<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8" standalone="yes"?><rss version="2.0" xmlns:atom="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:content="http://purl.org/rss/1.0/modules/content/"><channel><title>Jay Petto on Gromet's Plaza Archive</title><link>/authors/jay-petto/</link><description>Recent content in Jay Petto on Gromet's Plaza Archive</description><generator>Hugo</generator><language>en-us</language><lastBuildDate>Sat, 03 Nov 2007 00:00:00 +0000</lastBuildDate><atom:link href="/authors/jay-petto/index.xml" rel="self" type="application/rss+xml"/><item><title>Bound to Please</title><link>/stories/2007/11/03/bound-to-please/</link><pubDate>Sat, 03 Nov 2007 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2007/11/03/bound-to-please/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;For the real Michelle, who sometimes graces my dreams.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Chapter One&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;On a Wednesday night, in a room that did not exist, I stole a kiss from Michelle. She was dreaming, of course - but then so was I.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Few people understand the power of dreams; even a meddler like myself can only grasp fragments of it. I&amp;rsquo;d imagined this comfortable parlor and then called Michelle to it as she slept. It was only a dream, she thought - but dreams can reshape the daylight world.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Creative Control</title><link>/stories/2007/11/03/creative-control/</link><pubDate>Sat, 03 Nov 2007 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2007/11/03/creative-control/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Anne Summers watched Mr. Saunders fidget with her resume, which was even slighter than she was. The uneasy silence was not doing the little redhead&amp;rsquo;s nerves any good; this was her first interview for a real job in broadcasting and she&amp;rsquo;d gone into it with a mixture of hope and worry. Anne was dressed simply, in a white blouse, black skirt and hose, with low heels, having decided that the outfit would make a good impression and be comfortable for late July. The stocky manager of radio station WONO had seemed pleased with both her resume and her answers to his questions, but had then fallen silent.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Pulling Strings</title><link>/stories/2007/11/03/pulling-strings/</link><pubDate>Sat, 03 Nov 2007 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2007/11/03/pulling-strings/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;Disclaimer: Do not read this if you are underage, it would be illegal for other reasons or while operating heavy machinery. Don&amp;rsquo;t try this at home either even if you are telepathic, which I doubt.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Annette stood frozen on the stage before me, dressed in a white bikini and heels. Short blonde hair framed her heart-shaped face. Her lovely grey eyes did not register my presence; except for the steady rise and fall of her ample bosom she might have been a beautiful mannequin. Since she was now under my mental control, the image was not far from the truth.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Made for Pleasure</title><link>/stories/2007/10/10/made-for-pleasure/</link><pubDate>Wed, 10 Oct 2007 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2007/10/10/made-for-pleasure/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;The space station was humming as Ginger R342 docked her luxury
hyper-yacht. Some readers may object that a station cannot hum, much
less carry a tune. To this one can only reply that the main
cyberbrain, which &lt;em&gt;was&lt;/em&gt; humming, controlled the internal
speakercoms. The effect was thus the same.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Syntellect cyberbrains rarely hum unless commanded, so one deciding
to attempt &amp;ldquo;I Ain&amp;rsquo;t Got Nobody&amp;rdquo; was downright peculiar. This &lt;em&gt;should&lt;/em&gt; have warned Ginger that something was wrong, rather than merely
annoying her. Unfortunately for Ginger (but not for the lecherous
reader), she gave it no thought, but simply ordered the cyberbrain to
shut up.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item><item><title>Made for Pleasure</title><link>/stories/2007/10/10/made-for-pleasure/</link><pubDate>Wed, 10 Oct 2007 00:00:00 +0000</pubDate><guid>/stories/2007/10/10/made-for-pleasure/</guid><description>&lt;p&gt;The space station was humming as Ginger R342 docked her luxury
hyper-yacht. Some readers may object that a station cannot hum, much
less carry a tune. To this one can only reply that the main
cyberbrain, which &lt;em&gt;was&lt;/em&gt; humming, controlled the internal
speakercoms. The effect was thus the same.&lt;/p&gt;
&lt;p&gt;Syntellect cyberbrains rarely hum unless commanded, so one deciding
to attempt &amp;ldquo;I Ain&amp;rsquo;t Got Nobody&amp;rdquo; was downright peculiar. This &lt;em&gt;should&lt;/em&gt; have warned Ginger that something was wrong, rather than merely
annoying her. Unfortunately for Ginger (but not for the lecherous
reader), she gave it no thought, but simply ordered the cyberbrain to
shut up.&lt;/p&gt;</description></item></channel></rss>