Before disconnecting, Polly passed me a copy of Holly's lingual technique I remembered quite well, the one that attaches the tongue stud indentation onto a clitoris and forms a little cap housing that takes a stranglehold on the tip and attacks with tens of thousands of micro bristles that provide micro shocks on all detectible nerve endings which in turn induces the organ to rub against itself echoing and amplifying the whole sensation. Polly estimated if the guest asked for penetration, her marriage would be 21% less likely to survive until the next year and also more likely to result in a 5 star review.

Sigh.

But Polly assured me a custom Cœur des Vagues syxen was not for sale and if the guest really wanted that tongue software add on it was available in the gift shop and the website with 25% of all proceeds going to the Bora Bora Stray Pet Shelter and Medical Fund. Apparently, getting your dog fixed was never a thing on the island and now there is a Problem.

So the afternoon manager was more than happy to get 'Problematique-21' out of his dining pavilion and with tail set bushy and happy, I trailed along with the poodle to her bungalow over the water shortly after her husband left for the golf round without so much as a kiss for his wife. While the woman beat around the bush figuring out how to get a gynoid to beat her bush, I skimmed her social media. Manager of a crafts store in a suburb of Lille, married her high school sweetheart, last of three kids in university, and I wanted to say to her, "Listen, honey, some of us never do find a reliable man and never did get to have kids and it's too late now for a number of reasons."

But instead I reclaimed motor control and pressed her up against the door frame of the bungalow and told her that even though I was a machine with no persistent memory, talking things out to yourself, can prepare you to say the things you need to say to the people most important to you and it doesn't matter if you're talking to the wall, a teddybear, or an entertainment bot.

Then I shot her to the moon with Holly's technique and probably ruined all other orgasms for her for the rest of her life, and she'll realize later when the adrenaline wears off she pulled at least one muscle in her pelvis, but I digress.

For now I'm stuck outside the bungalow unable to go anywhere until dismissed or collected by an employee of the resort while the couple scream at each other inside.

She'd thrown his luggage out the window into the lagoon.