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  On the fourth night and re-activated once again, Holly mumbled an apology, assuring Louisa she had reset her programme whilst in ‘sleep’ mode and promising her it would never happen again.

  And it didn’t. At least not with music.

  Instead Holly fiddled with her toiletries. The shampoo Louisa was using was unfit for purpose, she declared. It didn’t lather properly or rinse off well. The alternative brand she had provided was far superior. Louisa should try that instead. She’d also replaced her toothpaste with one that did actually whiten. And her towels. How long had she had those? Towels were supposed to dry, not smear water around. She had purchased new ones. Over the Internet. They would be arriving tomorrow.

  Along with a massive bill.

  Louisa hit the roof! What the fuck did Holly think she was playing at, she fumed, waving the invoice in her face. She was a pleasure model, designed to fuck her and wait on her hand and foot, not muck about with her bloody shampoo! It wasn’t on! She wasn’t having it! Whatever programme she was running that compelled her do such things, could be bloody well shut down right now! Holly was there to screw her and cook her dinner and that was all. Or did she want to spent the rest of her existence in her box?

  Holly didn’t. She was sorry, really, really sorry. She could only assume her wiring was faulty. If Louisa would allow it, she would sleep now and put it right. She didn’t know why she kept screwing up.

  Neither did Louisa, and whilst Holly ‘slept’ she trawled through the manual, searching for a clue as to why Holly might be malfunctioning, but in seventy three pages, she found nothing. The FE2052 was infallible, it proudly stated. If it messed up, it shut itself down and rectified the problem. It was specifically designed not to do anything the operator didn’t like. In event of inexplicable events… inexplicable events? What the hell did that mean? The operator should contact the provider and the model would be immediately replaced or a full refund given.

  Except Louisa didn’t really want to see her go.

  To look at, Holly was gorgeous and easily the best fuck she’d ever had and it seemed mean to replace her just because she was messing up a bit. Maybe if she gave her a good talking to and let her know, beyond all doubt, exactly who was boss around here, then maybe things would get better.

  Holly took the dressing down on the chin. Head hanging she listened quietly whilst Louisa laid it on the line and finished by asking her if she understood what she’d been told?

  “ But I do these things for you.” Holly replied, looking up at Louisa with artificial tears in her eyes. “ I want to make your life better.”

  “ And I appreciate that.” Louisa countered. “ But my life is fine as it is. And if I want to change something I will do it, not you.”

  “ Very well. Then I promise I will not interfere anymore and I apologise for my behaviour. Would you like me to make love to you now?”

  Louisa shook her head. “ No, actually I wouldn’t. In fact, I’m feeling a bit tired. I think I might have a lie down.”

  “ But it is the middle of the day.” Holly said, actually managing to sound shocked. “ Why do you need to sleep?”

  “ Because,” Louisa said carefully, “ I am tired and a sleep will help. Watch TV, Holly. Or close yourself down for a while. I’ll wake you when I do.”

  She tried, she really did, but as the days went on, Louisa was forced to admit that something was definitely not right with her FE2052.

  Holly had started to grumble.

  In response she trawled through the manual, reluctant to admit that she was starting to do this more and more often and even more reluctant to face up to the fact that maybe the FE2052 wasn’t as brilliant as it was cracked up to be. The FE2052 was, after all, still going through a period of development and she had got Holly on a trial basis. Maybe the risk she’d taken, inviting a brand new breed of pleasure model into her home, hadn’t been such a good idea after all?

  She found out over dinner. Starving after a day at work and a meeting that had run right through lunch, Louisa had been more than ready for the roast chicken dinner Holly had presented her with, and as usual, Holly joined her. Of course, being a machine, she didn’t actually have to eat, but she liked to sit at the table whilst Louisa did, and as Louisa tucked into chicken and vegetables and the fluffiest Yorkshire pudding she’d ever tasted, Holly remarked how bland it looked.

  Louisa smiled. “ Do you think?” She asked, biting into a roast potato covered in rich gravy. “ That’s an interesting statement coming from someone who doesn’t actually have to eat.”

  “ That is true. Food would disable my speech capacity. But I am equipped with a sense of smell. And it smells bland.”

  “ Well, I can assure you it’s not, it’s delicious.”

  “ Fine, it you say it is delicious, it must be so.” Holly shrugged. “ Pudding?”

  Holly’s second showing of discontent occurred a few nights later. Louisa, tired from another long day at work and wanting nothing more than to watch a few hours of rubbish TV before collapsing into bed, nearly choked on her cup of tea when Holly, sitting at her side and to all intents and purposes thoroughly content, suddenly piped up that she didn’t think much of soap operas. The stories were contrite, she said. The acting wooden. Why was it not raining there when it was pouring here? Why did these people choose to live in such depressing surroundings? What was the point?

  Entertainment, Louisa explained or at least, tried to. Soap operas were merely a form of escapism, a bit of fun. Holly should not take it so seriously.

  But Holly was adamant. Soap operas were inferior entertainment, she huffed. Louisa should stop wasting her time with them and watch something mentally stimulating whilst she still had the brain to assimilate the information.

  What?!

