Goddamn, where did Guy go? That pendejo better not try to stiff me. I must have drifted asleep. I woke up staring at the curtains on the bed. The sheets were all sweaty. I can’t remember ever having a scene that was so hirez in Virtua. He better show up. He better. Must’ve been a traffic snarl. The whore got backed up and threw him off… Or maybe his pill just wore off. Nah, we timed our dose. The only way would be if dickhead took his earlier. And since he’s payin me by the hour why would he do that? I dunno. But he better not try to fuckin skip out on me. I’ll have to kill him, for real, wamchaka.

I reach for a towel and mop myself up. I dunno why. It’s virtual, so it’s not like I need any like anticeptics or some immuno-booster, or anything like that. It’s just habit. My stuff’s on the chair, so I bend over for that, and I can hear that little shimmy sound that lets me know he’s back on the bed behind me in his default rez state.

“I got kicked out.” He says. “Damn that was good!”

Strapping myself up good and tight I say, “Feel better baby?”

“Better! You fuckin kiddin?” I turn around to look as he reaches for his shoes and puts them on. “Do you have any idea what it’s like takin’ orders from these narcissistic ego-maniacs?”

Pfft! Pendejo is forgetting who he is talking to. “No, I don’t.”

Now I’m strapping my top around my boobs, and workin my goggles on. Slick numbers with green shades, display screens, all tricked out.

“Ever think of a career in television? You’re good looking. You could do well.”

“No why would I want to me somebody’s mistress on television when I can be one in real life? Besides, that shit doesn’t pay.”

“No it doesn’t… Not what you make, anyway…”

And I hear it… that tone of voice I’ve heard a hundred times before. That little dip, wamchaka, the one that tells me I’m in for some trouble. I’m lookin’ sharp, and I see him coming at me in the reflection of a brass inlay on the chair. He’s got a wire tight between his fists. I pause, real still, all my reflexes rezzin high.

“I guess this means you’re not going to pay me then?”

The sparks start flying in my head. It’s the reaction of my real self taking control of the virtual. This is the part where the game gets fun. I time his movement, and I can see almost like I got eyes in the back of my head. I look at the whites of his eyes. Then something funny happens. Something I don’t expect. I get this real hirez picture of like, the muscles in his eyes, in that colored part – what’s it called – the iris thing. Like I can see him flushing and it helps me judge when… He wraps that wire around my head, and I block him with my hand, then reach and throw him over my shoulder. It’s over like that. Pendejo never saw me comin, wamchaka, but I could sure see him a mile back!

He’s on the ground, and just blinkin at me with that dumb look. “Pendejo fucker.” I kick him in the gut with my boot. He doubles over. Then I pounce down on him, straddling him again. But this time his face grinds into the floor as I pull his arm up and lock it off so I can break it. “You trying to mess with me?”

“No, Mistress Nina.”

“Good!”

He sees my pocket card as I toss it on the ground in front of him. It scans the infrared barcode on his forehead.

“Punch a hundred thousand.”

“What?”

“Do it before I break your arm!”

“That’s a lot of money!”

I just ram my knee into his back and twist harder.

“I earned it you piss fuck little jerk!”

There, there, he’s a good boy. See, Wamchaka? Look, don’t get pissy with me. I’ve been wiping this guy’s spooge off my leg all week! Y’know, I’m really not all that down on men… It’s just fuckers like this who can really spoil a girlz day. Makes getting back at ’em all the more hirez!

Now a 100K might seem like a high price to pay… It isn’t really, not these days… Might buy a year in Virtua… or just the ticket to have your self up-rezed by some 5fth rate hacker in Angel City… which is to say he’ll leave you comatose in an alley, fresh meat for the organ traffickers, while he buys a month’s supply of BLUE…

Here ends today’s lesson boyz and girlz.

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