The Logic of Desire

Disclaimer: I don't own the Agents, the Wachowski Bros. and Warner Bros. do. Dammit.

Rating: NC-17, for language and graphic sexual content. Possibly new heights on the Kink-O-
Meter. You have been warned.

Synopsis: Sequel to Sympathy for the Devil. In which Xan does something useful with her time;
a suggestion and its aftermath.
___________________________

ACCESS DENIED. INSUFFICIENT PRIVILEGES.

The spare lines on the monitor mocked her. Xan resisted the temptation to bang her head on the
desk. Running her fingers distractedly through her short blonde hair, she considered her next
option. So far, all of her attempts to discover the truth of the beginnings of the war with the
Machines had come to a dead end. It seemed that all records of that time in Zion's history were
classified. And she certainly didn't have the clearance required to access them. Not in her current
state of disgrace, at any rate. Every request she had made had been turned down. Ozymandias
and Carbon evidently didn't buy her justification for accessing that period's records, that she
needed to research the origins of the Agents in order to predict their future actions.

What should she try next? She knew a few hacking tricks, but wasn't optimistic that any of them
would get past the security measures in Zion's computer network. She realized abruptly that she
was staring at the rude graffiti on her old, banged-up desk without even seeing it. There was no
way her fogged brain would come up with a solution to the dilemma. What she needed now was
sleep. She had been up for almost 40 hours straight, and hadn't slept well in the previous few
days. Ever since she had returned from her assignation in the Matrix with Agents Smith, Jones
and Brown. While she had been with them, she had thought that she could rationally accept, and
put aside, the revelations of their past abuse of human prisoners. She still told herself that it
didn't matter, that what she had with them was different.

But her dreams belied her rationalizations.

As a result, Xan hadn't been able to sleep more than three hours at a stretch. The nightmares
made her afraid to go back to sleep, and exhaustion was beginning to take its toll. It was
becoming harder and harder to concentrate on anything at all.

She sighed, defeated for the moment. She simply had to go to bed, whatever her subconscious
might throw at her. Resigned, she shut down her computer and slouched back through the dingy
corridors to her quarters.

The room was empty when she arrived. Relieved that she wouldn't have to be civil to anyone,
Xan cast herself down on the bunk, only pausing long enough to kick off her boots. She pulled
the blankets up to her chin, for once not even noticing their scratchy texture as the room seemed
to tilt up and she pitched headfirst into slumber.

*********************

A vague sense of unease centered itself in Xan's stomach. The Matrix looked darker, somehow,
than usual. It was around noon: there should have been plenty of light, but instead the shadows
seemed to be everywhere. She stepped out of the alley, looking for her Agents.

A patch of black detached itself from the wall across the street and resolved itself into Agent
Jones. He returned her wave, and strode over to her once traffic had passed. He had that
infuriating smirk that seemed to be an Agent trademark plastered across his face.

Xan looked around for the others. "Where are Smith and Brown?"

Jones took her elbow and guided her back into the alley, placing his lips close to her ear as he
murmured, "I asked them to allow me to meet with you alone this time."

She turned her eyes to him, confused, "Why-"

The tall Agent cut her off, straightening and brusquely motioning her to follow him around a
corner. Now they were out of sight of the street, surrounded by high brick walls that dripped with
condensation from the humid air. The heat was stultifying.

He turned to face her, seeming to grow larger as he did so. "I wish to experience what Smith did,
when he first encountered you. I want to know what it feels like to capture and...subdue...a
Resistant." His blank sunglasses were directed straight into her surprised eyes. "I want you to run
from me."

Xan began to splutter a protest, but Jones drew his Desert Eagle, bringing it up to point at the
bridge of her nose. His voice was like gravel as he flatly commanded, "Run, Resistant."

For a fraction of a second, she thought of arguing with him. Then she noticed that the knuckle of
his index finger was whitening as he began squeezing the trigger. The nagging fear erupted into
full-blown terror. She turned and ran.

She thought of getting back to the crowded street, trying to lose herself in the crowd and make it
back to the exit. Sweat dripped down her back as she ran. Where was the street? Had she taken a
wrong turn? Surely the alley hadn't been this long!

It suddenly occurred to her that the Agent might be altering the Matrix, making her go in the
direction he wanted. She stopped, wavering, while her heart thudded in time to the pulses of fear
that flooded her veins. She couldn't believe that Jones was actually doing this to her. What
should she do? There was a decrepit door a short way ahead on the left. Perhaps she could escape
that way.

No luck; the door wouldn't open. The lock appeared to be rusted shut. Xan looked around. There
was no other obvious exit from the alley. Could she climb out? This was the Matrix, she ought to
be able to do it, if she could bend the rules enough. She ran her fingers over the damp stones of
the wall, searching for handholds.

Then she heard a quiet sound that filled her with despair. The sound of leather shoes tapping on
the concrete, and growing louder. She pivoted and saw Jones at the turning of the alley, coming
slowly closer. Oh, fuck! Panic surged in her throat, and she scrabbled frantically at the wall,
trying to pull herself up by sheer force of wil
It
It was working! She was, somehow, ascending the slick wall, hands reaching ever higher. The
top was still far away, but she was doing it!

The pounding on the ground below told her that Jones had closed the distance. Could she make it
to the top?

The answer to that question turned out to be No.

Before Xan had climbed half the height, a strong grip seized her ankle. She was pulled
inexorably downward. She lost her grip on the bricks, and fell the remaining distance, landing
hard on the cement. Dazed by the impact, she was unable to resist as Agent Jones hauled her to
her feet.

