Continued from Part 5…

When we arrived at my penthouse we popped the pills and chased them with crystalline goblets of Champagne. The minutes turned into hours and the hours into a night. I probably had lost my job at the art gallery and didn’t care. When I felt I could make love to her no longer she would find a way to entice me again.

I told her about my marriage, my hatred for her uncle (my boss), my disdain for the artists my position forced me to cater to. She was content to listen and not speak, running her cream-colored fingers through my hair and resting her head on my shoulder so that iridescent strands of her hair played with my mouth.

I don’t remember drifting off to sleep, but when I awoke it was almost noon. I quietly slid out of bed and watched her for several long moments. Reposed in sleep she was more beautiful than ever.

I quietly tip-toed down the hall to the kitchen to make some coffee when I noticed the flashing light on my Vid unit.

I hit the PLAY button and returned to my task. The sound of the mug shattering against the floor woke me out of my numb shock. I hit the PLAY button once again but there had been no mistake: “Steven, it’s Michael Spectra. I wanted to give you an update on my newest project. It’s called Tyla, and I exhibited her last night at your gallery. I think you’ll agree that she is surprisingly advanced–“

I slammed my fist down on the STOP button. It had to be a cruel joke. Somehow Spectra had managed to set me up with this strange woman, but his plan had backfired. I had fallen in love with her, and I truly believed that the same had happened for her.

When I returned from the bedroom, the noise from the kitchen had awoken Tyla. She sat up on one arm in the bed looking at me. So beautiful, I thought.

Then I noticed the way the sunlight spiked down through the skylight and struck her eyes. They were amber, but when she turned her head I could see flecks of blue.

(she was undoubtedly all women)

She smiled up at me wonderfully and I rushed over to her. We embraced, and I knew finally that Spectra was right. The fantasy is better than the reality. Real truth is holding nothing in your arms that believing that it is everything.

THE END