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 sexual content.

Synopsis: A close encounter with an Agent... (Muahaha!)
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Even though it rained a lot, Xan reflected, the weather inside the Matrix sure beat what passed for weather in the real world. On this particular Sunday morning inside the giant virtual-reality system, the air was clear, and the sky a clear blue dotted here and there with impossibly puffy white cumulus clouds. Perfect for enjoying a stint at an outdoor cafe, whiling away the time with a mug of tea and the daily paper, idly watching the boats make their way through the harbor. Xan sighed, thinking for the millionth time that she should've taken the blue pill.

Dragging her attention back to the task at hand, she surreptitiously lowered her newspaper enough to look over it at the three men across the street. All still there, standing at the side of the black Lincoln Continental, talking quietly. Xan sighed again, though this time it was nothing to do with the weather. God, they were all gorgeous, those Agents in their dark grey suits, impeccable auburn hair, and mirrored shades. And the best part was, it was her job to watch them. She knew better than to try to do more than watch. All of the members of the Agent Observation Unit knew that, and Zion's Matrix Infiltration Division knew that they knew. What the MID hierarchy didn't know what that the six women of the AOU all wanted to do more. Possibly the most closely guarded secret in the entire Resistance was that the AOU, to a woman, were all in the throes of unassuaged Agent-lust.

Xan recalled the exact moment when she had realized that she wanted the Agents, though the desire must have been infiltrating her unconscious mind for some time before that. Off and on for months, she had had a recurring dream of being in a darkened theater, locked in an embrace with a man she couldn't see. Finally, the dream had been especially vivid, as well as erotic, and she had seen the face of her lover - it had been Agent Smith. Even in the dream she had been shocked to the core - she knew the Agents were the enemies of all free humans, and she should have been revolted at even the thought. However, the dream-Smith was so skilled in his seduction, with his long, elegant fingers tracing lines of fire all over her body and his lips teasing her toward passionate release, that Xan found that far from being repulsed, the impossible combination of cold Agent and heated lover increased her desire further, and she had responded hungrily to the dream-Smith. She had been awakened by Sarisa, her roommate and also a member of the AOU. Sarisa shook her shoulder and demanded, "Okay, just who were you dreaming about? I've never heard you moaning like that - it must've been some dream." And she grinned lasciviously, waiting for the sordid details. Still somewhat dazed from her rough awakening, Xan had blurted out the truth, then immediately wished she hadn't - she could expect nothing but condemnation from the Resistance for that particular desire.

To her surprise, however, Sarisa had clapped her on the shoulder. "Welcome to the club," she laughed, then pulled a piece of folded paper out of a desk drawer, scanned it, and said, "I do wish you'd held out a bit longer, however - if only you'd lasted another week, I'd have won the pool. As it is, I'd better tell Raven that she's won. Drat it all."

Seeing Xan's utterly mystified look, Sarisa explained it all - how over the past few years, the AOU operatives had one by one fallen into lust with the Agents, and how they had conspired to keep it secret from the rest of the Resistance. It was only a matter of time before a new recruit would be captivated by the Agents, so betting on exactly how long it would take in each case was a source of much amusement. While Xan felt a bit annoyed that she had been so predictable, overriding that was relief that she wasn't to be ostracized from her fellows. Far from it, in fact. Their shared secret made the women of the AOU the most close-knit group in the Resistance.

Though she had dreamed about Agent Smith, as well as his colleagues, sevetimetimes in the following months, Xan couldn't put her finger on any one trait that made the Agents so attractive to her. Perhaps it was their innate self-confidence. Or maybe the way they carried themselves, power and grace combined. It didn't hurt that all the Agents were strikingly handsome, and well-groomed to boot. There was definitely something about a powerful male in a well-cut suit; so different from the men of the Resistance, with their constant posing in black leather and generally unkempt appearance. Xan's lip curled, thinking about the last loser who had tried to ask her out. What, exactly, had he been trying to compensate for, wearing that sleeveless black (always black!) net shirt that was so tight the strands almost cut into his skin?

