Annette was the right name for her. The ‘net’ in it made me think of a nettle. It had me wondering. Was this why I desired her? The sting? That prickly surge I felt. Painful, sure. But in a good way. Maybe even in a great way. Was it because of this? Probably.
It could have lasted, Annette and I. It really could have. Pity, really, when I think about it. Our thing we had going together had all the hallmarks of the perfect relationship. Well, in the beginning anyway. She gave me exactly what I wanted. No, scratch that. Exactly what I needed. Apt that I should admit this now. Now that she’s gone.
Carol gives me what I want. Well, what I say I want. Love, romance, happiness and companionship. The usual. It’s usual to say these are the things I want. Usual and easy. Easy to fit in. To appear normal. Carol does this. We are just like any other couple. It’s ok, I suppose. But it’s just not . . . just not what I need.
Annette gave me what I needed. At the flick of a switch. The problem was of course, I needed it too much. The sting. On a scale of one-to-ten, I soon needed more than ten. Clumsy way to say it. But you know what I mean? If she had come with settings one through to fifteen, would that have been enough? Would that have satisfied my needs? I’ll never know now.
Carol noticed the scars. It was inevitable she would. I had my response ready to go. Some lie about a birthmark. “I know it looks bad. But it’s nothing to cause alarm. I was born with it. It’s just discoloration,” is what I told her. I think she believes me. She’s never mentioned it again. She’s like that, Carol. Trusting. Knows when not to push things.
Ten wasn’t enough. After some time, Annette on ten was merely pedestrian. So, I tinkered with her. Opened her up, so I did. Even though I couldn’t re-wire a plug, I went at it good and proper. The user manual warned me not too:
WARNING Do not attempt to manually adjust the settings of the ES 500. Interference could result in sever injury WARNING
I didn’t pay any attention. I needed more, remember? When the ES 500 was ready to go – its electrodes attached to my penis – I hit the switch. Damn thing burst into flames! I had to rip off the attachments, then shove my penis under the cold tap.
That was it for Annette and I. After I smashed her up with a hammer she went into the bin.