Idling for the moment, Joanna daubs
her lips with Samís secreted semen, transferred by her finger from
maw to mouth to maw, building up a thick translucent lacquer,
extending then her tongue to lick the lacquer clean: starchy, salty, savory, scent and flavor intimate, pheromones wafting over muscles
wracked with aftershocks of the most exquisite pleasure she has felt
since... No, why think of him, with his out-of-order pecker,
when Samís has proven sturdier (if otherwise indistinguishable),
when Sam himself has proven worthier in several key departments?
Empathy, for one; he cares about people. Whereas Fell, much
like his father, cares mostly about himself; others are simply a means to
his cold-blooded ends, robots being his specialty, often behaving like one,
feelings deemed superfluous, much preferring programs,
reproducible outcomes based on input he can regulate, functions
can stage-manage, acts that he can direct; control freak;
Rockefeller: use, abuse, manipulate, then shirk responsibility when
something unplanned happensólike her pregnancy;
run on home to
Daddy, invent excuses, fool around with her, it, that
artificial zombie, leave his unborn child for a fuck-fest
unobserved, unnatural, unwholesome, and criminally unethical!
Sam, at the other extreme, seems selfless to a fault...
"Now that youíve had your fill is it 'adios Amiga'?"
Sam, hauled out of lethargy, slides
from the bed to his knees and reiterates his proposal with all due
"Will you marry me, Joanna?"
Doubts on impulse banished (turned to
instant aphrodisiac), Jo inflates her belly and elevates her vagina.
"If youíll tie me to these bedposts,
plant a French kiss in my lap, and make me come just one last
time, I will.Ē