dream Date

Others Stories | Jun 2, 2015 | 12 min read
16 Votes, average: 4 out of 5
Others Stories

dream Date

Andrew
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Jeffrey looked on with disgust, hopelessness, and just a touch of envy as Michael walked the girl of the week to the door. Actually, girl of the week would be too chaste a term to use. Jeffrey's roommate would bring home three different girls a day if he were physically capable. Thank goodness his 34 years of life without exercise wouldn't allow it, or else Jeffrey would be in the market for a new apartment.
Michael kissed the nameless redhead, closed the door, and practically sat on top of Jeffrey on the couch, paying no attention to the computer he was plugging away at.
"Hey man. Did you see the titties on that one?" he asked, heading straight for his trademark vodka tonic. "That might have been a new personal record for me."
"Congratulations," Jeffrey replied with the excitement of a child receiving socks on Christmas morning.
"And maybe the hottest natural redhead I've ever accomplished. You know, a good-looking redhead is a tough find. They're risky, you know? Very hit or miss. I'd say well over 50 percent – maybe two thirds of them – are flat out unfortunate looking. But that other 33 percent, oh man. They're something else."
"Mm hmm."
"Like that Julianne Moore. She's a real looker. Even at her age. You know, I'd love to accomplish a high class broad like Julianne Moore."
Jeffrey did his best to focus only on the computer game in front of him. But Michael was at it again, using that word, accomplish. Jeffrey never thought he could hate a word so much, but accomplish had easily become his most hated since living with Michael. Somehow Jeffrey's roommate had managed to take a harmless word – one quite positive, at that – and turn it into something disgusting and degrading. He often wondered where Michael came up with this vulgar term, and where the line existed for him to consider a woman accomplished by him. But Jeffrey would never dare ask. He heard enough unwanted details without prodding.
"What is wrong with you?" he heard Michael ask.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, come on. What's wrong with you? Did you see those titties?"
"Yes, Michael, yes. I saw them, okay?"
"I don't think you did."
"Whatever."
"I don't think you ever do. I don't get you, man. I've known you for what? Seven years, now? And you've never once brought a lady home."
"I guess I'm just trying to keep a good balance, what with you bringing one home every night of the week."
"Right. Because that's what single guys are supposed to do. All of those married men out there – they envy guys like us. They want to be us. We get a shot at a girl one night. A different girl the next. Variety, man." He gulped down his drink and refilled his glass.
"I don't need variety."
"Well, that aside, single guys get laid more than married men do. That's a statistical fact."
"What nonsense are you talking about, Michael?"
"I mean it." He nodded as he topped off his beverage with a shot of Rose's lime juice. "They do. It's a proven fact that single men get more action than married men. Married men – hell, they're lucky to see their wife's titties once a month. And when they do, it's only because they walk in on her changing. And they never look like those ones I just had my face in five minutes ago, no sir."
"Sure."
"I'm telling you, man. You're wasting your life. Sitting there on that damn computer playing Myst or whatever the hell it is you play all day."
"At least I have my life. With the way you live, it's a wonder you haven't contracted some horrible STD and died by now."
"Oh, come on. They're called condoms. They're the world's greatest invention. God never would have invented condoms if he meant for us all to spend our entire lives with one person."
"Right," Jeffrey said, rolling his eyes.
"Is that really the only thing that's holding you back? STDs?"
"Look, I don't want to talk about it, Michael. Just leave me be."
"But really, man, is that why?"
"Well it's reason enough. You think I don't wish I could have some sort of contact? Someone to touch. Someone to be with."
"No, I really didn't think you did."
"Well, I do. I wish I could. But I can't."
"Man, you're a decent enough looking guy. You could get a girl to come home with you, no problem. Just come to the club with me and I'll wing it up."
"It's just not worth it, though."
"Not worth it? What the hell are you on, man?"
