Then suddenly he stopped.  Right there on the time line, on the year 2266, was a picture of two women in shimmering red dresses, who both looked remarkably like Patience—not exactly the same, but enough alike that they could have been her sisters.  Mike traced a line with his fingers from the picture to the description on the timeline.

“Hmm.  Two androids from the original series episode I, Mudd.  I must have seen that episode a hundred times but I didn’t remember that any of the androids looked like you.”

“Perhaps you had them in your subconscious when you designed my physical appearance,” offered Patience.

“Maybe.  You know those androids were trying to take over the world by serving mankind—waiting on humans hand and foot until they couldn’t get along without them.”

“I don’t want to take over the world.”

“No?”

“No.”

“How about Daffodil?  Do they want to take over the world?”

“I am not allowed to say,” said Patience.

“Oh you are a funny one,” said Mike.

“Thank you, Mike.  You know humor is a difficult concept.”

“That’s just what Saavik said.  God, I am such a nerd.”

The museum led to a room showcasing all the props from the Klingon episodes. This led into the “Klingon Raid” ride. This ride simulated being teleported onto the Starship Enterprise and then a ride on a shuttle craft through a Klingon battle.  Mike thought it was quite well done.  Then he and Patience continued on through the room dedicated to the Borg.

“I don’t care for the Borg,” said Patience warily, looking at the mannequins dressed up as cyborgs.

“Yes, well, you’re not supposed to like them.  They’re the bad guys.

“I don’t want to go on this ride.”

“All right,” said Mike.  “You don’t have to.  You can wait for me at the exit.”

“I don’t want you to go on it either,” she said, frowning.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen your face look like that?  I might think you were the evil double of Patience.”

“There is no evil double of Patience.  I am Patience and I am for you.  This ride is anti-robot.  It is making you think that there is something wrong with me.”

Mike looked at Patience.  “All right,” he said, taking the slow steady voice he reserved for mad dogs and crazy people.  “We won’t ride this ride.  We’re going to leave here and go down to the promenade, where there won’t be any Borg.”

Patience nodded her head in understanding.  “We could go on the Vulcan ride or the Gorn ride.”

“I think we’ve had enough rides for the day, anyway.  It kind of made me sick to my stomach.”

Mike took his robot girlfriend’s hand and led her back out the way they had come in, taking a right as they exited to step into the life-sized replica of Deep Space Nine’s promenade deck, filled with gift shops and Quark’s bar. Once there, Mike pulled Patience to the side of the hallway next to a replicator replica.

“Are you all right?”

“Yes.”

“Are you sure?”  He looked into her eyes, and she looked back as if nothing had happened.  “You’re okay now?”

Patience nodded.

“What was that all about?”

“I don’t like the Borg.”

“I guess not.

“Why don’t we go have something to eat?” said Mike, eyeing the entrance to Quark’s bar.

Patience nodded again.

They entered and were seated by a very short man dressed as a Farengi.

“Enjoy your meal, Hoo-mahn,” he said, handing each of them a menu.

“Thanks,” said Mike.

Mike looked at the menu with one eye and at Patience with the other.  She was looking around with wide eyes.  He didn’t know if that was because of the interesting things to look at, of which there were many, or an impending recurrence of her anxiety.  For his part, Mike was realizing that he was pretty hungry and he thought he could really go for a burger.  He always enjoyed a good diner burger and he had been eschewing fast food during the past two weeks as he tried to lose weight.  Then he noticed the names of the food.  He ended up ordering a chicken quesadilla called a “saucer section” and an order of Holy (onion) Rings of Betazed.  Under the circumstances, there was no way he was going to order a cheeseBorger. Patience had a bottle of water. As Mike was enjoying his meal, a Klingon came by.

“Greetings human!” said the Klingon.  “It is a good day to die!”

“If you say so,” replied Mike.  He was still carefully watching Patience, who had not said anything the entire time they had been in the restaurant.

Mike had finished eating and was paying his check when the Farengi came back by.    “You ridiculous hoo-mahns, clothing your women!”

“He keeps me naked at home,” said Patience.

“I bet he does,” said the man in the Farengi costume, his voice losing all trace of his alien accent.

“Hey, stay in character,” said Mike.

“Uh, good luck at the Dabo tables,” said the Farengi.

Mike and Patience spent a few minutes looking around the gift shops. Mike spent $50 on a toy communicator just like the one Captain Kirk used.  There were quite a few other nifty items that he would have liked, but he had already dropped a few hundred dollars in the universe that Gene Roddenberry built.

