The Hard Window

Ingot Carstairs put his hand on the small of Amanda Sandwich’s back and pushed. Naked, she drifted slowly across Bay 2, spread-eagled and perversely flapping her arms as if she were trying to doggie-paddle from a rocky jetty to a waiting raft.

“Do not flap,” said Major Capstan brutally. “Do not flap, do not kick. Flapping will do nothing. You are in free-fall, don’t you understand? You are not in a goddamn Hollywood Hills swimming pool.”

Danny We gasped, and looked to Ingot for the explosion. Danny had seen Ingot throw men from moving cars for less, and Capstan was talking about one of Ingot’s ladies. Ingot was a slender man in his early fifties, but he was put together like a log cabin, and his smoldering nature gave him a rawhide, whip-strong power, like a gas station meat stick, that made him formidable. His iron grey hair crept low over his pepper-tan face and his most prominent feature were his nostrils, which always seemed to be doing something.

“Not the look we are going for, Amanda,” said Ingot after several seconds of tightening and grinding his jaw. “We are looking for grace and ease of form. I wish we had more time to practice, but we don’t. You are going to have to concentrate.”

Amanda turned bright red and put her hands over her chest, reflexively covering herself. She realized what she was doing, and forced herself to unclench her arms. Shame was for mooks and assholes.

Amanda smiled painfully at her director. She was a tiny woman, but so many in the industry were tiny. She had black hair, and black eyes, and every angle on her body was sharp and clean like a fresh bar of soap. She was beautiful, of course, and the healthy innocence she brought to every shoot made it always seem like it was her first time. Even if it was her fifth, or her hundred and fifth.

“What’s my line again, Danny? I’ve forgot already!” said Amanda. She giggled sadly and looked down through the window below her at the wide, engulfing Earth. So beautiful and blue down there -- so much black up here.

In rotation, so far away from sunshine and palm trees.

Ingot glared at Major Capstan. Ingot didn’t trust himself to land a punch in zero gee. From where he squatted, his legs crossed, attached to the wall by velcro and straps, the worst thing he could do was probably unzip his orange flysuit and piss all over Capstan’s face.

He considered this carefully.

“Major Capstan, do I have to remind you not to speak to my performers one more time?” said Carstairs. “I strongly urge -- STRONGLY – that you cooperate with my demands, and the demands of my staff. We won’t be up here for very much longer.”

“Is that a threat?” asked Major Capstan. His hairy hands twitched at his side, and his loping fingers found his belt and hooked his thumbs, causing him to peel over backwards, which wasn’t as menacing as he probably thought it was.

Danny We, the one-man production suite and camera operator, lowered the Berthson 45 he was using to get angles for this afternoon’s shoot. Danny had taken to space instantly, and even made some of Capstan’s astronauts glare at him with envy. There were so few space naturals, and there was no test on the ground. John Glenn had been a space natural, and the other Apollo astronauts had hated him for it.

“Of course it’s a threat,” said Carstairs, bluffing wildly. “Don’t you know who pays for my gross ideas and insane whims? It’s the devil, Capstan. The devil and some very bad men he has chosen to employ.”

This was a lie. The most dangerous man that Carstairs knew was a fry cook named Shorty who talked with a Castilian lisp and was deeply into Motocross sports. Shorty was only dangerous because he was a terrible, terrible driver.

Capstan turned his head to the side and muttered something that looked a lot like “fag.” But he backed off. Carstairs decided to ignore him for now.

“Now Amanda,” said Ingot in a voice that was half pencil-shavings and half bourbon, round and smoky, but bitter all the same. “Now Amanda, we have to try that again. I know once you cross the room, you will be pure joy when it comes to the esoteric elements of your calling, but first we have to get across the room in a way that continues to provoke associations of the erotic and feminine. We must practice, mustn’t we?”

“Yes,” said Amanda. “I think I’m getting it. It’s not easy, you know?”

“I’m sure I could never do it,” said Ingot. “Look at me. I can barely cross the Bay through any means: flapping, farting, holding onto Danny’s foot. And you have to make it look good! I don’t envy you, Amanda.”

The hatch door that led from Bay 2 opened into the control room, and one of Major Capstan’s men stuck his head through.