Her thoughts returned to the three Agents she watched, checking automatically that they were still there. Yep, none of them appeared to have moved a muscle. Xan took a drink of her tea, watching the Agents idly, and let her mind wander to fantasies of mad, passionate lovemaking with beings who weren't even human. What would their skin feel like? Would it be smooth? Would they have body hair? For that matter, were they even anatomically correct? They appeared male, but that didn't mean they had all of the equipment. Snorting softly, Xan decided that, in her fantasies at least, they would be fully functional! Hmmm...what would making love with them be like? She imagined Jones, tallest of the three and built like a tank, lifting her off her feet to kiss her, his hands roving over her thighs as he supported her. Would he be large all over? Oh yes, he would. Brown, most lightly built of the Agents, on the other hand, would be built like a surfer, all lean, strong muscle and oooohh, those sensuous lips! Xan could imagine those lips working softly at her neck. And Smith - Smith would be intense. He was regarded as the most dangerous of the three, and Xan felt fluttering in her stomach as she wondered what it would be like to feel his hands on her, slipping beneath her clothing...

Xan was suddenly startled out of her pleasant reverie by the realization that Brown and Jones had disappeared without her noticing, and Agent Smith had observed her regard. He was watching her. Already he had started moving toward her, long strides unhurried.

Oh, shit.

Icy panic rising in her throat, Xan rose from the table, knocking over the chair in her haste and spraying the remains of her tea across a passerby. All the fear of the Agents that she had forgotten in her foolishness came crashing back, lending wings to her feet as she turned and ran. Too late she realized that if she had just kept her cool, and smiled vaguely at Smith before going back to her paper, she might not have had to run. Mentally kicking herself for her unfortunate reflex, she resolved that if she did make it out in one piece, she was going to take up yoga. Calm, calm, you must remain calm!

Xan made for the industrial district next to the waterfront, reminding herself that she had to get out of the crowds. Most of the Resistance fighters might not care whether coppertops got caught in the crossfire, but she did. But for an overly curious nature that had led to her taking the red pill, that might have been her living in the dream world. Besides, she still had friends who were plugged in.

As she ran, Xan pulled out her cell phone and pushed the speed dial button that connected her to Pakman, her operator back in Zion. Putting the phone to her ear, she listened in mounting fury as it rang and rang.

"C'mon, Pakman! This is no time to be out for a coffee break!" Footsteps echoed behind her, drawing steadily closer.

"Operator here," finally came the hoped-for voice.

"Need an exit, man, pronto!"

"There's one at Fitzgerald and Durham. Inside the convenience store, next to the restrooms. You got an Agent on your tail?"

"Yeah," Xan panted, trying to save her breath for running.

"Good luck, then. I'll be monitoring your progress and waiting for you." The line went dead, and she was alone. As she passed a corner, the street names flashed into brief focus. Okay, she knew roughly where she was. The intersection named was about eight blocks away; could she make it? Xan resolutely put any thought of failure out of her mind, and ran as fast as she could. One block, then two. The Agent behind was catching up; she could tell by the sound of his shoes pounding louder and louder on the cobblestones. She wouldn't make it, not if she went by the streets.

Three blocks.

Xan turned another corner and immediately dodged into a narrow alley that backed an abandoned warehouse, winding its way among rusting shipping containers. Behind a dumpster, she stopped and stood still, listening for pursuit. No sound. Could she have lost him? After waiting half a minute, her nerves got the better of her; she turned and began to jog as quietly as she could down the alley.

Halfway along the length of the warehouse, Xan had to jump over a pool of scummed-over water that filled the entire width of the alley. As she landed, she stumbled, finally beginning to come down from the adrenaline high. Picking herself up and dusting off her knees and hands, Xan looked around at the buildings, noting their peeling paint and rusted doors. One of the doors was opening. Someone here? On a Sunday?

Oh, shit.

It was him.

He was only ten feet away.

There would be no escape.

Xan watched, numb, as Agent Smith advanced steadily, standing before her seconds later. Recovering her senses at the last, Xan swung a fist at him, but knew the effort was doomed before it even started. The Agent caught her hands easily and pushed her against the wall with no more effort than if she were a feather. He pinioned her hands above her head, and regarded her silently. Xan stared at him, now knowing exactly what the mouse felt, held captive by the cobra's gaze.

After several seconds, Smith demanded in a flat voice, "You are a Resistant. I do not have a file for you. Your name. Your rank within the Resistance, your superiors and associates. Your assignment and duties. You will tell me. Now."

Summoning the last of her courage, Xan yelled, "Fuck you!" as loud as she could, and brought her knee up into his groin. Or tried to. She had never had the opportunity to observe the speed of Agent reflexes before; Smith's free hand had come down and blocked her knee before it had moved more than six inches.

