The Girl of Your Dreams
by Michelle Espinosa
For the first time in his life he wasn’t lonely. No more of that longing ache for someone, anyone, to put his arms around and hold all night until the sun comes out and he has to go to work another day. Now he was pleased to go because he did it for them. For her and for the other ninety-nine. He was still making payments on ten of them.
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He felt content most days, now. When he looked into her eyes in particular, he felt something indescribable, a warmth and comfort. There may not be a beating heart for her, but his was large enough for them both. He knew as long as she was by his side, he knew he would be happy.
Strangely, he didn’t feel the same profound emotion with the other ninety-nine of his life-sized dolls. She was his first and they had a special bond. Something few could fathom.
It wasn’t long after she arrived that his performance at the firm greatly improved. His self-confidence increased and he impressed his coworkers with the calm he faced the chaos with before deadlines. He was their rock, their man. They admired him and his masculinity. They called him cowboy. They even bought him a Stetson one year on his birthday. He wore the Stetson around his place. He paraded naked in his cowboy hat and boots in front of the naked, busty dolls everywhere throughout the rooms.
He always kept her dressed if she wasn’t in the bed with him. She wore the finest cowgirl outfits and gear that he could find. He stopped purchasing the five thousand dollar dolls when the number reached a hundred. That’s all he could fit in his place. He kept buying them even after he realized how much the first one meant to him because he was always looking for those same feelings she had aroused in him at first.
Now he spends his money on her. To keep her looking gorgeous and as desirable as the day they met. The others are cute and he enjoys them but with her there is a deeper intimacy.
He recognized his masculine sexuality now when he looked in the mirror because of her. She brought it out in him. His sperm count had increased. That’s how virile the situation made him. His appreciation and fondness for the dolls was boundless.
And while he moved about those rooms filled with one hundred synthetic and silent approximations, a flesh and blood woman thought about him every night. She had only seen him the few times they came home or went out at the same time in their building. Yet when she saw his beautiful soulful eyes, that softness and masculinity, the musky odor when he came home from work and thick trail of aftershave when he left in the morning, it all intoxicated her. The last time she ran in to him in the hall he had picked up her mail after he had startled her and she dropped it. He was close enough for her to feel the warmth of his body. It may have been the first time he realized she was deaf and mute and that she could read lips and had perfected the art of blending in.
She had only ever seen his hands and face. His body was mystery. He appeared to be athletic. He was taller than she was by inches, maybe five nine? She wasn’t sure. She could tell he was close to her age, definitely no more than twenty-seven or eight. He must be doing well. Engineering was all she knew about his occupation. The thought of him on the other side of her bedroom wall was incredibly erotic and she often thought about him while she masturbated there.
The walls were thin enough that when he was pleasuring himself with his number one doll he could hear his neighbor's heavy breathing and moans. He managed to believe it was his favorite doll responding to his thrusts. He had no clue how far was this disconnect. To him he was falling further in love with a beautiful perfect representation of what is best in women without the accompanying annoyances like incessant speaking and nagging. Just the sound of a woman's voice would soon be intolerable. He didn’t want a real woman because he wouldn’t tolerate her talking all the time. He adored the quiet, non-speaking life he had chosen.
And so it went on this way for a few years.
He was content in his routine at first. The pattern was comforting. Everything went on the same day after day until he brought home a magazine filled with pictures of nude women. He tried to look at it on the sofa with three of them next to him facing the others around the room. At first he looked at the photos and masturbated thinking the dolls were in it with him, they were his objects for pleasure after all. That much he understood. Yet he could not maintain an erection surrounded by them like that so he went to the bathroom and took care of things alone in there.
That was the beginning of his shift to being excited over actual women.
He cried afterward, in the shower. His heart was breaking from the terrible weight of his loneliness.
One day when he arrived with a package from a posh boutique nearby, he said hello to his neighbor as she was entering her place. She didn’t acknowledge him. He shouted hello to her and she went into her place without responding. He walked over and knocked on the door. He could hear her just on the other side. He knocked again, certain she heard it. When she didn’t respond
he used the bell and she answered. She beamed as soon as she saw him. For a moment they just looked into each other’s eyes and actually connected on a real level for the first time. He suddenly felt so guilty he excused himself and went quickly to his place. To make up for everything, to assuage his guilt, he cooked a porterhouse steak and potatoes and had a candle-lit dinner with his favorite wine. She looked so beautiful in that light and he felt so aroused he took her right there on the floor, exhausting himself and passing out from the heavy meal and an entire bottle of wine..
His neighbor’s sense of smell was so keen she was soon aware of an acrid chemical odor and hunted around her place sniffing out the source. She was led to the front door and opened it. There was smoke coming up from under his door. She ran to his place but it was locked. She pounded as loud as she could. She was so frustrated and angry she grabbed the baseball bat she kept for protection and started beating his door with it. The knob was knocked off and the door swung open. She crawled into the smoky room and found him passed out on the floor. She woke him and guided him out. They dropped to the floor right outside. He looked in her eyes for a second time and for that moment time stopped. Every kiss, every look, every caress was in that one glance. A lifetime of love, over in seconds. He could see in his mind’s eye the face of his beloved favorite doll and it broke his heart. She had added so much to his life. He had to at least save her. He jumped up and ran back into the apartment.