“I thought I said we were not to be interrupted?” snapped Ingot, now furious.

“Hell, I know that,” said the astronaut. “Hell, it’s only because there’s a phone call for you. Wouldn’t want to watch any of this anyway. Frankly, I find it all beyond disgusting.”

“Please keep your opinions to yourself, Lieutenant Kevin,” chirped Major Capstan. “You are under orders.”

“Hell, this whole debacle particularly shakes my faith in the rectitude and scope of the government I serve, if you want to know the whole truth,” said Lieutenant Kevin. “I’d just as soon be outside repairing satellites instead of busting in here. Only, Capcom’s got somebody from Teeton Productions on the horn for Mr. Carstairs.”

“I have to take this,” said Carstairs, his anger immediately draining into professional concern. “Excuse me, Danny. Amanda: keep practicing.”

“Follow me,” said Lieutenant Kevin. “So how come you are here and not in some turnpike hotel?”

“A huge amount of money -- a really TREMENDOUS amount of money -- a block of money you can feel from space. Money that has its own needs and gravitational pull,” said Carstairs. “We serve and we try not to ask too many questions, don’t we?”

Lieutenant Kevin didn’t respond. He merely opened the coded door that led into the control room, and pushed Carstairs inside when he found him drifting and unable to move.

“Should be private enough for you,” said Lieutenant Kevin. “There’s cameras. Don’t jack off into any of the equipment.”

He shut the door with a private cackle.

Ingot certainly recognized the man on the television screen. Phil Kahn. Cee-ee-oh of Teeton Productions, the cutting-edge avant-garde in experimental adult cinema. The high-resolution BEST in esoteric, boundary-bulldozing erotic entertainment. Initially nothing more than an enraged trust fund baby, Phil Kahn was now somewhere between a saint and a criminal to the world of culture. He spared no expense making his most insane fantasies come to life, and more often than not -- he actually broke even.

Right now, Phil Kahn’s head was down on the table in front of him, and a pair of gold hoop earrings dangled from his lobes, swinging back and forth in slow opposition to one another, framing hypnotically his fat, ursine head.

Ingot velcroed himself to a stool and tapped the microphone in front of him with two fingers. Phil shot up and wiped his eyes with the back of his hands.

“Ingot!” he roared. “How the heck are ya, bro?”

“I’m doing fine,” said Ingot. “I’m in space, you see.”

“See! Do I see!” shouted Phil. “Cheese and crackers, Ingot! I sent you up there, didn’t I? Cheese and crackers!”

“I have a drug problem, you know,” sighed Ingot. “I’m addicted to your bullshit.”

“We’re still pals, right?” asked Phil, a pained expression turning down the ends of his grin the way sweaty money curls at the edges.

“It’s good bullshit. The best. In fact, I’m glad you called. I was starting to have withdrawal symptoms.”

“We need to talk,” said Phil.

“See? My hands are all clammy.”

“You’ve been up there,” said Phil. “And I’ve been having some problems.”

“I’ve got chills, and my ears are ringing.”

“I’ve been having financial problems, actually. Golly-bingo, Ingot! The financial problems I’ve been having!”

“If I turn my head to the side – like this – my vision goes completely black. Black as night. Black as panties.”

“See, I didn’t tell you, but I made some investments. You would call them bad investments.”

“I’ve got rashes…”

“I don’t believe in bad investments. New formats, Ingot! A porn-futures market, run by computers! Wowee-zowie!”

“Rashes and hives…”

“But these things…they are wacky. They went wacky. And you know how long it has been since we’ve had a new hit film.”

“All our films have been hits.”

“But a new one!”

“Rashes and hives and loose fingernails…”

“What I’m saying is, we’re broke, Ingot. Completely broke. It’s a good thing you are already up in that ship, because there’s NO WAY that NASA is going to be able to clear that check I wrote! Ha! NO WAY!”

“Loose fingernails, loose stool…”

“What I’m saying is, we are broke and we need a hit. Not just any hit, that’s not quite right. We need THE most amazing porn movie anybody has ever seen. I know you are already under a lot of pressure, and I wasn’t going to say anything. But – jeez, Ingot – they’ve got me in prison! If you don’t come back with something really amazing that we can get out immediately…it’s all over, Ingot. We’re finished!”