The only effect of her attempted defiance was to piss Smith off. He moved forward, preventing further movement of her legs by pinning her body hard against the wall.

"Unwise," Smith growled, his nose inches from hers. Cold, impersonal death stared her in the face. Incongruously, all Xan could think of was that at least her curiosity about whether the Agents were anatomically correct had been definitively answered, and in the affirmative. Definitely affirmative.

"Name. Rank. Mission. Now," Smith repeated, and Xan recovered enough presence of mind to process what he was saying. Were they even allowed to give any information? She couldn't remember; usually Resistants didn't survive encounters with Agents, so she had no precedent to follow. When in doubt, follow history: name, rank and serial number.
n. Fn. Field Operative. Serial number XJ-979088."

"Mission."

"Classified." And she attempted to free her arms, trying to twist them out of his grasp, but he was too strong.

"Wrong answer," Smith said, tightening his grip painfully and pressing her more firmly against the wall. "You will tell me, one way or another."

Xan could feel Smith's warm breath on her mouth as he threatened her, could feel his body tight against hers. Her mind wasn't working properly. She knew that she should be terrified, but for whatever reason, maybe a thirst for thrills and danger, all she could truly focus on at the moment was the feel of him, particularly his groin pushing against hers. Her mind went back to her earlier daydream, and she saw in her mind's eye an image of herself entwined with the Agent. She stared at Smith, unable to form a suitable answer to...what was it that he had asked, again? Something of what she was thinking must have shown in her face, because Smith frowned slightly and pushed himself back to get a better look at her. He stared, unmoving for several seconds, and Xan realized that he must be communicating with the other machines, probably uploading observations for analysis.

Smith suddenly gave a short laugh, shaking his head. "You are attracted to me. I could crush you with one hand, and you are attracted to me. Illogical."

Xan ducked her head, trying to avoid the mockery in his eyes. What could she say? All that he said was true. It was insane to have fallen in love with the Agents, but there it was. Face burning with shame, she hoped that Smith would just put a bullet in her brain quickly and spare her further humiliation.

Smith went completely still again, communing with the Mainframe again no doubt. Xan waited, unable to muster the will to try to break the Agent's grip again.

When Smith came back to himself, his voice took on an amused tone. "Perhaps your illogical human nature will prove advantageous. I am instructed to bring you into Headquarters. We offer you a choice: death, or you may work for us as our spy against the Resistance. I will check you for weapons now." Removing one hand from his grip on her wrists, Smith patted down her arms, then her legs. Xan found herself trembling, whether with relief that she had at least a bit longer to live, or fear at being taken into the Agents' HQ, from which no Resistant had ever returned, she couldn't tell. Or maybe it was this unreasoning lust rising again at being touched by Smith. Shit, what was the matter with her?

Finding her voice at last, Xan spat, "I'll never work for you. I'm no traitor."

After assuring himself that no guns or knives were secreted on her extremities, Smith pushed her jacket open and pulled her away from the wall slightly to run his hand over her back, then pushed her back to check her sides and abdomen. Watching her closely with a slight smile playing about his lips, he trailed his fingers across her breasts, gently squeezing each in turn.

Xan stared at Smith, unable to completely quell the moan that threatened to burst from her lips, and silently cursing her body's betrayal as her nipples hardened in response to his touch. He couldn't fail to notice the effect he was having on her.

Answering her earlier declaration, Smith rumbled, "Your body says otherwise." His smile broadened, and he said, "I think you may be hiding contraband under your shirt. I will have to remove it." Suiting actions to words, he hooked a finger in the neck of her t-shirt: as he drew his finger downwards, the material parted easily; he must be manipulating the Matrix very subtly, Xan realized. The front of her bra met the same fate, and Smith slowly pushed the ruined clothing to either side, exposing her breasts.

The Agent regarded her naked torso for a moment, then looked into Xan's eyes as his hand came up again to delicately touch a nipple, fingers brushing the small glands in the aureola, and drawing a low groan from her. His voice dropped to a more intimate pitch, "There are benefits to cooperating with us," rubbing his thumb over her breast gently, "while there are consequences to opposing us," and he pinched the nipple roughly, turning her moan of pleasure into a grimace of pain. His hand turned mild again, "I'm sure you will make the correct choice," and he bent to take the nipple in his mouth.

