My cock is hard even as I get the last text from her. I wasn’t expecting this.

What woman doesn’t want me? What woman is going to pass up the opportunity to come over to my house and fuck me, riding my cock until she comes spectacularly?

Famous models and celebrities wouldn’t pass up the opportunity. And now this little post-virgin novice coder thinks she can deny me?

It makes me angry.

But it only lasts for a moment.

I suddenly realize she’s not like the others. She’s nothing like the others.

And I fucking need her.

My cock is still raging hard at the thought of fucking her as I slam my car door.

I’m going to show her that I need her. I’m going to show her that she wants me. I know she does.

Grabbing my cell phone, I pull up an app that’s under development. It’s one of Johnny’s little hacking projects, and I doubt it’s ever going to be legally available to the general public. What it does is trace the location of the person you’ve been texting with. Not exactly legal, but what do I care right now? I need to see her, no matter what I have to do.

She’s at Buena Vista Park, which is near another park called the Panhandle, which is shaped like a long, thin cock.

Peeling out onto the street, I shift gears and jam my foot onto the accelerator.

The engine’s revs go wild, shooting up into the red zone.

I don’t care if I burn the car’s engine, or have to outrun a dozen cop cars, I’m going to get to her.

Blasting through a red light, I completely floor it. For a car this powerful, that’s really saying something.

My cock is still raging hard in my pants, and I can’t get the image of her pussy out of my mind.

I pull up to the park only a few minutes later. I don’t bother parking the car properly. Instead, I just pull up onto the curb and leave the car there, half on the grass and half on the street. It’s not great for the car, but who the fuck cares? I’ve got a ton of them.

The semi-legal app from Johnny doesn’t give very specific information, so I just start running through the park, turning my head to look for her.

That’s her!

I spot her, sitting sadly and forlornly on a park bench.

There’s a homeless guy on the opposite bench, who looks like he’s fallen asleep.

Lily’s wearing just a sweatshirt and tight athletic pants, but she looks as hot as ever. Her hair is done up, showing off her face, the way her neck runs up…

She’s sitting next to someone about her age. Maybe it’s her friend who was at the bar with her, that night that I picked her up? I’m not sure.

“Lily,” I say, running up to her.

This has got to be a new record for me—the douchebag billionaire never runs after chicks. Never.

“Hi,” she says, barely looking at me.

Her friend doesn’t say anything, but she can’t stop staring at me. She’s looking at me with her mouth open. I guess she didn’t get a good look at me at the bar the other night, and now she’s impressed. But I’ve got no interest in her, or anyone else, for that matter.

“Come with me,” I say to Lily.

“Why?” she says, not meeting my gaze. “I told you, it’s over. I’m not going to be your fuck toy any longer.”

Her friend leans over and whispers something in Lily’s ear.

“No!” says Lily, speaking at full volume. “I’m not reconsidering, no matter how hot he is!”

She suddenly realizes I can hear her—it happens sometimes when people are very emotional.

They both blush.

I don’t give a shit, though.

Hell, I know they think I’m hot.

“Come with me,” I say.

“I’ll be right back,” says the friend. “Sounds like you two have some things you need to talk about.”

“Don’t go,” says Lily.

“I’m just going to take a walk.” And she mouths very obviously, “He’s hot!” at Lily.

The friend walks away.

“Why do you want me to come with you?” says Lily.

“I need to feel your tight pussy again,” I say. “I need to sink my cock deep inside you. I can show you more pleasure than you can imagine. We haven’t even gotten started.”

I can see that this has a physical effect on her, but…

“Is that all you care about?” says Lily. “What about how you didn’t even speak to me after you fucked me in the closet? How about that?”

“What’s there to talk about?” I say.

“Typical,” says Lily, crossing her arms. “You don’t even know what I’m talking about. You really are the douchebag billionaire.”

“Fine,” I say, growing angry. “I’m leaving… You know, maybe I am the douchebag billionaire. But at least I know what I want, and I admit it. I know you know you want me. You just don’t admit it to yourself.”

I turn and start walking away. It’s not like I’m going to stay and beg her.

I just don’t do that.

She either comes with me or she doesn’t.

“By the way,” says Lily. “I’m quitting, boss.” She says the last word with scorn.

But I don’t turn around.

I head back to my car, which has been towed.

There’s a big torn up spot on the grass where I left it parked. There’s a ticket from the city taped to a nearby sign, which gives me the number to call if I want to pick up the car, paying a hefty fine, of course.

Whatever, I don’t even need that car. I doubt I’ll bother going through the lengthy headache of getting it back. If the mood strikes me, maybe I’ll pay someone to do it for me.

