pressed my palm.
-
It was always something amazing to me just how much we could feel from not even being touched. Friction alone was doing its job; Vidal at my side with her body and lips pressed tight against me. I could smell her perfume as she pressed her lips against the side of my neck now; lips having moved from the collar of my shirt. She was whispering something to me as her hand between my legs moved to help me. I clenched my thighs together and trapped her hand there; only her wrist visible from between my legs.
Dull throbs that shot into my lower abdomen soon became sharp and bold; little zaps that felt like electricity. Something so small between my legs allowed me to feel; allowed Vidal to experience a response in real-time. Nerve endings ruthlessly teased and touched; rubbed against and bothered. A sinking feeling in my got that shot down to my feet but also, at the same time, pooled inside of me. I knew my boxers were soaked; could feel them clinging to my skin.
I bit down on my lip and rolled faster into that trapped hand between my legs; a means to an end and I heard Vidal grasp against my neck. Hot and wet as her lips were dragged away from me moving. I wanted her to sink her teeth into me but I couldn't ask; my tongue like a rolled up sock in my mouth.
A rolled up sock that used to sit comfortably between my legs.
Vidal talked me through it; whispered little words of encouragement and suggestions. These words and phrased were well-thought, hand-picked just for me.
