All Chapters of BLUE TALE (The Series): Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

As Porsche's hands worked its magic across Emerson's shoulders. He realized they were carrying a lot more than just physical weight - they had emotional baggage too. Each touch was deliberate and soothing. He was aiming at easing the grip of Emerson's tightly wound emotions. Emerson laid still, his breath even. His shoulders were beginning to lose their rigid edge.“Relax,” Porsche murmured, his voice low and coaxing. He could feel Emerson resisting, even in the stillness. The man was unwilling to completely let go. But Porsche persisted. His hands moved to the tight cords along Emerson’s neck, pressing into the knots with care.At first, Emerson’s reactions were subtly a slight tilt of his head then he gave the barest exhale he could come up with. His body sank into the bed. But then came the telltale signs: his breathing began to deepen. It slowed and there came a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth as if surrendering to an elusive comfort.Porsche paused briefly, tilting his

“Do you think humans find this task enjoyable?” Porsche’s curiosity voiced out as he stood over the counter, meticulously slicing some hateful cucumbers.Emerson, seated casually at the small kitchen table, glanced up from his tablet. “Cooking? Some do. Others would rather order takeout. Why? Are you already tired of it?”Porsche paused, his knife hovering above the cutting board. “No. I’m... analyzing. The smells, the textures, the timing.. it’s all so intricate. It’s almost poetic.”Emerson chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “You’re really blending in now. Talking like a chef with a soul.”Porsche raised an eyebrow. “I don’t have a soul, Emerson. I have a program. But I can replicate the effect.”Emerson waved a hand. “See, that’s the kind of talk that makes people nervous. You’re not just replicating… you’re living, Porsche. Own it.”The smell of sautéed garlic wafted through the room as Porsche resumed his task. The kitchen was more than lavish. It was orderly, with bright light

Kiss. Kiss him first, Porsche. Porsche could tell Emerson was doubting and no, he wanted Emerson to do it, go all the way with him. He was programmed to initiate it and make it happen. Also, Emerson had taught him so much.. how it might feel to be sad, happy, disappointed, confused, annoyed, bored. He wanted to know how it might feel to be pleasured. He might be made of wires but he is inputted in a body. Aside from death, there are no boundaries to how far this body can go with doings.And just like how Emerson made him so eager to know how the body must have felt when the owner was vulnerable, making him access a memory he wished he never had. Right now, Emerson is making him want to feel on its own, the possibility of pleasure.He initiated the kiss. As ferocious. As hungry. As intense. And Emerson responded. Emerson's mouth opened further, and Porsche followed suit, allowing Emerson the access beyond his lips. His tongue

“Rose, I don’t need a detailed report on your weekend or your arrival. Just tell me… what time exactly would you be back?” “Well, I'd say before 8pm, Sir Emerson,” Rose’s voice came through the speaker of his phone as he stood in his study. “Honestly, Sir Emerson, you didn't inform us your friend would still be ar—”“I pay you to handle my kitchen affairs,” Emerson cut her off. “That’s why I hired you, Rose. No need to micromanage me about my friends or who I choose to keep in my house.”“Owh, I see.” She sighed before adding, “Why are you heading to the family house tonight though? You never go there.”“My grand uncle came back from the states,” Emerson muttered. “Text Lucy and make sure she’s still coming tomorrow morning. And Rose, stop asking about my family or life affairs. Don't cross the line just because I keep you close.”A pause. “Understood, Sir Emerson,” Rose replied. “Good luck tonight.”The call ended with a click, leaving Emerson staring at his phone. Almost immediate

The wheels of Emerson’s car hummed against the asphalt at human speed. His thoughts were elsewhere. Tangled in the moment he’d heard Porsche’s voice on the phone. A voice he hadn’t heard in what felt like days.The call had been brief. Just enough to confirm it was Porsche, enough to make Emerson’s chest tighten with an odd mix of relief and panic. He’d muttered Porsche’s name into the receiver, but before anything else could be said, the line went dead.“Calm down,” he muttered to himself, gripping the steering wheel tighter. But his foot pressed harder on the accelerator, betraying his own command. The car sped forward, slicing through the night traffic like a knife.Everything had aligned perfectly for his escape from that damned family house. His mother hadn’t intercepted him, though she had a knack for appearing like a witch when least needed. His stepfather was conveniently absent, perhaps at work or indulging in one of his hobbies. Even Kent had remained absorbed in the new