Jennifer woke early. She hadn’t had much sleep with the full moon shining in her window, but her brain clicked on, and she knew she was ready to start the day. She plugged her iOn into the port on her wrist, typed in rise&SHinE and got out of bed, leaving her husband sleeping.

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Bless-ed Johnny had set up the coffee when he came home last night.  All she needed to do was push the button, and type in the password. Br*wNOW.  She took the dog out to pee; he was an old-style canid, and didn’t need a password. She carried in the newspaper, and poured herself a cup.

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Johnny had been away for three weeks, and she’d had to make her own coffee, as well as walk the dog, mow the lawn, and do the laundry. She had programmed herself  and her iOn to perform these chores, so she could function on her own, but it was so good to have him home.

After coffee, she went back in the bedroom to get ready for the day. If they hurried, they could make love, using the wHamB!m12 password.  But Johnny was sound asleep; he had come in at 2 am. She would give him a real welcome tonight. She threw on her sweats, gathered her office clothes and gym bag, and tiptoed out of the room.

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She entered Int!keAM and ate her breakfast, relishing every bite, and lingering over the second cup of coffee. She carried the newspaper into the guest bathroom, settled herself on the toilet, and typed D##-D## into the wrist port.  The system functioned smoothly, and she barely had time to read the comics before it was time to flush and head out.

 
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WheRearemYf**ck!ngKeys was her longest, most complex password. Last year she had tried a fingerprint recognition system, but it was frustrating. Sometimes she had to swipe her finger a dozen times before the stupid iOm responded. Inventing passwords was an outlet for her creative self, and according to Neurodoc, the brain-health blog, remembering passwords was an excellent exercise to delay senility.

 
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 In the car, she punched F&TNEss into the dashboard and dozed off until they reached the gym. It was day three of her prescribed regimen, so she entered ligHtW*rko*t and her body went smoothly through the thirty-minute routine, while her mind wandered.  Candles. Scented body oils. Her new silk gown, with twenty tiny buttons down the front.  She engaged her abs and tightened her butt, but her skin tingled, and her inner parts opened and softened as she thought of the night ahead with Johnny.

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 The gym showers were eight years old, and becoming temperamental. Nothing happened when she punched in HOT. She tried WARM, but again, nothing. She settled for COLD and took a very quick shower.

At the office she picked up her flash drive, plugged it into the iOn, and entered yEssir . She turned the treadmill in front of her computer to the lowest speed, and looked over the list that appeared on her monitor. As usual, the bosses had given her twelve hours of busywork to complete in eight. She sighed, turned up the treadmill, and entered hUrRy.

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All day she labored. The chores required just enough attention to prevent her from thinking, but not enough to fully engage her. She plugged her earphones in and entered tEc*nO into the iOn to fill her empty neurospace. Her eyes grew red from staring at the monitor, her legs ached from walking. At noon she typed in an order for a high protein shake, and drank it as she worked. She was damned if she would work overtime on Johnny’s first night home. She only left her desk to pee, and her brain was so fried that she had to return to the computer to look up the pee password (yoUr*ne).

Finally she was finished. She logged out and raced to the car, slept soundly as it drove her home.  Johnny the Prince had everything ready. He had taken the day off, and cooked a magnificent meal: cumin-scented chicken with an orange-avocado sauce, fresh greens with garlic and hot peppers, and tiny chocolate tortes with rosettes of brandy whipped cream. Afterwards they sat by the fire, then turned on the Muzac and danced.

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“Tonight I want it hot, sweet and slow,” he whispered as they waltzed across the floor, and she felt his words deep inside. “Meet me in the bedroom,” she whispered back, and she went into the bathroom to get ready. A quick shower, a dab of cologne, and the long white gown with pearl buttons that he would have to open one by one. As she typed it in – H!tSw**TsloW – her cheeks felt warm, her skin moist. She knew she was delicious all over.

He had lit all the candles. He waited in the bed. His strong arms welcomed her, the curly hair on his chest damp from the shower. He pushed her away and slowly opened the buttons, kissing as he went. They rolled and grappled, stroked and sucked and licked until they couldn’t wait any longer, and together they reached for their iOns.  Y*sY*sYES she typed. Nothing happened. Johnny’s breath was coming faster and he moved in the purposeful rhythm she knew so well. Oh god, what was the password YESy!sy!s. Nothing. He was almost there and she ached to join him. She knew there were three yesses, with a mix of punctuation and upper case, but how were they arranged? Too late. He gasped and groaned, collapsed on top of her. She felt him pulsing deep inside. 

“Sorry,” they whispered together.  Soon he got up to take a shower.  Now she remembered, and punched it in: y!sy!sy!s. But it wasn’t the same without Johnny.

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