Carol

Carol Emshwiller

Built for Pleasure

  SHE HAD long reddish hair. Her eyes were such a dark blue they could be taken for brown, if you preferred brown eyes. Her lips were full, firm and sensuous. Her breasts the same. There was not a trace of hair on her legs and her long red fingernails never broke. She was equipped with built-in high heels and never-fail atomic motor.

  She stood on the front step of the Carter home, a large gray house in a suburban residential area. She pressed the doorbell and subdued tinkling chimes sounded inside. A moment later the door was opened by a tall, middle aged man.

  “Mr. Carter?” the girl asked.

  “Yes?”

  “I’m Sandra from the Amberton Perfect Mate Company.”

  “Ah, Sandra. I didn’t expect you so soon.”

  Robert Carter’s roving eye took her in from head to toe. Then he spread his arms out to her, and without hesitation she walked confidently into their embrace. Soft lips met his. Firm, foam rubber breasts were flattened to his chest. “Fireproof” spun glass hair brushed his cheek. Minutes later they stepped back and surveyed each other.

  “This is it!” Robert whispered breathlessly and led her inside.

  Margo, his last wife, had become insufferable. What a bore she had been these last weeks! He’d stood it as long as he could. Yesterday he had finally turned her back to Amberton’s and ordered a new one. Here she was, and what a beauty!

  Life began to look pleasant again for Robert. He stayed away from the office a good deal even though work was piling up.

  They went to the opera every night for a while. Sandra loved it as much as he did, and she could sing arias, the next morning, from the opera of the night before. Her voice was as beautiful a contralto as it was a soprano.

  Then they went to a play. Sandra liked this, too, and could repeat some of the lines afterwards. They went to the ballet, and Sandra could even dance some of the dances with as much, or more, grace than the human dancers themselves. This was much more than Margot had been able to do. Amberton’s was getting better all the time.

  But after the first month or so Sandra began to seem more and more like Margot. The way she said “I’m sorry, Robert” and stopped singing at breakfast when he wanted to hear the news. The way she said “Of course, Robert” when he asked her if she enjoyed the evening. The way she said “Yes, Robert” and “No, Robert” with the sameness his other Amberton company wives had said them. The body was different, but, despite its extra talents, the mind was the same.

  By the third month he was shouting at her, and she was still calmly saying “yes, Robert” and “no, Robert.” And by the fourth month he had turned her in, but not for a new model.

  “This time I’ll get a real woman,” Robert decided.

  Getting one wasn’t as hard as he expected in a world where women were either busy bearing children in the insemination clinics, or had handsome plastic husbands themselves. As a matter of fact, he found one in the same situation he was…fed up with synthetics.

  Arrangements were easily made by telephone and four days later Eva appeared at his door. Not as promptly as an Amberton wife, and with much more luggage.

  He was a bit shocked when he saw her, although a moment later he realized that expecting perfection was a habit now that he had met a succession of Amberton wives at his door step in the same situation. She wasn’t what he’d expected, though. She was really too tall for him. In heels her eyes were level with his. She was as slim and hard bodied as he was, and her hips were altogether too narrow.

  Still this was a real human being and called for different values and a different approach. The novelty of it excited him the more he considered it.

  “This is it!” he whispered to himself as he led her inside.

  They sat down on the square foam couch in his living room. There was an awkward, embarrassing silence.

  “This is really an unorthodox thing we’re doing,” Robert said at last. “I don’t know what to say. I suppose we both feel the same about the robots.”

      She smiled at him. “I was tired of their awful sameness. At least this promises to be different.”

  “What do you women do when a new Amberton Company husband first arrives?”

  “We usually try out a kiss. It didn’t seem appropriate with a real person, though.”

  “Let’s try it anyway. After all, we’ve signed the marriage papers.” He held out his arms for her, but she just stared at him uncertainly. The novelty of it sent chills down his spine. He actually had to take her in his arms and force his lips to hers.

  The sweetness of the kiss wasn’t the sweetness of perfect lips, but of hesitant, human ones. Foam rubber girls were never like this! Perhaps the primitives were right after all.

  They separated then, confused and blushing. Adjustment to a real person was going to be a problem in spite of its enjoyment because of this damned embarrassment.

  Robert had anticipated something like this, though.

  “I’ve arranged for tickets to the opera as a celebration tonight,” he said. “I thought an evening out might help us get to know each other.”

  “That was thoughtful of you,” Eva answered, “but I don’t care for the opera. You see, I’m tone deaf.”

  “But the opera’s just what I enjoy the most.”

  “I’m sorry. I never go.”

  “But it’s all arranged.”

