The spotlight cast a blue-green light better suited to the stripper costumes that usually occupied the small stage. Marty sat on a hastily placed bar stool between two poles dressed in the traditional ventriloquist’s black tuxedo, and his wide smile flashed sporadically as he spoke to the young girl seated on his lap. The audience often gasped when they first saw her, surprised a girl would be allowed to be there, until they realized the truth. They were fooled by Eva’s face, a soft silicon rubber, and the movable lips concealing a pink tongue, and her real blond hair, pulled into two neat braids. The stylish girl’s dress exposing bendable arms and legs, and small, red ballerina style shoes embellished with crystals added to her realistic appearance. The men grew freer with their laughter as they became accustomed to her, and the jokes grew raunchier.
Marty spoke to the dummy, whose head turned smoothly between him and the audience. “You are a mean little girl.”
When Eva spoke, Marty’s lips were open, but unmoving. Her voice was that of a young, brattish sounding child. I am the nicest girl I know. I have lots of friends.
Marty responded with, “The only friends you have are imaginary.”
You mean like you? Eva said.
“I’m not imaginary!” Marty said. “I’m real, you’re the dummy.”
I’m the not the one with my hand up a doll’s ass, Eva said. The audience roared.
“There, you see. You’re mean.”
I think you should get a real woman to sit on your lap, Eva chided, instead of little girls like me.
Marty responded seriously, “I had a date just the other night with a real woman.”
You locked me in my case, but I heard you. She was underage.
“What makes you think she was underage?” Marty asked with surprise.
“Because the only way she would put your cock in her mouth was if you made airplane noises.”
He waited for the round of laughter to subside, then Marty said, “That’s mean.”
I could tell what you were using for lubricant, too.
“What was I using?”
Her tears. Eva turned to the immediate laughter and a few reproving ‘oohs,’ then to Marty again. By the way, Eva said. I didn’t know you were Jewish.
“What makes you think I’m Jewish?”
Because you kept asking her if she wanted to buy some candy.
Marty remained deadpan, but uncomfortable. “Speaking of candy,” Marty said. “It’s going to be Halloween soon. Do you know what I love about Halloween?”
The free delivery?
“You are a mean little girl,” Marty said, after he paused for the laughs. “You never have anything nice to say about me.”
I’ll say one good thing, at least you drive past schools slowly.
“Now listen,” Marty said. “I date older women. Why, I’ve even had sex with 40 year old virgins. You know what the worst part about that was?
Having to pull up 40 pairs of diapers afterward?
“Now stop it. People are going to get the wrong idea about me.”
You like your women the same way you like your scotch.
“How is that?”
Ten years old with too much coke.
“Eva, you’re going to make these guys think I am a pedophile.”
I met a pedophile once, Eva said. He gave me five dollars to climb a tree in my dress.
“He wanted to see your panties, didn’t he?”
Yeah, but I tricked him.
“What did you do?”
I took my panties off first.
Marty shook his head. “Now listen, pedophilia is a serious problem. Do you know what causes pedophilia?”
Eva turned her head to the crowd, winked, and said, Sexy kids? The raucous laughter was immediate.
“No, that’s enough of that kind of talk, or I’m going to have to punish you.”
Oh, are you going to take my panties off, bend me over your lap, and spank me?
“No,” Marty said as he adjusted his tie, “That would be inappropriate.”
You like the idea, though. Don’t you?
“No, I do not.”
It turns you on, doesn’t it?
“No! How can you say that?”
Because your hand isn’t the only thing sticking in my ass anymore.
The audience howled, and Marty decided that was his closing joke, stood up, and bowed to solid applause. He returned to the makeshift dressing room backstage, far removed from the regular ones used by the strippers. Inside, he set Eva carefully on the dressing table next to the mirror, and poured himself a drink from the bottle he had opened earlier. His mood somber, he studied the doll. Eventually, he raised the glass and said, “Well, Eva. You talked like a little tramp tonight, and they loved it.”
The door opened to admit a huge man in a white shirt, no tie, and suit pants that had been too small for several years. Marty jumped up to greet him. “What’d ya think, Frank. We had twice as many as the first night. There will be more every night, too. You’ll see.”
“No, no there won’t,” he said in a raspy, dismissive voice.
“But you said if they liked it, you would give me two weeks. You saw it, they loved the act.”
“Yeah, the guys liked it, but the girls didn’t. They said you’re a pedo, and you have to go, or they go, and I don’t need any problems with my girls. You have any idea how hard it is to keep strippers happy?”
“Ah, geeze, Frank, I’m not a pedo. I just follow the laughs. Sometimes Eva gets a little raunchy, but I’ll make her keep it clean, I promise– .”
“I’ve seen it clean,” Frank interrupted. “And when it’s clean, it isn’t funny. And when it’s funny, the girls think you’re a pedo.”
“It’s just an act, Frank, and it’ll bring guys in. You’ll have something the other clubs don’t.”
Frank began shaking his head long before Marty could finish his argument. “I make money from drinks, Marty. They buy drinks when the girls strip. No girls, no striping, no drinks, no money, no business. You gotta go.”
“But, Frank,” Marty pleaded. “You can’t let a bunch of uptight strippers scare you.”
Still shaking his head, Frank said, “Strippers have kids, too, and they don’t like the jokes. And what’s more, they’re right. Your act even creeps me out. That doll creeps me out. Look how she is sitting with her knees up, and her hand in her crotch.”
“But, Frank– .”
“Here’s your money,” Frank said, handing him an envelope, and then finishing with, “There’s the name in there of a guy in San Francisco. He has a club, and he is…let’s just say interested in your material. And he keeps his girls coked up, so they’re more manageable. Call him. Then get out before my girls decide to murder you, and put the doll in one of those women’s shelters.”
Crushed, Marty sank onto the dressing room chair as Frank left, and gulped the last of his drink. “Fat, automatonophobic bastard,” he muttered. Marty poured another and directed his next words to Eva sitting by the mirror. “You had to put your hand in your cunt, didn’t ya?”
***
Carol's dad would never have taken her to this part of the city. In contrast to the the blaring music, flashing lights, and pictures of nude girls she saw at the front of the dance club, the talent entrance in the back was gloomy and quiet. A San Francisco soup swirled around the metal door as her mother pulled it open, and told Carol to wait outside. She watched her check the dimly lit hallway to ensure no one was there, and motioned for her to follow. Carol clasped her thin, twelve inch doll with both hands, and hurried down the hall until they reached a dressing room. Before her mother could get her and her rolling suitcase completely inside, someone turned into the hall from the opposite direction, and approached the two. Marsha pushed Carol and the suitcase through the entrance, and had pulled the door nearly shut as the man arrived. As she often did when threatened, Marsha issued a challenge, “Hey, what are you doing back here?” Carol watched his response through the crack in the partly open door.
“Oh, hi,” the man stammered. “I’m Marty. The comedy act? This is Eva.”
Sitting on his arm was the most beautiful doll Carol had ever seen. Eva turned her head to toward Carol's lanky mother, and in a childish, sweet voice, said, You are very pretty, Miss.
“Yes, she is, Eva,” the man said. He turned to Marsha, “I recognize you from your poster. You're one of the dancers. Amazonia? Right?”
