CHAPTER 1 - Denial
Topher was watching Whiskey, as he often did. He had tried to stop himself from watching her, but he just couldn't. He'd tried to convince himself that he wasn't attracted to her. You couldn't really be attracted to a doll, Topher insisted. After all as they had no personality, the only aspect that you could be attracted to was their looks.
Although Whiskey acted the same as all the other dolls when they wasn't imprinted, Topher felt that there was something different about her. She wasn't the most beautiful of the dolls, but she had an aura of perfection and kindness about her. Or maybe that just came from being the most highly requested active in the entire house. The number one doll.
As far as Topher could recall, over the last five months Whiskey hadn't gone more than three days without being sent on an engagement. For some strange reason that made Topher feel almost proud. No, no, no! He shouldn't feel that way about her! He was meant to be big brother: impartial.
Though, then again, there had been some instances, when she'd been imprinted with a particularly responsive personality and it had been harder to be impartial. If it weren't that he knew it was impossible, he would think that she reacted to him in both her doll and imprinted state.
There was that time when she'd been imprinted as the perfect wife. She had smiled at him sweetly and offered him her number before being whisked away by her handler to meet her true love. When she had arrived back to be wiped she had looked so radiant and overjoyed. She had proudly showed him her new wedding ring before he had been forced to put her in the chair and wipe away all of her memories of the happiest day of her life.
As the chair had lifted her unconscious body into an upright position, Topher had removed the ring from her finger and given it to her handler. He'd taken one last glance at her peaceful face before her eyes had fluttered open and he'd begun the standard post-wipe script, acting as if nothing was wrong.
There had been the sweet imprint of a mother, paid for by a husband who had just lost his wife in a car crash. He had been desperate to see the mother of his one year old baby one last time.
The first thing Whiskey had done when the imprint was complete was stand up and take Topher's hand, smile and ask where the baby was. It had taken strength to release her hand and let her step into the elevator with her handler. When she had turned around, waved to him, and called out that when she got back she'd show him pictures of the baby, Topher had felt his knees weaken and he'd slumped down into the imprint chair. He'd sat there for a while before shaking the image of Whiskey from his head and returning to his computer.
Then there was the time she had been imprinted as a dominatrix. He had designed the imprint himself and although he knew he shouldn't try to engage with her after she'd been imprinted, he had been curious. When her handler had left to go to the bathroom during the imprinting process, warning bells had sounded in his head but he'd ignored them. Whiskey's handler still hadn't returned by the time he'd finished imprinting her and that was when he'd begun to worry.
She had stood up from the chair and stalked towards him, Topher backing away until he had ended up pressed up against the computer interface. She'd raised her hand to trace his jaw line and pressed her warm body flush against his. He'd glanced worriedly at the security camera on the roof, painfully aware that every second of the scene was being recorded. But his burgeoning panic attack had been halted when Whiskey, or whoever she thought she was, had pressed her lips roughly against his. Her lips had tasted sweet and his hands had unconsciously found her hips as hers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer to her.
Topher had forgotten all about the security cameras as he had allowed her tongue to enter his mouth where it twined with his own. Her hands had slid from his hair down to his chest where she'd slid her hands up under his shirt and vest. He'd moaned into her mouth as she'd slid her hands over his bare skin, leaving behind a burning trail.
Then he'd heard the sound of the door to the office bathroom slamming shut and he'd suddenly realized what he had been doing. He'd pushed her away from him and guided her back into the chair. He'd had just enough time to fix his shirt and wipe her lipstick of his face before her handler had walked back into the imprinting room.
As Whiskey had been led away by her handler she had looked back over her shoulder and blown him a kiss, winking at him as the elevator doors had slid shut.