The Mosquito

as much as possible because these rental girls have the toughest lives. I am their reckless madam. I’m working ahead on what will be fully functional android companions one day, where sex will be only one aspect, though Daniel says that’s Pollyanna.

Our office is something like an R&D lab brothel: sterile, clean, spare, metal ITtype racks of body parts inventory, a silicone morgue, except that our dolls aren’t made of silicone, rather a polymer composite. Our inventory system tracks custom nipples, hands, buttocks. We actually offer six body styles for the three girl-doll personalities and a dozen faces and five skin tones, plus hair choices and permanent makeup. The animatronic head, which can think for itself, is what really drives the price up. Both of my rental girls have these heads.

Last night, the groom was named Rob, but it was his two childhood friends, Cliff and Jared, who came by themselves to pick Dollie up for the bachelor party. They planned to smuggle Dollie into the hotel suite they had rented for the occasion. They let slip that the hotel was the Four Seasons downtown. But that didn’t give me any comfort that they would be gentle with Dollie. I haven’t found that it works that way. “Wow,” Jared said, “she’s really lifelike. Can I touch her? Think Rob will like her?” I had enlivened Dollie before they arrived so she could be ready for them. “I’d like to get to know you a little better first, Jared,” Dollie said politely. “Shit!” Jared said, taking a little jump-step backward. “That’s freaky. This might be the kind of woman a bachelor could live with!”

I had programmed in each of their names as well as an identity system for Dollie to tell them apart. I had dressed Dollie in a sexy, playful way with a lacy bra and matching panties, tasteful hot pants, and a sleeveless top.

“I’m sorry, Jared,” Dollie said. “I didn’t mean to startle you. Why don’t you come sit down next to me and tell me a little about yourself? Do you like sports? Do you smoke cigars?”

“Actually, I like classical music,” Jared said. “What am I saying? She’s a robot. I’m talking to a robot!” Jared was lean and a little suspicious, dark hair and complexion with sharp features.

Then Cliff asked, “Does she have to talk?” “No, you can silence her,” I explained. “Well, at least for now,” Cliff said. “Maybe later, though, it might be fun. Can she talk dirty?”

“She can. It’s a popular feature.”

Cliff was portly and flushed, starting to go bald at the pate, pasty and doughy. I guessed him as a former fat nerd turned sex bully.

Jared looked at me, seeming to notice me for the first time. “You don’t look like the kind of person who would work here,” he said.

I’m not sure what Jared meant by this. My khakis and polo shirt uniform? Too retro preppy? “I like the programming aspect,” I said. My standard response. “But sex programming? Really? Not any other kind of programming?” Daniel programmed the talk-dirty parts himself. I began to pack Dollie up, which reminded me of a child being picked up for a slumber party, save for the bag. All the girls are extremely flexible and can assume a compact position for transport, easy to smuggle into and out of hotels and private clubs, where the girls spend a lot of time. After all, these rentals aren’t cheap. “Dollie, let’s get ready to travel,” I said.

Dollie drew her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her calves. She tucked her pretty head between her knees, very compressed at sixty-five pounds. Dollie’s breasts are a bit too large for her figure, somewhat out of proportion to my eye, looking like an overzealous augmentation job. But Daniel selected the size for her because the top-heavy quality is popular with boys like Jared and Cliff. They like the “big hooters.” The custom-crafted pink nipples come in several shades and sizes.

Before I helped her into her carrying case, I turned on the camera built into Dollie’s left eye, along with the audio recording device. We only ever use the playback if there is damage to one of the girls, which is rare. They get roughed up but never injured. Dollie carries a market value of over $50,000 and is fully insured. She has the very latest in AI technology and quality of appearance, realistic skin and ability to converse, react, and even initiate. I created some of the initiation programming.

I always insist on carrying the girls to the client’s cars. This is the most difficult time for me, sending the girls off into unknown situations. I always hold Dollie, cradling her. I don’t carry her like a piece of luggage. I know the girls are prepared for this, being sent off; it’s what they do, but no matter how long I do it, it makes me feel a little dirty, like I’m engaging in the sex-slave trade.

The boys were sheepish now that we were outside; they always are in the light of day, beginning to realize what they have done, what they will do, the very oddness of this relationship. I looked them in the eye and handed them a sheet of instructions and a 1-800 number in case of trouble, along with an insurance waiver and a copy of the disclosure they had to sign, detailing what is permitted and what is not: no mock