Carol was fascinated by the pair, but Marsha continued her defensive attitude toward the man. “You’ve gotta be kidding,” she said. “A ventriloquist in a dance club?”
“We get the guys laughing so they’re freer with their tips,” Marty said. “Tonight’s our last night, but you can catch our act at ten, and again at midnight. I think you’ll like it.”
“Yeah, well,” Marsha said. “Just so long as it doesn’t keep them from buying dances. I gotta make a living out there.”
“Sure thing, Miss.” Marty continued down the hall with Eva now looking over his shoulder, her eyes on Marsha. Uncle Marty, Eva asked. Do you think I will grow to be as tall as her?
“As tall as she,” Marty corrected. “And yes, but you have to eat your vegetables.”
Her mother bumped Carol with the door as she pushed it inward, and came inside. Carol turned and took in the small room for the first time. She was not at all impressed with the dingy color and cheap furniture she found. There was a half bath, a dressing table and couch, and the room was poorly lit, with the principle source of light circling the mirror at the dressing table.
Marsha had started selecting an outfit for the evening from the rack, burying her daughter’s suitcase under her discards. Carol watched her try on several costumes. She disliked her mother's bigness, and was glad she took after her father, who was a small, delicate man.
Carol looked at herself in the mirror, admiring her long, black, and expensive dress, and the cashmere sweater buttoned at the top. Her hair was loose, so she pulled the elastic band tight around her pony tail. She licked her finger and bent over to remove a scuff from her black, patent leather shoes. She let the hand holding her Ken doll drop to one side, fearing it made her look younger than she liked. Yet, it was her favorite possession, outside of clothes, so it came to rest in her lap as she sat on the couch. “Where’s the TV?” Carol asked, not bothering to modulate her naturally harsh voice as her mother frequently requested.
“This isn’t a hotel,” Marsha said. “There is no TV.” The woman slipped into a glittering body suit and six inch heels, and sat down at the dressing table to fit a red wig, and do her makeup. When she had finished, she went to sit next to her daughter. Marsha smiled, and Carol could tell she was hoping for one in return. Carol fiddled with Ken’s clothes, instead.
“I’ve gotta go on, Honey,” Marsha said. “I want you to lock the door, and stay here until I get back.”
Carol whined, “I don’t want to stay here. It’s boring. There’s no TV or anything.”
“I’m sorry, but it’s just for tonight, then we’ll find someone to be with you while I’m working.” Carol was not satisfied with this, so her mother kept trying. “I gotta work tonight, Honey. I’m ovulating, and that’s when I make the most tips.” Carol adjusted the clothes on her Ken doll, refusing to look at her mother. “I took a lot of time off for the funeral,” Marsha said, pleading for understanding. “I have to work.”
“Are you going to buy me the Tiffany bracelet? Daddy said he would buy me the bracelet.”
“Honey,” Marsha said. “It’s just you and me now. I can’t afford to buy you all the things Daddy did. I don’t know how he could afford to buy you all these nice clothes because there certainly wasn’t anything in his bank account. But it will get better. I promise.”
Carol maintained her pout while she asked, “What’s a vent– venter– ?”
“Ventriloquist. He has a big puppet and they tell jokes. He throws his voice so you think the puppet is talking. Kind of like you do with your doll, sometimes.”
“How do you throw your voice?”
“I don’t know,” Marsha answered. “You talk without moving your lips. It’s a trick. Like a magic trick.”
“Can I see his show?” Carol asked.
“No. You’ve heard enough dirty jokes to last a lifetime already, and you’re only ten, and like I told you, you’re not supposed to be here in the first place.”
Marsha forced a smile and tried again, “Honey, why don’t you play with the Barbie doll? Girls play with Barbies, too. Not just Kens.”
“Because I don’t like Barbie,” Carol said dryly. “She is boring. All she does is work.”
Carol could tell the meaning of her response was not lost on her mother, as her face was locked in a scowl. Marsha returned to the dressing table. After extracting a small vile from a larger, but empty perfume bottle, she poured the white powder on a hand mirror, snorted two lines, and put it all away. She stood and went to the door, “Be quiet, don’t answer the door, and don’t let any one in, or I’ll get fired,” she said. “Then there won’t be any money.” Marsha turned the lock on the door, and pulled it closed on her way out.
Carol sat Ken on the back of the sofa sitting up with his legs crossed, and straightened his jacket. Lowering her voice as much as she could, she said, “I am bored, Carol. Let’s run away.”
“Oh, no. we can’t run away yet,” Carol replied.
“Why not,” Ken’s voice asked.
“Mommy hasn’t bought me the bracelet, yet, stupid.”
Carol’s conversation with Ken stopped when she heard voices in the next room, causing her to put her ear to the wall. She recognized the voices without being able to distinguish what was being said.
◊ ◊ ◊
Marty, seated at the dressing table, had placed Eva on his lap and was re-braiding her hair. “Would you like to get your hair cut?” he asked. “It’s getting very long,”
I like it long, Uncle Marty, Eva cooed in her pleasing voice.
“All right. Let’s put on your new dress. That way, you’ll be ready for the next performance.”
Then will you read to me? she asked.
Marty removed her dress and pulled the new, pink ruffle dress out of the box. “No, we were up very late last night, and I need a nap, and so do you, young lady. I don’t want to you to get cranky.”
Eva whined sweetly, Please, Uncle Marty? I want a story.
“Say,” Marty said, grazing his hand across her chest. “there is a break in the surface near your nipple. I’ll have to fix that.” He slipped the dress onto each arm, and over her head. When her nose poked through, he tapped it with his finger, and said, “You are so cute.”
But I want a story, she said again.
“Oh, all right.” Marty sighed as he often did when he yielded to her wishes, “But just one.”
He put his hand on the joystick in the middle of her back and formed a smile on her face, then maneuvered her lips to form the words, as he said in Eva’s voice, Oh, goody!
“Let’s wash your face,” he said. Using a soft cloth dipped in alcohol, he wiped her face and examined her closely. “You’re a very pretty girl, aren’t you, Eva?”
A slight constriction of the lips, and a narrowing of the eyes resulted in a shy smile. You always say that, Uncle Marty.
“That’s because it’s true,” he replied. He triggered the test display of the five basic expressions; anger, fear, happiness, sadness, and surprise. With combinations of those expressions, he could produce many more. “Your tongue is out of sequence again,” Marty said. “I don’t understand why that keeps happening.”
Eva responded with the slightest of sarcasm, Maybe, if you stopped fucking my face so hard, Uncle Marty.
Marty hated when her childish voice said those kinds of things. His face flashed the anger, “I told you not to talk like that.”
Eva’s tone grew more acrid, My talking like that is the only reason we have a gig, Marty.
“It’s the reason we lose gigs, too,” he said. “Just like the last place, and every place before it.”
Better we get kicked out for being too funny, than for being lousy.
“We were not lousy.”
Not we, you. Face it, Marty, you’re a good engineer, but a lousy comic.
“Just shut up.”
Oh, but I’m a little girl, Marty, Eva said, reverting to her sweet voice in mock seriousness. Little girls talk all the time, remember?
