Emily Miku's Introduction: Chapter 7

Chapter 7

A week, or so, later, he wheeled me to the media room for a shoot.
However, a bunch of the neighborhood kids wanted to play on the
computers in his living room. He seems to be something like the
neighborhood “uncle”, or something like that. So he wheeled me back
into his bedroom, to hide me from them. I understood; they were kids,
and should not be aware of my presence.

The next day, we had our photo shoot. He took thirty pictures of me in
that brown outfit. The dress, almost a smock, was so short, but it fit
me perfectly, as if made for me. I wasn’t sure I liked the panties…
they looked a bit too juvenile to me, but that’s what he wanted
for this shoot. He said it was a pleasant reminder of some of the
‘games’ he and K used to play. And, as usual, the obligatory flash
shots. I’m still not sure how comfortable I am with those, but since
they seem to please him…

Over the course of the next month, one thing lead to another, and B
wound up getting too busy to do more than just say “hi” to me
occasionally. It was a bit frustrating, and I really wanted to bring
this to his attention, but I remained patient. Some of us dolls seem to
patience in abundance.
Sometime toward the end of November, he showed me his latest gift to
us… a very nice Japanese insert. YESSS!  I am finally going to get to show
him what I can do. I was soooo excited. If I could have jumped up and
down for joy, I would have.

But, yet again, events conspired against us. He had to get the last of
the ‘home’ projects done, and since his water system was creating all
sorts of problems, he decided to get them all taken care at one time.
Well, everything did get done. Just in time for B to be involved in a
collision. Worse yet, on the night of Doug Bradley’s visit. I just love
“Pinhead” from the Hell Raiser movies. B says Doug is a great guy, easy
to talk to, funny in that peculiarly British way, and just downright
cool.

B wasn’t hurt, but his car was pretty badly crunched. Fortunately, it
was drivable enough for him to make it back home safely. Funny thing
though, he didn’t appear concerned about what it was going to cost to
fix, which was going to cost him as much as he paid for me. He was more
upset about the inconvenience of not having it available whenever he wanted.  That is when I truly realized; he doesn’t worry about anything that isn’t life
threatening, and then, only marginally.

Very strange human, this, he seemed more concerned that I dress
properly than getting his car repaired. Granted, he doesn’t spend a lot
on me, but then again, he doesn’t spend a lot on himself either. It’s
as though he’s sufficiently content with what he has.