“Ahhhh,” said Ingot, putting his hands behind his head. “That’s the stuff. Uncut, pure -- as strong as you can get. It’s a good thing my tolerance is so high, or I’d be keeled over right now. Slobbering. Calling you names.”

“Holy cow! I’m serious.”

“Phil, you know I’ll do my best. You know how much is beyond my control.”

“I just felt like you should know everything I know. The whole – look out! The whole gravity of the situation. By jolly, by jingo, my boy Ingot!”

“Goodbye now,” said Ingot, turning knobs on the control board until the television faded to black. Ingot put his hands on his face, his pinkies pinching his nose and a whistle of despair escaping from his gullet. Ingot had not taken to space, and each moment aboard the space station found him oscillating between nausea and violent hunger. He hadn’t been able to keep any food down the whole week they’d been up here.

There was a knock on the control room door from the other side, the side that led into Bay 3. Bay 1 was where they slept and ate, Bay 3 once held a military satellite, but was now empty. After a few moments of fumbling, the person on the other side managed to get the door open and Ingot found himself face to face with Helen Bunch, the only other member of his skeleton production crew. Helen handled costumes and dialogue.

“Ingot, there’s a problem,” said Helen.

“There are many problems,” said Ingot.

“This one seems serious,” said Helen quietly. “It’s Melanie. She’s cracking up. I’ve done all I can as a…as a, uh, you know. A mother-figure.”

“Where is she?” asked Ingot between his hands. Helen grabbed him by the forearms and lowered his hands from his face by force, nearly sending Ingot into a permanent spin. She dragged him around the corner and around to the Bay 3 portal. Helen pointed. There was Melanie across the room in the corner, curled into a ball, not moving.

His actor, the dense but tractable Paddy Whack, was in the opposite corner, practicing lines. Paddy Whack was a deeply dependable male lead when it came to the physical side of the job, but he often had an awful problem with lines, so it was good to see him going over them. Often, after two or three tries, they had to give up and use a headset, with Helen stage-whispering dialogue to the frequently perplexed man. Ingot preferred the frisson of natural delivery.

“I guess I should say something, shouldn’t I?” said Ingot.

Ingot crawled around the outside of the Bay wall, clinging to the runners that were there for support, passing Paddy, who gave him a big thumbs up, until he was face to face with Melanie, his star. His box-cover girl.

Melanie Aspartame was one of the world’s most beautiful women according to many internet discussion forums, and Ingot had been working with her since she was seventeen. She was full-figured and full of energy – the sort of woman that evoked every sordid grade school crush, and then dashed them all to the ground in a broken egg-carton of fluids and lipstick. She satisfied. That was her job. But she was also notoriously fragile, and her long black hair, pale skin, and bright green eyes highlighted a deeper transparency that most men found ultimately disconcerting, in the way that any person who is capable of complete trust is ultimately disconcerting to the cynical and manipulative. Ingot was both.

“Hello, Melanie," said Ingot. “I heard you’re not feeling very well.”

“Can I ask you something?” asked Melanie.

“Go ahead,” said Ingot.

“It’s personal,” said Melanie.

“There are no secrets between spacemen,” said Ingot, smiling and trying very hard to make the smile reach his eyes.

“I’ve been doing this a long time,” said Melanie. “Five or six years are an eternity in this business. But you’ve been doing it longer than me. Twenty years, I’ve heard. You were doing this stuff when I was still in elementary school.”

“At some point a man’s habits become his way of life,” said Ingot. “Yes.”

“Never mind about all of that,” said Melanie. “No judgments. I’ve been asking around. Talking to other girls – and other guys -- in the industry – and I’ve learned some strange things about you.”

“Oh god, what could it be,” said Ingot.

“I don’t know how to say this. It’s like this. I thought that I just wasn’t your type, but I heard that you’ve never done anything, with anybody. Girls or guys. No blowjobs, no handjobs, no nothing. You don’t try to audition your actresses or your actors, and you don’t even date. I heard, and maybe it’s not true, but I heard that you sleep alone every night, and that you won’t even take phone calls from people after six. I heard that people have thrown themselves at you – people inside the business and out – and you don’t want anything to do with it.”

