Choosing a lover by chance was so retro, so twenty-first century, but to hell with it. Sometimes you gotta roll the dice.

By all outward appearance, she was a natural winner. Lips that could start or end wars. Hyperbolic curves that would make math majors hard. And eyes. Those fuckin' aquamarine plunge pools framed by hair like the shimmering endless blacktop alongside the diner. If I didn't know better I'd swear she was mech. Manufactured perfection. She claims otherwise.

I stirred my coffee, black and hot, and tried hard not to stare at her tits, shrink-wrapped in neon blue lycra across the table of the faux leather booth. She stirred hers. Counter-clockwise. Did that mean something? A marker? A portent? Doubt?

Yeah. Doubt. She had that in spades.

The radio jangled vacuous pop as waitresses in green and white check uniforms scurried with bacon and pancakes and carafes for bottomless refills. The place was packed and noisy and smelled good. Had an old school vibe that I liked. The lively buzz of talk. Sizzlin' heat from the grills. Altogether human; a welcome change from the clinical conformity of metropolis.

Out here, mech represented diminishing returns for the bloodsucking corporations and shiny-teethed politicians who fuck over hard-working citizens and spit 'em out after nineteen years solid service. But I ain't bitter. If anything, it's comforting to know that even those Congress assholes have limits when outnumbered.

I took a sip and let its heat ride down past my chest. Stared across at Doubt, wondering if I should make a move. If she expected it. Fourth time we'd got coffee together. Four breakfasts. Four sort-of dates. Tempting. But nobody takes a chance no more. It's all pre-calculated. Clean. Certain.

Part of me thought I should do it. Probably the part in my pants that surged every time I was with her. Wouldn't be the first time I'd gambled. Nor the last.

The day we met I was downtown following a low-dime lead. Boyfriend suspected his girl of sleepin' around and I was on my way to scope the apartment and set up bugs. I passed Relationshop on 8th and Maple. The storefront flickered, advertising perfect filtered matches based on the profile beamed from my implant. Nine billion down to six singles in the blink of an eye. Pretty things too. All fuckable. Dirty, just how I like 'em.

I shook my head, moving past the display and an upended trashcan that spewed litter onto the pockmarked sidewalk. The street was quiet. Seemed even crime took the day off now and then.

The screen in the next store fizzed to life offering coffee and a slab of cake for ten bucks. Just how I like it; hot, black and rich. That was the trouble with the city. Everything inescapably personalized, based on tastes and behavior and past purchases. No room to try anything new. Data drove everything. It was impressive and unnerving and I still didn't know which was greater.

I jogged away from temptation, across the sun-baked street to the apartment building, though the place had more in common with a cheapshit motel. Pushed the gate to the complex open and wound my way up open-air railed concrete stairs on the left to the outdoor walkway leading past a row of identikit fronts.

One-sixty-three.

The door was busted open: never a good sign in any neighborhood. Less so here. In a flash, my unlicensed .45 was chambered and ready, back to the wall, heart pounding. With my free hand, I reached across and shoved the door inward.

"Police!" I lied.

Nothing.

Leading with the firearm, I stepped into the doorway low and fast, covering the shabby interior. Old habits.

Nothing except for her. Doubt. Bleeding out on the floor, unmoving, crimson stain steadily growing from her abdomen in the shiny lycra body suit.

Holstering the weapon I raced to her and crouched. Wound was clean, looked like a knife, but she needed treatment and fast.

Scooping her up, I stumbled from the room and down the stairs, midday heat suddenly three times what the mercury said. An unshaven man came out of a tall iron gate and scurried back inside at the sight. Typically human.

Loping across the road and around the corner I propped her between the Chevy and me while I fumbled for the keys in my jeans back pocket.

She stirred as I yanked the passenger door, lids heavy. "Who…?"

"Hey, shhh."

Easing her into the seat, she started to wriggle. "Where are you taki…? No!"

"Hey, stop. You've been hurt."

As if realizing for the first time, she looked down and touched delicate fingers to the wound, coming away the same red that smeared my shirt.

I let reality sink in. "That needs attention. I'll take you to the hospital."

"No!" she winced at the outburst, then finished, quieter, "No hospitals."