He held her at arm?s length for a long moment, studying her as she gasped and wheezed, trying
to recover her breath. His lip curled into a sneer. "Not so special after all, Resistant. Now, for the
rest of my...experiment." He turned Xan around and pushed her face-first against the wall,
twisting her arms painfully behind her. One large hand encircled her wrists, holding them tightly.
The other hand grasped a handful of her shirt and literally tore it from her. One of the seams
scored her shoulder with a deep scratch as it came off. Her bra left a welt below her breasts as it,
too, was pulled from her body. She struggled feebly, but had to subside under the pressure of
Jones' fingers crushing her wrists. She began trembling as he slid his other hand into the waist of
her blue jeans. Her feet were nearly jerked from under her as he ripped the pants off, taking her
underwear with them. Feeling a sudden stinging pain, she was sure that she had lost some skin
from the inside of her thighs.

What had she done to earn this humiliation? Tears welled up in her eyes as she felt the Agent
press against her, tieclip digging into her back. His breath was hot in her ear as he murmured, "I
enjoyed that, Xan. Did you enjoy it?" One hand trailed down her side, caressing, while the other
viciously twisted her wrists. She tried not to cry out, but couldn't prevent a whimper from
escaping her. Jones seemed to take notice. "Yes, perhaps this isn't the best position for what
comes next." He paused, and she could sense that he was looking around. "Ah yes, that will
do..."

Xan?s arms were nearly dislocated as Jones jerked her away from the wall. The next thing she
knew, she was turned and being propelled toward some rusty 55-gallon drums standing in the
middle of the alley. Jones bent her over the nearest drum, one hand like iron on the back of her
neck. The edge under the front of her hips dug painfully into her skin. She attempted to struggle,
but the Agent bore down on her, grinding her throat into the far edge of the barrel. She went limp
rather than have her windpipe crushed. Desperately, she focused on the faded lettering on the
drums, trying to take her mind off of the horror of what was happening. Activity at her back,
fleeting touches of fabric on her buttocks, told her than Jones was fumbling with his trousers. His
grip shifted as he moved into position.

And then there was agony.

Xan woke.

This was the worst nightmare she had had yet. She imagined she could still feel Jones holding
her down, the tearing pain between her legs, the Agent's exclamations of pleasure a counterpoint
to her strangled gasps. She felt nauseated, her mind a maelstrom of confused emotions. She
ed ied into the featureless dark, and heard Sarisa's even breathing. At least she hadn't woken her
roommate this time. Thank God for small favors, she thought sourly.

She contemplated trying to settle down and go back to sleep, but decided it was a lost cause. The
nightmare had left her too upset. She might as well do something constructive with the rest of the
night. She pulled her boots back on, slipped quietly out of the room, and headed back to her
office.

Switching the fluorescent lights on dispelled the lingering fear of phantoms from her dreams.
Xan sprawled in her rolling chair and waited for her computer to boot up, thinking more clearly
than she had in a long while. She really needed to come to grips with what the Agents were, she
decided, or she would go mad.

But that was easier said than done. In the light of rational wakefulness, it was easy to tell herself
that she shouldn't condemn them for their past actions - they were not human, not bound to
human standards. Rape didn't have the same emotional significance for them that it had for
humans. They truly didn't understand - and wasn't it a tenet of historical human law systems
that one had to be cognizant of the Wrongness of an act before one could be condemned for it?
Even the most unforgiving of legal systems didn't execute the mentally retarded for their crimes,
because they couldn't comprehend right and wrong. Didn't the same reasoning apply here? Xan
smiled grimly, imagining the Agents' outrage if she related that analogy; they would not admit to
any deficit in their programming.

On the other hand, there was no denying that they had committed those crimes. Even if Xan
trusted them not to do the same to her, it still couldn't prevent the sick feeling in her stomach as
she contemplated how many men and women had been abused by the Agents. They really
weren't human; she shouldn't trust them at all. They were...alien. Who knew what they might
do, if they felt it was necessary?

What should she do? Probably the rational thing to do was never to enter the Matrix, never put
herself in their power again. Maybe she could eventually win back her respect in Zion. And
maybe pigs, if any even existed anymore, would fly.

The irrational thing was what dominated her thinking. She wanted the Agents. In spite of what
she knew, she couldn't control her heart, and it had fallen violently for the AIs. She desperately
wanted to see them again. But what if they proved false to their promise not to harm her?

Xan blew out a frustrated breath; her thoughts would go around and around like this, never
reaching any firm conclusion. The only thing that she could be sure about, that she could claim
as a concrete goal, was that she needed to discover the truth about the war between Humanity
and the Machines. She clung to the hope that the knowledge would somehow make her choice,
between continuing to meet with the Agents or leaving them forever, easier.

She needed to get access to the classified files, and that meant either hacking into them, or
getting her security clearance upgraded so that she could access them legitimately. Objectively,
she knew her hacking skills weren't up to the task, so that meant that she would have to get
clearance. That in turn meant that she would have to convince the military hierarchy that she was
trustworthy.

How to accomplish that? Xan thought for a while, then began to laugh quietly as a solution, so
obvious that she hadn't even seen it, presented itself.

She had been so angry at her removal from active duty as a member of the Agent Observation
Unit that she hadn't been performing her new assigned duties. She was supposed to be doing
meta-analysis of Agent activities within the Matrix. So, she would do the meta-analysis! And
submit such reams of data to her superiors that they couldn't doubt her loyalty to Zion. Yes, that
was the ticket.

Now, what exactly should she concentrate on? It had to be something that would convince
Carbon that she was loyal; simply collating Agent sightings wouldn't be enough. Unfortunately,
that was what she had the most of. Xan opened the files, looking over the lists of times and
places where they had been spotted, individual Agents versus Agent teams. Hmmm. No, that
really wasn't going to do it. She chewed on her lower lip, thinking, as the plan took shape in her
mind.

The most important Agent encounters, the ones that would make Carbon take notice, were the
fatal ones. She knew from her initial orientation as a Resistance operative that deaths due to
encounters as Agents had increased in the past five years. Were there patterns to them? If there
were, then that might indicate an informant, or that Zion's security was somehow compromised.
That was a question worth pursuing. She would need to do some real digging in the archives to
answer it.