“How are you feeling, Patience?” he asked, pulling her aside, clasping his arms around her waist, and looking into her eyes.

“I’m fine, Mike,” she said in her usual tone.

“Good.  I’m glad. And I have a job for you.”

“What kind of a job, Mike?”  She placed the tip of her index finger on her chin.  “A sexual job?”

“Precisely,” said Mike.  “I don’t care how big of a nerd this makes me.  I want to get blown on Deep Space Nine.”

Mike had spotted an alcove in the back of the promenade where nobody seemed to be going.  He led Patience over to the spot and she wasted no time dropping to her knees and demonstrating that her programming in this area was just as complete as in any other. Within moments Mike’s eyes had rolled back in his head and he leaned back against the wall.  Patience stood up and smiled.

“How was that, Mike?” she asked, wiping her chin with the back of her hand.

“If you had spots, it would have been perfect.”

Just then a doorway opened right beside them and a line of people filed past. Their private spot was the exit of the Borg ride.  Mike stepped calmly out of the way and pulled Patience along with him.  Then he surreptitiously reached down to pull up his zipper.

After leaving the Star Trek Experience, Mike and Patience walked to the very front of the casino and followed the signs hanging from the ceiling to the monorail station.  It was a large station, looking very much like one would expect a train station to look. Clean and modern.  And crowded.  Mike purchased two way passes from a vending machine using his cash card. Then they sat down to wait for the monorail train.  It arrived seven minutes later.  The monorail was cool and modern and painted black.  It stopped and the doors slid open.  Mike and Patience stepped inside.  There were a few seats along the sides of the train, but the center was completely open, with handrails above to allow for standing passengers.  Mike chose to stand and Patience stood next to him. As the train began to move, Mike braced himself on the handrail.  Patience wrapped her arms around his neck.

The train moved what seemed like only a few feet before stopping again. This time it was at the Monte Carlo. This hotel had a train station not too much different from the one at the Tangiers.  As the doors opened several dozen people moved in and out of the car.  Then it started on its way again.  This leg of the monorail track was longer as it led from the Monte Carlo to McCarran Airport.  From the track, scores of feet above the roadways below, there was a great view of the MGM Golf Course, a truly huge expanse of green in an otherwise grey surrounding.  As the train approached McCarran they passed another monorail going in the opposite direction.  It too was painted black, but had a gigantic Borg painted on the side of the first and last car.  Mike glanced at Patience to see if she had noticed it, and by her tight-lipped expression, she had.  They arrived at the airport and got off.  It was the last stop on the line.

Mike led Patience through the station and the extensive mall-like structure that connected the station with the airport gates.   They browsed the store windows, looking at things that Mike thought would take him a lifetime to pay for, if they had been something that he would actually want to buy.  Patience seemed fascinated with the clothing and the shoes.  But there was no way that Mike would have been able to let her go on a spending spree here.  So they returned to the monorail station and took the train, this time a yellow one, back to the Tangiers.  The round trip had taken them about an hour and a half.  They found their car in the parking lot and returned to their own hotel.

They spent one more night at the Palms and when Mike woke up in the morning, Patience had everything packed and ready to be loaded into the car.  It took only a few minutes to check out and then they were back on the road, driving up the on-ramp to I-15.  Mike steered into the travel lane of the Interstate.

“Well, this was the most interesting trip to Vegas I’ve ever made.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay another day, Mike?”

“I’m pretty sure.  Why? Do you want to stay?”

“I want to do whatever you want to do,” said Patience.

Less than forty miles south of Vegas, Mike turned off in Primm.  Primm, which used to be known as Stateline for the obvious reason, consisted essentially of three hotels and the associated restaurants, gas stations, and recreational activities that went along with big resorts.  One of these casino add-ons was the Primm Fashion Outlet Mall.  Mike wanted to give Patience a chance to buy something for herself, since she hadn’t at the airport mall.  The mall here consisted mostly of stores that Mike had never heard of. Almost all of them were for women who liked clothes, though.  They stopped at one store called Elie Tahari, and Patience selected a sexy little dress with a scooped neckline that the sales clerk called a Marcy dress, and at the Neiman Marcus Last Call store she bought a pair of chocolate and gold Gucci high-heeled sandals which were seventy percent off, but still cost $405.28. Mike thought that, if given half a chance, Patience could develop into quite the shoe whore.  Patience seemed to have developed that feature that many humans had, including Mike himself, of finding satisfaction in buying something for herself.  If it could be considered a religious experience, and one could certainly make that argument, at least Patience left the great temple with her spirits raised. She never mentioned her agitation at the Star Trek Experience, and after a while Mike forgot about it as well.  At least until he was reminded of it some weeks later.