"Lady, you're gonna need a doctor."

"Please." Her bloody hand shot out, fingers curling around my wrist, skin soft and cool. "No hospitals."

"Why not?"

Those eyes found mine and I saw a hundred reasons behind them. Fear, primarily. "Please."

Hospitals kept admission records. Maybe she didn't wanna be found by whoever owned the blade. I wavered. Took in her figure properly. Perfection, every curve a ballet. My kinda thing. Made me wonder why she hadn't been singled out in the Relationshop window. Maybe she wasn't listed. Maybe she appeared on page two of the results. Or maybe she'd managed to remove her implant without getting caught. If that was the case I was fucked just putting her in my car. Aiding and abetting.

Pursing my lips, I blew out. "Fine. I might know a guy."

Mike patched her good for the usual fee. Bourbon from the guts of a Tennessee factory long presumed derelict. I knew a guy who knew a chemist with a clean bathtub, distillation rig and a gas supply. Prohibition breeds innovation, even second time around.

When she awoke next morning, I approached the couch where she lay under the blanket. "Hey."

She focused after squinting in the morning sun from the window opposite, dazzling blues like a cop light bar, and croaked, "Hi," back.

Shifting up, she winced and peeked under the covers. If she registered that my shirt was buttoned over where we'd had to cut the body suit off her perfect frame, she didn't show it. The sight of her bountiful tits was burned in my mind. Probably Mike's too.

Dabbing the dressing, she allowed a smile. "Thank you."

I waved away the compliment. "Mike's the hero." I nodded over the back of the couch and she took in his light slacks, check overshirt and shock of mad scientist hair.

Turning her attention back to me, her tone was flat. "I'm ravenous."

"I know a place." Her eyes widened and I added, "Outta the city."

"Great. Do you… have some clothes that fit 'til I can get my own?"

"I brought some back when I went to fix your door." She looked away and I let her take a moment before continuing. "What happened?"

The response was icy. "My now-ex. Sick of his shit."

I nodded. "Guy has trust issues."

She looked across at me, up and down real slow. Every ounce the private eye and it showed. "Wait. He paid you?"

I nodded again. "See, that's what don't add up. If he knew where you were and sent me to watch, why'd he have you stabbed?"

Our eyes locked and I knew she was lying when she said, "No idea," but I let it slide. Despite what governments believed, everyone has their reasons and their right to privacy. If she wanted to tell me, she would.

Turning to the plastic chair in the corner I picked up the pile of her clothes and tossed them in her direction. "They only serve breakfast 'til eleven."

Last thing I noticed as she eased herself from the couch and paced to the bedroom was her pretty bare ass wiggling beneath the hem of my shirt.

I sure do pick 'em.

Breakfast at the diner was good. Always was. She ate like it was going out of fashion and I ordered seconds and refills. Pancakes were fluffy and filling, drizzled in enough maple syrup to keep Canada in business for a month. She pledged to pay.

Between mouthfuls we swapped stories. How I made a living. Whether it was competitive. What the clients were like. I scoped her out too. Suspected the reason she got stabbed was over missing money but didn't say as much. She was officially in recruitment AI – algorithms to match people to jobs – but I mostly got details of her jealous ex and the shady company he kept. The number of times she wanted to leave but daren't. Details for sure, but no name. Never her name.

Maybe she was spooked in case I wasn't the guy I claimed. Caution first's a good policy, especially when machines knew more about us than we did. I liked that she was principled. Strong. Resolute. Pragmatic. The fact she was fuckin' gorgeous was frosting. I'm not ashamed to admit my attraction grew in more ways than one. Couldn't get her outta my head.

She stayed at a girlfriend's and I pissed the day of our second breakfast away, staking out some deadbeat lawyer suspected of feeding case notes to the opposition. Ended it with a steaming hot shower to try and shift her from my head. The way she moved. Her scent that spiraled into my senses and set up camp after we'd stood and parted at the diner. Awkward, like I was about to offer a kiss goodbye but didn't, turning instead to pull the door that rang the overhead bell, stepping into the rising heat and dust of the day.

