The best part of getting away with it wasn’t the sex or the freedom or the bottomless charge accounts—it was not being caught. Not once, not even a glimmer of suspicion.

Kent slouched deeper into the lounge chair next to the pool and let the afternoon sun tingle across Julie’s oiled skin. He wiggled Julie’s toes, letting the sunlight toast her ankle bones. The clone appeared a few minutes later, balancing a silver tray with fruit and a chilled drink. Kent barely glanced up as it knelt to set the tray beside him. He picked up a grape, rolled it between Julie’s fingers, and popped it into his mouth.

Kent loved the fact that Julie’s palate was a hundred times more sensitive than his old one. Every bite of honeydew or cold strawberry was nearly an orgasm in itself; every sip of sparkling water left his tongue tingling, even the vape he had decided to buy on whim, while going shopping one day at the mall, tasted different. He could almost forgive Julie for being such a bitch, if this was what she’d got to feel all the time.

“Fan me,” he said to the clone.

It obeyed without protest, waving a palm frond in steady strokes. The air brushed over Julie’s skin, lifting up the scent of sunscreen and citrus. Kent closed his eyes, chewing lazily, letting the cool air and warm sunlight blur together.

Every now and then, he caught the clone glancing at him. He smiled without looking. “You’re sweating. Must be hard work.”

The clone said nothing, jaw tight. Kent took another sip of his drink, licking a drop from Julie’s lip. “You should try harder. I can still feel the sun on my thighs.”

He enjoyed the way the clone’s expression twitched, like it wanted to say something but remembered who it was now. Kent drew out the moment, until the silence between them was sticky and thick. He squirmed under the heat, feeling the little droplets of sweat gathering under the band of Julie’s bikini top.

It was his favourite part of lounging out by the pool—the skimpy triangle bikinis that barely covered Julie’s body. Today’s one was a bright neon yellow. It was so small it might as well have been wishful thinking. Not even the sunglasses could hide the way he stared at his …