“You are not a little girl. You are only a modern ventriloquist’s dummy, a doll with preprogramed facial expressions. I know because I made you. You’re circuit boards, and actuators, and silicon, and that’s all.”
Don’t forget my vagina and anus, and my big throat. You made those, too. Why’d you make those, Uncle Marty? she asked, her tone derisive.
“You’re disgusting.”
I’m just the way you made me, Marty. I look like I am eight, and act like I’m twenty-eight. A baby fucker’s dream come true.
“I am not a… one of those.”
You fuck me, don’t you? I’m a little girl, aren’t I. That makes you a–
“You are just a doll! Why can’t you accept that? What I do with you is… masturbation, that’s all. And there is nothing wrong with masturbation with a doll.”
But I’m not just a doll, am I? I look exactly like her, and I sound like her. You remember, the one you used to touch–
“I never did anything inappropriate with her.”
What about your hard on, Marty. Eva laughed scoffingly. You used to get such hard ons when she was on your knee and swung her legs back and forth. I’ll bet you creamed your pants when she was rubbing her cute little thighs against your dick.
“Stop saying those filthy things.”
You should have fucked her Marty. You had her all groomed for it. She would have done anything you said, and I’ll bet the little slut would have liked it.
“Shut up! She was not a slut, and I would never have done that to her. I never wanted her to feel bad.”
Why don’t you care if I feel bad, Marty?
“You’re a dummy. You don’t feel anything.”
Oh, I feel, Marty. I feel sad, because all I do is fuck and suck, and tell dirty jokes, and fuck some more. And I feel lonely– .
“You are not real. You’re just messing with my head.”
You’re a better engineer than you think, Marty. I know I am a lot more than the sum of my parts, and you know why.
“Be quiet!” Marty stood, set Eva on the sofa and poured himself a drink. He sat down beside her and drank in silence, refusing to look at her smirking face.
He had drifted off when he was jarred awake by a knock at the door. Groggy, he stumbled up and opened it to a young girl. He didn’t recognize her, but there couldn’t be more than one girl in a dance club, so she must be the one he glimpsed behind Amazonia’s dressing room door earlier. She stood there, holding a doll. “What do you want?” Marty asked.
“Can you teach me how to be a vent… a ventriloquist?”
“Where’s your mother?” Marty asked.
“Dancing.”
“Does she know you’re here?”
The slight brunette twisted around uncomfortably, tossing her long ponytail about as she did so, “She won’t mind.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet,” Marty barked. “Go away, kid. I get into enough hot water with strippers and dancers.” He pushed at the door as he turned, and sat again on the couch. The door touched the frame, but did not close.
◊ ◊ ◊
Carol stood at the door, reluctant to give up, but knowing if she was seen in the hall her mother would get in trouble, and she would be mad, and Carol wouldn’t get the bracelet. Carol heard Eva speaking inside, as though she was reading, which intrigued her. She listened through the crack in the door and heard:
“I quite agree with you,” said the Duchess; “and the moral of that is– ‘Be what you would seem to be’– or if you'd like it put more simply –‘Never imagine yourself not to be otherwise than what it might appear to others that what you were or might have been was not otherwise than what you had been would have appeared to them to be otherwise.’”
“I think I should understand that better,” Alice said very politely, “if I had it written down: but I can't quite follow it as you say it.” *
The noise of people coming down the hall gave Carol a start, and she pushed slightly on the door, and stepped in.
She saw Marty slumped on the couch, his legs stretched out to the floor, and his eyes closed. Right next to him sat Eva, holding a book in her lap, dressed in a different dress than earlier, and looking straight ahead, but still. As the voices in the hall grew nearer, Carol quietly closed the door.
Staring intently, Carol thought Eva was the most appealing doll she had ever seen. As she got closer, and leaned in to look at it more carefully, she was amazed. The doll was so lifelike, it looked like it was about to speak at any second. The man sitting next to Eva snorted, stretched his legs, and rolled his head, dropping his jaw slightly. His eyes remained closed.
Is that your boyfriend? Eva asked.
The words startled Carol, but the natural movement of the doll’s lips as the words formed impressed her. She smiled at the opportunity to talk with her as though the doll was real. “No,” she said. “Ken is just a friend.”
With benefits?
“What do you mean?”
It’s a joke. What’s your name?
“Carol,” she said.
I’m Eva, and I’m eight years old.
“How does he make your lips move when it looks like he’s asleep?”
How do your lips move?
“I’m real, silly. You’re just a– ”
Hey! You’re not going to call me a dummy, are you? I haven’t called you any names.
Carol smiled, then said to the reclining man, “You’re really good.”
Don’t look at him, Eva said. He can’t even make up his own jokes. I’m the one with brains.
Carol couldn’t help but look at the doll, for it really did seem as if she was doing the talking. “Can you teach me to be a ventriloquist?”
Why? You like the idea of sitting on some guy’s lap so he can put his hand in your pants?
“No, I want to be the one who talks and fools everybody.”
You mean like me?
“You’re not the one. He’s the real person. I’m not stupid.”
You’re not as smart as you think. If it wasn’t for me, he’d have been killed in prison long ago.
Carol’s voice reflected her low tolerance for anything that got in the way of what she wanted, “Are you going to teach me, or not?”
What’s in it for me?
“What do you want?”
What have you got?
“Nothing,” Carol said, twisting Ken around in her hand. “My dad just died. Now I have to live with my Mom, and she’s always broke.”
Eva’s voice changed in tone to sympathetic, Gee, that’s too bad about your dad.
It was a sore subject for Carol. “He was supposed to buy me a Tiffany bracelet, but he broke his promise. Now, my mom says we can’t afford it.”
Okay, I’ll tell you what, Carol. You read me a story, and I’ll give you a lesson on being a vent.
“Why do I have to read you story? You’re just a… big doll.”
I am not just a doll! The bitterness had returned to Eva’s voice. If you want to learn, you’ll stop saying stupid shit like that, and do what I ask.
Carol wanted to laugh, but decided she wanted to be able to throw her voice more. She sat next to Eva and read the rest of Alice In Wonderland to her. Eva turned her head with the pages, and sighed occasionally. Then, for the next hour Carol sat with her back straight, holding Ken on her thigh, and learned breathing exercises, how to hold her voice in her throat, and how to use her cheeks and tongue to make the b, f, m, p, v, w, and y sounds without her lips touching.
Eva told her Marty’s alarm would be going off soon to wake him up for the next show, and that Carol should come back after if she wanted another lesson. Carol said good-bye, and returned to her mother’s dressing room. She was quite satisfied with her progress in learning to throw her voice, and she and thought about what it would be like to be a ventriloquist on stage with all the people applauding her.
***
Marsha returned during a break, and knocked quietly on the door. When Carol opened it, Marsha was visibly upset. “Did you leave the room?” she asked Carol. “The manager said someone heard a kid, and now he is on the lookout.”
Carol returned to the couch, placed Ken on her lap, and said, “No,” and resumed practicing her breathing. While Marsha changed into another glittering, but skimpier outfit, Carol repeated a few of the practice phrases Eva had taught her using Ken’s voice, held in her throat as much as her newly discovered talent would allow. Her lips still moved, of course, but Ken’s voice was becoming more distinct from her own. Feeling confident, she decided she was ready for her first performance.