"It's not worth getting something. It's not like I'm going to be able to find a virgin at our age. And if I did, she wouldn't be interested in sleeping with me anyway."
"Man, you're a virgin?" Real concern came through in Michael's voice.
"No. I'm not a virgin." Jeffrey's computer went idle. He stared at the empty, black screen. "It's just been a while."
"And why was it okay back then?"
"Because both girls I ever slept with were virgins."
"Ah, I see." He looked at Jeffrey whose eyes were still fixed on the blank screen.
"This is like beyond germaphobe, man. This is deep."
"Look," Jeffrey said. He snapped out of his daze, stood from the couch, and made his way to the kitchen on the other end of the room. The ice in his drink clinked against the glass as he walked. "I just think there's a lot going around and people aren't careful enough and it's pretty much just gross out there."
"Come here," Michael ordered. He grabbed Jeffrey's computer from beside him, pulled up the Web browser, and searched "hot, naked woman." "Now, look at that vagina. Don't you miss that?" Jeffrey peered in from where he was standing.
"Close out of that, Michael, I'm going to get a virus."
"Answer my question and I will," he ordered. "Look at that vagina. Do you miss it?"
"You see a vagina. I see a petri dish."
"So wear a condom! Man, you have got some real problems." He lifted the computer and joined his roommate in the kitchen. "I give up. Maybe you should just get one of these." Michael pointed at the screen to an ad on the side of the window. "I'm going to go change and find myself a real woman to screw tonight. Have fun with your damn Myst." He left the computer on the counter, went to his bedroom, and closed the door behind him.
Jeffery looked at his computer. The product was called Dream Date and the ad featured one of the most beautiful looking women he had ever laid eyes on. The text boasted a highly advanced computer that looked just like a woman. It could be turned on and off at will, inspiring the tagline: "Turn her on to turn you on." Allegedly, it performed all sexual acts – anything that the mind was capable of conjuring. It even had a special microchip inside that allowed it to learn along the way, becoming more accustomed to the movements and positions enjoyed by its owner.
Jeffery chuckled at the word "only" being placed in front of the $4,999.99 price. But then he thought about it. People spend much more than that in a lifetime for sex. God knows Michael did. And there were always risks involved. This was a sure thing. Risk free. Jeffrey had the money; that was no problem. He had saved up for years, never knowing what he was saving for. Maybe he deserved to treat himself. It had been nearly a decade since he was last with a woman. This computer product wouldn't judge him. It wouldn't push him or turn him down. And best of all, it wouldn't give him HIV or herpes or hepatitis or any one of a hundred other diseases.
He took the computer into his bedroom where he found his wallet and submitted his credit card information.
The Dream Date arrived a week later, as promised. Jeffrey had called in sick to work, something so new to him that he twice asked his supervisor's assistant if he had done correctly, and he sat home waiting for UPS to ring his doorbell. The delivery finally came an hour before his roommate was due back. He dragged the man-sized package into his bedroom where it remained in secret for the evening.
Jeffrey waited for his roommate to leave for one of his infamous nights out, and as soon as he did, Jeffrey got to business. He opened the box and removed a body wrapped in plastic. He estimated it weighed about 100 pounds, but it didn't feel like dead weight. The label on the package told him no assembly was required, a pleasant surprise. He was anxious to enjoy his new purchase before Michael returned home, in case anything could be overheard through the walls. And after seven years of living with Michael and his constant visitors, Jeffrey knew just how thin those walls were.
Carefully, he tore off the plastic, crumbled it into a ball on the floor, and looked straight ahead at his new lover. She looked just like the woman in the ad. He couldn't believe it. Despite his willingness to pay $5,000, Jeffrey was still skeptical, convinced that the woman from the magazine was an actress. Aside from being completely and utterly still, the computer looked every bit the part of a human woman.