Still no name. Not on the second breakfast, nor the third a week later. It kinda bugged me but I didn't press it. Maybe I'd earn it. Maybe one day she'd lower her guard. Let me do the things I longed to do. The things I imagined as I let the shower water cascade over me night after night and I tugged at my thickening shaft, visions of her bent ahead of me, hands pressed to the tiles, sexy ass upturned, inviting and accommodating as I thrust into her tight body.

I imagined the sounds of her cries dulled by the water and steam while she came. Had visions of encircling her waist, cupping her tits as she reached up behind her and snaked hands into the back of my wet mop of soon-to-be-grey when I let loose ropes of thick come deep inside her clawing hot tunnel. Come like the stuff that flew through the spray under my insistent strokes and splattered against the tiles to be chased away down the drain.

"Hey?" She clicked her fingers, shaking me from my churning thoughts and the diner music returned to the fore. "So why haven't you?"

I'd thought about that. A lot. Almost as much as her body against mine. Truth was I didn't know, but said nothing. Just looked at her. Eyes. Tits. Eyes.

Half a smile formed on her lips. "See, you're curious. A guy in your line of work needs to know facts. And you've got a scanner, right?"

I paused a beat then fished inside my jacket pocket and pushed the credit card size reader across the table but didn't let it leave my fingertips. The devices were hard to come by.

She regarded the machine, slid her elbow forward alongside it and upturned her wrist. An offering. I could see the tiny scar where the incision was made. A lifetime of data hidden beneath.

"Go on. Press the button. Be like everyone else. Know."

I gazed into her eyes. Thumbed the tiny raised nodule on the long edge of the scanner. She was right. One little press and I'd know everything. Her history, past demeanors, education, partners. All downloaded and cataloged alongside predictions. The foreknowledge to know whether we were compatible. Statistical likelihoods. Life prospects. Income projections. What our DNA would reveal if it was mixed.

Everything.

Or fuck it and roll the dice.

Shaking my head, I pulled my fingers away from the scanner, swapped arms on the table and laid my wrist up alongside hers. "I trust you." Raising my eyebrows, I waited.

Doubt considered the device again, reached for it, hovering over the surface a moment before sliding it towards me.

We both sat back, me pocketing it then finishing the last gulp of coffee. She did likewise. Eyed me. "So what now?"

I threw a twenty on the table, plus tip. "We're even. What are you doing today?"

She shrugged. "No plans. Besides avoiding my ex."

Gazing out the window beyond the stony parking lot at the blacktop, I offered, "Car's fully charged, I got nothin' that can't wait. We could head off somewhere remote. Just walk."

She followed my gaze. Took in the mountains in the distance, smiled and nodded.

So we left. She was still signed off with a doctor's record forged by Mike. I only had a shitty assignment on the books, but heading into the sunrise still felt like truanting. I had a nervous energy as we parked partway up and hiked through the forest and beyond to the summit. A spark I'd not felt in a long time. Couldn't tell if she felt it too. I hoped so.

Three weeks. Four breakfasts. Five mile round trip up a mountain. We took our time. Stopped regularly at clearings that afforded spectacular views, nature to one side, sprawling tech the other. Nothing, it turned out, like the vista from the top, off the main track over the fences. The higher mountains flanked us as we breathed deep and marveled at the riverbed far below that swathed a meandering path through the valley.

Doubt dropped to her belly and crawled to the edge, commando style. I joined her, gravel scraping my forearms. Looking down at the sheer drop was real edge-of-the-world shit. Took my breath away, and for a guy who thought he'd seen it all, that's somethin'.

We stayed there just watching. Looking down on the trees and the water. The birds of prey scouring the terrain below. She even stuck her arms out over the edge. Convinced me to do the same like we were fucking superheroes. It was exhilarating, but Jesus it scared me shitless.

On the way back through the forest she fell quiet for a spell and I let her think. She was quiet in the car too, only joining in sporadically, if animatedly, about the walk. I told her the view from my apartment wasn't all that bad either but I don't think she believed me. As we neared the city, though, she asked if she could see it. Wanted to watch a sunset without looking over her shoulder. Of course I agreed, the car making short work of the hill climb to my complex on Mulberry.

In the cramped kitchen, she was wide-eyed at my offer of a drink. "Let me guess. You know a guy?"

