Disclaimers: I do not own the quotations in italics (including song lyrics) and I also do not own A.I. nor any character therein or the dialogue.

Room 207

I have discovered that all human evil comes from this; man's being unable to sit still in a room.
- Blaise Pascal

She was afraid.

Afraid of the shiny, smooth skin.

Afraid of the penetrating green eyes.

Afraid of what they saw, and how they saw her. Above all, she was afraid of why she needed him. Her mouth opened to speak, but she closed it quickly. Words were wasted on his kind. Anyone with half a brain knew that there was only one thing a mecha understood; an order.

Direct, so as not to confuse it.

There must be so much this mecha doesn't understand.' she thought. She could tell this to be true by the way his smile had not varied an inch since he had let himself into the room. She wondered if he ever frowned. Probably not. Why frown when smiles made the customer shiver with delight?
Shiver the way she was shivering now, as he swept towards her. His eyes were focused completely on her; it was the kind of attention she was not used to. It made her blush and want to look away.

But she didn't.

Oh god...' she exclaimed silently, as he drew closer still. He moved punctually; each stride and tip of his head exact and timed to perfection. With his sharp features, shock of black hair and slim body he looked like he was in his early twenties. But he could have been built yesterday. Fear raced through her veins, awakening an excitement she had never known. It shot down her spine and made her mouth tingle. The mecha stopped his advance towards her- as if he had noticed her unease.
Of course he had, she reasoned. He was programmed to notice. His face smoothed into a grin- the corner of his mouth causing a charming dimple to surface in his cheek. Her stomach flipped. With a graceful sweep of his arms, the mecha bowed. It was a whimsical gesture. It was also a direct invitation; she took it without a second thought.

I'm afraid. she whispered, for her throat could not produce a clearer note. At first it seemed to contemplate this new fact. With a precise and soothing tone the mecha spoke for the first time since their meeting. She was startled; it's voice was like velvet.

Afraid of me? it questioned. When she didn't answer it's face changed from that of an amorous admirer to that of a concerned lover.

Is this your first time, with something like me?
He was far too beautiful; she thought this should entice her but it didn't. It terrified her beyond measure.

Will it hurt? she asked quietly, foregoing the formality of answering the mecha's question. She didn't have to answer.
Within a seconds lapse, he was knelt before her. It was all too sudden, and she gasped sharply as his hands began to stroke the backs of her legs, comfortingly. She froze. Time froze. There was only the rhythmic movement of his hands and the green fire that danced within his eyes. His fingers traced a circular pattern up her thighs, until her reached her knees. He then folded his hands neatly, and leaned his elbows across her lap.
It will. But I promise, once you have had me you will never want a real man' again. It was not a promise to be fulfilled, it was a fact to be discovered. The confident set of his jaw told her he knew far more than she did about sex.

Of course he did. He was in the business.

Her eyes traveled down the curve and swell of his lips, down the smooth column of his throat and down the shiny black front of his shirt- to his own lap.

Can I see it first...? she tried to sound as clinical as possible, but the request sounded more like a proposition. A new and dreaded companion filled her chest. Guilt. He was an object. And she was asking to view the merchandise.

It's my first time. I've never been with a...
He leaned closer. She could feel his breath fan her cheeks. Was it simulated breath? He smelled of cologne. It was a spicy, intoxicating smell. Her eyes drifted shut.

...a mecha. she finished, breathing in his presence which could only be described as electrifying.

That makes two of us, then.

She opened her eyes. His face was inches away, reflecting the amusement that danced in his voice. He winked secretively. Was he trying to break the ice? Suddenly, she did the last thing on her mind; she laughed. He joined in, his light-hearted tenor complimenting her breathless note.

Just as suddenly as he had knelt before her, he rose. The long black jacket flowed with his dynamic movements, it's tailored fit giving him an added edge. He was sheik. He was stylish. He was moving to a beat that would never pound in his chest, but would pulse throughout his body. She looked up at him with a shy smile. He returned the gesture with a dazzling flash of white teeth.
Sharply, he tilted his head to the right as if cracking his neck. A crackling tune filled the room, and a woman's voice seemed to sing from everywhere all at once.

And I only have eyes....

He sang. His tall body was poised like a Tom cat on the prowl. Slowly, he moved towards her.
No hesitations now. She welcomed him with a shaky embrace, as he leaned over her.

For you....

The music continued with a romantic melody that needed the mouths of young lovers; his voice sang softly, bewitchingly.

Just for her.

His mouth was her world now, and would remain so until it had discovered all planes and places she hid. Boldly, she traced her hands lightly up the back of his neck, and found that the softness of his hair was also like velvet. Running her fingers through it's jet black hair was thrilling; but not nearly as thrilling as the feel of his firm body pushing hers back onto the hard mattress. It was like a plug had been pulled- and all her tension was draining from her limbs. Her embrace became tighter. Drawing back to look down into her face, it seemed to hesitate- but perhaps she was just feeling insecure in the face of such perfection.

Are these the marks of passion? he questioned intimately, raising a fingertip to touch the bruise on her neck. His touch was feather light. It created a fierce ache. Without thinking she arched her back, in a slow and searching stroke. She could feel him against her. No fear. Just need. Want. The soft pad of his fingertip trailed up her neck to caress her bottom lip. Her breath caught.

Your a goddess. You wind me up inside. he said lustfully, tipping her chin up so as to meet her gaze.

You deserve me. he said.

She heard a faint whimper; and realized it was her own. His eyes were not cheerful anymore. They were not mischievous. They were not innocent. They were dark with unfulfilled passion, and she was their focus. No turning back now.
He kissed her. It kissed her. The mecha, who went by the name of Joe' tasted her lips like they were melted chocolate. His mouth dipped into hers lightly- it was a chaste kiss. But that was not what she wanted. It was playing with her-teasing her with it's flawless beauty. Before she could protest to this, he was tasting more deeply. Fully. When his taught body pressed down on her, it was like a channel of kinetic energy shot through her clothes, and into her skin. Pulling his mouth closer still, she marveled at the softness of his lips; a softness that could demand anything from her. It was a softness that could become wonderfully hard. The music was forgotten. His smell surrounded her, and though she was now trapped beneath a machine it was the one place she felt truly safe. With Joe. Soulless, demonless Joe. It' had been right. A real man would have left a mark. A scar. A regret.
Feverishly she explored his mouth, loving the smoothness of his skin. She was not afraid anymore. After all, it was just Joe.

....And I only have eyes....

Just Joe.

For you....

A/N: Humons! I'm sorry if I messed up on the dialogue! I wrote this at 2 am and didn't look up from my keyboard until 3. I think it was like a dream, but I was still awake and wrote it down. Sleep typing. I'll shut up now.