"Mars Needs (More) Women" by LM Fontanes

At the time, it seemed like a great idea and really cheap when you work out interest rates on a brand new partner every 325 Earth days, give or take 12 hours. Now that April night when Kyle double-clicked on the TL;DR contract felt like eons ago. This morning, in the orange light of July, he had a few doubts. Okay, maybe a lot of doubts. Possibly even an itty-bitty twinge of something he didn't even want to name.

His latest wife acted like she was all in. I mean, of course, she did. He released his finger on the teeth cleaner for a second and stared at his foamy frown in the washspace mirror. 

"She told me she was all in," Kyle insisted to his reflection. Yet the doubts continued to churn. He knew she would say yes when he suggested the upgrade—just part of the gig as a contract spouse. Of course, he knew she wouldn't be hooked up with him without comp. If she had other options, if she had her own resources, if someone else better had come along—

"Kyle."

There she stood on the thermoplastic floor. New threads, spikier hair, what happened to her mouth, and, meanwhile, instead of enjoying, he calculated the drain on his fin balance. Instafashion. Stylist. Surgeon?

"Ky-le," she cooed.

"Hey, yeah..."

"Come back to beeeeed..." she purred.

This version got right to it. Unfortunately, he had bills to pay.

"Come. Back. To. Bed." His latest wife took his face in her strong-fingered hand and wiped tooth foam from his possibly trembling lips. "Now."

This time he acknowledged the trickle of second thoughts that chased each other down his spine.

After all, Kyle had never been a risk-loving, early adopter-type. He'd waited several years before plunking down for that self-driving lander. His connected condo included military-grade security protections. But when the technocrati began touting the sexual benefits to long-term relationships from brain-injected neural implants, Kyle perked up. His two planetside marriages failed when he just couldn't stay interested over the long haul. He went in with sincere regard for the women, even profound affection, but sooner or later, he got bored. 

 The new wife dogged his regretful steps to the master pod. On the reading cube next to his king-sized hoverbed, various devices awaited her pleasure. Kyle almost stopped then but his restless curiosity took over. It's really how he got here in the first place—this moment, this woman, this whatever would happen that would make him late again for perimeter install. Even with the government offering new rental spouses twice a year to keep talent like him on the Red Planet, six Martian months was simply too long for a guy like Kyle. I mean, he couldn't imagine spending all that time with the same woman! Same looks, same voice, same moves every single 25-hour day. I mean, isn't variety the spice of `off-Earth  life? 

Wife #16 slipped under the covers and patted the spot next to her.

He sighed. His supervisor would not be pleased. Again.

"Kyle."

Yeah, in hindsight, probably was a mistake to order a wife with daily personality downloads.

"Coming!"

LM Fontanes is a multi-racial, multi-genre storyteller who writes, teaches & leads. She comes from a family of educators and first responders in working class Philadelphia. Words in/upcoming: Frazzled Lit, Silly Goose Press, JAKE, 34 Orchard, Flash Fiction Festival Anthology, The Willowherb Review, Flash Nonfiction Food & other venues.