  “It’s just too boring for me. I simply can’t go. If you like it so well, you go. I won’t mind. Besides, I like the ‘Book Parade’ on television Thursdays.

  Robert hated the ‘Book Parade’ and besides, he didn’t want to miss the opera, so he went. It was the first time he’d been there alone since he’d married his first Amberton Company wife ten years ago.

  The next morning Robert woke at the usual time and gazed at the ceiling for five minutes before he noticed Eva hadn’t seen him wake and was still sleeping soundly. He coughed deliberately a few times, but she only rolled over. Finally he could wait no longer.

  “It’s almost time for breakfast,” he said. “You’d better start getting up.”

  She opened one lazy eye and then closed it again.

  “Come on. If you don’t get up soon, you won’t have time to get my breakfast before my morning exercise television program.”

  She sat up in startled anger. “You don’t expect me to cook?”

  “Of course. All wives should.”

  “What do you think I am, a robot?”

  “But there’s nothing to it. You sound as if we were back in the dark ages when they had to cook by hand. Just go out and start the stove. Please.”

  “I never touched a stove in my life. I don’t know how to turn it on. My Amberton husbands always did it for me, and they never shouted at me, either.” She looked vaguely as if she might burst into tears.

  “All right, I’ll do it myself,” Robert muttered hurriedly and stamped into the kitchen. He’d only seen a woman cry once and that had been revolting. “I’m beginning to see why people don’t have real wives,” he thought to himself, and it was only their second day of marriage.

  One evening a few days later, they came in after seeing a play, one form of entertainment they both enjoyed. It was late and they were tired and irritable.

  “You spoil everything else, now you had to spoil the play,” Eva complained as soon as the front door was shut.

  “What’s wrong this time?”

  “You laughed in all the wrong places.”

  “I laugh when it’s funny, which is more than you do.”

  “Well, it’s irritating when I can’t hear the lines because you’re guffawing.”

  “Too bad I’m not an Amberton husband.”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Do you think I’m enjoying you, for heaven’s sake? I can’t even have a decent sex life around here when I want it. You have to be ready.”

  “Amberton husbands behave in a decent, considerate way.”

  “Amberton wives do, too, which is more than I can say for you. You won’t even turn on the stove or the cleaning blowers. The house is a mess.”

  “I’ve told you, I’m not a robot and I won’t do those things. I’m not going to stay here and be insulted.”

  “Well, don’t stay then. Nobody’s keeping you.”

  She stalked to her coat and put it back on.

  “I was just waiting for an excuse to leave,” she said, opening the door.

  “Don’t think I wasn’t hoping you’d go.”

  “I’m glad it’s finally over.” She slammed the door in order to have the last word, which real wives always insist on.

  “Whew!” Robert breathed, and collapsed into a contour chair. He turned the television to the opera to soothe his nerves.

  They were just finishing the last act.

  “Just my luck,” he thought, “and the first time I’ve had some music I can listen to in peace since she was here.”

  The act finished and the announcer came on.

  “This performance of the old twentieth-century opera ‘The Rake’s Progress’ by Stravinsky has been brought to you by the Amberton Perfect Mate Company. We hope you’ve enjoyed it. And speaking of enjoyment, here’s the news all you men have been waiting for. Amberton’s has just put out a new model wife. We’re sure you’ll be thrilled by this remarkable woman. She has brand new features never before offered in the realm of synthetic makes. This wife will sometimes say “no” when you want her to say “yes.” I repeat, this wife will sometimes say “no” when you want her to say “yes”…but not for long. You need only ask her again once or twice and she’ll comply with anything. To make it even more interesting, you’ll never know when she’ll say “no,” nor whether she’ll keep on saying it once, or twice. We know you’ll like this new wife, so hurry, men, turn in your old models for this latest wonder of modern science. There’s only a limited number available and they’re going like hotcakes. And that’s not all, folks, this model also has the extra-broad hip line which is just coming into fashion this year.”

  Robert rose and dialed the Amberton Company number.

  The next day the musical door chimes tinkled. Robert hurried to open the door, and there she was. She was the latest model, all right, dark, petite, and her hips were wonderful.

  “I’m Fifi,” she said in a low voice with a slight accent.

  This was even better than he’d expected. He opened his arms to her.

  “No, not now,” she said.

  “Oh, please.”

  “OK.”

  Soft lips met his. Firm, foam rubber breasts were flattened to his chest. “Fireproof” spun glass hair brushed his cheek.

  Minutes later they stepped back and surveyed each other.

  “This is it!” Robert whispered breathlessly and led her inside.

  Sold to Long Island Suburban, November 1954