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sexbotThe customer sat opposite the desk as Tommy sank back in his office chair. The guy had picked up his Mercedes the week before. A problem with the front-end job?

Nope. It was about a visit to a crummy east-side bar the guy had made two years ago.

“You probably don’t remember me, but I remember you,” he said over the sound of pneumatic wrenches. “You ran interference for a young lady who, uh, was entertaining some men on a busted pool table in the back room.”

“You a cop?”

“No, one of the customers, although I guess that’s not the right word, since she was free nooky. Highly remarkable, considering how beautiful she was.”

“It might’ve been me.”

“I’m looking for that young lady,” he said and leaned forward. “This is probably going to sound fantastical, but it’s about an investment. Long story, but I’ll cut to the chase. After you and the young lady left, all seven of us lucky males who had enjoyed her services sat at the bar. We all agreed. She was absolutely, bar-none, the best piece of ass any of us had ever had.”

“I’ll pass the compliment along.”

“Even Mike, the black guy who gets more high quality pussy in a week than most of us get in a year, said she was extraordinary.”


“I’m working with a scientific company that’s developing a sex surrogate using robotics and virtual reality. Know what a sex surrogate is?”

“A woman who has sex for therapeutic reasons, I think. Help guys who can’t get hard, shit like that.”

“That’s right. I’m heading up a venture capital group to get this thing on solid financial footing. The goal is to fully automate a female sexual surrogate using robotics, micro sensors, body imaging and, most importantly, virtual reality. This isn’t going to be a cheap, inflatable sex doll. Using vision goggles, tactile simulators, sound, aroma, and, yes, direct genital stimulation, it’s a system that will respond and even initiate sex with a man. There’s a huge need.”

“That many men can’t get off?”

“It’s amazing the number of sexually dysfunctional males who need skilled therapy in order to fix problems like anxiety, body-image issues and premature ejaculation. Yet skilled, legitimate sex surrogates are scarce. It is, to put it mildly, a niche occupation that also is easily confused with prostitution.”

“Because it is prostitution, right?”

“No, it’s not. Sexual services for pay in a therapeutic situation are not illegal.”

“Dude, I strongly suspect—hell, I know—a lot of hookers who say their work is highly therapeutic.”

The guy held a hand up. “No argument. Regardless, a fully functional sex robot can help fill that void. My team is about ninety-five percent of the way there, but we’ve hit a snag.”

“Something that Alison can fix?”

“So that’s her name. Yeah, Alison can fill a void. We need to profile a fully sexually responsive woman for our computer models.”

“Profile? What’s that involve?”

“Basically, masturbating while hooked up to a bunch of probes and sensors. And fucking RALPH, our male robot with a transparent penis full of sensors and cameras. In a room lighted with overhead fluorescents and geeks running around with clipboards.”

“In the nude?”

“Of course. It’s a scenario that shuts down the sexual responsiveness of most women—but that’s what we need.”

Tommy looked up. “Alison’s your girl.”

“She was flat on her back on a busted pool table for nearly two hours, fucking and sucking a conga line of strange men. I was number four, I think. She was having the time of her life.”

“Sex is kind of a way of life for Allie,” Tommy explained. “Not only does she enjoy sex, she works at it. It’s not so much a hobby as an avocation.”

“Know how to reach her?”

“Last time we talked, she had switched over entirely to women—a full-time lez with a steady girlfriend. They started up a business called Come Again. They make house calls on women who can’t come. Teach ‘em how to jill-off.”