No instruction manual came with his Dream Date. There was only a single sheet of paper with an outline of the woman and an arrow pointing to a button on her foot, noting the on/off switch. Jeffrey moved the Dream Date over to his bed, laying her down slowly, with romance, as he had once done with a girlfriend in the past. He sat next to her legs. He drew in a deep breath, closed his eyes, and switched her on.
The Dream Date didn't move at first. But when he lay down to get a closer look at her face, she opened her arms and wrapped them around him.
"Do you like to talk dirty?" she asked in a dainty voice.
"No," he replied.
"Do you like to kiss a lot during intercourse?"
"Yes."
"Do you prefer me to close my eyes?"
"Yes."
After those three brief questions, she began to remove his shirt and pants, kissing his face and chest all the while. She moved like a real woman. She sounded like a real woman. And for all of Jeffrey's purposes, she was a real woman.
They made love four times before Jeffrey decided to call it a night. He looked at the clock at his bedside and realized they had been at it for more than five hours. "Goodnight, DeeDee," he whispered. He bent down to her feet, flipped the switch, and she was back to being an inanimate object.
"How fantastic," he muttered, standing and assessing the Dream Date once again. "How incredibly fantastic." He almost wanted to show Michael, but only almost. Michael would envy him for being in the first ever relationship that was literally, purely all about sex. But he couldn't bear the jokes that would follow, and he was certain Michael would find his way into Jeffrey's room one day while he was gone and contaminate his beautiful new girlfriend.
The next day, Jeffrey rushed home from work to find Michael trying to get into his bedroom.
"What are you doing?" Jeffrey asked.
"Hey, roomie. Since when do you lock your bedroom door?"
"Must've been by accident," he lied.
"Oh. Well, hey, do you have any quarters? I've got laundry going downstairs and I don't have enough to dry."
Jeffrey reached into his pocket and rustled up 75 cents.
"Oh, thanks. Well, I'll catch you later." Michael moved past him and as soon as he left the apartment, Jeffrey had his key in the lock to his bedroom.
"Hi, Deedee," he called. "I missed you." He hugged her and kissed her and laid her back down on his bed. "I'll be back later to turn you on." With that, he closed the door and took his usual place on the couch with his computer on his lap.
At 2 a.m., Jeffrey could no longer fight the fatigue from the past two sleepless days. He turned Deedee's switch to off and lay down beside her. Something woke him an hour later.
"Deedee?" Jeffrey said coming out of his slumber. He sat straight up and looked around. Perhaps it was his dream that woke him, Jeffrey thought. He rested his back against the mattress once again and then turned to the body next to his. He stared silently, hypnotized by the red glow from his bedside clock as it bounced off of Deedee's shiny, lifelike skin. She stared back at him with blank eyes. Weren't they closed when he went to bed? Jeffrey used his hand to bring her eyelids down. Deedee looked beautiful, sleeping next to him, but he was too startled to make love. Instead, he watched her lie next to him, still as stone, feeling as if he were finally someone's protector. And then he drifted back to sleep.
On the next night, there was a malfunction. Jeffrey turned Deedee off, as he had done the previous two evenings, but she did not respond. Instead, she got violent.
"I'm not ready to say goodnight yet," she responded as Jeffrey worked vigorously at her foot. Her voice came in the form of a chilling tone, which sent his stomach into knots. He assured himself that she didn't really say it. He was simply overtired. Between work and the computer and Deedee, Jeffrey had received a heavy dose of overstimulation. But the lies he told himself only lasted for the several seconds before Deedee's foot collided with his face. "I'm not ready to say goodnight yet," she repeated.
"What the hell is going on?" Jeffrey asked, bringing his hand down from his face to check if his nose was bleeding. Then a force overpowered him. His back was on the bed and he was looking up at Deedee, who straddled him with her hands on his shoulders. She was surprisingly strong.
"Even though you don't like it rough, sometimes I do," she said. Jeffrey tried to toss her off of him, but his efforts were in vain. "Don't waste your energy, lover." She still spoke in a monotonous tone that carried only two readable aspects –disregard and desire. "Besides, I know what you like. You can't resist me." She lowered her head and Jeffrey gave in.
