His wife was beautiful, and not just in his eyes. He’d overheard enough talk over a pint or three at the local pub to know she was the subject of mu...h speculation, most of it lust fueled. And who could blame them? His gaze wandered over her body, only a thin white shift hiding her treasures from him. She was slender, but the slenderness of a young woman, rather than a boy. Her breasts although small, were perfectly proportioned upon her, her narrow waist making them look larger than they. He needed something to grasp, some small bit of a normal life for him to hold onto. He might – just might – be all right if he could only find a single, solitary thing to grasp.“Hermes, I need a place to run,” he started. He’d begin there. He’d begin the reconstruction of his soul with the one normal thing he could control. He’d need his routine, latch onto his routine. It would ground him, anchor him. It would keep him safe while he figured out what the fuck he was doing here.“I am not the AI. More

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