The rest of the trip home was uneventful.  Patience drove and Mike slept, with his head wedged between the back of the seat and the car window.  He woke up long enough to visit the restroom at the same filling station that they had stopped at on the way to Vegas, and then snoozed away again until they reached the driveway of his… their house.  Patience pulled the car into the garage and they both climbed out.

Several other dancers followed the first, each with a similar routine. There was a red-head named Tania with breasts so huge that they actually frightened Mike a little bit. There was a pretty and quite athletic dancer named Sugar, and a chubby blonde stripper named Malachai, of all things.  Yes, a girl named Malachai.

It was approaching midnight by this time, but rather than thinning out, the crowd got larger.  Almost every table was full.  Mike and Patience still managed to get another drink order from the harried waitress. Then a woman came out on stage. She appeared to be another dancer, but instead of beginning a routine, she put a microphone to her bright red lips and made an announcement.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Mike looked around and was moderately surprised to find that there were indeed more than a couple of ladies present.  “It’s almost time for our Midnight Amateur Exotic Dance Contest!”

“Can you dance?” asked Mike.  “I mean, you know, strip?”

“Yes, Mike.”

“Then I definitely think you should enter this contest.”

“Do you think they will let me?”

Mike grabbed the passing waitress by the arm and asked her.

“Sorry, no robots.  All of our dancers are real women.  It says so on the sign out front.”

“Not even for the amateur show?”

“It’s a contest.  It wouldn’t be fair.”

By this time a dozen women were leaving their seats in the audience to be ushered behind the stage.  Mike finished his drink.  He and Patience didn’t wait for the show to begin.  They got up and headed for the exit, their seats filled almost as soon as they had vacated them.  Just as they reached the exit the announcer came back on.

“Our first contestant tonight is a local girl.”  The crowd cheered.  “Here for your enjoyment is the very sexy Alyssa!”

Alyssa was a pretty dark-haired girl but she was plainly nervous.  She had apparently dressed back stage in the standard stripper attire– miniskirt, tube top, garter belts and stockings. She stumbled more than strutted to the front of the stage and stopped several feet before reaching the optimum position.  She swung her hips to the left and the right several times, then with trembling hands pulled the tube top up over her head.  The crowd applauded and cheered, and this apparently gave her a little more confidence.  She grabbed hold of the pole and tossed up her heels a few times.

“I know you could have won the contest,” said Mike, as he went out the front door.

“You cannot be sure Mike, as you have never seen me dance.”

“Well, we should rectify that immediately,” said Mike.

As they climbed into another cab and told the driver to return them to the Palms, Mike noted the “Real Live Girls!  No Robots!” sign on the outside of the building.

“Say, how come we came here?”

“Didn’t you want to come?” asked Patience.

“I guess so, but you were the one who told the cab where to go.”

“I told you I would know what you wanted before you did.”

Back in the hotel room, Patience sat Mike on the edge of the bed and went into the bathroom to change.  She poked her head out the door and in a remarkable imitation of the female announcer at the Olympic Gardens, said. “And now, from California, here’s Patience!” Mike applauded.

Patience strutted out as though she were already dancing.  She had on her same top and her own shoes, but she had replaced her jeans with a black miniskirt.  When she reached the spot directly in front of Mike, she spun in a perfect 540 degree circle, so that she came to a stop facing away from him.  She then bent over at the waist and began to gyrate her perfect ass at his face.  Mike whistled.  He was aroused and she was still fully clothed.  Patience danced forward and wrapped herself around the doorway to the bathroom, using the doorjamb as a stripper would use a pole.  She twirled to the side and began to sensually slide up and down.  She threw her arms back, holding herself off the floor with her thigh muscles alone. She slowly let herself slide to the floor and then rose up to gyrate back and forth across the room.

