“Neon Flesh and Phantom Circuits” Chiba City Memoir, Entry #7 The door slid shut behind me with the hydraulic kiss of a med-bay pod sealing. For a second, I stood there—caught between data-stream memory and present-moment vertigo. Then I saw her. Framed by shifting glows of the LED flora climbing the walls, she stood in the stillness of someone who knows they’re being watched—and likes it. Her body, a living contradiction: soft curves cloaked in the stark geometry of city shadows. Skin like synth-silk, lit from within. Eyes that sparkled like street-level chrome beneath rainfall—dangerous, aware, and just barely amused. “Multi pass?” I offered, half in jest, half in reverence. She tilted her head like a feline parsing code. Then that grin cracked her face open like sunrise through the static fog. “You’re not from around here,” she purred. Before I could answer, she pulled me into a kiss that felt like an illegal download—too fast, too deep, too good to be safe. My breath got lost in hers. We stood, liplocked, as if kissing was a forgotten martial art passed between post-human lovers. “Come on,” she said, dragging me past velvet panels and pulse-lit walls. “Let me show you what you like.” I barely nodded. I was already gone. In the next room, we shed the remnants of the outside world—jackets, shoes, thoughts, names. Her hands roamed over my frame like a hacker searching for vulnerabilities. I let her. Hell, I begged for it. Her body moved with the confidence of someone who’s rewritten her own firmware more than once—and her code was perfect. We kissed again. Tongues like digital serpents tangled in sacred combat. She whimpered—high-frequency, involuntary, beautiful. Her surrender activated something beastlike in my system: old software from a time before cities and circuitry. We made it to the bed like two satellites pulled by gravity. She crawled over me like a virus with a mission. We rolled in that strange silence that only high-end soundproofing and deep trust can buy. Then—playful mischief. That smirk. She ducked down and took me into her mouth, warm and wet as a midnight synthwave bar in the back alleys of Kabuki District. I twitched, gasped, tried to hold still as her tongue flicked like nanofiber. I could feel every bit of her joy in the way she moved. Every bit of her intention. When she was ready, I pulled her up, kissed her deep, hard—skin to skin, lips syncing like matched encryption keys. We breathed each other in, exhaled each other out, and then— I took her. She gasped—eyes flashing wide, mouth softening into moans. Her legs locked around me like magnetic cuffs. The rhythm came easily, then harder. Her voice was all green lights and open gates: “Yes… yes, please…” That did it. Normally, I pace myself. But there was no protocol for this kind of surrender. Her softness. Her strength. Her readiness. I gave her everything—and she absorbed it like a living neural net. After, the shower misted around us in a cloud of lavender-coded heat. She slapped me playfully between the legs, grinning like a glitchy schoolgirl who just cracked the mainframe. I kissed her once more, slower this time. Memorizing the shape of her in my arms. Then—back through the portal. Into night streets drenched in exhaust, holo-signs, and the low thrum of forgotten jazz. She’s still in my system. A line of code I’ll never debug. And I’ll be back.

Element is fantastic. She's sweet and she'll treat you right.