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In the quiet that followed, Contessa turned to Chocolate and looked at her strangely. Then she reached out her hand and slipped it between the black girl's open thighs."Chocolate, are you...? You are! You're pregnant!" She withdrew her hand. "This is most recent, is it not? Who is the father?"The black girl grinned wide and looked over at me without saying a word. All eyes turned upon me."Senor," deliberated Contessa, "this is something of a marvel. Not in my lifetime nor that of my mother has a man from your world impregnated more than one woman in our world!"My last memory of that night was the familiar feeling of Contessa mounting me, guiding my organ into her for the third time. Her magnificent breasts slapped and pummeled my cheeks as she vigorously fucked me. A few seconds after our mutual orgasms, she seemed to evaporate from my arms. I tried to open my eyes but I could not, for I knew that if I did, I would only see the lonely walls of my own room in my own. The only thing that proved that it belonged to the 21st century was the computer repair shop. In that window, there was an old Radio Shack TRS-80 computer, what the nerds used to call a ‘Trash-80.’ There was also an Atari computer and one of the early ‘luggable’ portable computers, with the little 8 inch green-screen CRT lit up, and the blinking cursor after the ‘A>,:’ Well, maybe not the 21st century, but at least the late 20th. It occurred to Jack that this street had the biggest collection of repair shops he had ever seen. There was a shop on these two blocks that could repair about anything that could be broken. (Well, given the mortuary, apparently even this street had limits on what could be mended, despite the claims of the flower shop). It was cold and dark, and Jack still had no particular place to go. Instead of driving on aimlessly, he got into the back of his truck, rolled out his down sleeping bag, took off his jacket, closed the camper shell, shucked off his jeans.
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