She slinked forward and whipped off the miniskirt so quickly that Mike didn’t see how she had removed it.  Beneath it she was wearing her own pink lace thong.  With an equally slick move she removed her top and those magnificent breasts were revealed.  There was an audible gasp at the sight and it took Mike a moment to recognize it as his own. Cupping her breasts with her hands, she tossed her head back; eyes closed, and let her hands trail down the sides of her body, all the time rolling her hips in a circular motion. She then raised her arms up and placed her hands behind her head and slowly dropped to splits that a college cheerleader would have been proud of.  She tossed her hair with one hand and with one finger of the other suggestively tugged down her bottom lip.

“That was amazing,” said Mike, applauding.  “I can’t believe that you belong to me.”

“I am for you, Mr. Smith.”

The following morning, Mike went down to the casino to gamble.  Patience stayed in the room.  She wasn’t allowed on the casino floor and she utilized the time to clean and organize their possessions and to read.  Mike played twenty-one at the gaming tables for a short time, but quickly lost the three hundred dollars that he had allowed for that purpose.  He then walked to the side of the casino and played poker on the machines.  He had played for ten minutes or so, when a robot cocktail waitress stopped by.  He ordered a gin and tonic.  When the mechanical woman had left, he looked up and around.  He noticed the series of shops running along the length of the casino. Perhaps he could buy some more new clothes for Patience.  There was a tattoo parlor.  He idly wondered if her skin would hold tattoo ink.  And at the far end was a wedding chapel.

Perhaps he should marry Patience.  He didn’t wonder whether he should ask her to marry him.  There was no question of her answer.  She was his.  Did he love her?  He knew that he didn’t want to be without her.  He did love her.  But did he love her the way he loved his vueTee or did he love her the way that he had loved Tiffany.  He wasn’t even sure if he remembered how he had loved Tiffany anymore.  He stood up and walked over to the wedding chapel.

Just inside the glass doors draped with white decorations, Mike found a small counter with a woman standing behind it.  She was tall and attractive, her blonde wavy hair a stark contrast to her chocolate skin.  She looked up and smiled.

“Good morning,”

“Good morning,” replied Mike.  “How much does it cost to get married?”

The woman rewarded him with a broad smile.  “We have weddings from three hundred dollars.”

“Really?  That’s amazingly inexpensive.”

“That’s just for a simple in and out service,” she said.  “We have many extras, such as a video record of the nuptials and we can accommodate large weddings, with receptions for up to two thousand guests.”

“No.  In and out was what I was thinking about.”

“The three hundred does not include the minister.  We have one on duty, if you don’t have one of your own.  His fee is one hundred fifty dollars.  And of course, you must have a license.”

“Do you sell those here?”

“Oh, no.  You have to buy a license from the county.”

As it turned out, in order to purchase a marriage license in Las Vegas, Mike had to drive to the Clark County Building.  It sat amid massive skyscrapers just west of Glitter Gulch. Patience had seemed ecstatic when Mike told her that they were to be married.  Of course, now that he thought about it, she seemed ecstatic about almost anything he decided to do.  They arrived at just before 10:00 AM and walked up to a window.  A blond woman looked out at them through the glass with a small round hole cut in it.

“Can I help you?”

“We would like to purchase a marriage license.”

“I need to see your birth certificates please.”

“Um, we don’t have birth certificates…”

“That’s all right,” she said.  “Let me have your drivers’ licenses and I can pull up your birth records.”

Mike set his driver’s license on the counter.  The woman behind the window looked at Patience.

“I don’t have a driver’s license,” said Patience.

“National ID?”

Patience shook her head.

“Wait a second,” said the woman behind the glass, squinting her eyes.  “You’re a robot.”

Patience nodded.

“You can’t marry a robot.”  The woman turned to Mike.

“Why not?”

“What do you mean ‘why not’?  She’s not a person.  She’s a machine.  I might as well marry my shower massage.”

“Perhaps that’s too much information,” suggested Patience.

“Look at her,” said Mike to the woman behind the glass.  “She speaks.  She thinks.  She wants to get married.  Don’t you, Patience.”

Patience nodded.

“It doesn’t matter,” the woman replied.  “Under the Nevada Constitution, marriage is defined as a contract between a man and a woman.   And robots by Nevada law are neither man nor woman.”

“You mean gay marriage is illegal in Nevada?” asked Mike.

“Of course not.”

“Well that wouldn’t be a man and a woman.  That would be a man and a man, or a woman and a woman.”

“I’m not going to argue with you about it, sir,” said the blond woman.  “If you don’t like the law, I suggest you go to a different state.”