Xan's head was whirling. Was this really happening? It was surreal, shifting from stark terror to heady pleasure, seemingly from moment to moment. She wouldn't be a traitor; would she? Did her fascination with the Agents already make her a traitor in her heart? She hated the real world conditions, hated the constant cold, hated the slop that passed for food, hated the idiots who were her superiors in Zion, hated the idiots who ran the Resistance who never seemed to accomplish anything. Did that make her a traitor? No! She had to remember that she was human, that she must not betray her race, no matter the cost. She tried again to struggle out of his grasp, but Smith was far too strong for her, laughing derisively against her breast as he immobilized her easily. Then he began a rhythmic suction on her nipple, and rational thought fled.

Xan didn't know how long it lasted, there in the alley, trapped against the wall with her arms pinned above her head, and an Agent using his teeth, tongue and lips on her breasts to drive her into a state of intense arousal. All she was aware of was the tingling sensation that turned into liquid fire as it settled in her groin. Xan moaned as Smith slowly worked his magic, and found herself trying to grind her hips forward into his body. She could feel the warmth beginning to drench her underwear as his ministrations caused release of her natural lubricants. Maybe she was a traitor. Maybe she would be dead in the neew mew minutes. She didn't care. All she knew was that Smith was drawing responses from her body that she hadn't thought she was capable of. Dammit, at least she was going to go out with a bang, not a whimper, and T.S. Eliot could just go to hell. She moaned more loudly, her thoughts a mad jumble of fear, rebellion, and need. Screw the Resistance! I know I'm a dead woman, but I want this Agent more than I've ever wanted anyone in my life; I want to feel him inside me now!

It was a mark of how unreal the situation was that Xan didn't realize immediately that she had accidentally spoken aloud. Smith abruptly stood up, staring hard at her. Xan didn't know whether to faint in terror or weep with frustration, but any decision was taken out of her hands as Smith lifted her limp form like a sack of potatoes and made for the door into the warehouse. Once inside, he carried her over to a table and deposited her on its surface, capturing her wrists again in one powerful hand and stretching her arms over her head. Carefully, the Agent removed his earpiece and placed it in his breast pocket. He grinned predatorily down at her, and hooked his finger in the waistband of her jeans. He demanded, "Tell me again what you want."

No point in denying it now. Gulping against a sudden dryness in her throat, feeling like she was a traitor however she attempted to rationalize it to herself, Xan whispered huskily, "You. I...want...you."

Smith parted the denim of her jeans as he had her shirt, pulling them off and flinging them away to land in a heap on the floor. Her other clothing followed, and she lay naked under his hands. Xan shivered with anticipation as Smith lowered his head again to one breast, using his hand to tease the other nipple into taut attention. As she moaned, "Oh, please, oh, please...," Smith lazily trailed his hand down her abdomen to her groin. Xan spread her legs, trying to push against his hand. The Agent responded by teasing her unmercifully with his fingers, running them around the outer lips before moving in to touch the moist flesh within, then withdrawing again.

Smith raised up to look at her, eyebrows lifted nearly to his hairline, "Your response is most satisfactory," then sent a thrill of mingled terror and lust through her as he continued, "I know my colleagues will appreciate it as well, when they join us."

Xan thought that her brain would explode, just the thought of having Jones and Brown doing this to her as well was more than she could cope with. Smith chuckled at her wide-eyed stare, then bent to his work again. His fingers were more accommodating to her needs this time; he dipped first one finger, then two into her moist heat, moving in and out. His thumb stroked across the small nub of sensitive flesh at the front of her cleft. In her incredibly aroused state, Xan could not hold back for more than a few seconds before she felt the rushing, tingling sensation that heralded an impending orgasm. She drove herself against Smith's hand, hips lifting off the table as her release shook her, unable to stop herself from crying out. Smith was unrelenting, following her movements with his mouth and hand, continuing his ministrations, and moments later Xan had writhed with a second orgasm, nearly more intense than the first.

Straightening, Smith gazed down at her as Xan, slicked with sweat from head to toe, trembled with reaction, panting and trying to catch her breath. Smith smirked, mocking her, "You humans are so weak. So easily controlled by your appetites and hormones."