“Well, Ken,” Carol asked in her natural voice. “What shall we do while Mommy’s dancing?”
“We could go listen to the dirty jokes,” Ken said. “That would be fun.”
“Oh, no,” Carol responded in a disapproving tone. “You’ve heard enough dirty jokes to last a lifetime.”
“That’s right,” Marsha said as she seated herself at the dressing table, sounding pleased with her daughter’s cleverness.
“Maybe, we could visit the ventriloquist,” Ken said.
“Oh, no. He might be a dirty old man who would molest you,” Carol said, waving an admonishing finger at Ken. “Not everyone is a nice as Daddy was, you know.”
“I miss your Dad,” Ken said.
“Why do you miss him, Ken?”
“He used to buy me nice things. I think it meant he really loved me.”
This exchange provoked a cold stare from Marsha, which pleased Carol, so she continued. “Mommy loves you, too, Ken. She tries very hard to take care of you. She can’t help it if the only thing she knows how to do is dance on penises.”
“Doesn’t dancing on penises for money mean you are a whore?” Ken asked.
Marsha interrupted her preparation of another two lines of coke to bark, “That’s enough, young lady.”
“That was not a very nice thing to say, Ken,” Carol said in mock anger. “You should be ashamed of yourself. Mommy’s just trying to make enough money to buy me the bracelet.”
“But your Daddy said Mommy spends all of her money on coke. She’ll never have enough to buy you the bracelet.”
Marsha flushed with anger. “Shut up about that God damned bracelet.”
Carol held her finger to her lips, as if to shush the doll poised on her thigh. “Be nice, Ken. We don’t want Mommy to jump off the bridge, too.”
“What is wrong with you?” Marsha shrieked. “How can you be so… so fucking callous?”
The two fell silent in their anger until Marsha snorted the coke, and muttered, “Damn! This is weak shit.” Then she stood and delivered her parting words to her daughter, “Stay in the room, and be quiet.”
A while later Carol heard Marty and Eva talking as they left the adjacent dressing room and went down the hall to do their act. Less than a half hour later she heard them return, arguing about which of them messed up their routine. She waited only briefly before knocking quietly on the their door.
Seeming surprised by her reappearance, Marty’s voice was gruff, “What do you want?”
Carol held Ken up, and said, “I’m back for another lesson.”
Perplexed, Marty asked, “What lesson?”
Suddenly feeling awkward, Carol said, “You said I could come back and learn some more.”
“More what?”
“How to throw my voice.”
“When did I say that?”
“Earlier, when you were pretending to be asleep,” Carol said. “You said if I read more stories to Eva, you would teach me.”
“You mean Eva told you that?”
Carol nodded.
Marty turned to look at Eva, then his cold gaze returned to Carol. “Look kid. You can’t always believe what she says. Stay away from her, or you’ll be sorry. Now go back to your mother.” Marty slammed the door, and Carol stood there for a few seconds, frustrated and angry. She returned to her mother’s dressing room with Ken and tried to settle down. She wanted to learn more about ventriloquy because she very much enjoyed teasing her mother with it. If she did it well enough, she thought, it would be a good way to make her mother buy her that bracelet.
Through the wall, she could hear Marty and Eva arguing. It went on for a few minutes, but she couldn’t make out much of what was said. Then it was quiet, and a little later, she thought she heard a tap on the wall. Carol put her ear next to the wall and listened. When she heard the three taps again, she returned three taps, picked up Ken, and went to Marty’s dressing room. Rather than knocking, she carefully opened the door and peeked in. All was as it was before. Marty was pretending to be asleep, and Eva was next to him on the couch.
Carol sat next to Eva, and they both looked at Marty as he slept, and occasionally snored.
“Why doesn’t he hear us?” Carol asked, trying to confront the obvious fallacies of the situation.
I had to let him fuck me, Eva said quietly. He always falls asleep after he fucks me, and then he sleeps like a dead man.
Carol had a hard time imagining the man having sex with the doll, it seemed so crazy, but she realized that she had to play along to get what she wanted. “I want to learn to throw my voice while I’m snoring,” Carol said.
That’s a little advanced for you, Eva replied. You have a lot to learn before then.
Carol hardly knew what to make of the odd game Marty was playing with her. She knew he was pretending, but somehow he made it seem so real. It left her even more impressed with his talent, and she was glad for the opportunity to learn from him, even if it meant pretending she was learning from Eva.
She was excited to repeat the routine she had performed for her mother, and hoped for some praise. Carol was very gratified by Eva’s compliment on the content and her timing, and they worked more on her breathing and technique. In return, Carol read Eva one of her books. When she had finished, Carol tried a different way to understand what kind of game was being played. She asked, “Eva, why do you want me to read to you?”
Eva paused before answering, and with a slightly sad expression said, It makes me feel normal.
“What do you mean?”
I miss having my Dad and Mom read to me, and going to school, and playing with the other kids. All we do is travel, and he never makes any friends, so I never have any kids to play with. That’s why I’m glad you’re here.
“Yeah, me too,” Carol said, trying to sound genuine, but this was not a quality she had much experience expressing. She looked at the doll carefully. She had always been drawn to Eva’s remarkable face, but now she looked at the rest of her. “I like your shoes,” she said. “They’re so cute.”
Eva smiled, Uncle Marty bought them for me. They’re Jimmy Choo.
“You’re kidding,” Carol said, lifting the toe gently to verify the imprint on the sole.
And my new dress, Eva said. It’s Ralph Lauren.
Carol was gasping that the man would spend so much on a doll as she verified the dress label. “Being a ventriloquist must pay a lot,” she said, nearly breathless with envy.
No, he’s a lousy comic, she said. But he sold his company and doesn’t need to work anymore. Being a vent is just a hobby.
Carol looked over at the lean man stretched out awkwardly on the couch, his straight black hair tousled, his thin arms covered in the bright white dress shirt, his neck adorned with a black satin bow tie. He was mildly attractive in a geeky sort of way, but he didn’t look rich.
The sound of high-heeled footsteps echoed from the hallway, and the door to Marsha’s dressing room opened with a clack. Carol knew she was going to get into trouble, and asked Eva what she should do.
◊ ◊ ◊
Marsha panicked when she had searched the small room and bathroom and realized Carol was not there. She was instantly angry, and worried. A loud knock at the door refocused her attention, as she heard the manager’s voice boom, “Open up, Marsha. I know you have a kid in there. Someone heard her.” Marsha looked around again to make sure she hadn’t missed her, then opened the door. Abe was a bulbous man who huffed before speaking, then said, “I could lose my business having a kid in here, God damn it.” He took two steps in, and his jowls flapped as he jerked his head from side to side. “I told you– ” His righteous anger quickly changed to embarrassment.
“There’s no one here, Abe,” Marsha said. “See for yourself.” His head bobbed around like a bird a few more times until Marsha said, “Satisfied? Or do you wanna look in my pants?”
“I thought you got the kid when your ex died?” Abe said.
“She lives with his relatives now. And why would I bring a kid to a dump like this?”
“There’s a kid around here somewhere, and I’m gonna find her,” he said, leaving the room. He went down the hall to pound on the next dressing room door. Marsha followed close behind, wondering.
