Contrary to what I had half-expected, Anne's body answered to touch like a soft, living thing. I'd braced for something clinical like the cold certainty of metal and servomotors, but she surprised me. Yes, there were areas where the framework ran closer to iron than flesh. It was a faint, reassuring firmness under the skin in places that hinted at engineering. But across the rest of her, the surface gave in a way that read as warmth, elasticity, and just enough resistance to convince my hands they were holding a real woman.
I eased a palm along the curve of her hip and felt the give beneath her uniform. The maid fabric rustled quietly, then fell a hair as I lifted her skirt. The room hummed with the low breath of the world outside, but my focus narrowed to the small, intimate theater of fabric and flesh... or something almost indistinguishable from it.
