A Girl for All Seasons

ALL CHARACTERS ARE ADULTS.

*

"What you wanna do?" asked Brian.

"I dunno, what you got in mind?" replied Todd.

"Ain't shit on the tv," said Brian.

"Wanna get wasted?" asked Todd.

"Naaah, too expensive, and I got exams tomorrow," replied Brian.

"We could go to the convention center and check-out the exhibits," said Todd.

"Man! That costs more than beer and weed," cautioned Brian.

"Let's go down late and maybe work a deal with the guard," suggested Todd.

"Got any money?" asked Brian.

"I got a few bucks," replied Todd.

Robbie and her robotic friends posed taciturn and catatonic beneath a banner proclaiming each of them, A GIRL FOR ALL SEASONS. The Bay City BUGLE called them 'marvels,' 'modern prodigies,' and 'the undisputed hit' of the annual Bay City Electronic Arts Show. Techno-geeks eager to sample the girl's wares suffered large crowds and larger admission fees.

"What can I do for you boys?" The fat, middle-aged rent-a-cop wanted to know.

Brian pushed a paper bag at the man. "What's this?" the cop asked, opening the sack and seeing a carton of expensive unfiltered CAMELS and a TWENTY Dollar bill.

"We wanna go inside and check out the exhibits," Todd said.

"How long we talkin' about?" The guard wanted to know.

Brian and Todd looked at each other. "An hour?" Todd answered for both of them.

The guard squinted an eye and scrutinized the boys for a moment, "Show me some I.D."

The boys pulled cards from their wallets and handed them to the man, who scrawled notes on the paper bag and spoke, "If you fuck me your ass is grass. Comprende?"

The boys stepped back and forced weak, innocent smiles.

"C'mon." The guard marched them to a door at the back of the auditorium, pulled a ring of keys from his belt, unlocked the door, and opened it. He glanced at his watch. "It's 1:30, be out in one hour, comprende?" The boys nodded and vanished inside.

The huge hall was dimly lit but the girls' stall was easy to find. The boys scurried to it like rats after cheese in a maze.

Robbie and her friends looked like real females, only much better. They were beauties and perfectly formed. One, a blonde in denim hot-pants, straw hat, and a kerchief around her neck, held a pitchfork and stood beside a cornucopia, she was FALL; a redhead dressed in a skimpy Santa suit wore knee-high, black leather boots and gripped a sack of toys, she was WINTER; a Polynesian beauty wore a mini bikini and held a spear with a fish impaled on the barb, she was SUMMER; and Robbie wore a Yankees uniform and held a Louisville Slugger in a batting stance, she was SPRING.

The boys gawked at the girls for a few minutes then rifled the stall for something to activate them; they soon found a laptop hid under the counter, turned it ON, and loaded the software after by-passing the access passwords. In almost no time at all the girls were in motion, moving and talking like real women.

The Robbie machine smiled at Brian and winked. The others were equally as friendly and flirty. Brian went over to her, looked back at Todd, and groped Robbie's ass. "Hey, Todd, she feels just like a real woman!"

"How the fuck would you know?" Todd cackled.

About the time Brian gave his buddy the finger Robbie's baseball bat dropped from her hands, clonked his head, and fell to the floor.

"Son of a bitch!" He howled, rubbing the sore spot.

Todd put the bat back in Robbie's hands, then untied the bikini bottom from Summer's waist, to admire her anatomically correct form, then pulled the bra over her breasts for another look at her.

After thirty minutes of playing with the girls and checking them out, and despite their tantalizing costumes and performances, the boys grew bored.

Todd groped Summer's bare breasts, grinned, and licked them.

Brian watched Todd grope and fondle the robot for several minutes. "Hey, pervert! We need to be going; it's almost two-thirty!"

Todd smiled, "Check this out," and pushed WINTER onto her back atop the countertop and unbuckled his pants. Brian moved closer to get a better look.

Outside, the security guard took a long drag from his Camel, tossed the butt onto the pavement, mashed it flat with his shoe, and checked his watch: Quarter past three. "Assholes!" he groaned, and slouched over to the auditorium door, keys jangling.

It took several minutes for him to find them; they were on the floor, a pile of gore and blood; the fishing spear was stuck in Todd's neck, the pitchfork stuck in Brian's back. The guard looked around the stall. Blood dripped from Robbie's bat. "What the fuck?" He shifted his eyes from the bat to her face; Robbie smiled and winked at him.