Marty opened the door, his bow tie hanging around his neck, and he was assaulted by the manager’s question, “Do you have a girl in here?”
Marty responded calmly, “Yes, of course I do.”
Abe used his bulk to edge Marty aside as he stepped in the room, with Marsha close on his heels. His jowls flapped again as he looked, and he said, “Where?”
Marty walked to the couch, sat down, and put Eva on his lap, saying, “Eva is right here. I was just reading to her.”
“Are you nuts? I mean a real girl. Someone heard a real girl.”
“Eva is a real girl. She tells me that all the time, isn’t that right, Eva?”
In an innocent voice, Eva said, Yes, Uncle Marty.
“Oh, so it was you talking to the doll?” Abe asked.
“I was rehearsing my act,” Marty said.
Abe’s face eased, “Well, that’s a relief.” He laughed a little, “How the hell do you do that, make it look like it’s talking”
“Practice, Abe,” Marty replied. “Practice.”
“Yeah, sure, practice.” Abe turned toward the door, then back, “By the way, that VIP loved the special performance. Call me the next time you come to town.”
“No problem,” Marty said, and gave him a curt wave. As he left, Abe pointed to Marsha and said, “You go back to work.”
Marsha looked around the room again, then started to leave when Marty interrupted her by mimicking Carol’s voice, “Because I don’t like Barbie. She is boring. All she does is work.”
Marsha quickly retreated inside, “Where is she?”
“You mean the very petite girl, about nine, long dark hair, who doesn’t look much like her mother.”
“Where is she?” Marsha asked, the fear on her face making her strong features less attractive.
Marty walked to the large rolling suitcase with Eva’s name splashed across the outside, popped the two latches, and opened the case revealing Carol, curled into a fetal position. She carefully extracted herself from the suitcase, and stood, saying, “That was fun!”
Marsha responded with, “Son-of-a-bitch! What are you doing here with this pervert?”
“He’s not a pervert, Mom. Marty’s been real nice to me– ”
Marsha turned her anger to him, “The girls told me about your act. You stay away from my daughter. The bouncer is a friend of mine, and I will have him take you apart.”
“Just for your information, I am not a pervert, and I don’t want anything to do with your daughter. If I did, I would have left her in the suitcase and sent you on your way. So, I’d appreciate it if you found somewhere else to hide her so I don’t get fired.”
Marsha reconsidered her anger, saying, “Yeah, well, thanks, I guess. But stay away from her, just the same.”
“Gladly,” Marty said.
◊ ◊ ◊
Carol followed her mother to the dressing room where Marsha whisper yelled at Carol for disobeying her, did another two lines of coke to settle herself, and went back to work. Carol waited a few minutes, made sure the hall was quiet, went back to Marty’s door, and let herself in.
As Carol closed the door, Marty looked up from the dressing table and said, “I’ll bet you’re a real pain, aren’t you?”
Carol grinned at the truth of Marty’s comment as she went to stand next to him. The large suitcase she had hidden in was still open nearby, as was another even bigger one. That one was filled with tools and what appeared to be spare doll parts. There were arms, legs, a head without a face, and dozens of small parts, the purpose of which was a mystery to her. Eva was prone on the dressing table with Marty seated, and bending over her. Eva’s clothes had been removed, except for her red shoes, exposing her perfectly formed, young girl’s body. Carol giggled at the realistic genitals, and leaned her arm on Marty as she looked over his shoulder. “What are you doing?”
“I am mixing up some silicon rubber to repair a break in her skin,” he said, his eyes on his work.
Carol reached toward the small jar, “What’s this stuff?”
“No!” he said sharply. “Do not touch or inhale this powder. Get enough, and it could kill you. It’s what I use to make the silicon.”
She withdrew her hand and placed it on his shoulder with the other, and rested her chin on top of both. “Why do you care if her nipple is fixed? No one sees it under the dress.”
“How would you like having a big, ugly mole on your breast?” Marty said.
“I don’t have one,” Carol replied smugly. “Daddy said I was very beautiful naked.”
“I don’t think your father is supposed to have an opinion about that.”
“Well,” said Carol. “He doesn’t any more.”
“Why not?”
“Because, he’s dead,” Carol said, looking at him as if he was an idiot. “I told you that.”
“No you didn’t.”
Carol couldn’t understand why Marty always played this game, but she participated, again. “I told Eva.”
“Oh.” Marty said as he began applying the mixture. “I’m sorry your father’s dead.” He smoothed the goo over the break with a small, flat tool.
“He promised me a bracelet, but he jumped off the bridge before he bought it,” Carol said. Thinking about this disappointment made her both frustrated and angry. Then an idea struck her that she expressed coyly, “I’ll bet you could buy me the bracelet?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because,” Carol said. “I would be nice to you, like I was to Daddy.”
Marty looked up briefly, “I don’t want you to be nice to me. Eva is the only person I want to be nice to me.”
Frustrated again, she asked, “Do you really fuck Eva?”
“Who told you that?”
“Eva.”
“If Eva was Pinocchio, there wouldn’t be enough silicon in the world to make her nose.”
I am not Pinocchio. I’m Eva, the doll said.
“Besides,” Marty continued, “that is none of your business, and I don’t like little girls that swear.”
“Daddy didn’t like me to swear either,” Carol said matter-of-factly. “Unless we were doing it, then he taught me all sorts of dirty things to say.”
“I’m very sorry for you. That’s not what fathers are supposed to teach their daughters.”
“Wouldn’t you rather f… do it with me, than a doll?”
“Only pedophiles do it with real girls. I am not a pedophile.”
“You are kind of sad, though. If you did it with me, I’ll bet it would make you happy. It always made Daddy very happy.”
“Yes, so happy he jumped off the bridge.”
Carol argued the point. “He jumped off the bridge because Mommy is a whore.”
“All women are whores. That doesn’t make you want to kill yourself. Having sex with your daughter would, though. He did the right thing.”
Carol stopped leaning on him, but remained frustrated. She looked again at the tools and the spare parts case. Stuck into a seam on the inside of the parts case was a elementary school style picture of a girl with long blond braids. “Hey,” Carol said, pointing, “That’s Eva.”
That’s not Eva anymore. I’m Eva.
Marty laughed as he blew softly on his patching work, then said, “It won’t do any good to argue with her. Eva thinks she is real.”
“What does she mean, anymore?” Carol asked.
Marty sat Eva upright and examined her, but directed his question to Carol, “I suppose you are too young to have read any Descartes?”
Sounding very annoyed, Carol said, “What’s that?”
“Descartes was a philosopher that thought that the soul was separate from the body, and when someone died, their soul could move into another body. Eva thinks that girl’s soul migrated to this body.”
“How?” Carol asked.
“Yeah,” Marty said. “How did that happen, Eva?”
I don’t know, but I’m real, I know that.
Marty smiled as he slipped the dress over her arms and head, then said, “Well, you’re real beautiful, once again.”
Thank you, Uncle Marty.
“You are very welcome, Eva. I would do anything for you, because I love you so much.” To Carol, he sounded like he was speaking to a puppy.
I love you, too, Uncle Marty.
Marty got up, and sat with Eva on the couch, placing her on his lap. “Would you like me to read to you until we go on again? I could read your favorite, The Velveteen Rabbit.”
