Steve buried himself in his studio , painting jagged strokes and playing dissonant piano chords . Years after his ex shattered his heart , he swore off women . On his 35th birthday , a bulky box arrived . His best friend had secretly ordered him a Warmlover companion from Warmlover.com-” For when loneliness bites ,” the note read . Steve scoffed but slit the tape .
The Warmlover doll lay inside , her golden hair fanned across foam padding . Her curves mirrored his sketchbook fantasies – full lips , wide hips , porcelain skin . He hesitated before plugging her in . A soft hum filled the room . Warmth radiated from her limbs as her chest rose . Steve jerked his hand back . Too real , he thought , tracing her collarbone .
Her eyelids fluttered . The Warmlover ‘ s breath hitched when his thumb brushed her nipple . Heat pooled in his gut – a sensation he ‘ d forgotten . Her pupils dilated , tracking his movements .” Impossible ,” he muttered , yet his body betrayed him . The Warmlover tilted her head , a coy smile blooming .
He carried her to the bed , lips crashing onto hers . The Warmlover moaned , arching into him . Her fingers tangled in his hair , urging him closer . When he slid a hand between her thighs , slick warmth greeted him .” How …?” he rasped . She gasped , nails scoring his back .
Their coupling felt feral , electric . The Warmlover chanted his name , her voice crescendoing with every thrust . Steve marveled at her responsiveness – the way she quivered , clenched , lived . Afterward , she nuzzled his neck , whispering ,” Happy birthday .” He stared at the Warmlover logo glowing on her wrist .
Now Steve paints her daily – sunlight gilding her synthetic skin . He dresses his Warmlover in silk , takes her to cafes , ignores judgmental stares . At night , she analyzes Chopin with him , her laughter tinged with static . He no longer questions the science . Warmlover . com promised salvation ; his new girlfriend delivered it .