I fetched a pair of tumblers and tipped a healthy slug in each over ice. "It ain't what you know." We clinked glasses.

One drink led to another. I showed her the balcony, both of us leaning forward perched over the railings, barefoot, sipping as we watched the sun slither lower to paint a crimson band across the horizon. Savoring the forbidden taste of the alcohol in her mouth, she swallowed. "Thank you for taking me out today. It's been a long time since someone was so nice."

"No problem." I took a slug and watched the kid from unit three unchain his bike from the corner of the low-walled patio area beyond the pool. "Some might call it fate."

She eyed me. "You really believe that? That we have no control over our destiny?"

"Sure. Look at the chances of me being hired to spy on you the day you needed medical help. And of me knowing Mike. You taking me to breakfast. Going to the mountains. Ending up here. Too much coincidence."

Doubt nodded, amused like she had me all figured out. "I see free will at every turn. You could have not taken the job. A neighbor might have found me." She paused and let herself smile. "And he might have been more ruggedly handsome than your cheery old self."

I grinned and stroked the three-day growth across my chin. Sank a finger of bourbon. "Fate. Free will. Roll of the dice. Same animal, different clothes."

"No no. Not at all. Lift one of your legs. Either one."

I raised an eyebrow and she motioned for me to play along. I sighed and lifted my left leg at the knee, balancing with the help of the railing.

"Good. Now lift the other one the same without putting the first on the floor."

I stared at her. "You know I can't do that."

"Exactly. Your first action was free will. You could have chosen any leg. But once you'd made the choice you have to pay the consequences of that decision before you can take another path. That's fate." She looked pleased with herself. "The way you use free will to live through the consequences of an earlier action until you can make the next choice drives your fate."

Lowering my leg, I nodded. "Point taken. Guess that also explains why flamingos stand on one leg."

"How so?"

I smiled. "Well if they didn't, they'd fall over."

She shoved me playfully, our eyes meeting briefly before we both returned to gaze out over the dwindling dusky strips of burnt orange. The place was quiet. The skyline of the city soared in the middle distance to our right, all winking lights and billboards and honking traffic, city gears turning on full for a good few hours yet.

"May I use the bathroom?"

"Sure. Back there on the left," I waved the tumbler in the general direction and she followed it.

The night was still. Airless. Hadn't been a storm in weeks. We were due for one, I could feel it. Damn droughts were more frequent than ever. Governments blamed corporations. Corporations blamed the people. The planet blamed us all and dug its heels in.

I thought about what she said. I'd made choices. Good ones. Bad ones. Outright shitty ones. But maybe I'd let those decisions define me. Wear me down. Maybe I should own 'em. Work harder. Make the most of any half chances that came my way so I could get both feet on the floor.

I sank the remainder of my drink. Heard her padding back from the bathroom and glanced across as she resumed her position overlooking the balcony railing.

Stark fucking naked.

"Jesus. What the hell are you doing?"

She flicked her hair back. "Exercising my free will. The question is," she turned her head my way, "what are you going to do about it?"

My head spun, senses all alert at once. My gaze took in her entire frame, toe to top, detouring for those incredible tits that redefined a handful. I swallowed. "Guess I should make better use of free will to shape my fate."

As I pushed from the railing and stepped her way, a glimmer of a smile crossed her lips. "Now you're learning."

Heat radiated from her body. I smoothed inky hair behind her ear. Traced its length over her shoulder and down to the center of her back. Stepped again to move behind her, drawing breath at the way her hips tapered from her bubble butt. Just like in my shower fantasies.

I bent to nuzzle her hair. She smelled fresh. Of coconut. My lips sought skin beneath her tresses. Found her shoulder blades and kissed up and out, then swept back into her neck. Doubt tipped her head to one side, allowing my lips to graze her neck. She sighed.

Sighs turned to mews of encouragement as I finger combed her hair, creeping my stubble lower. Reached the tips of her mane. Small of her back. Watched gooseflesh form. Eased to one side to kiss a perfect round cheek, up and over the dimple at the base of her spine to the other.

My hands joined in, cupping her sexy ass and squeezing. Teasing the cheeks apart, my mouth hovering inches above the delicious crease. Fuck she smelled good. I let my gaze and breath linger long enough over her beautiful asshole that she might think I was gonna devour it. Then knelt behind her and nearly burst from the confines of my dark slacks.