She opened the database search engine, dubbed "the Ferret" by the Intelligence flunkies.
Someone had even designed an absurd graphic for it - a long-bodied weasel with buck teeth and
a deerstalker cap, holding a magnifying glass. The Ferret wasn't fast, but it was thorough - it
could crawl through every record stored in the archives, collating the requested data. Or at least
all the unclassified data. Xan decided to try to establish whether there was a hole in the security
of Zion's networks as a first step.

She instructed the Ferret to fetch the time of every anomaly in network traffic, and the time of
every fatal encounter with an Agent. After the Ferret had done its part, she would run the data
through the statistics package to look for correlations. For now, she had some time to kill -
Ferret was waving its magnifying glass around, registering "0% of records searched," and
showed no signs of changing its status anytime soon. Time to hit the gym, and then take a long,
hot shower while she tried to forget her complicated love life.

*********************

Twelve hours later, the Ferret was finished. Xan held her breath as she ran the correlation
analysis on the data. The cursor seemed to spin forever as the program digested the information.
Finally, it spat out the results. She scanned down the screen, looking at the correlatiodicedices in
the table, expecting to see a variety within the possible range of 0 - 1, but hoping to see a value
near the upper end, indicating close agreement. She let out her breath with an aggravated
whoosh. "Dammit." Nothing over 0.09. Well, on the plus side, at least that meant that the Agents
were not monitoring the network traffic and ambushing Resistance operatives.

May as well get some benefit out of that analysis. She copied the correlation table into an e-mail
message to Carbon, detailing her search parameters and her conclusions. At least that would get
him thinking about her work, and possibly earn some points with the Zion Defense chief.

Now what? If there was actually some pattern to incidents where Resistants had been killed, but
the network wasn't compromised, then it stood to reason that someone in Zion was an informant
for the Agents. It was likely that that person would be in service on a hovercraft in Zion's fleet,
since only the ships and specialized installations like the AOU were in a physical position that
allowed a lessless connection with the Machines' network. And it would further stand to reason
that a traitor would tell the Agents when their crew was hacking into the Matrix.

Pleased with her logic, Xan told the Ferret to find the identities and ship affiliation of all
Resistance operatives who had been killed by Agents, and cross-reference that with the identities
of the rest of the crewmembers. She would comb the data to find a Resistant who changed ships,
but was always there when fatalities occurred.

Starting the search, Xan closed that window and opened her e-mail again. She saw that there was
a new message from "binary@freewebz.net" waiting for her. She felt her abdominal muscles
contract. It was from one of her Agents. They had agreed that using their real e-mail addresses in
correspondence with her was just asking for trouble, and so had set up that ridiculous fake
moniker. She rolled her eyes. If anyone really thought about it, the "binary" part ought to be a
giveaway, but the AIs were too convinced of their own cleverness to dissuade.

She opened the message. Agent Smith was the author, and he wanted to know when she would
meet with them again. Very short and to the point. The sole concession to flattery was the remark
that the three of them missed her. She sighed. I picked the wrong dates if I wanted flowers and
chocolate, she laughed bitterly to herself.

Xan hit the reply button, then paused with her fingers hovering uncertainly over the keyboard.
Should she go back into the Matrix? Could she live with herself if she associated with
those...those rapists, again? All the arguments, both for and against, ran through her mind. Once
again, she failed to find resolution. As she stared at the cracked switch plate on the opposite wall,
she finally realized that her brain was not going to be making the decision. While it vacillated,
her heart, and her groin, had made the decision for her. Whatever they might have done to others,
she was infatuated with the Agents - they had given her the best sex of her life. Maybe she was
superficial and self-centered, but, dammit, she was not going to just turn away from that and live
the life of an ascetic in Zion. She wanted some happiness in her life, and if all she got was the
fleeting encounters with Smith and company, well, then that's what she'd take.

She checked the schedule for the Operators' stations, and found a nice, long unused period of
eight hours, coming up the next day. Excellent. She told Smith that she'd meet them outside the
Starbucks next to the downtown library at 11:00 a.m. the next morning, and hit Send before she
could change her mind.

****************

When she arose the following day, Xan felt better than she had in a long time. Her dreams had
been vague, and if thad sad still been filled with a sense of menace, it was a damn sight better
than the vivid nightmares she had been having. She was filled with anticipation at seeing the
Agents, and her energy spilled over, putting a spring in her step as she made her way back to the
office to check on the Ferret's progress.

The search program had indeed finished gathering the requested data. Now all she had to do was
the correlation analysis. Again, she held her breath as the statistics package contemplated the
lists of numbers, then produced the results. And once again she felt deflated when she saw no
correlation values over 0.15. Shit! Another great theory down the tubes. What now?

She knew she was missing something. Irritated, she pushed away from the desk with one hand.
The chair revolved slowly, and Xan was treated to a panoramic view of her dilapidated office as
it did so. The peeling paint, dirty linoleum, and crumbling ceiling tile disgusted her. She hated
the physical conditions of Zion. Humanity should not have to live this way. Even if Smith warighright, and humans had started the war, it was still intolerable. There ought to be some way for
both races to coexist peacefully. She got along with the Agents, didn't she? Wasn't that proof
that humans and AIs didn't have to be at odds?

The network jacks on the wall next to her desk caught her eye as she turned past them. She
plunked her feet on the floor, stopping the chair's movement, staring hard at the plugged-in
cables. Her heart thudded against her ribs as she realized that she had been oversimplifying the
situation: just because there might be an informant didn't necessarily mean that they would be on
the particular ship whose crew was infiltrating the Matrix. Hovercraft crews communicated
extensively with Zion and with each other; nearly everyone knew when operatives were going in
to the massive virtual reality system. If there was an informant, it could be someone in Zion, or
on another ship.

