Sure, My Family Owns an Inflatable Woman Manufacturing Plant

  • by jena scaled-down version of Las Vegas
  • (who’s also probably looking at porn)
  • bearing a bowl of lather
  • scar on his ring finger
  • She was fair-skinned and red-headed

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“Sure, my family owns an inflatable woman manufacturing plant,” I said defensively, “but we’ve never had a model called Astrid.”

She was fair-‘skinned’ and red-headed, just like Tessa, so of course Maurice couldn’t resist her,” the woman said.

How did she know about Tessa?

“Here.” She thrust her phone into my face, and hit the play button on a video. “This is what was broadcast all across Harmonia, to my everlasting shame.”

In the video, the man was wearing a leather Zorro mask that hid most of his features, but his smile looked familiar, even with the keys dangling from it. The camera panned down and I could tell from the scar on his ring finger that the man she called Maurice was the man I knew as John.

I had never heard of John having a wife in Harmonia, or anywhere else for that matter, and yet here he was, on video, bearing a bowl of lather in one hand and keeping himself quite busy with the other. Beside him was the inflatable redhead, clearly a substandard model designed by an amateur who’s never seen a naked woman in real life (who’s also probably looking at porn), not the experienced professionals my family employs.

“Where did you and Maurice meet?” I asked, handing the phone back.

“In a scaled-down version of Las Vegas called TinselTown,” she said, staring hard at me. “We were introduced by a man named Jinx Damocles.”

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