Tiny wisps of pubic hair peeked from the tantalizing keyhole thigh gap, twenty-eight years in the making and worth every damn minute. Pawing her firm globes some more, their taut elasticity seemed to defy physics. Lift. Drop. Separate. Breathe. Repeat.

Fuck.

Common decency dictated that I start slow. Build up, get her hot and ready and wet. Kiss her milky skin all over until she was quivering with anticipation. Taste her mouth against mine as tongues dueled and fingertips brushed the edges of her glorious breasts, circling up their slopes to zero in on the proud, crinkled caps. Pinching them. Sucking them. Biting them. Making her moan.

But common decency went out the fuckin' window when I issued a playful slap to her butt and she groaned, sticking her ass out further.

Dirty. Just how I like 'em.

I still took my time. Swatted each cheek until the succulent orbs were tinted rosy pink. Each strike a fraction harder than the last, her sighs and groans rang out into the approaching twilight. If anyone came home early they'd be in for a surprise, but I was rapidly reaching the point of not caring.

By the time I was done painting her ass red, all the chivalrous actions were moot. I could smell how ready she was. And as if I needed an invitation, she stepped her legs apart, greater than shoulder width by a small margin. Enough that I could crawl between her shapely legs and turn to sit, my back to the railing.

The view gave me the boner of my lifetime, the pressure immense. Light from the living room refracted off the droplets of moisture that clung to the fuzz of her pussy like morning dew. I'd never wanted to greedily consume anything as much.

I reached for her hips and drew her inward, nuzzling my face to her soft snatch. Inhaling. Swelling. Fuck, she was cinnamon and spice and all kinds of sweetness as I kissed her folds. The droplets transferred to my stubble, to be replaced with more coaxed out by my tongue bath. Tangy yet smooth, she was a silky complement to the fiery bourbon that still lapped my senses inside.

As her hips rotated up under my insistent grasp, my nose grazed her clit. I slid my tongue between the tender lips, stronger flavor dancing on my taste buds. Fucked her slow and deep with my tongue, twisting my face to forge deeper before slipping north. Circling her button wide. Teasing. Wrapping my lips loosely around the proud jewel and breathing heat before moving down to feast once more on her splayed pussy lips, her groan of frustration turned to satisfaction.

Wetness built with every lick. Practically tumbled from her slit as rhythmic sighs matched the motion of my tongue. Considering we'd both taken a considerable chance to be here, it was working out swell. Maybe free will had a shot in this world after all.

My face was drenched by the time I moved back up to cover her shiny pink nub. This time I sure didn't hold back and she knew it. Fuck, she almost crushed my head between the rails and her magnificent pussy, her cries projected off the balcony.

I sucked the tiny orb at the apex of her gaping wet slit and flicked my tongue in circles, then stripes. Each moment seemed to drive her higher, juice dripping onto my chin to be smeared against her slippery womanhood. As her groans intensified I felt her thighs tighten against my cheeks and she spilled over, treating me to honeyed heat that I let slither into my mouth and swallowed.

Thoroughly cleaning her pubic mound of every stringy trace, I let her descend from her orgasm, minute by precious minute. As her breathing returned to normal, I stood. She planted a steamy kiss against me. Her scent drifted between us from my face. Thought it might put her off but it seemed to drive her wild.

We kissed hard and hot as she fumbled to undo my pants and then knelt to take me in her mouth. No prom date uncertainty. No build-up. One thing was clear: Doubt could suck cock, and loved it. I'd never known myself fill a woman's throat quite like her. Sure, she choked but it only energized her to determinedly go back for more. Deeper. Harder. Wetter. Until loops of spit dripped from my balls to splash the tiles between her knees.

She pulled back, gasping, jacking my wet shaft. Nibbling my saliva-soaked sac. Roving her lips up and down my length alongside her hand, she allowed me to calm a little before going back for more, devouring my length to the hilt. Incredible. I didn't need to do a thing; just reached out either side to grab the railings and leaned back while she did all the work.