Just as he found the doll and put his arms around her to carry her out, the stove exploded and flying metal pierced his heart, killing him instantly.
Later, his neighbor went to a psychologist who knew sign language. She soon grew impatient and dumped the therapy in favor of karate lessons.
Strangely, he didn’t feel the same profound emotion with the other ninety-nine of his life-sized dolls. She was his first and they had a special bond. Something few could fathom.
It wasn’t long after she arrived that his performance at the firm greatly improved. His self-confidence increased and he impressed his coworkers with the calm he faced the chaos with before deadlines. He was their rock, their man. They admired him and his masculinity. They called him cowboy. They even bought him a Stetson one year on his birthday. He wore the Stetson around his place. He paraded naked in his cowboy hat and boots in front of the naked, busty dolls everywhere throughout the rooms.
He always kept her dressed if she wasn’t in the bed with him. She wore the finest cowgirl outfits and gear that he could find. He stopped purchasing the five thousand dollar dolls when the number reached a hundred. That’s all he could fit in his place. He kept buying them even after he realized how much the first one meant to him because he was always looking for those same feelings she had aroused in him at first.
Now he spends his money on her. To keep her looking gorgeous and as desirable as the day they met. The others are cute and he enjoys them but with her there is a deeper intimacy.
He recognized his masculine sexuality now when he looked in the mirror because of her. She brought it out in him. His sperm count had increased. That’s how virile the situation made him. His appreciation and fondness for the dolls was boundless.
And while he moved about those rooms filled with one hundred synthetic and silent approximations, a flesh and blood woman thought about him every night. She had only seen him the few times they came home or went out at the same time in their building. Yet when she saw his beautiful soulful eyes, that softness and masculinity, the musky odor when he came home from work and thick trail of aftershave when he left in the morning, it all intoxicated her. The last time she ran in to him in the hall he had picked up her mail after he had startled her and she dropped it. He was close enough for her to feel the warmth of his body. It may have been the first time he realized she was deaf and mute and that she could read lips and had perfected the art of blending in.
She had only ever seen his hands and face. His body was mystery. He appeared to be athletic. He was taller than she was by inches, maybe five nine? She wasn’t sure. She could tell he was close to her age, definitely no more than twenty-seven or eight. He must be doing well. Engineering was all she knew about his occupation. The thought of him on the other side of her bedroom wall was incredibly erotic and she often thought about him while she masturbated there.
The walls were thin enough that when he was pleasuring himself with his number one doll he could hear his neighbor's heavy breathing and moans. He managed to believe it was his favorite doll responding to his thrusts. He had no clue how far was this disconnect. To him he was falling further in love with a beautiful perfect representation of what is best in women without the accompanying annoyances like incessant speaking and nagging. Just the sound of a woman's voice would soon be intolerable. He didn’t want a real woman because he wouldn’t tolerate her talking all the time. He adored the quiet, non-speaking life he had chosen.
And so it went on this way for a few years.
He was content in his routine at first. The pattern was comforting. Everything went on the same day after day until he brought home a magazine filled with pictures of nude women. He tried to look at it on the sofa with three of them next to him facing the others around the room. At first he looked at the photos and masturbated thinking the dolls were in it with him, they were his objects for pleasure after all. That much he understood. Yet he could not maintain an erection surrounded by them like that so he went to the bathroom and took care of things alone in there.
That was the beginning of his shift to being excited over actual women.
He cried afterward, in the shower. His heart was breaking from the terrible weight of his loneliness.
One day when he arrived with a package from a posh boutique nearby, he said hello to his neighbor as she was entering her place. She didn’t acknowledge him. He shouted hello to her and she went into her place without responding. He walked over and knocked on the door. He could hear her just on the other side. He knocked again, certain she heard it. When she didn’t respond
he used the bell and she answered. She beamed as soon as she saw him. For a moment they just looked into each other’s eyes and actually connected on a real level for the first time. He suddenly felt so guilty he excused himself and went quickly to his place. To make up for everything, to assuage his guilt, he cooked a porterhouse steak and potatoes and had a candle-lit dinner with his favorite wine. She looked so beautiful in that light and he felt so aroused he took her right there on the floor, exhausting himself and passing out from the heavy meal and an entire bottle of wine..
His neighbor’s sense of smell was so keen she was soon aware of an acrid chemical odor and hunted around her place sniffing out the source. She was led to the front door and opened it. There was smoke coming up from under his door. She ran to his place but it was locked. She pounded as loud as she could. She was so frustrated and angry she grabbed the baseball bat she kept for protection and started beating his door with it. The knob was knocked off and the door swung open. She crawled into the smoky room and found him passed out on the floor. She woke him and guided him out. They dropped to the floor right outside. He looked in her eyes for a second time and for that moment time stopped. Every kiss, every look, every caress was in that one glance. A lifetime of love, over in seconds. He could see in his mind’s eye the face of his beloved favorite doll and it broke his heart. She had added so much to his life. He had to at least save her. He jumped up and ran back into the apartment.
Just as he found the doll and put his arms around her to carry her out, the stove exploded and flying metal pierced his heart, killing him instantly.
Later, his neighbor went to a psychologist who knew sign language. She soon grew impatient and dumped the therapy in favor of karate lessons.
