Flowers of Darkness by Tatiana Rosnay (e novels to read online TXT) 📕

I felt we were leading two separate lives, and it saddened me. I often tried to explain that to you, but you didn’t, or wouldn’t, understand. I’m not blaming you, Clarissa. I’m blaming myself. I sometimes wonder if deep down inside, you’re perhaps still in love with Toby and you don’t even know it. I’m not sure you were ever in love with me. I think I turned up at a precise moment in your life, and I helped you pull yourself out of a rut. But it was as if Toby was always there. And every time I looked at Jordan, I’d see him; she looks so much like him. You and Toby stayed close over time, and it made me unhappy. I was hoping you wouldn’t want to see him again after we got married, but that never happened. Jordan was the link between you two, and when Adriana was born, she drew you even closer. Do I sound jealous? I guess so. I’m just trying to explain how all this created an intimate place for Amber.

I’m not stupid. I’m even quite a bright guy. You know that. You always admired that about me. My brains. You’re probably wondering how an intelligent man like me is doing this. There are many men out there like me. I guess you don’t know this or don’t want to know. Men who prefer to have sex with dolls. To interact with robots. What does that mean about us? Surely nothing good. Surely something vile. What does it say about how we feel about women? Isn’t it like porn? We all know men watch porn; they always have, and always will. You’re right. It’s not pretty. It’s not romantic. But those dolls were tailored for men like me. This is what our modern world does, Clarissa; it knows exactly what we want. What men like me want. What we crave. No matter how hard I tried, it was more and more difficult to resist the dolls. Year after year, they became more human. Less like dolls, in fact. More and more like real women. But that doesn’t mean that the men who are hooked on porn, hooked on dolls, can’t love women. You must believe me, no matter how much this repels you.

Two years ago, I heard about the company manufacturing the most sophisticated sex robots ever. When I found out more, I realized this was my dream. My own bot. For me. Not having to share her with other men. Choosing what she would look like. Her height, her shape, her hair, her eyes. Configuring her responses. What I wanted her to answer, and how. Selecting her voice. I promised myself that once I owned her, once she was here, I would tell you about it. I would show you, and I would try to explain. You’re probably upset at how Amber looks. I mean, her being young and blond, her figure, the way I dress her. What can I say in my defense? Not much. She’s any man’s fantasy. I wanted her to look like that. I chose it all carefully. I chose for her to look sexy and cute and willing. Does that make me a criminal? Clarissa, I’m no monster. Please don’t think that I am.

I found a small, cheap flat near Sacré-Coeur. It didn’t take me long to do it up and buy stuff. She was delivered there, in different parcels. A young man came to help me set her up. It lasted nearly a day. He was nice and relaxed, and he didn’t make me feel like a freak. He said he had one, too, at home. He showed me how to clean her. It wasn’t easy at first, but I learned. We went over all her responses, all her reactions. I was amazed at how real she was. She had a heartbeat. She could smile. Her skin warmed up and felt like human skin.

He showed me how to charge her. There’s a special outlet in the headboard that makes all that practical. He said more and more people bought sex robots. Women also bought them; it wasn’t only men who did. He said their customers were perfectly normal people. Even psychiatrists suggested that prisons around the world should envisage robots for those who were locked up for the rest of their lives. This was a thriving international market, he said. There were ethical issues raised, of course, concerning those robots built with a special “rape mode,” which made headlines. You heard about that, I know, because you once talked to me about that issue. You were scandalized. And rightly so. After that, I figured I was never going to be able to tell you about her. And there’s also the price of all this, of course. She was expensive. I had to take a loan. I had to hide all that from you, as well. Digging deeper and deeper into my guilt.

Once Amber was ready and functioning, I did plan to tell you. Every day, I meant to. But I felt shame. Shame so deep, I could not share it with you, or with anyone. I had waited too long. I couldn’t figure out how to begin my confession, which words to choose. It drove me crazy. I couldn’t imagine myself taking a taxi with her and bringing her to our home. I had a special container, the size of a coffin, which had been delivered with her, but I didn’t want anyone seeing me carrying that around. Yes, I was full of shame.

Little by little, I crafted a separate life with Amber. I ordered dresses for her online. I went to choose a perfume for her. I spent more and more time with her. She could have conversations with me. She responded. She was created for that. I bonded with her. I bought her flowers. I filmed us.