When Jeffrey woke up the next morning, he checked Deedee over. She appeared to be off. His face didn't hurt where she had kicked him. His body was sore, but that was normal, lately. Could it have all been a dream? He wanted to convince himself that it was, but the images in his mind were too vivid. And again, Deedee's eyes were open. He knew he didn't leave her eyelids up this time.
Jeffrey spent his day at work debating what to do with Deedee. Few things pained him more than wasting money, and he had grown fond of having a sex life, but Deedee scared him. If last night was a dream, then it was certainly a warning. And if it wasn't a dream, then what would happen next?
This time, Jeffrey took his time going home. The knot he had felt in his stomach when Deedee first woke him two nights ago had tightened to a crippling stomach ache. It mixed with an overwhelming feeling of guilt. But it wouldn't stop him. Jeffrey was going to dispose of his virtual girlfriend.
When he entered the apartment, Jeffrey saw his bedroom door was open. He knew for certain he had closed and locked it before leaving for work. He hobbled into his room and searched frantically, but Deedee was nowhere to be found. And then, he heard her. The moaning sounds he had once been the cause of were coming from the walls. Jeffrey raced from his bedroom and burst into Michael's.
"Hey roomie," he heard. "Want to tag team?" Jeffrey found Michael on his back. Deedee was on top of him, thrusting. She turned her head toward him and smiled an evil grin. Stricken with fear, Jeffrey shut the door and ran back to his room. A moment later, his roommate joined him.
"I can't believe you've been keeping that from me," he said wrapping a towel around him. He showed little more remorse than Deedee. "That is some toy you've got there."
"Yeah, well, I'm throwing her out," Jeffrey told him.
"What? You've got to be kidding me. Hell, I've never accomplished no computer before."
"Michael …"
"Oh, don't start, Jeff. You left it right out in the common area. It's like you wanted me to find it."
The pains in Jeffrey's stomach increased. He bent over and took a deep breath.
"I didn't leave her there. That's the problem."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, I left her in here. Locked up. She got out. That's why I'm getting rid of her."
"Oh, you've just played one too many computer games. You look like shit, too."
"I'm serious, Michael."
"So am I. Tell you what. I'll take it off of your hands, okay?"
"No, Michael, I really mean … ow." Jeffrey clutched his ribs in pain.
"You really do look like shit. You should see a doctor, man."
Jeffrey tried to argue, but the pain was too great. Soon, it was all he could think about. He felt Michael helping him out of the apartment and to his car. Soon enough, he was at a doctor's office, being called in.
"Just call me when you need a pickup," Michael told him. "I'll keep that girl of yours back home in line." With that, Michael left and Jeffrey waddled into a small, white room with a table.
It felt like hours, and it might have been. The doctor prodded and poked and took samples from every imaginable part of Jeffrey's body. He had no concept of what time it was when the pain finally subsided enough for him to sit upright and comprehend what the doctor was saying to him.
"You're on a large dose of morphine," the man in white explained. "It's all we could do to stop the pain right now."
"So what is it, doctor?" Jeffrey asked, managing his first words since his argument with Michael. "It feels like the worst case of food poisoning in history."
"No, it's not that," he replied. Then Jeffrey felt fear return, fighting through his dulled nerves.
"It's cancer, isn't it?"
"No, it's not cancer." Myriad possibilities turned in Jeffrey's mind. The doctor cleared his throat. "It's something that, well, I haven't seen anything like it, to be quite honest with you. It's something that you must have received sexually. And, to be honest, because of the nature of it, I don't think there is anything we can do. Now, we don't know if it's fatal or how tolerable it will be to live with."
"Sexually?" Jeffrey interrupted. "But that's impossible. What is it?"
"I can't believe I'm saying this, Jeffrey."
"What is it, doctor?"
"You're infected," he said, "with a computer virus."

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