I’m reaching into my pocket for my phone, about to call an Uber, when my phone rings.

It’s Johnny.

“Didn’t expect to hear from you, Johnny,” I say. “You ran off as soon as things got a little ugly. It was just a little fire. You sure scare easy.”

“I’ve got to be careful when any authority figures are bound to show up,” says Johnny. “Sorry, Ryan.”

I don’t say anything.

“Listen,” says Johnny. “I’ve got some information that might interest you. We can’t talk about it over the phone.”

“Of course,” I say. “Always the same old Johnny.”

“Where are you?”

“I’m at… uh… Buena Vista Park, you know, the one by Haight Ashbury.”

“The one that’s shaped like a giant cock?”

“No, the other one.”

“I’m nearby. I’ll be right there.”

“Don’t be late. I’m not going to wait around for you,” I say.

“I’ll be right there, Ryan,” says Johnny. “But…”

I hang up the phone before he can keep speaking. He’s testing my patience with all this secretive stuff. The last thing he brought me wasn’t any good… I doubt this one is going to be either.

But there’s not a whole lot else to go on.

The Simmons Algo is going to overtake mine.

The Sisyphus Algorithm will be no more.

I’ve lost it.

And I’ve lost her.

A sporty black car catches my attention by skidding around the corner.

It’s lowered, the bottom almost scraping the pavement, and smoke billows out of one of the windows. The windows are tinted, but there’s no doubt in my mind that it’s Johnny.

I get in.

“I didn’t even know you could drive,” I say, waving the smoke out of my face. It actually turns out to be vapor.

Johnny’s got one of those fancy vaporizers, and judging from the smell, it’s weed rather than tobacco that he’s vaping.

“Can’t you cut that shit out?” I say, gesturing to the vaporizer.

“Sorry,” he says, putting it down. “It helps me think.”

I let out a little rumble of a laugh, expressing my skepticism.

“I don’t know how well you’ve been thinking lately,” I say. “You didn’t do me much good with that Simmons report. I know I’ve got good enough security that you’re not tapped into my systems, so here it is… Lily, uh, one of my employees, came up with a solution based on what Simmons might have done, and it didn’t work. And I just can’t see any other options, any other way that he might have done things.”

Johnny turns the car hard.

“Do you always drive this badly?” I say. “Or just when you’re high?”

Johnny just shrugs and lights a cigarette.

“Sorry,” he says. “Hey, you having woman problems by any chance?”

“What the hell does that mean?” I say.

“I dunno,” he says. “You don’t seem like the type to get all tied up in knots over a chick, but… there was something going between you and that programmer chick, wasn’t there? You know, the smoking hot one?”

I don’t answer him. “Tell me what you’ve got,” I say. “Your driving sucks. Either drop me off at my house or tell me what’s going on. I don’t think I can take much more of this. What kind of junker is this that you’re driving, anyway?”

“Custom job,” says Johnny. “Got it in a trade for some information.”

“Remember,” I say. “You still owe me big time. Your debt’s not paid off. I got you off the…”

“Yeah, yeah,” says Johnny. “Listen, you helped me out big time, and that’s why I’m going to give you a little piece of gold.”

“This had better be good.”

We pull up to a stop light. The San Francisco sun looks weak through Johnny’s obviously illegally tinted windows.

“I can barely see what’s going on outside this rust heap of yours,” I say.

“Hey,” says Johnny, finally sounding offended. “This ain’t no rust heap.”

“Let me give you a piece of advice,” I say. “Start dressing better, and get yourself a decent car. I know you’ve got the money. Or at least you should have some.”

“What’s wrong with the way I dress?”

“All black? Come on? You want to be a hacker cliché or something?”

Johnny pouts for a moment.

“Come on,” I say. “Tell me what this so-called golden news is.”

“OK,” says Johnny, looking around shiftily as if someone else is bound to pop up from behind the back seat or something. “I’ve got good reason to believe Simmons faked the benchmark tests.”

I don’t say anything for a moment. If this is true, it’s big news. It would mean that my Sisyphus Algorithm is still the best, that no one can beat it.

“Supposing that were true,” I say. “How would he fake it in the published tests? I mean, it’s one thing to fake it on his own servers… but those tests were run by that tech magazine, whatever it’s called…”

“Trust me,” says Johnny. “It’s probably true.”

“Doesn’t sound that convincing,” I say. “Maybe you’re just telling me what I want to hear. The more I interact with you, Johnny, the less I trust you.”

“See for yourself,” says Johnny, reaching into one of his filthy pockets and handing me a small USB drive.