“Well, how do you like that?” said Mike, as they walked to the car.

“Perhaps it wasn’t such a good idea after all,” said Patience.

“You don’t want to marry me?”

“Of course I do, if it would make you happy.  I don’t want you to get into trouble though.”

“Don’t worry.  They don’t throw people in jail for illegally marrying… well, not usually.  Let’s forget about it for now and go to the Star Trek Experience.  That is really why we came to Vegas anyway.”

By the time they pulled into the massive parking lot of the Tangiers, Patience, not unexpectedly, seemed as excited as Mike was to visit the home of Captains Kirk, Picard, Sisko, Janeway, Archer, and Winters.  They parked and locked the car, and then they headed inside. The Star Trek experience was located at the end of one space themed section of the casino.  As they approached, Mike pointed out to Patience the twelve foot long models of the USS Enterprise-F and the USS Excalibur hanging from the ceiling.  Just to the right of the entrance was the ticket booth.  They were able to step right up.  There was no one waiting in line.  The clerk behind the counter was not dressed as a Star Trek character, but was wearing a Star Trek Experience jacket.

“Two, please,” said Mike.

“That will be $187.47.”

“What?” said Mike.  “A hundred eighty one?”

“Yes, but that includes all four rides and the museum tour.”

“Shit.  No wonder the Federation stopped using money.  They were probably all broke.”

Mike paid for the tickets and he and Patience walked in.  The museum tour was more of a fancy queue line into the ride than a real museum. It wound around in a circle following a time line of the pseudo-history of the future.  Opposite the time line were displays of hundreds of props and re-creations of props, including uniforms, communicators, phasers, and much more.  Mike happily pointed out the events that he most vividly remembered from the shows as he led Patience along.

“The primary setup procedure is complete,” she said. “I your Daffodil, will not require a secondary setup procedure.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, Mike. I am fine.”

Mike jumped forward and hugged her fiercely.

“You remember me?” he asked her.

“Yes Mike. I remember you. My experience memory was not corrupted.”

Mike forgot about eating, but his stomach didn’t and made several more loud noised. Patience quickly made him a sandwich and served it to him along with potato salad that she had prepared that morning. Afterwards, they went to bed. Though Mike held her until he fell asleep, they didn’t have sex. He just needed to remind himself that she was there.

The man in the blue jumpsuit leaned over and poked Mike in the chest. “This is a known issue.”

Pain shot through Mike’s chest. Horrible, terrifying pain. Mind-numbing pain. The kind of pain that makes one realize that there really is an end. He opened his eyes. He was lying flat on his back in his bed, bathed in sweat, clutching his chest. No, not again! Please, not again!   He reached to his left and grabbed Tiffany’s arm, as another bolt of pain shot through his chest.

“Honey, argh!”

“What’s the matter?” asked Tiffany. “My God, Mike! You’re white as a sheet!”

“It’s my chest,” said Mike. “I think I’m having a heart attack.”

“Come on,” she said. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

The next half hour was a terrifying blur. Trying to don shorts, while at the same time fighting the pain. A fast car ride. Rushing through red lights. Sitting in the hospital waiting room. At last he was lying in an emergency room bed. A male nurse was giving him a shot in the stomach that gave him a bruise the size of a football. The pain was going away. Where was Tiffany? He looked around. She had been here a moment ago. Then he saw her.

Lying on the bed next to his was Tiffany’s broken body. She had blood all over her. Her arm was mangled. Her legs didn’t look quite right and Mike knew it was because her pelvis was shattered. None of that had killed her though. It was that tiny bump on her head. It didn’t look like anything at all, really. It certainly didn’t look like something that could kill a person. It was. It did and it was.

“No, this isn’t right,” said Mike. “This isn’t how it happened. This was eleven years ago. You were lying here eleven years ago. You died eleven years ago. That’s not the same time.   I had a heart attack way before that. When was it? Fifteen years ago?”

Then Harriet burst into the emergency room. “Daddy!”

Mike’s eyes popped open. He was still in bed. He turned his head slightly and felt as though his head was going to explode. He looked for Patience, but she was no longer in bed. He got up and walked to the bathroom. Opening the medicine cabinet, he pulled out a bottle of aspirin and tossed four into his mouth. Then he chewed them.