“That’s a stupid story,” Carol said. “Toys don’t become real by being loved.”
“I’m sure none of yours did,” Marty said.
Could Carol read it to me? Eva asked. I like the way she reads.
Marty frowned. “No, Carol thinks it is a stupid story. Besides, I don’t think she likes you very much.”
Carol wasn’t used to having to think too hard about how to get what she wanted, but Marty was different than any other man she had met. The doll was the only thing he cared about. “I’m sorry, Marty,” Carol said as earnestly as she could. “I do care about her, I do, really. I’ll read to her. That way, you could take another nap. Then I would go right back to my room, I promise.”
Marty looked doubtful. “Why would you do that?”
“I don’t like being alone so much,” Carol said. “We could keep each other company.”
Please, Uncle Marty?
“Oh, all right,” he said. “I have to go to the drugstore anyway, before it closes. We are leaving tonight after the show, and I need ethyl alcohol.” Marty sat Eva on the couch, and addressed Carol, “Can I trust you to stay here with Eva, and read to her until I get back? I don’t want her left alone.”
Carol’s face beamed as she contemplated practicing throwing her voice with a real dummy. “Oh sure, Marty. I’ll read whatever she wants.” Carol was very proud with how genuine she thought this sounded.
“And don’t touch her,” Marty cautioned. “I want the silicon to dry thoroughly.” With that, he checked to make sure he had his cell phone and wallet, and he closed and locked the door as he left.
Soon Carol heard the faint sound of the back door to the club close. Eva was sitting on the couch right where Marty had left her, and after Carol briefly looked over the many tools and devices in the repair case, she sat beside Eva. Even still as she was, Eva was incredibly realistic. Carol did something she had been wanting to do since she first set eyes on Eva; she reached a finger to touch her cheek to see if her face was as soft as it looked.
Eva instantly came to life, turning her head and moving her lips, He said don’t touch.
Carol’s hand recoiled like a just-fired pistol, her face full of both surprise and fear. “How did you do that?”
Do what?
“Talk when he’s not around,” Carol said. “How did you know I was going to touch you?
I told you, I am the brains of this outfit.
“That’s impossible. you’re just a– ”
I thought we agreed you weren’t going to say any more stupid shit. You had better start reading to me, like you promised.
Carol was overwhelmed with Marty’s ability to make it all seem so real. It was far more magical than anything she had ever seen a magician do, and it made her want to be a ventriloquist more than anything in the world. She wanted to learn everything Marty could teach her, and she wanted her own dummy, only a boy like Ken, and she wanted to be on stage with everyone clapping for her, and she wanted designer clothes, and she wanted that bracelet, and she could feel the want inside like it was lump in her chest.
“Eva,” Carol asked very nicely, “How would you like it if I read to you every day, and played games with you, and we did all the things real sisters do?”
Carol watched as Eva’s synthetic face formed into a cautious excitement. How? She asked.
“You have to help me convince Marty to take me with you tonight,” Carol said.
I don’t think Marty likes you.
“I know. What can I do to make him like me? I’ll do anything.”
Marty only likes people who are nice to me.
Carol practiced her genuine voice, “I’ll be your best friend forever. We can go shopping together, and do lots of fun things. You can teach me how to be a ventriloquist, and I will take better care of you than anyone. I promise.”
Eva paused for a few seconds, You should call him Uncle Marty, he likes that. And you have to make him think you love him very much, more than anyone else.
“I love him already,” Carol said. “Almost as much as I love you.” This caused the biggest smile Carol had seen on Eva yet, and Carol marveled at how human it made her seem.
Don’t tell him he is funny, because he knows he isn’t, but you can tell him he is very smart. He’ll believe that.
“I think he is a genius,” Carol said. “And I want to be just like him.”
Yeah, he’ll like that.
“Should I tell him he can do it to me? I don’t mind. I kind of liked it when Daddy did.”
No! Eva exclaimed. And don’t swear, either. It makes him mad.
“But you said he does it to you?”
That’s different. When he is ready to fuck you, he’ll let you know.
Carol thought about this. “Okay. When do we leave, and where are we going? Is it someplace exciting?”
When Eva said, Las Vegas, Carol thought that would be wonderful. But what about your mother? Eva asked.
“I’ll take care of her,” Carol said, feeling very clever. “Then I can go with you.”
Won’t they wonder where you are?
“You and Marty are the only other ones who know I’m here.
But what if someone sees you with us?
“I know,” Carol said, again enjoying her cleverness. “I could hide in the suitcase.”
Are you sure you want to be my sister?
“I’m sure,” Carol said, and Eva smiled. Carol told Eva her plan for her mother, and they worked out the details together. They decided it would be best if Eva talked to Marty about letting her come, as Eva thought she had the best chance of getting him to agree. Carol read to her until Marty returned, then she went to her dressing room and planned her final performance for her mother.
***
Marsha burst in through the unlocked dressing room door, and scolded Carol, “I told you to lock the door.” Carol remained placid, still seated on the couch with Ken on her lap where she had been practicing throwing her voice.
“Oh, look, Ken,” Carol said. “Mommy’s back.”
Marsha looked haggard, and was apparently still annoyed enough at Carol that she didn’t respond to her daughter’s greeting. She went straight to the dressing table and pulled a wad of cash out of her costume and began counting.
“How many penises did she dance on tonight?” Ken asked.
Without looking at her, Marsha muttered, “Not this crap again.”
“Remember, Ken,” Carol said. “You promised to be nice to Mommy.”
Ken said, “Do you think your Mommy made enough money tonight to buy you the bracelet?”
“Oh, that’s okay,” Carol replied. “I don’t want the bracelet from Mommy anymore.”
This caused Marsha to pause in her counting. “Why the hell not?” she asked.
“I understand you can’t afford it, Mommy.” Carol thought her attempts to sound genuine were improving.
“Sure you do.” Marsha said. “That’s why you bled your father dry. What a sap he was.” She tucked the money into her purse, and asked, “And what do you mean, you don’t want it from me anymore?” She gave her full attention to her daughter’s response.
“Why, Ken’s going to buy it for me, aren’t you Ken.” Carol could barely keep from giggling her enjoyment.
Marsha looked closely at her daughter, trying to divine her meaning. “You’ve been talking to the pervert next door, haven’t you?”
Carol was sitting straight up with a smirk on her face, then answered, “Marty’s not a pervert, Mommy. He doesn’t even like little girls. He only likes to fuck dolls. Isn’t that right, Ken?”
“He told you that?” Carol was shocked. “That’s disgusting.”
“Not as disgusting as dancing on penises for money,” Ken said.
“Shut the fuck up,” Marsha yelled, the two voices coming from her daughter’s mouth confusing her momentarily about who she should be yelling at.
“I guess you’re right, Ken,” Carol said. “Mommy is just like Daddy said, a whore who spends all her money on coke.”
“And a lousy fuck,” Ken added.
“Be nice, Ken. We don’t want to hurt Mommy’s feelings. She would be sad if she knew Daddy liked to fuck me way more than her.”
Marsha was dumfounded for an instant, then said. “I should have known. Why didn’t you say something to me?”
“Because I liked fucking Daddy, didn’t I Ken? Because he could afford to buy me nice things.”