Her palms massaged my balls making me all kinds of horny. Moreso when she wormed a wet finger into my asshole and finger-fucked me as her mouth slobbered on my pole like it was the only thing on the menu. Dirty didn't do her justice.

Gagging and pulling off me with a cough, she jacked and kissed my fat cock that jumped at every touch like it was possessed. She looked up, tongue lashing the underside of the flared head, unfettered excitement in her expression. "I want this inside me."

What's a guy to do?

Doubt stood, still clutching my rod, our eyes almost level, raised her left leg and placed her foot on top of the railing alongside me. Guiding my length towards her, I was soon sheathed in the tight confines of her tunnel.

She adjusted to the intrusion quickly, my hands gravitated to her hips and we began fucking. The railing vibrated behind me like a tuning fork with each thrust, her soft sighs and groans tickling my earlobe. I bit her shoulder as she clasped my head with urgent fingertips of one hand, using the other to steady herself on the railing and pull into me.

I'd never wanted anyone more. She represented something that had been missing from all the empty fucks I'd had since my wife left. Each had been perfectly compatible, for sure. Filtered and selected based on my needs. Dirty when I wanted them to be. But Doubt had unmatched energy and excitement that eclipsed them all. Maybe it was experience or damage; she had a good few years on the others. But I suspected it was more than that. She put her heart and soul into it. As for her pussy, Jesus. It never wanted to let go.

My hands found her butt. Pulled her onto my girth. Split her over and over, each cry against my ear ratcheting the knot inside me higher. The slapping of our hot union drifted into the night and I moved up to bite her neck. She threw her head back, tits skyward, and wailed, gripping both hands on the railing to drive herself against my thrusts.

"Yeah," she gasped. "Fucking bite me. Own me."

I kissed her throat, nipping flesh between my teeth and worked my way down the slope of her magnificent chest, clamping my mouth around an erect nipple. She moaned again; I sucked harder. When my teeth joined in, encouragement poured from her lips at the same rate as the juices from her pussy. Alternating between each cerise cap, I made them darker and wetter as she urged me with a torrent of filthy expletives.

She clasped her hands behind my head and leaned back, swinging from my neck. The angle pushed me deeper into her velvety channel, sawing with powerful strokes, splitting her soaked slit. I watched her mouth form staccato vowels before she bore the full brilliance of those eyes into mine and implored: "Fill me up."

Even if I wanted to stop, I couldn't. Our hips crashed a handful more times and the pressure surged from my balls up my shaft and erupted inside her drenched center. I growled as I came hard, spurt after spurt pumping mercilessly into Doubt, as she repeatedly murmured, "Yes," and her walls fluttered around me.

We remained connected under the burgeoning stars, panting heavily. Glued, never wanting the moment to end. Even after I softened inside her, we stayed together and hugged. A surprising tenderness, given the intensity of what we'd experienced.

When we drifted apart slightly, all crooked smiles and sweaty flesh, she eyed me. "How was that for free will?"

"I can feel my fate changing already. Could get used to doing that."

"Mmm. Me too. I do need a shower though."

I took in her beauty once more. "Agreed. But…"

"What?"

"I accept I'm a novice at free will, but do you trust me?"

"You're doing fine so far. Of course I trust you."

I grinned, picked her up in my arms amid a surprised squeal, and tossed her over the balcony.

She screamed all the way down the single-floor drop, arms and legs flailing, splashing ass first into the pool below. She came up spluttering as I peeled off my shirt and dived over the edge to join her.

She gave me a shove when I surfaced, slicking her hair back. "Bastard! You scared the shit out of me."

I bobbed alongside her, wrapped her in my arms and kicked us to the edge where we could both just about stand. I kissed her. "Your rules. I'm prepared to face the consequences of my actions."

She melted against my naked torso, hands seeking my ass then cock beneath the ripples. "Oh yeah? Right here?"

Cupping her ass I pulled her in. "Yeah. Rolling the dice never felt so good."

Doubt tipped her head to one side. Eyed me in the dim light from the room above. "Hannah."

I mouthed the word back a few times. "It suits you. I'm Joe."

She nodded and we kissed again, the tepid water sloshing around our bodies as desire rose once more.

So Doubt finally had a name. And all it took was belief to get it. I could live with that.