She grimaced, wondering if it could possibly be someone in AOU or the MID recon teams.
Yikes. If it was someone in a static installation, it would be very difficult to discover. But it
might come down to that. However, she might as well check the other ships first; if all those
came up negative, then she would be forced to conclude that the informant must be in Zion itself.

Xan pulled up the Ferret again, this time instructing it to find all of the instances when there had
been a fatal encounter, and the position of every ship in the fleet at those times. As the Ferret
started its search, peering through its magnifying glass to indicate how hard it was working, she
thought that this search was really going to take time - Zion had several dozen hovercraft, and
tracking down all their movements over the past several years would make for one huuuuuuge
data table! Good thing she was meeting the Agents today; they'd take her mind off waiting.

Which reminded her - she needed to meet up with Sarisa, and head to the Operator's station for
her date. She checked the clock; it was 10:30 already! Her roommate would be waiting. Xan
quickly locked her office and hurried to her rendezvous.

**************************

The late-morning light had a crisp, clear quality to it that perfectly exemplified the season - the
Matrix left no doubt in the minds of its unknowing inhabitants that it was April. The sun was
bright enough that it made Xan squint as she exited the abandoned upholstery shop where the
hardline connection was located. She took her time walking the three blocks to the Starbucks,
pausing to observe the Agents before approaching them. Smith and Brown were waiting on the
sidewalk, attempting to look as if they belonged there. Brown was pretending to read a
newspaper, while Smith stared through the window of the coffeehouse, no doubt unnerving the
patrons within. She looked around. Where was Jones? Though she knew it was completely
irrational, part of her felt relieved that the big Agent wasn't in evidence. She still hadn't entirely
gotten over her nightmare.

Steeling herself against the sudden ambivalence of her feelings toward them, Xan started toward
the Agents. She was still a dozen yards away when Smith looked around and saw her. The corner
of his mouth quirked upward, and he nudged Brown, indicating her arrival. Brown dropped the
newspaper, so single-minded that he couldn't be bothered to deposit it in a trashcan on his way
over to her.

The AIs stopped precisely two feet away, greeting her formally. Neither attempted to embrace or
kiss her. While she was partly annoyed by the lack of warmth in their welcome, she had to hand
it to their programmer: they would not do anything to violate their code of discretion and bring
themselves to observers' notice. She noted that neither was wearing his earpiece; she wondered
how much privacy the AIs were allowed.

Brown offered her his arm, which she took, and the three of them began to stroll down the
sidewalk. Xan didn't ask their precise destination. She trusted the Agents to have arrangements
well in hand.

"Where is Agent Jones?" she had to ask.

Smith made a small disapproving sound in his throat. "There was a Resistant raid less than an
hour ago. We engaged them in combat, and captured one operative. Jones was selected to
interrogate him."

It was difficult not to ask for details, but Xan forced herself to merely murmur, "Oh." She tried
not to think about what Jones might be doing as part of the interrogation. Another, more selfish
thought occurred to her. "If there are Resistants around, then we'd better get off the streets - I
can't be seen by anyone from Zion!"

Brown patted her hand. "Do not worry. We are here," he said, stopping before a set of glass
doors that read Century Suites. They entered the brightly lit lobby, and Xan gawked at the
expanse of marble before her. Smith went to the registration counter to obtain their key, while
she stared open-mouthed at the display of opulence. What a contrast to her real-world
surroundings. Brown was stroking her arm as if he were trying to sooth a skittish horse, but he
needn't have bothered. She felt rooted to the spot.

It took Smith standing directly in front of her to get her to tear her gaze away from the
magnificence of the lobby. She grinned apologetically at him, and allowed the Agents to steer
her to the elevators. They were the only occupants. As soon as the doors closed, Smith seized
her, kissing her soundly. She twined her arms about his neck and returned the embrace, lost in
the feel of his lean body against hers. She didn't object when Brown joined them, sliding his
arms around her from behind, kissing the back of her neck. She shivered, thinking about what
they would shortly be doing. She tried to suppress the small voice in her mind that whispered
about what Jones might be doing.

The elevator came to a stop, and they exited at the penthouse suite. Smith unlocked it and
ushered them inside before closing the door firmly behind him. He strode over to the floor-to-
ceiling windows, closing the blinds. Both Agents removed their sunglasses and jackets, and
loosened their ties. Xan felt curiously reluctant to remove her jacket, as if she feared the
symbolic lessening of her armor. She wondered if each time she met with them, she wasn't
moving one step closer to destruction. Every time she entered the Matrix was an opportunity for
someone in Zion to notice something amiss. She must be out of her mind to keep up this
clandestine activity.

Smith stood before her again. "We wish you could spend more time with us," he said.

"We have missed you," Brown added.

Xan bit her lip. She had missed them, too. But growing suddenly strong was the sense that it was
only a matter of time before she would make a slip, and be found out. She wondered what the
Agents would do when that happened. A fatalistic mood seized her. Would they be upset? Or
would they simply shrug and move on, finding someone else? For that matter, why didn't they
simply do that now? It would make things easier on them. And perhaps they should think on it,
for the future. And it would give you the excuse to make a break with them, and save yourself, the
small voice purred.

She ventured, "Can I ask you a serious question?" Receiving nods from both, she continued,
"Why don't you fellows just get girlfriends that are still plugged in? All three of you are
handsome enough, you'd have no trouble. That way you could be with them all the time, you
wouldn't have this waiting to contend with."

Smith answered immediately, shaking his head. "If we struck up relationships with humans who
are still part of the system, it would necessitate our masquerading as humans as well. We have no
wio doo do that. You know what we are, and accept us on our terms. We prefer to associate with
you, and are willing to wait to do so."