“Yes,” said Ingot. “So what?”

“Do you even masturbate?” asked Melanie, aghast.

“Pretty personal,” said Ingot.

“So you don’t have sex with anybody ever? How come? That’s so weird! That’s even weird for a normal person! Tell me! Tell me, Ingot, or I won’t do this movie!”

“What’s this all about?” asked Ingot. “What do my personal habits have to do with anything?”

Melanie stared at him, searching his eyes, her long red fingernails buried deeply in her wavy black hair.

“Ingot! I want to have a baby!” screamed Melanie. She barely got the words out before she started sobbing, beating her fists against Ingot’s chest and leaving runnels of tears behind her that coalesced into shimmering beads in the vacuum.

“Whoah,” said Paddy across the room. Realizing he was eavesdropping, he abruptly spun away and returned to his script.

Ingot made eye contact with Helen and pleaded for an answer as he patted his young charge on the back and tried to soak up her tears with his spacesuit. Helen shrugged.

“It’s like, we’re up here, so far away from everyone else, and I realize how beautiful the world is, and how much potential for good there is inside everybody, but how it’s all locked up behind so many layers of pain and fear,” said Melanie. “And I see that if a mother really loves her baby, if she REALLY loves it, then that baby can grow up and become a healing light in the world. A real, beautiful healing light.”

“There, there,” said Ingot.

“But I look at you, and I look at what we do for money, and I think maybe the world is much worse than it seems, and there’s nobody who cares for anybody else,” said Melanie. “And maybe there’s no point to it all. How come you never make love? Why can’t you do that? Don’t you love people?”

“Melanie,” said Ingot. “You can have all the babies you want as soon as we get back home. But right now we need to make a porn movie.”

Melanie lowered her eyes.

“Okay,” said Melanie coldly. “You’re right. I must be going crazy!”

“Melanie…you’re not crazy at all. You’re absolutely right. You’ve got the right idea about everything. If you saw people how I saw people! I wouldn’t wish that on anyone. It’s not about love. ”

There was a hand on his shoulder. Ingot turned. It was Paddy.

“Oh man, I hate to interrupt, but there’s something you got to see, my man,” said Paddy.

“Can you show me later?”

“No dice, man. No dice. This is, like, RELEVANT.”



Ingot sighed. Helen came over to comfort Melanie, and he allowed Paddy to drag him away. Paddy, with dogged determination, had managed to get the hang of free-fall maneuvering after only a few sullen days. He wasn’t quite at Danny We’s level, but he could certainly pass as an astronaut. Paddy hated being outdone at anything, and the contempt that the military men held for him grated like nothing else.

Paddy looked all around for cameras or stray members of Major Capstan’s crew. Satisified that they were all alone, Paddy unzipped his lycra trousers and held his manhood out for inspection.

He wiggled it between his fingers. He held it out like an expensive tennis bracelet along his thick knuckles. His eyes went back and forth to Ingot’s face, searching for shock.

“Man, look at THAT,” said Paddy, eventually.

“It’s a penis,” said Ingot.

“It’s MY penis,” said Paddy.

“It sure is,” said Ingot.

“Look at it!”

“Patrick. I AM looking at your penis.”

Paddy puffed his lower lip out and put his hand on Ingot’s shoulder.

“I’ve lost three inches, man. Three,” said Paddy. “And I think it might actually be shrinking.”

“Oh, Patrick. That’s just the vacuum. Everybody knows about that. But this isn’t that kind of film. We don’t need huge size. We are in space. That’s our angle. Space.”

Paddy considered this for a moment and then put his other hand on Ingot’s shoulder, as if they were in a huddle, helmet to helmet.

“There’s something else, though,” said Paddy. “My hard window. Yesterday, I could only keep it together for ten minutes before some sort of pressure started collapsing my bone from the inside. Ten minutes! My hard window is nothing now, man. It’s baseball card-sized. It’s a stick of chewing gum, man.”

“Never mind about all that,” said Ingot. “Can you money?”