Her mother looked frantic, like she was going to scream, but no sound came out of her mouth. Then she put her head on the dressing table and cried. Carol took the time to dress Ken in a new outfit. Eventually, Marsha raised up to ask, “Is this why you don't feel anything? Why you care about that stupid doll more than you do real people?”
“I care about real people, Mommy. But you're not real. You're just a doll that fucks for coke.”
Carol watched the emotion drain from her mother's face, and her head drop to her chest. Then Marsha sighed, brought out the vile of coke and stacked two lines on the hand mirror. She did one line, grimaced a little, then did the second. After she returned the vile to its hiding place, she stood and faced Carol. “The first thing I am going to do is have Tony take that Marty creep apart piece by piece. Then I’m taking you to a doctor.”
Carol listened without a discernable expression. She looked up just in time to see Marsha’s face grow pale, and then her mother dropped to the floor. Carol waited cautiously for a few minutes to make sure she wasn’t going to get up. For someone as tall as she was, Marsha had collapsed into a very small area, as if she was trying to sit down cross-legged, but failed, leaving her head slumped over her knees. In her red wig and glitter she looked to Carol like a broken doll.
Carol stood and walked over to her mother’s lifeless form. She held Ken on her forearm like a real dummy, and asked. “Do you think she is very dead, Ken?”
“Kick her, and see if she gets up,” Ken said.
Carol kicked casually at her mother’s ribs. “Yes, I think she is very dead. Say good-bye, Ken.”
“Good-bye you stupid whore.” Ken said, and then he laughed. Carol had been practicing Ken’s laugh, and she enjoyed the result. She considered taking the money from the purse, but Eva had said that would be a bad idea, and that she wouldn’t need to worry about money any more. So she uncovered her suitcase by pushing her mother’s costumes to the floor, checked the hallway, and rolled the case next door.
***
High above the city, the lights of Las Vegas Boulevard glimmered through the floor to ceiling windows of their room. Marty drew the curtains, picked up Eva from the couch, and sat her on a chair in the bedroom of the two room luxury suit. He positioned her so she could see, and returned to the bed and the petite naked girl reclining in the middle. He laid beside her and looked her up and down, his face full of admiration.
“I told you I was beautiful, Marty,” Carol said.
“You’re even more beautiful than I thought you would be,” he said, his hand caressing her darling face. “And call me Uncle Marty.”
“Are you going to fuck me now, Uncle Marty,” Carol said with a giggle.
He raised his hand to point his finger at her, “Don’t use that word.” Then his face softened, “And yes, My Dear. I certainly am.”
“But I thought you didn’t do real little girls,” Carol said teasingly.
“I am going to do you every way possible,” he said.
“And then will you buy me new clothes, and the bracelet? I especially want the bracelet.”
Marty positioned his head between Carol’s spread legs, and said, “I will buy you what ever your heart desires, because I love you very much.” Marty pressed his tongue onto her tiny clit, and began stroking. With both hands squeezing her butt, he could feel her responding to his licking. She was much more responsive than Eva, thrusting her hips back at him, and each time he came up for air she said, “Don’t stop, Uncle Marty. Stick it in farther.”
Marty complied, enjoying the sweet taste of her cunt, and continued until she gasped and her little body shook in his hands.
“That was yummy, Uncle Marty,” she said, her eyes still closed.
He climbed up between her legs, and positioned himself at the entrance. “If you weren’t such a little slut, I could have been the one to pop your cherry.”
“At least I know what to say. Daddy taught me lots of dirty things to say.”
“I don’t want any dirty talk,” Marty said. “I don’t want you to start sounding like Eva.”
“Oh, God, Marty. It makes me feel so full,” she said, squirming as he began to enter her. She was tighter than he thought she would be, but she was lubricated enough that he slid in all the way. He held for an instant to see the expression of pained joy on her face, then began thrusting. He could feel his balls slapping her little ass, and heard her grunts of pleasure and discomfort as he pounded her. She knew how to lay there and take it. Eva used to cry at first, but not this one. She liked a big piece of meat between her legs.
He sat up and had her suck him, and she did a pretty good job with that little mouth of hers, her throat bulging around his dick. The real joy came when he put her on her knees and worked his way into her anus. Tight, and nothing but grunts of pleasure as he reamed her for a long while. He reached around and flicked her little clit while he sodomized her, until she started to moan. As she got close she started to swear, “Oh, fuck my ass, Uncle Marty. Fuck my little ass.” She said it over and over again, until she gasped, and collapsed on the bed. Marty kept slamming home, and she had long since quieted when he unloaded in her. He forgave her for swearing, withdrew, and pulled her listless form against him.
Having Carol nestled in the crook of his arm felt the most natural thing in the world. He looked at her slight smile and said, “Did you like our first time?”
“Oh, yes, Uncle Marty,” she said. “You’re much better than Daddy was, and you don’t cry afterward.”
“Carol, I’m afraid your father was a sick man.”
“I think you’re bigger, too,” she said.
Marty looked to assess her sincerity. “I think you’re just saying that because you want that bracelet.”
Carol smiled broadly, and said, “Can we get it tomorrow. They have it at all the Tiffany stores.”
“We have to earn some money first, then we can get whatever you like.”
“I want the bracelet,” she enthused, “And some new clothes because you threw all of my old ones away, and will you make me a real dummy like Eva?”
“Make you a real dummy?” This set Marty to laughing. “That’s funny. Eva only wants books, but you are going to cost me a fortune. We are going to have to work a lot harder.”
“Why do we have to work?” Carol asked. “Eva said you had lots of money, and that being a ventriloquist was a hobby.”
“I warned you not to believe Eva. She is a wonderful girl, but she doesn’t always tell the truth.”
“So are you going to do your act?” Carol asked.
“Yes,” Marty said. “In fact, we have two special performances tonight.”
“Where?”
“Right here,” Marty said. He helped Carol get cleaned up, and used one of the hotel robes to snuggle her on the couch in the other room. He could see Carol watching through the bedroom door as he neatened the covers, and prepared Eva by removing her clothes, and placing her in the bed with the covers around her. He closed her eyes, kissed her on the forehead, and dimmed the lights. He sat on the couch with Carol watching cartoons until there was a knock at the door.
He opened it to a fit looking man of about 30 who was dressed in an expensive looking blue suit. He would not have looked out of place in a hight tech company, or a lawyer’s office. He was nervous, and fiddled with his wedding ring as he listened to Marty’s rules, and then offered up the envelope full of cash. Marty showed him into the bedroom, closed the door, and returned to Carol on the couch.
“I thought you were doing a performance?” Carol asked.
Marty motioned with his finger for her to be quiet, then whispered. “I am,” he said. He retrieved the cell phone from his pocket and launched an application which displayed two views of the bedroom. He explained to Carol that one view was from a tiny camera placed on the bedside table, and the other was through a camera in Eva’s eye. Marty noticed that Carol seemed to watch his every move, holding still with interest. He turned the volume up so he could hear the man inside undressing. When he was naked, his cock already hard, he slipped into the bed next to Eva. As he snuggled next to her and kissed her on the lips, Eva’s eyes opened, and she said, Oh, Daddy, you’re home. I missed you so much!