Xan felt inordinately pleased at his response. So, they actually valued her. But...there was one
possibility that the Agents evidently hadn't considered. Yet.

She wasn't quite sure what made her say it. Shouldn't she remain silent, and enjoy their
attentions? She had been accused in the past of being almost self-destructively honest; it was in
her nature, she supposed. She couldn't stop herself.

"What about...each other? You all know what you are - no one knows better, I daresay. Or are
you specifically programmed to be heterosexual?"

Brown and Smith looked at each other a long moment, then stared at her. Smith broke the
silence, "Twice now you have asked us to considtherther sexual partners. Why? Do you no
longer desire us?"

Her distress at the question obvious, she blurted out, "No, no! It?s not that, at all. I want to be
with you. It's just..." She looked down, unable to meet their eyes. "I have this feeling that our
time together is going to come to an end sooner rather than later. Someone in Zion is going to
figure it out. When that happens," she drew a shuddering breath, "I want to know that you guys
will be happy without me. It would give me peace of mind." Please don't let them look beyond
that explanation.

Two pairs of shoes entered her field of vision, still firmly fixed on the floor. A hand gripped her
shoulder, squeezing gently. A second hand under her chin firmly brought her gaze back up to
their faces. She looked into Smith's eyes and thought she saw concern. He asked, "You are being
careful? You are not taking unnecessary risks?"

She shook her head. "I'm doing the best I can to keep our secret. I don't want to be caught, but
I'm just afraid that it's inevitable." Brown moved to her side, slipping his arm around her
shoulders. She leaned into his side, feeling conflicted. Why did the Agents have to act
considerate just when she was trying to work up the intestinal fortitude to try to leave them?

She made another attempt, swallowing against a lump in her throat. "C'mon, try it, you might
find that you're made eacheach other."

There was silence while the Agents regarded one another. Smith broke the standoff, remarking,
"With all due respect to my colleague, I do not find Agent Brown attractive."

Xan had a ready answer. "Before you actually experienced the pleasure of consensual sex, and
orgasm, did you find me attractive? And for that matter, do you find me attractive now?"

Smith growled, but was forced to admit, "No, and yes, in that order."

She smirked triumphantly. "Well, then, you may find each other equally attractive after
you...you know."

Brown stepped away from her and spoke, his tone petulant. "She should not be allowed to use
logic against us, Smith."

The lead Agent said, "But we are here to be with you, not with each other."

Once again, Xan was prepared. "I'm not going anywhere. You guys have enough stamina,
right?" She was amused at the rounds of verbal sparring.

Again, the two Agents looked at each other, their expressions unreadable. She held her breath.

"Xan, if we try what you suggest, you will not stop meeting with us, will you?" asked Brown.

She assured them that so long as they wanted her, she would continue to sneak into the Matrix.
But maybe they won't want you, after this.

Smith shrugged, and approached Brown.

Xan wondered how this encounter would progress, whether the Agents would be tender with
each other, or if they would prefer it rough. She realized she was holding her breath, and forced
herself to exhale as she watched the two hesitantly reached out to one another, neither sng ng
sure what role to take.

Their lips met, and suddenly the indecision was gone, resolving into feverish action on both
parts. But, she realized, it wasn't precisely passion. It was more like a wrestling match. Each
Agent was trying to dominate the other. Smith's arms were wrapped around col colleague's
waist, and he almost appeared to be trying to lift Brown from the floor. The slighter Agent, on
the other hand, had one fist tangled in Smith's hair, while the other arm circled his shoulders.
Their open mouths roved over each other, tongues meeting for duels of their own, before moving
on to new targets. Brown forced Smith's head up, using his teeth as well as his lips on his
superior's throat. Smith responded with a fluid move that had him out of Brown's grasp,
readying himself to grapple once again.

This was not going to work, Xan realized. Somehow she had to get them to relax and accept each
others' attentions without responding as though it were an assault. Could she get them to give
each other a massage? No, some additional distraction would really be best. She looked around
the room, her gaze finally settling on a particular doorway. Yes, that would do.

She had to shout to get their attention, so focused were they on their strife. They broke apart,
breathing hard. "You gentlemen need to relax a bit. Here, follow me; I know just the thing."

Mystified, the Agents trailed her to the bathroom. She informed them, "You two are going to
take a shower together."

"We are not dirty," Smith informed her archly.

Yeah, right, you're not a dirty boy, Agent Smith, she thought, trying to keep from smirking, while
out loud she said, "I know that. The point is that you will wash each other." When the AIs still
looked blank, she elaborated, "Being the recipient of a washing will force you to relax, rather
than trying to kill each other." Honestly, these creatures now ruled the earth?

She made shooing motions at them, trying to direct them into the shower. It was generously
proportioned, but perhaps...

"Agent Smith, could you make the shower larger, please? Big enough for all of us? Oh, and a
bench would be nice, too," she added as an afterthought.

"You are joining us?" Brown sounded excited by the prospect.

"I am going to monitor your progress," she replied, amused at the Agent's crestfallen look.

When she glancack ack to the shower, she saw that Smith had already done as she asked. Now it
was of truly stupendous proportions, with dual showerheads and a wide bench along the back, all
done in the same marble that had so captivated her downstairs.

"Excellent! Thanks. Now...clothes have to come off," she said, suiting actions to words.

They entered the shower, and Xan adjusted the water to the proper temperature before handing a
bar of soap to Brown. She motioned them to get on with it, and settled down on the bench,
prepared to offer more advice if needed.

This time things went better, at least to her eyes. Smith stood still under the warm spray and
allowed Brown to run his soapy hands over his chest and arms. Only the tension in his stance
betrayed the difficulty he was having remaining passive like this. Xan caught his eye and
smirked. Smith looked irritated, but the stiffness of his posture noticeably declined. ven ven
allowed his body to sway a bit as his colleague ran lathered hands down his sides. Emboldened
by this acceptance of his touch, Brown kissed Smith lightly on the lips. The kiss deepened as
Smith closed his eyes, placing his hands on Brown's hips and pulling the other Agent to him.