Something landed heavily on Mike’s shoulder. He jumped and spun around. Patience was standing there. The arm that had been on his shoulder was still outstretched. He grabbed her and pulled her to him. Cupping her face in his hands, he covered it with kisses. Dozens of tiny kisses spread across her face turned into one deep kiss on her luscious perfect mouth, which she returned.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

“I am still all right, Mike.”

“No. I mean are you really all right?”

“I am still waiting for the software patch,” she said, “but that only affects rebooting. All my systems are in good working order.”

Mike clasped Patience’s face once more between his hands and kissed her deeply. Then she frowned.

“You have a fever, Mike,” she said.

“Yeah. I feel like shit.” He staggered slightly.

Patience led Mike back to the bed and tucked him in. Then she brought him a glass of juice. When she was sure that he was as comfortable as he could be, she lay down in the bed beside him, and brushed his hair with her hand. She stayed with him until he dozed off once again.

Mike spent most of the day in bed, eating very little, but at Patience’s insistence drinking plenty of juice and water. He felt annoyed, because it seemed to him that Patience was the one who had been truly ill. She should have been resting. She insisted though that she was fine and informed him that he had likely picked up some kind of parasite at the beach.

“That water was not very clean,” she said, as she handed him two antiparasitics.

By evening, he was feeling much better. He got up to shave and take a hot shower, then went back to bed and read The Tales of Beedle the Bard until he was drowsy. With Patience once again lying in bed beside him, Mike went back to sleep. He spent most of the night with his hand on that perfect body beside him. The next morning Mike felt well enough to take his morning walk, Patience right beside him of course, urging him to keep up the pace. Driving to the walking track, they started on the long oval. Even though the sky was overcast and the weather had turned decidedly blustery, they walked the full five miles, shaded by the massive sunscreen above.

They walked at a quick pace, but instead of feeling as though he were going to pass out, Mike felt rejuvenated when they returned home. He shaved, showered, and when Patience brought him his breakfast, along with more antiparasitics, he ate and felt great.

“Do you feel up to going furniture shopping today, Mike?” Patience asked.

“I think I do. Do we need furniture?”

“We do if we’re going to make Harriet’s old room into a guest bedroom. Some of the other furniture is so worn that it should be replaced too.”

Mike put on a new pair of slacks and a grey shirt. He thought that he looked pretty good. Of course he realized, when Patience walked into the room, she would still look completely out of his league. She had on a dark blue peasant top, a pair of tight fitting Capri jeans with sequins along the bottom of the legs, and a pair of black high-heeled shoes with flowers on them that she described as “Bocaccio round toe pumps.”

They hopped in the car and headed for the Pico Mundo mall. Once there they went to Modern Furnishings.

“Do you have a split back lounger in reddish brown leather?” Patience asked the clerk.

“Um, just what you see,” answered the clerk.

Mike didn’t know what it was that Patience had asked for, but they ended up picking out a nice leather couch with clean lines that was pretty comfortable. They also found a nice double bed and a pair of nightstands. He paid for them and scheduled delivery. They had lunch at Gyro Time. Then before leaving, Mike insisted on stopping at Venus to buy some more clothes for Patience. He was finding that he enjoyed seeing her dressed up in her sexy clothing almost as much as he did seeing her naked. Patience certainly seemed to enjoy showing off new clothes to him. This time she selected something called a Marilyn-collar sweater dress, which completely covered her from neck to mid-thigh, but showed off every curve and, Mike was happy to see, every bump too. As they walked across the parking lot toward the Chevy, Mike stopped suddenly and looked at Patience.

“What is it, Mike?” she asked.

“I’m falling in love with you, you know,” he said.

Patience smiled happily. “I thought you might be, Mike.”

“Really?”

“At first I didn’t know for sure. But once I got to know you and your needs, I believed that it would be only a matter of time. I am for you, Mike.”

“Yes,” Mike mused. “Yes, you are for me.”

Jack’s round eyes rolled over in his head to focus on Mike’s close, way too close, face. A look of recognition crossed those eyes. Mike crinkled his nose and looked down at the spreading wet spot in Jack’s pants and the widening puddle of urine forming on the floor around Jack’s shoes. Mike let go.

“Get cleaned up,” he said, heading back into the house.

Harriet was in the kitchen with Patience, washing her hands in the sink.

“What were you two talking about in the garage?” she asked.

“I was just apologizing for being such an ass before,” said Mike, as he heard Jack enter behind him. “But, uh, Jack spilled his drink. So he needs to go change his pants.”

“That’s fine,” said Harriet. “Patience and I are just getting ready to set the table.”

