His wide shoulders, clothed in a fitted black t-shirt, gave way to toned arms. A strong-looking hand with long, well-shaped fingers came up to massage...the back of his exposed neck. Down below, narrow hips in dark-wash, loose-fitting jeans completed the bodily ensemble. Tousled, feathery, light brown hair looked real, not expertly styled. His skin looked so soft, and made me want to run an index finger along the nape of his neck to see for myself how soft. I couldn't see his face, but imagined. "The robot driver was a simulacrum of an early Twentieth Century New York cabbie, complete with rumpled clothing, a stained button covered cap, an unruly shock of hair and the stub of an unlit cigar clamped between yellowed teeth."If youse will accomp'ny me," the robot continued," I'll take yez to da palace of Jonn da Foist. He awayz greets visitas from da udder planets."The sedan's doors lifted as the driver slid back behind the control toggles.The three looked at each other."Jonn the First?". More

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