Xan realized she was holding her breath again. She had never watchedimacimacy between two
males before, and found it almost uncomfortably arousing. They were so...beautiful. She was
captivated by the fall of the water around their heads and necks, the way the rivulets ran down
their arms and torsos, highlighting the ridges of muscle adorning their perfect bodies. As Brown
moved his hips, stroking his member on Smith's body, she found her hand making its way,
seemingly of its own volition, between her legs. Ack, this was becoming awkward. She stuffed
her hands under her thighs, sitting on them to forestall any more illicit activity on their part.

When she turned her attention to the Agents again, she found them in deep discussion, still
entwined. Smith was shaking his head, sending droplets of water flying in every direction.
Brown sighed, and released his superior. "Perhaps this will prove more satisfactory," he
remarked, and sank to his knees, immediately taking Smith into his mouth. The latter stood
looking down on his colleague, hands on his hips, leaning back slightly.

She gaped at the spectacle. Obviously she had missed something important while she had been
distracted. Maybe Smith hadn't been impressed by Brown's skills as a kisser? He was evidently
aroused, if his full erection was anything to go by. Of course, Xan realized, that didn't
necessarily mean anything. She knew he was capable of conscious control over his body's
responses.

Oh my. Brows sws swallowing the other Agent's entire length, which was considerable. She
made a mental note to remember what was possible in the Matrix.

Still, there appeared to be a problem. Brown was doing his best, sucking and licking at the
other's shaft, but Smith didn't seem to be progressing. At last he placed his hand on Brown's wet
hair, stopping his movements. The kneeling Agent freed Smith at once and rose to his feet.
"Shall we attempt something else?" he asked.

"Allow me to take the more active role now," Smith told him, picking up the soap and moving
behind Brown.

The slender Agent remained immobile while Smith ran the soap over his arms and down his legs,
eyes closed as he stood in the spray of water. He gave no sign that he found the activity exciting
in the least. Smith worked up a thick lather on his hands, and moved close behind Brown,
winding his arms around his partner, stroking his chest and stomach. When his hand grasped
Brown's member and began to stroke it, the latter's head fell back on Smith's shoulder, tiny
water droplets adorning his eyelashes like minute stars captured and brought to earth. Smith
lightly bit at Brown's ear. Xan thought that she had never seen anything quite so erotic. The
moisture between her legs had nothing to do with the shower.

The moment was spoiled, however, when Smith remarked, "You are not making this easy,
Brown." He indicated Brown's Agenthood, which was still flaccid in spite of Smith's attentions.
Brown's eyes hlownlown open at the other's words, and now he looked sheepish. But he abruptly
stiffened in Smith's hand. "I am trying, Smith."

Smith chuckled, pulling his colleague's hips back against him and resuming his manipulations.
Brown was making an obvious effort to relax and enjoy the activity, leaning back against Smith,
eyes closed once again. The lead Agent continued to stroke his partner for some minutes, then
asked quietly, "Do you wish me to penetrate you?"

Brown's eyes opened again. He looked over at Xan, who had inhaled sharply and audibly at
Smith's inquiry. Her emotions were in a sudden uproar. On the one hand, the Agents didn't seem
to be truly aroused by their encounter, and she didn't want them to do something that they
weren't enjoying. On the other hand, she found watching them to be incredibly arousing, and
wondered how far it would go. And there was that small, nasty voice in the back of her mind that
wanted to see the Agents subjected to the same violation that they had inflicted on others.

Brown didn't know all that was going through her mind, but he took in her flushed skin, dilated
pupils, and faster-than-normal breathing. His mouth twitched in the ghost of a smile. "Xan wants
it," he told Smith.

"And Agent Brown?" the other pressed.

"Is curious." And he placed his hands on the wall, leaning forward slightly and spreading his
legs.

"Very well," Smith said.

Oh. My. God. Watching Smith's flesh disappear into Brown, Xan wondered if she was going to
melt into a puddle of amorphous goo as a result of the fiery lust that was consuming her. What a
sight. Smith moved methodically, each of his thrusts provoking a bunching of the muscles in
Brown's shoulders, arms and back as he braced himself against the wall. They were...stunning,
gorgeous, sex machines, she thought. She squirmed on the bench, aware of a telltale tingling in
her loins.

She forced herself to focus on the Agents, rather than on her own fantasies. And abruptly felt
dirty about the whole enterprise. Brown's head was down, water pouring off the end of his nose
in a steady trickle. One glance at his flaccid member demonstrated that he was not enjoying
himself. Smith was little better off; his face was a rigid mask of concentration as he continued to
move.

Xan was disgusted with herself. What had she been thinking of, making her Agents go this far?
Lust was replaced with rem. Go. Gone were all half-suppressed thoughts of somehow getting
back at the Agents for their crimes. She desperately wanted to make it up to Brown.

Not stopping to think further, she slid off the bench and, crouching, sidled between Brown and
the wall. She went to her knees before him, grasped his thighs, and took him into her mouth. He
gasped at her touch, eyes springing open, Agenthood rising to full life in a fraction of a second.
As she engulfed more and more of him, she tried to keep in mind that she was in a virtual reality
system, and that she could bend the rules so long as she concentrated. Her focus was disrupted
by his lower abdomen impacting her forehead. Smith was still thrusting rhythmically, forcing
Brown's hips forward on each stroke. Well, that presented opportunities of a different sort. She
reached between Brown's legs and circled her thumb and forefinger around the base of Smith's
shaft, squeezing gently. He grunted and began to move faster, drawing a groan of protest from
Brown. Ooops. Not what she had intended.

Brown raised his head and spoke to his colleague. "Smith, please desist. I am sorry, but I do not
find intercourse with you to be particularly pleasurable."