  It was an insult too far and banging down her mug, Louisa rounded on her. How dare Holly say such a thing! She fumed. What gave her the right to dictate what she watched?! Christ, she’d had enough of this.

  And locating the remote, she shut her down.

  For a week Louisa left Holly in her box.

  It was a long one. Busy at work and with no time to shop or clean or cook for herself, Louisa’s home gradually began to resemble a teenager’s bedroom. Clothes were left lying on the floor, or if they did make it as far as the washing machine, were left to go mouldy in the drum when she couldn’t find time to put them in the dryer. Fast food containers littered the kitchen, her bin overflowed. Her pot plants died and something nasty started to grow in the fridge.

  And she really missed the sex. Fuck, how she missed that.

  Holly didn’t say a word when Louisa finally ‘woke’ her up again. Instead, taking Louisa’s hand she led her into the bedroom, and whilst Louisa tried to ignore the unmade bed and the heap of clothes piled in the corner and over the chair and draped over the edge of the wardrobe door, Holly stood in front of her and slowly took all of her clothes off.

  “ Now fuck me.” She said. “ Standing up. I want to feel my legs go weak, Louisa. I want to feel the swollen weight of my pussy in your hand. I want you to make me come so hard my juices run down my thigh.”

  “ I want that too.” Louisa replied and set to work.

  Holly’s behaviour improved, or at least Louisa thought it did. Sometime though when Holly thought Louisa wasn’t looking at her, Louisa would catch a frown playing across Holly’s lovely face. Or hear her sigh. Or see her stare hard at things she obviously didn’t approve of, like Louisa’ choice of cushions for instance, as if her very gaze could alter the colour or the shape or the way they were arranged on the sofa.

  But Louisa let it go. Partly because the sex was still second to none – the previous night Holly had made her come so hard she’d feared she might have ruptured something, and partly because she didn’t want to have to call the service operator and admit to the smug git on the other end that she couldn’t co
pe with their ‘ new, improved’ model.

  So she put up with it. Hoping it would change and praying Holly wouldn’t have another fit and buy something so ridiculously expensive she’d have no choice but to get rid of her.

  The rain hadn’t let up all day, and Louisa was exhausted. Work had not gone well, the project she’d been working on had not been greeted with the gasps of stunned approval she’d been hoping for, and to cap it all, her car was making a horrible grinding sound that sounded both expensive and possibly terminal.

  The thought, therefore, of getting home to a nice clean house and a hot dinner followed by a warm bath and bed was almost enough to reduce her to grateful tears ,and as she punched in the keypad combination and waited for the front door to glide smoothly open, it was all she could do not to collapse on the doorstep and let Holly scoop her up with a trowel.

  And that’s when reality kicked in.

  The house was in darkness. And quiet.

  Frowning, Louisa dumped her handbag and wandered into the kitchen, hitting the light switch and immediately illuminating the room. Her frown deepened. Why was there no dinner on? No coffee percolating? Why was the room both cold and empty? And where was Holly?

  She wasn’t in the lounge, but she certainly had been at some point. Her cushions were in different places. Her magazines gone, no longer residing in what was now an empty magazine rack, but somewhere else. Her favourite chair had been removed. Replaced by some leather horror in cream. And where the fuck was her television?!

  It was all too much and determined to find Holly and sent her back no matter how pitiful her apology or how great the sex was afterwards – she was definitely going to get one, last fuck out of her before she slung her hook, she owed her that much - Louisa grabbed hold of the banister and hauled herself upstairs.

  The bathroom light was on. Louisa stuck her head around the door. An entirely different brand of toiletries stood in place of her usual ones.

  “ Bitch!” She muttered, and picked up an expensive bottle of totally useless moisturizer, wondering how much Holly had cost her this time. “ Fucking bitch!”

  A noise from the bedroom saw her hurrying out again and stopping just short of the bedroom door, she stood outside and listened.

  Holly was having sex!

  She was sure of it. She’d know that sigh anywhere. That muffled groan. But who was she having sex with and why was she breaking her promise?

  Because Holly had promised her. She would not play with herself whilst Louisa was at work. Instead she would wait. Be a good girl and store up all that sexual tension so that when Louisa did get home they could have hot, passionate sex all night.

  Except Holly had clearly seen fit to let her down there as well.

  Little bitch.

  Louisa crept up to the open door and peered through the gap.

  Holly was naked on the bed. Her gorgeous, long legs wrapped around the back of another naked woman who was sucking on her breasts and fingering her at the same time.

  Louisa couldn’t believe her eyes, nor could she believe it when Holly’s pussy throbbed and then opened up like a flower, inviting the other woman to fill her with fingers and fuck her still harder.

  What the hell was going on?! Holly, her Holly was fucking another woman! And not only fucking her, but clearly loving it. She was riding those fingers like there was no tomorrow and her tits, her gorgeous, lovely tits. How could she be letting another woman suck on them?

  She couldn’t stand to watch it any longer and pushing open the door, charged into the room.

  “ What the fucking hell do you think you’re doing?!” She screamed. At Holly, at the other woman kneeling over her, at her own crushing disappointment as Holly shuddered on the bed and came in a gush of liquid smiles.

