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John pulled her into a close embrace with one hand on her rear. “You know how earlier you said you were perfect?” he asked in between breaths, “You’re not, you know. You have a design flaw.” Lyssa raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And what’s tha-tha-tha-tha-tha-…” she stammered as John yanked a smallish circuit card from amongst a rack of them inside her chest and held it up in front of her. “...that?” she finished after another few repetitions. “You’ve gotta be careful, because these can go in backwards,” he said. Flipping the card upside-down in his hand he reinserted it into its slot. Lyssa jerked out of John’s grip and fell stiffly back to the bed. Tiny pops and crackles attended the release of a small plume of white smoke as that card, then the ones adjacent to it, began to short out. There was a little fizzle of yellow-orange sparks between them. Error signals and mixed-up data temporarily stalled her CPU and a lustful sigh became a glitched-sounding “O-o-o-o-ooo-o-ooh,” as her systems sought to reroute their functions around the damage. One of her arms waggled back and forth almost like she was twitchily trying to wave the smoke away. View past Author's of the Month. |
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