Smith withdrew immediately, which worked out well for Xan, as she was able to grasp him
without interference. She kept him in place, refusing to relinquish her hold on his member.
Neither Smith nor Brown seemed to mind very much; the one time that she glanced up at them,
they were focused intently on her. It almost made her laugh - Smith was draped around Brown,
their position oddly more intimate now than it was when they had been joined.

Time seemed to stretch out. Xan was peripherally aware of the water cascading down her back,
of Brown running his fingers through her hair, and of the developing ache in her knees. But she
was primarily focused on the task at hand, maintaining enough concentration to bend the Matrix
to her will, allowing her to take Brown fully. She relentlessly followed a pattern of pressure,
suction, and tantalizing with her tongue on Brown, while her hand stroked and squeezed Smith.
Their response to her was very different from how they had reacted to each other; she was
gratified to feel their hips moving, trying to assist her efforts. It was a rush to listen to their sighs
of pleasure, and know that she was responsible for making them feel this good. Reminding
herself that she was in a virtual world, she mentally banished the discomfort of her position. She
would keep this up all day if necessary.

It was not necessary. Within minutes, Brown made a long, drawn-out "Ahhhh" noise, and,
without further warning, ejaculated. She kept her mouth locked around him, massaging his
member with lips and tongue until his contractions subsided. The lean Agent sagged, and might
have fallen if Smith hadn't held him up. For a brief moment, Xan considered whether he would
find it insulting if she didn't swallow, but practicality won out, and she spat the fluid in the
direction of the drain. She didn't want to risk gagging and spoiling the mood; Smith had also
obviously been on the way to orgasm. She pushed them both backward, guiding Brown to one
side, until they were seated on the bench. She moved in front of Smith, and latched on to his
erection, giving it the same treatment she had given Brown's. He groaned as she worked on him,
the sounds of his excitement becoming louder, until he finally spasmed in release as well.

As the Agents leaned back against the wall, replete for the moment, Xan took the opportunity to
rinse her mouth out. Idly she wondered what she would see if she examined their emissions
under a microscope. Would it simply be fluid? Or would there be tiny robotic sperm, lashing
jointed metal tails? For a moment she wondered if they could use such a vehicle to bug a
coppertop, and had to suppress a snort of laughter at the idea. Her imagination was definitely
running away with her. She firmly dismissed such concerns from her mind, knowing that she
would likely never learn the answer. Nor would she ask.

When she turned back to them, Smith and Brown were standing, apparently recovered. The
former took her hand in both of his, saying, "Thank you for that. It was most enjoyable." A
wicked gleam appeared in his eye. "I believe it is our turn to wash you." He indicated Brown,
who was holding the soap at the ready.

Xan was happy to accede, letting the Agents thoroughly wash every extremity. She returned the
favor, running lather-coated hands over them as they bathed her, resulting in a free-for-all of
cleanliness. The slickness imparted by the suds allowed their hands to glide easily over each
others' skin. She quivered under their touch, even when they were working on such innocuous
areas as her elbows. When their hands slid over more intimate areas, she thought she might
climax then and there.

Smith rumbled in mock-seriousness, "Brown did you notice her expression while we
were...occupied?"

"Indeed I did. I believe she was excited."

"Do you suppose that she had ulterior motives in asking us to attempt the activity?"

Brown slid a hand between her legs, grinning at the evidence he found. "I suspect that you may
be correct, Smith, but see for yourself."

Keeping his eyes on hers, Smith complied with his partner's instruction. His eyebrows lifted
when his fingers encountered her wetness. In an amused tone of voice, he chided, "Did you ask
us to perform this 'experiment' because you simply wanted to watch? You evidently found our
activity...arousing. I believe you are a very wicked woman."

Xan had the grace to blush. "Actually, I didn't set out with that plan. I really wanted you to try
something for the future, and it seemed a logical avenue to explore." She had to laugh at the
unique experience of having been able to use logic against the AIs. "But I won't deny that I
found it extremely exciting to watch." She shrugged. "What can I say? I am wicked. So spank
me."

She had intended it as a joke, but Smith took her at her word. She found herself yanked out of the
shower and rapidly transported to the bedroom, Smith bending her over his knee in one fluid
motion, tucking her head beneath his left arm so she was unable to move. She was so startled that
she hadn't been able to protest. Through a voice muffled by being crammed into the Agent's
side, she started to try to explain, but it turned into an outraged squawk as the first blow fell on
her naked backside.

Of course, it wasn't truly a blow. Smith could have pulverized her had he wanted. What actually
landed was a light slap, stinging without being very painful, but making up in sound volume
what it lacked in force. Nonetheless, her feet left the floor as her back arched and buttocks
tightened in protest. She tried to wriggle out of his grasp without success. She sensed his hand
lift again.

Another slap, same as the first. And another. And another. The hand lifted again. Xan tried to
force out recognizable words to make him stop, but they turned to a gasp as Smith's hand
returned to caress her backside.

The Agent rumbled, "You did ask me to. However, I believe that this portion of your anatomy
might best be deployed to...other pursuits." The stinging aftermath of the spanking intensified
tactile sensations, and she was aware of every millimeter of movement as Smith's hand roved
over her buttocks, stroking lightly. Xan relaxed, hanging limply over his lap, relief still washing
through her. Idiot! Never tease an Agent, remember?! She wanted to lie on the floor and catch
her breath, but was still caught under Smith's arm. Bastard! Still teasing her for her
transgression! His fingers adopted a new destination, descending between her legs, running
along the folds of flesh, making for her most sensitive areas. Delicious bastard, Xan mentally
amended that to. Arousal returned in a rush, and she spread her legs ever so slightly, encouraging
him to continue. Smith's hand was pressed against her, one of his fingers beginning to trace a
circular pattern around the front of her cleft, and Xan moaned in anticipation. He took his time,
teasing her, always stopping short of the exact spots that she most wanted him to touch. She kept
moving her hips, trying to force his fingers where she wanted them to go, but he chuckled and
evaded her. Just when she thought she could take no more, and lay panting across his knees like
a limp dishcloth, the Agent slid two long fingers inside her. A cry escaped her lips at the entry. A
groan of pleasure was her sustained response as he explored her, probing, stroking. The fingers
withdrew, and she swore in frustration.