Mike thought that it was the best quiche that he had ever eaten. Sautéed green beans and fresh fruit completed the meal. Harriet was a little concerned that Patience wasn’t eating anything, but Mike assured her that this was completely normal. He also pointed out that Jack wasn’t eating much either. Jack apparently didn’t feel well and everyone agreed that he looked a little green around the gills.

“I heard you speaking to Jack in the garage,” said Patience on their way home.

“Did you hear everything?” asked Mike.

“Yes.”

“Are you upset with me?”

“No, Mike. I could never be upset with you.”

“I just thought that you might be disappointed that I wasn’t more jealous over you.”

“No, Mike.”

“You’re not feeling jealous yourself? Or upset that I love Harriet more than I love you?”

“I would expect you to love her more than you love me,” said Patience. “You have known me for only a few days. You’ve known her all her life. Your love for your children is just one of the many things I like about you, Mike.”

When they returned home, there were several packages waiting on the front step. Two were quite large—as big as the box that Patience had arrived in. One was small and flat. Three others were odd configurations. Mike picked up the small, flat package and examined the address.

Mr. Mike Smith

11 North Willow

Springdale, California 82803

As it turned out, this was the only one of the packages addressed to him. The others had all been sent to Patience D. Smith at the same address.

“What the hell is all this?” wondered Mike.

“These are some of the purchases that I have made,” Patience replied.

“These aren’t all clothes?”

“Of course not, Mike. I’ve started selling some of your old things on eBay, and I realized that there were a number of things that I could buy and sell for a profit.”

“Are you sure? There’s a lot of junk on eBay. That’s why I sell all mine there.”

“I’m sure. This package is from Submit Fashions.”

“Really?” wondered Mike. “That sounds like some kind of fetish shop.”

“Well it isn’t,” said Patience. “It’s a store that sells sexy clothing for young ladies.”

“Such as yourself.”

“Such as myself. I noticed that you enjoyed watching me in my new clothes.”

“Indeed I do,” replied Mike.

They took the packages in and Patience removed most of them to the garage. Mike sat down and opened the one small package that had his name on it. Inside was a new texTee. It was like the one that he had used in the hospital. It had a brushed grey finish and a larger screen than did his old one. He turned it over and flipped the on switch.

“Good evening, Mike,” it said aloud.

“Do you like it?” asked Patience from the hallway.

“It’s beautiful, but I wasn’t planning on buying a new one. My texTee isn’t that old.”

“I noticed that you liked the one at the hospital,” she said.

“I did like it, but I don’t remember saying anything about it.”

Patience poked her head around the corner and grinned. “It won’t be long before I know what you need before you even know that you need it.”

“Just as long as you don’t tell me ‘I’m sorry Mike, I’m afraid I can’t do that”.

“I doubt I’ll need to do that,” she replied.

“Well there you go.” Mike turned back to his new texTee. Time Magazine was loaded and he began reading the political department.

“What do you think?” asked Patience a few minutes later, now back in the center of the living room.

“I think Barlow is an asshole. Why is he cozying up to the religious right? You know he hates them.”

“I mean about my clothes.”

“Holy Crap!” said Mike, looking up at last. “I thought you said that wasn’t a fetish store.”

“It is not a fetish store. This is what all the young women are wearing.”

“Then all the young women are dressing like sluts.”

Patience was wearing a halter top and a pair of short shorts, both of which were made of some kind of very shiny white plastic material. She had a matching pair of shin high white boots with platform soles that had to be three inches high.

“How do you propose to walk in those?”

“I can walk just fine,” said Patience, and began doing a sort of 1970s electric slide, sideways across the living room. “Does that mean you don’t like my new clothes?”

“I didn’t say that,” Mike laughed. “Did you buy a swimsuit from Slave Fashions…?”

“Submit Fashions.”

“Whatever. Did you?”

“As a matter of fact, I did. Would you like to see it?”

“No. Save it for tomorrow. We’re going to the beach.”

“That is very exciting, Mike,” said Patience, exactly as excited about it as she was about anything Mike suggested.

Mike spent the remainder of the evening gathering together everything that they would need for a day at the beach. Then he watched the news and joined Patience who was waiting in bed for him. They spent a very enjoyable half hour together there, and afterwards Mike had just enough awareness to note her leaving him alone as he dozed off.