Paddy fumed. He closed his eyes and prayed God. Finally he screwed up all the veins in his neck and nodded, his lips pulled around his teeth like a fat wallet stretched to popping.

“I can money, man. I can money. Of COURSE I can money.”

“Then we’re fine,” said Ingot. “Ten minutes ought to be plenty of time. Our angle here is space. Space is our film’s climax. Not size. The opposite. Space.”

This was too much for Paddy, but he nodded just the same.

“I want you all to meet me in Bay 2 in five for the shoot,” said Ingot. “Be ready to work. We’ve got to get this done today.”

Paddy shivered but bucked himself up. Both Helen and Melanie were crying now, and they both stared at him through tear-reddened eyes as if he were from another planet. A magic planet of asshole men. But Ingot knew they were both professionals. They would be there. Melanie would look great. It was a good thing that today was their last day, however, because Helen probably wouldn’t be speaking to him for awhile.

Ingot left them, threading through the Bay and back into the control room.

Lieutenant Kevin was waiting for him.

“Look who it is!” said Lieutenant Kevin. “I got some bad news, Mr. Carstairs. Just came over the wire.”

“Oh yes?” said Ingot, trying to push past but instead finding Lieutenant Kevin blocking him. Aggressively.

“I’ve got orders from Mission Control to impound your equipment, halt production of your film, and put you and your whole crew under lock and key,” said Lieutenant Kevin. “Orders. Good orders. It’s rare that soldier gets to do something fun.”

“I’m sure there must be some kind of mistake,” said Ingot gently.

“I sure hope not,” said Lieutenant Kevin, pushing open the door to Bay 2. “First, I just have to tell Major Capstan…”

Lieutenant Kevin trailed off in mid-sentence. He stared through the door, shocked. Ingot squeezed his head through the portal to see what had cut him off.

Amanda Sandwich had made startling progress in zero gee maneuvers, and was now going down on Major Capstan in a dramatic, vigorous way. His face was as red as the jumpsuit that floated in a crumpled pile beside him. Spectacularly, Capstan was one of those rare men who shaved off all of his pubic hair in order to make his package appear larger. It didn’t work, but it gave his swollen penis the appearance of a single shrimp on a bed of lettuce – a delicate thing, and rare. Lieutenant Kevin and Ingot didn’t know it, but they both wore the exact same expression of desperate sadness watching the scene, unobserved by anyone in the room. Finally, Amanda saw Ingot and waved, popping Capstan out of her mouth, and keeping him going with one of her dainty hands.

Ingot waved back.

“What’s going on, Danny?” asked Ingot to the idle cameraman, who was trying to slice open the plastic to a packet of nicotine chewing gum with one of his sharp fingernails.

“Humans will do what humans will do,” said Danny, and then looked up suddenly, eyes wide. “No offense.”

“You’ve been recording, of course?”

“Of course,” said Danny. “Major Capstan asked me about breaking into the business, and then…you know…Amanda had to see. She’s always a sweetheart about that sort of thing.”

“This could be pretty damning to a person’s NASA career,” said Ingot.

“Oh, hell boss, I’d never release the tape,” said Danny. “We’re all on the same side here.”

“What were those orders again?” asked Ingot, turning to Lieutenant Kevin. “Something about locks and keys?”

Lieutenant Kevin left the room, shaken -- smarting.

“Hide that videotape somewhere good,” said Ingot. “NASA has sent orders to have us all locked up because Phil has gone bankrupt. The only thing keeping us from being kenneled, broke, and ejected into the sun is Amanda’s well-timed blowjob.”

“That’s goddamn poetic,” said Danny We. They watched Amanda finish, carefully sucking back floating trails of semen that lazily floated from Major Capstan’s urethra. Capstan shuddered, and then he began to sob. Amanda gave him a hug, and they held each other that way, spinning in space like cigarette smoke, Capstan wailing, and Amanda telling him that everything was going to be alright.

“I hope no one in the world ever has to see this,” said Danny. “This is not sexy.”

“I just met with Melanie and Paddy. They are ready to shoot. Although, as a result of the vacuum, Paddy’s not sure how long he can hold up. His hard window may be something like ten minutes. You’ve got to be on your best game, old friend.”