Xan shook her head, trying to protest, but it sounded false, even to herself. Smith wasn't listening, but was watching her for a reaction as he pulled her around so that her hips were at the edge of the table, then moved to stand between her dangling legs. He undid his trousers with one hand, pushing the material of his pants and boxers down, finally revealing how he had been endowed by his programmer. Xan stared; there must have been quite a bit of code that went into that, she thought giddily. It was almost out of proportion to the rest of him, especially in its current fully erect state.

Smith made sure she had time for a good long look at him, then said, "Your body knows its master. Your mind will come around as well. It is inevitable. You want me, and you will do anything to have me." He lifted her hips slightly, positioning himself, and entered her in one slow movement.

It was all Xan could do not to scream with the pleasure of it. Size evidently did matter, and his was stretching and stimulating her already-aroused flesh so that her vision dimmed and all she could hear was the pounding of blood in her ears. As he began to work himself in and out of her, Xan felt herself being carried up to another inevitable orgasm. A small voice in her head mocked her for responding so to a being who obviously considered her a lower life form, who was so unmoved by his current activity that not a hair was out of place. Xan told the voice to shut up, that she was likely going to be dead soon anyway, so it wouldn't matter. She was determined to enjoy the ride while it lasted.

Dimly, she became aware that Smith had finally released her hands, and was now grasping her hips, pulling her toward him to meet each thrust. The view, and the thought of the Agent being inside her was so erotic that Xan lost control completely, she felt herself contract around his shaft as she quivered with another orgasm, screaming out his name. Smith gave her another predatory smile, continuing to thrust rhythmically. Panting, Xan got her elbows under her and looked at Smith. Maybe he wasn't so unmoved as he tried to make her think - small groans were escaping him, and his hair was beginning to droop into his eyes. His movements had definitely picked up in tempo. Evidently he had felt something when she came. It was hard to focus on anything but the sensations in her groin, but Xan was seized with the sudden urge to make the Agent feel at least some of what she was feeling. nergnergized to action, Xan reached up and closed her fingers around his tie, pulling him down toward her. The tie clip flew off and hit her shoulder before clattering to the floor. Smith's head was inches before her; she used her free hand to wrench off his sunglasses and cast them to the side. His eyes were a startling blue; as she stared into them, she saw the expected feral gleam, but also what looked like confusion. Obviously he hadn't expected her to react quite this way. She wrapped both hands firmly around his head and kissed him. His lips were firm and warm, and incredibly sensuous, thought Xan as she let her tongue follow their contours. Smith was gasping slightly with each of his thrusts, and she took advantage to invade his mouth with her tongue. He tried to pull back, but she clung to him with all of her strength, and finally she felt his tongue move to join with hers in a moist dance. Xan was pleased to feel him begin to explore the interior of her mouth, and she teased him with her tongue, playfully fencing, until she felt light-headed with lust and lack of air. She broke the kiss and let her lips rove over his cheekbones, his eyebrows, his nose, and his ears. As she nipped at his earlobe, Xan became aware that Smith seemed to be breathing rather heavily. Now that she focused on it, she realized that the Agent was sniffing her skin, making small pleased sounds in his throat as he did so. As she stilled to try to make sense of this new development, she felt Smith's tongue reach out and delicately trace her jawline. Odd, but she hadn't imagined it - he really was making sounds of pleasure as he did so. Xan felt a new thrill of desire at the moist touch, and like a lightbulb going off in her head, she realized that he was finding her chemical signals a turn-on. His thrusts had become slower and fuller as he explored her skin, as if he was savoring a new dimension of the experience.

Leaning back, she looked into Smith's eyes. "You like the way I smell and taste?" she breathed. At his affirmative grunt, Xan chuckled softly, "Then try the ultimate ambrosia." She let her hand travel down to where they were joined, gathering up some of the juices that were coating them, then brought her hand back up to touch Smith's face. She briefly held her fingers under his nose, letting him smell their mingled scents, watching in anticipation as his eyes widened in surprise. Wanting to press her advantage, Xan thrust her index finger into his mouth, letting him taste her, and him, and their joining. She was rewarded by his harsh exhalation, and his hips began to buck more furiously. Keeping the finger in his mouth, she lifted herself up to lick at her middle finger, tasting herself and what must be him - a clean, sharp scent that reminded Xan of steel. Then she withdrew her fingers and kissed Smith again, sharing their tastes.

