Small hands with long fingersand even longer nails. Too much hair, yet not nearly enough; volumesspilled out of her scalp, but she was slick as an eel...everywhere else.Her hairstyle had become all tussle and tangle during the trip to thehotel, blown this way and that by the shots of compressed air inherentin mobile stations, hissing doors, passing cars, fast tubes....Her joints seemed askew and clumsy. It could be the clone's brain stilltrying to make sense of a male matrix or it could be his. Actually, she was already mine: She wasn’t able toprevent what was going to happen; it depended only onme, when and how I took her. It was only a matter oftime.I sat down on the bed in front of her, smiling: “Now,you are going to be mine.”“No, I don’t want it this way. Let me free!”“Too late now…” I reached for her breasts.She pulled her knees up to her chin, to hide her bodyfrom my look and my hands. She leaned forward, pressingher upper. More

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