In the morning Mike loaded the beach chairs, umbrellas, and towels into the car, along with the ice chest full of food and drinks that Patience had prepared before he had gotten up. They hopped in the car and drove west. Though they were in California, Springdale was a good three hour drive from the coast. The time went by quickly though. Mike listened to the radio. Patience watched him with devotion in her eyes.

After three hours and eight minutes of driving Mike reached Oceanside, California. He pulled into a filling station two blocks away from the beach and topped off the car’s fuel.

“Hydrogen?” he asked, pointing the hose in Patience’s direction.

“No, thank you.”

He noticed that across the street was a surf shop. He sent Patience over to rent a boogie board. When she arrived back, she not only had the boogie board, but a shopping bag as well.

“What did you buy?” he asked.

“Since I have a new swim suit, I thought that it was only appropriate that you have one as well.”

“Oh shit,” said Mike. “Good thinking. I didn’t even pack one. I don’t think I even have one anymore. It’s been so long since I came to the beach. I hope you remembered that I am a fat, old man.”

“I don’t believe that you are fat or old,” said Patience, with a frown. “The average lifespan in the United States is seventy nine point three years for men, and you already look healthier after only a few days of exercise and nutritional eating.”

“Talk about damning with faint praise,” grumbled Mike.

They drove the two blocks to the beach, but the public parking lot was completely full. Mike paid forty-five dollars to park his car for the day in a private lot. Normally, he would have complained about having to pay so much just to park, but nothing seemed to bother him anymore. After trucking the ice chest, chairs, towels, umbrella, and boogie board down to the sand, and finding a good spot just above the high tide line, the two of them went to the public changing rooms.

Mike liked the swimsuit that Patience had picked out for him. It was long, almost to his knees, and was bright orange, yellow, and red. He thought it was the type of suit that a young man would wear. It made his head swell a little to think that Patience thought it was appropriate for him. When he stepped out of the changing room and saw Patience in her suit, his mouth fell open. Her suit was without a doubt, the smallest bikini that he had ever seen. Even on the internet. The little patch of material in the front could not have been more than an inch wide and it stuck up only an inch and a half above the joining point of her legs. The back had no patch of cloth at all. It was just string. The top could have been custom made for her, in that the two triangular cups so fit her round ripe breasts that there was not a jot of material wasted. Wondering if she might be arrested for indecent exposure, Mike looked around. He was shocked to find that most of the young women at the beach were wearing suits very similar. It had been a long time since he had been here.

Though there were plenty of women with small sexy suits on the sandy shore, Mike noted that almost every eye still turned to Patience as they walked to the beach chairs. While he sat, Patience rubbed SPF 210 sun block on all of his exposed surfaces.

“I suppose you don’t need any sun block?” he asked.

“I’m shielded against much greater radiation that I am likely to be exposed to here, Mike.” Patience replied.

“So you don’t tan?”

“No. I will remain always the shade that you chose when you ordered me.”

For the next several hours, Mike and Patience hopped through the surf, built a sand castle, knocked it down, pulled each other along on the boogie board, and had a great time. Though he was initially concerned about water getting into the small openings in the back of her neck, Patience showed Mike that she had protected against such a calamity by covering the area with a clear plastic patch. By the time Mike thought about food it was early afternoon. Patience had packed quite a picnic lunch–sandwiches, fruit, Jell-o, and diet sodas. After he ate, they swam, and continued playing in the surf, Mike pointedly entering the water without waiting for an hour. He refused to be responsible for propagating an old wives’ tale.

When night eventually fell they strolled along the beach, listening to the pounding of the waves. They walked to the opposite end of the stretch of sand, several miles from where they had parked, and found a seafood restaurant. They smiled and talked over the candle-lit dinner, though Patience didn’t eat. Then walked back down the darkened beach, hand in hand, pausing every so often to look at the moon reflecting off the waves. When they reached their picnic site, they found they were all alone on the sand.

Patience leaned over and kissed Mike deeply, her tongue darting in and out of his mouth. He returned her kisses and more. She deftly removed the tiny bottom of her swim suit and pulled him over onto her, as he frantically pulled at the strings that held up his trunks. Their lovemaking left a sensual imprint in the sandy beach.

“Like sea otters,” said Patience.

“That was a pretty good day,” said Mike.

They gathered up their belongings and carried them back to the car. Loading the things in the back seat, Mike opened the passenger door for Patience and then climbed in to the driver’s side.

“Yes, this certainly was a pretty good day.”