Yes, this was definitely doing something to the previously unflappable Agent. She could feel his hot breath puffing into her mouth, groaning with each of his strokes. Xan found that her excitement was mounting again, and in a frenzy of desire to reveal her partner fully, pulled his tie loose, and ripped his shirt open to reveal the perfect chest, covered with a light coat of hair over the pectorals, thinning to a single dark line down his belly.

Perfection. There was no other word for it. She could die happy, now. Orgasm number four.

Though growing a bit tired now, she wasn't about to give up on her quest to make Smith climax. Grinning wickedly, Xan reached up and put her hands on Smith's pectorals, lightly squeezing and pinching his nipples. He gasped in response, his blue eyes going very wide at the unexpected sensation. He must be very close now, Xan thought. Each thrust rocked her entire body, and his hips were bucking almost uncontrollably. She let go of him again and arched her back, granting him deeper access. Another groan of pleasure from the Agent was her reward, and she tortured him further by contracting her internal muscles around him. Smith, though an artificial entity, could only take so much stimulation. With a last few forceful thrusts, he reached the summit and crashed over, breath whooshing out between clenched teeth as he shuddered with release.

Grinning in triumph, Xan watched Agent Smith shrink out of her, an expression that could only be described as astonishment in his eyes. She, in turn, was very surprised to see him continue his movement all the way to the floor, sitting heavily and staring at nothing. Xan watched him for several seconds before she swung herself off the table and crouched down beside him. He was still staring into space, seemingly unaware of his surroundings. She waved her hand in front of his face. No response.

Wow, she had screwed an Agent to death. Now that was something to tell the folks back in Zion!

Suddenly Xan realized that she actually had a chance to get back to Zion now. Quickly picking up her clothes, she pulled them on as best she could. The jeans were a total loss. The t-shirt she knotted under her breasts to make a makeshift halter top sort of contraption. She knotted her jacket around her waist, turning the opening to the side so that at a distance it might possibly look like a slit skirt.

She checked Smith again. He still hadn't moved. Cautiously, she approached him and knelt at his side. "Thanks for the offemithmith, but I really can't take you up on it now. Thanks for showing a girl a good time." She kissed him on the mouth, delighting again, however briefly, in the feel of his full lips. As she rose and turned to leave, she felt a pang of embarrassment for him; rather an undignified pose to be found in, sitting on the floor with your pants around your ankles. Xan picked up her discarded jeans and draped them over Smith's lap, granting him some degree of modesty.

Now to go. She started toward the door, then paused. Did she really want to go back? Or did she want to stay with Smith? The sex was the most amazing experience she had ever had; didn't she want to do it again? Xan wavered for a few seconds, then decided that duty would win, at least this round, and walked out the door. Back in the alley, she called for an exit, "And make it a discreet one, okay?"
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Agents Brown and Jones were very surprised at the state of their team leader when they found him. They took in the open shirt, missing tie, and mussed hair. They shook their heads over the trousers pooled around Smith's ankles. They had to look to find the missing tie clip and shades. What had overcome their superior? The last thing they had heard from him was that they were to join him after they had disposed of the small group of Resistants that had attempted a raid that morning.

Jones shook Smith's shoulder to try and rouse him, but Smith was still unresponsive, so the big Agent re-inserted the earpiece that Smith had discarded, and had Brown request a Force Quit command from the Mainframe to break the endless loop that had derailed his programming. That worked, though Smith looked around vaguely at first, "Where is she?"

"She got out," Brown said diffidently, careful not to sound accusing. "What happened to you?" he asked.

Smith got to his feet slowly, delaying his reply while he restored his clothing to its accustomed, unsullied state. He thought for several moments about how to answer, but words failed him. There was only one way that he could make his colleagues even begin to understand. He linked his input/output data streams with Jones and Brown, and carefully uploaded some of the early sensations that he had felt to the others, holding back his climax for fear of incapacitating them in turn. Even the lesser sensations caused an interruption of 586 milliseconds in the clock cycles of the other Agents. Brown and Jones stood immobile for several seconds, processing and classifying the unfamiliar feelings.

Jones found his voice first, "Evidently the experience is different with a willing partner."

All Smith could do was nod.

Brown asked, an eager note in his voice, "Will she come back?" He was focused intently on Smith's response; Jones also hung on their leader's words.

Smith said, "I do not know." He turned to lead the way out of the warehouse. Neither Brown nor Jones heard him as he added under his breath, "I hope so."