She should have guessed what would happen next. The Agents were never selfish with their
activities. Smith addressed his colleague. "Agent Brown, what is your assessment of this
woman's physiological state?"

Footsteps approached, and she could sense the other Agent looming over her. Silence. She
gasped at the sudden touch of a new hand. The fingers parted her folds and slid inside. As Smith
had done, Brown took his time caressing her internal reaches, moving slowly just when she
wanted him to move fast>Dam>Damn Agents. And they say I'm wicked. Xan was burning with desire
for them. The vulnerability of her position, their mock-impersonal manipulation of her, was
wildly erotic. Their continued teasing of her was going to drive her mad.

Brown finally spoke. "I believe that her body is ready to engage in copulation."

Duh, genius! Xan's frustration was growing my leaps and bounds, reaching near-nuclear levels
when Brown's digits withdrew.

With a smirk audible in his voice, Smith said, "It would be wise to confirm your hypothesis."

"Of course. Proof is always desirable."

The next thing Xan knew, the blunt end of Brown's member had touched the flesh over her pubic
mound. It stroked upward, parting the lips as it moved, until it centered on her entrance and
began to push inside. She thought her mind might melt; the sheer sensuality of the situation
threatened to overwhelm her. Brown moved slowly, advancing his swollen member steadily until
she felt his hips touch her backside. Then he pulled out with equal slowness. With his Agenthood
the only part of him touching her, she was incredibly aware of the feel of him inside her. She
swore that she could feel every ridge and asymmetry on his shaft as he moved in and out with
deliberate, agonizing slowness. Twice, three, then four times he repeated the sequence while Xan
moaned in pleasure, alternately stiffening and relaxing across Smith's lap. When Brown's hand
snaked between her legs to massage her most sensitive spot, Xan could hold back no longer,
taken by a sudden orgasm so intense that she thought she might lose consciousness. Dimly, she
felt her internal muscles clamp hard around Brown, and heard utt utter a deep groan as he
paused, enveloped within her. His voice was perturbed from its usual musical smoothness by his
uneven breathing as he reported, "Assessment confirmed. Lubrication is more than adequate for
pleasurable copulation." A pause, and she felt him lean close. "Shall I continue, Xan?"

It was difficult to think with the tingling still coursing through her body, but she considered
while recovering her breath. Smith was also being quite the distraction, running his hands over
her. At least he had freed her from the headlock. What did she want to do with them? She knew,
but decided to keep them in the dark for a bit. She replied, "Yes, but not like this. Let's
move...over there," and pointed to a comfortable-looking armchair and ottoman.

She sat Brown down in the chair, having him slide down so that his hips were supported by the
footstool. She straddled his legs, standing over him and smirking down into his smoky blue eyes.
She would have thought that AIs would have more patience, but Brown was obviously having
trouble keeping himself from straining upwards, trying to enter her immediately. She laughed at
his discomfiture, placing her hands on his chest, pushing him firmly into the cushions. Her eyes
locked with his, she impaled herself on him, moving up and down as deliberately as he had done
before.

Agents definitely were an improvement over men, at least in the stamina department. She
doubted a human male would have been able to maintain any sort of erection after their shower
escapades. Brown was having no such difficulty, and seemed to be eagerly on the way to a
second climax. Xan wondered if her legs would hold out that long; already they were beginning
to tremble, not with the effort of her movements, but with the waves of pleasure rippling out
from her groin. Yes, this was great, but it was not yet what she wanted.

She looked around for Smith, finding him still sitting on the bed, watching her and Brown. She
extended her hand to him. He rose and crossed over to them, straddling the other Agent's legs as
well to stand behind her, rising and falling with her, matching her movements. She shivered as
she felt his hands lightly stroke her sides and hips. She tried to think about baseball as he slipped
his arms about her waist, holding her firmly beneath her breasts, nibbling on her ear, his body
pressed against hers. She thought she was once again in danger of melting into goo when she
realized that he was doing to her the same things he had done to Brown. So she was prepared
when he asked her, "Do you wish me to penetrate you?"

She looked down into Brown's eyes, and read the avid interest gleaming there. She smiled, and
said, "Agent Brown wants it."

Following the formula, Smith inquired, "And Xan?"

She had to tell the truth. "Xan wants it as well," she breathed, and leaned forward onto Brown's
chest, waiting.

This time there was no fear, only anticipation. Brown took the opportunity to kiss her soundly,
rumbling his approval. As Smith eased into her, she realized exactly how much she was
captivated by the Agents, how, as they had told her, she belonged to them. She would never give
this, or them, up.

Then there was no more time for thought, only feeling, and riding the waves of sensation that the
Agents engendered, moving within her.

The world contracted to their single tangle of united flesh; nothing else mattered. Once again she
was amazed by their skill, and how they seemed to enjoy driving her up to repeatedly climax as
much as she enjoyed the release. She savored Smith's and Brown's orgasms as much as her own.
"You are mine," she told them, "We all belong to each other."

tim time later, finally sated, they relaxed on the wide bed, Xan sandwiched between the
Agents. She was becoming drowsy in the languid aftermath of pleasure, lulled by the warmth of
their bodies. "Wake me up in an hour or two, will you?" she murmured, and fell into dreamless
sleep.

This chapter continues immediately in Part 1a -- apparently I've exceeded the character limit in this installment!