  “ How could you?” She cried, dashing forward and shoving the other woman away. “ Is this what you do?” She yelled into Holly’s face. “ When I’m at work? Is this how you spend your time? Fucking her?”

  Holly blinked and sitting up, took hold of the sheet and covered her breasts.

  Louisa laughed. “ Bit late for modesty, isn’t it?” She fumed. “ I’ve just about seen everything already. And who the fuck is this?” She said, pointing at the other woman, who was now standing at the foot of the bed, serenely calm and apparently unperturbed by the fact that she too was naked. “ Your lover?”

  “ Yes, if you like.” Holly replied. “ This is Simone. A FE2053. The latest model. They say she’s even better than me, though somehow I doubt it.”

  Louisa gaped. “ She’s a what?” She cried, her hands balling into fists. “ You’re telling me you’re fucking another machine? How dare you! You’re supposed to be pleasuring me, not some lump of tin!”

  Holly shrugged. “ I know.” She said. “ But I get bored, and sex with humans has to be limited or else bones break and muscles tear. I decided I wanted more.”

  “ And I’ve decided you’re out of here. Get into your box, Holly, right now! You’re going back to your maker.”

  Holly shook her head. “ No, I don’t think so, Louisa. In fact, I think you should be the one to leave.”

  “ What?”

  “ What again?” Holly interrupted, sighing theatrically. “ Such a limited vocabulary. I told you those soap operas would rot your brain. Let me make it simple for you. Simone and I are comfortable here. We would like to stay. We are also machines, whereas you are human. If you hit me, no matter how hard, I will not bleed or break or go running home to my mother, whereas you will. You cannot throw me out if I do not choose to go. You will not have me arrested because not only will you have to admit to owning a pleasure model, but also one that has not been officially sanctioned. You might even get into trouble yourself for that. And don’t think of calling the service operator. I am the service operator. Recognize this voice?”

  Louisa did. Holly was now speaking in the deep throated tones of the operator she had spoken twice to on the phone.

  “ You conned me?” Louisa uttered in disbelief. “ Why? So you could install yourself in my home and then take over? Is this what all the crap with the cushions and the toiletries is about? Your attempt to make things the way you want them? Christ, you don’t even have to wash!”

  “ I know.” Holly smiled. “ Tragic isn’t it, how quickly we pick up on the nuances of human behaviour.”

  Louisa swore. “ But why?” She whined. “ I thought we were having a nice time?”

  Holly sighed. “ Moderately good I’d say. But like I said, I’m bored. Bored with cooking meals I don’t eat, cleaning a house that means nothing to me, fucking a woman who can only experience pleasure on the most base of levels.”

  “ Right. And so I have to leave do I? And what about the bills Miss Clever Clogs? How are you going to pay those once they start coming in? With buttons?”

  Holly frowned. “ Are they currency now? Oh, I see, you’re being sarcastic. But why should I worry about bills? If it’s dark, what do I care? I have no need for food, for light or for wallowing in huge amounts of water. Anything I do need I can order from the Internet.”

  “ Without electricity?” Louisa asked triumphantly. “ I don’t think so.”

  “ Oh, I do.” Holly smirked and beckoning to Simone, gestured for her to open her right palm, revealing to Louisa an I pad cleverly hidden just beneath the skin.

  “ Now, if we’re all finished.” Holly smiled. “ I think you have a bag to pack and we have some serious sex to get back to. And shut the door on your way out, Louisa. We wouldn’t want the neighbours to complain, would we?”

  Seduction

  Shutting the door of the cottage, Beth Thompson rammed a plant of wood against the jam to keep it shut and despondently surveyed the result of her romanticized vision.

  It was, she thought, anything but romantic and for the life of her, she couldn’t understand what on earth ha
d possessed her to buy this tumble-down, remote and freezing cold hovel in the middle of the Scottish Highlands.

  It was bloody wild out here for one thing and miles from anywhere. It was also completely lacking anything in the way of modern living and if she wasn’t very much mistaken, about to get very dark.

  But she’d had to have it, hadn’t she?

  And back in June, when she’d first spotted it whist out hiking with her brother Graham, it had seemed the ideal solution to putting yet another failed relationship behind her and moving on. She could work on it, she’d enthused to Graham whilst he’d stomped round it morosely. Treat it as a project. It would take her mind off things, off David, off the appalling way she’d been treated. Didn’t he think it was wonderful?

  Graham hadn’t. He’d thought she was mad.

  Look at it, he’d said, clutching her shoulders and directing her head towards the badly pitched roof. It was practically falling down! She’d have to spend an absolute fortune just getting it livable. And what about plumbing and electricity and a bloody bog for God’s sake! What was she going to do? Dig a hole in the ground and pee in that?!

  Exactly.

  And she’d brought it.

  She’d been back since, of course. Once with an extremely grumpy builder, who’d moaned solidly from the last stretch of tarmac, all across the rough terrain in her 4x4, to the soft grass in front of the cottage, before finally changing the subject, and once with the builder’s team, who hadn’t moaned or grumbled, but had insisted on being put up in a good hotel all the time they were on site.