Member-only story
Scientific Method
Getting laid shouldn’t be hard work; that’s why I come to Pol’s.
Content note: misogynistic abuse.
The room is dark when Paddington Polly pushes the door open. It takes my eyes a second to adjust to low light, and my mind another second to adjust to what I see.
“Hellfire! Is that…?”
Polly cackles. “No, dear. It’s a PleasurePoppet, the Hollywood Harlots range. It’s a limited edition; there’s only ten like her in the whole world.”
So the woman on the bed, isn’t: she’s a doll. Of course she is. The real actress would be in Beverley Hills, not a London townhouse; not this London townhouse, anyway. Polly aspires to class, and the rumour is her establishment welcomes the occasional celebrity punter, but she doesn’t get Oscar winners working here.
“Pol, when you said you had a new girl I thought you meant an actual woman, not a lump of silicone. Forget it. Is Svetlana working tonight?”
“Sveta’s gone home to Hull to look after her sick mum. Are you sure you won’t try our Jennifer? She’s state-of-the-art: RealTouch silicone, subdermal heat pump for a lifelike feel, Autohale unit to imitate breathing, reactive nipple technology, and three pre-lubricated holes, including a vulva modelled on the glimpse we all saw in that…