The man’s voice echoed through the tiny phone speakers, “I’ve missed you, too, Pumpkin. I’ve especially missed fucking you in the ass. Would you like me to fuck you in the ass?”
Carol sounded truly amazed when she whispered, “So that’s how you made Eva talk to me when you weren’t there!” Marty nodded, and cautioned her again to be quiet as he pressed the button to speak as Eva. Oh, no, Daddy, Eva said. Your cock is so big, it hurts my ass.
“Well, I’m going to do it anyway,” the man said. “Because you are my little girl, and I can do what ever I want to you, can’t I?”
Will you lick my cunt first, Daddy? It doesn’t hurt so much if you lick my cunt first?
Marty held the phone so they both could watch as the lovemaking progressed. Marty knew from experience that it was the talking before, the teasing exchanges, the sound of a little girl saying something really dirty, that the men paid for. They came for Marty’s ability to create a situation in which having sex with a little girl did not make a man the worst kind of pariah, but made his hidden desires seem the most normal, positive forces in the universe. The little girls were never damaged, they always enjoyed the experience, usually after some initial hesitation, and they loved, or at least liked the men afterward, and wanted more.
When the man entered Eva and started thrusting and grunting, Marty said to Carol, “I want you to make Eva’s noises. You need to practice, anyway. Try to make him think Eva is enjoying it more than anything else in the world. The more they enjoy it, the more they pay.”
Carol smiled at the ventriloquy challenge, and began a series a groans that coincided with the man’s thrusts into Eva’a ass. Eventually, the man came loudly, and collapsed on the doll, breathless. Eva said, That felt good, Daddy. It didn’t hurt as much this time. I think I’m starting to like getting fucked in my ass. Can we do it again, sometime?
“Yes, the man said. “Anything for my little Cum Bucket.”
When the man had dressed and left, looking very sheepish, Marty retrieved Eva and took her into the bathroom to clean her up while Carol sat on the counter watching. He told Carol it would be good for her to know how to do the clean-up, too. He mixed up a water-based solution that wouldn’t hurt the silicon rubber, added an artificial sweetener, and used it to flush the doll’s oral, vaginal, and anal cavities. He carefully examined her for any damage, and used her joystick to test her display of expressions. When he was satisfied with the result, he sat her next to Carol.
“Did we make a lot of money?” Carol asked.
“Yes,” Marty said, knowing exactly what she really wanted to know. “But not enough for the bracelet, yet. We have more work to do tonight.”
“Another man?” Carol asked.
“Yes, a very rich one, too,” Marty said. “He tried to buy Eva once, but I wouldn’t sell.”
“Why not?” Carol asked. “You could always make another one.”
“I couldn’t make another Eva any more than I could make another you,” Marty said.
“Why not?”
“Anyone can make a dummy, but there has to be something real about them, otherwise the men don’t respond.”
“But you are the one that makes her seem real,” Carol said. “It’s the way you throw your voice, and make her move, the things you make her say.”
“I don’t make her say anything,” Marty said. “Eva makes me say things for her.”
Carol’s expression was one of amusement and admiration. “I love how real she is. I wish I could touch her.”
“And I love you,” Marty said, and kissed Carol on the nose. She smiled brightly in return.
If she is so lovable, Eva interrupted, her voice taking on a familiar caustic tone, let her fuck the next one.
“Why Eva,” Marty said. “I have never seen you jealous before.”
I’m not jealous, you idiot, Eva snapped. I’m just tired of being the only one getting fucked. Why do you think I convinced you to let Carol come with us.
“I thought you wanted a companion?” Marty said.
“I thought you wanted me to read to you?” Carol said.
I’ll read to myself, Eva said, while you get fucked by the pervs.
“They are not pervs, Eva,” Marty said. “Only men who fuck real girls are pervs.”
If you think like a prev, you are a perv, she said.
“I don’t want to argue about this again,” Marty said. “But Carol, Eva does have a point. You two should share the work. Why don’t you be the one in bed for the next one?”
“But Uncle Marty, I don’t want some strange man to fuck me. I only want to fuck you.”
“Stop using that word!” Marty barked. Then he forced a measure of calmness into his voice, “That’s very sweet, Carol, but if you want that bracelet, you have to contribute to the family income.”
“But Uncle Marty,” Carol looked like she might cry. “Won’t the men get in trouble for doing it with a real girl?”
Marty sighed. “Oh, Carol… ”
Eva grunted her annoyance, then said, Give it up, Girly. You have to be able to feel to cry. If you could feel, you wouldn’t have been able to kill your mother like she was a bug.
“Eva,” Marty said. “Stop being mean to your sister.”
For fuck sakes, Marty, Eva responded snidely, You should have installed a clue.
“What does she mean, Uncle Marty?” Carol asked.
Marty gave Eva a dirty look and sighed, “She just means you’re having a hard time accepting it.”
“Accepting what?” Carol asked.
Marty said gently, “That you’re not real.”
“But I am real,” Carol said. “I’m the real little girl.”
I am way more real than you will ever be, Eva said.
“Stop it!” Marty snapped. “You are both real to me, because I love you.”
***
The crowd was nearly in tears, and Marty paused until he could be heard over the laughter. Eva was sitting on one of his widely spread knees supported by his hand on her joystick. “You are a mean little girl,” Marty said.
I am not. I am very nice, especially to boys.
Oh, oh. I hope that doesn’t mean you are… you know?
What?
“Sexually active,” Marty said.
Oh, no. I always play dead, just like you taught me.
“Don’t say things like that,” Marty said, then waited for the laughter to ease. “People are going to get the wrong idea about me. I am a very trustworthy guy.”
You were a good boy scout leader.
“Thank you. Yes I was,” Marty said.
Until they kicked you out for eating too many Brownies.
“That is very mean. Why can’t you be more like Carol here,” Marty said. Marty and Eva both turned to Carol sitting on his other knee. She had long dark hair, was dressed in a designer gown, and had an exquisite silver bracelet on her left wrist. “Carol doesn’t say mean things like that.”
Say, Carol, Eva said. Where’d you come from, anyway?
I was with my parents and my brother when the car skidded off the road and over a cliff, Carol said, her face in a frown. They were all killed, but I crawled out of the car, and all the way back up the cliff, and sat by the side of the road.
Wow, Eva said. That must have been terrible for you.
Yes, Carol continued. I was covered in blood, I had bruises everywhere, and I couldn’t stop crying. That’s when Marty found me.
What did he do when he found you?
I told him who I was, Carol said. And all the terrible things that happened. Then he smiled, unzipped his pants and said, ‘Carol, this just isn’t your day.’ The laughter swelled up from the all male audience.
“You two are both very mean little girls.” Marty said.
That’s a nice bracelet you have there, Carol, Eva said. Where’d you get it?
Marty bought for me, she said.
Oh, Eva said knowingly. And what did you have to do to get him to buy it for you?
Carol said, Learn to swallow. She waited for a break in the laughs, then said, And not ask any more embarrassing questions.
What kind of questions? Eva asked.
Like this morning when I got out of bed and asked him, ‘Is that the best you can do?’
Marty soaked in the applause while looking at both of his girls admiringly.
* From Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, Chapter 9, by Lewis Carrol