“I’m always on my best game,” said Danny.

The door to Bay 2 whooshed open and Melanie and Paddy entered, both in costume.

“We’re ready, dude,” said Paddy.

“Clear the room,” said Ingot, causing Major Capstan to scramble away from Amanda and tear back into his uniform. He wiped his eyes on the back of his arm, and mumbled something incoherent before pushing past Melanie and Patrick and fleeing.

“Whoah, that dude was rocking a schoolboy,” said Paddy.

“He was showing me how to move gracefully in zero gee,” said Amanda. “I think he’s very serious, and very cute.”

“Get into character,” said Ingot. “It’s possible that Lieutenant Kevin is staging a coup right now to get us all arrested.”

“Coup?” asked Patrick.

“Mutiny,” said Ingot.

“Mutiny?” asked Amanda.

“There’s a fight,” said Danny.

“Anyway, we may not have very long to film,” continued Ingot. “We can finish the movie on the ground, but we need this climax. One take, everybody! We can do it in one take!”

“Of course we can!” said Amanda, clapping.

The actors took their marks, and Danny tested the lighting one more time. Ingot hooked himself to a stretched piece of canvas and dangled above the triad of glowing, warm bodies.

“Alright, everybody,” said Ingot with good cheer. “Where’s Helen? No Helen? Never mind. Alright, guys. Everybody ready? Are we feeling it, Patrick? Yes? Everyone excited? Okay, then, team!”

Ingot pointed his finger and snapped it.


Danny We pressed a button that turned on the three stationary cameras, and he steadied himself behind his handheld. Paddy gave the thumbs-up sign, puffed his chest out, and made the wooden face that signified he was acting.

“Hello, ladies,” said Paddy loudly. “It looks like we aren’t going to make it back to Earth after all. Our rocketship simply doesn’t have enough fuel. We are going to burn up in re-entry.”

“Oh, my god!” screamed Amanda, throwing her hands in the air and arching her back. She threw her hair over her shoulder and it floated like Medusa’s tendrils. She winked at the camera.

“I wish it didn’t have to be like this,” said Paddy. “But it looks like we’re all going to die. It looks like we are going to have to take our clothes off and be sexy, one last time. Rear entry, before re-entry.”

The girls gasped and tore off their flysuits. Amanda soared across the bay flawlessly, pinching her nipples, and grinning.

“All going to die, Amanda,” whispered Ingot urgently.

Amanda stopped grinning and stuck her bottom lip out in a pout.

Upon reaching the center of the Bay and halting one another’s forward momentum, the actors began to do what they did best.

The sex was professional-standard, and the maneuvers that the three of them had practiced were nothing short of breathtaking. There was a cold glint in Melanie’s eye, but she was still beautiful -- still amazing.

Things began to peak. The moans got louder and more insistent. Paddy checked his watch and pleaded at Ingot with his outthrust jaw.

“Hold on, Patrick…hold on,” whispered Ingot through equally clenched teeth.

After a few more minutes of tense, frictionless pounding, Paddy started to groan and curse, and then…panic. Things began to happen all at once, one right after another, like naked, dotless dominoes crashing down along a battered checkered tablecloth.

Lieutenant Kevin burst in clutching Major Capstan by the shirt collar and tossing his red face back and forth, chawing and chewing, spit dribbling from his mouth in hovering streams.

“Everybody stop! Everybody stop all this business right now!” shouted Lieutenant Kevin.

Right behind him came Helen, carrying what looked like a yellow make-up case. The case flapped back and forth against her hand like an oyster, open and shut, open and shut.

“These birth control pills are candy tarts!” shouted Helen. “She’s live, Ingot! Melanie’s live!”

“I want to have a space baby,” shouted Melanie from where she bucked and writhed in the throes of passion. “I will have the first, most beautiful space baby. He will be real – a creature of pure light and love.”

Danny We’s eyes grew so wide that he faltered at the camera.

“Don’t you dare stop filming!” shouted Ingot. “We can edit in post!”

It was too much for Patrick. The muscles in his neck rippled like a silk tie in a wind tunnel.

“I’m gonna money!” shouted Patrick.

“Turn that camera off right goddamn now!” shouted Lieutenant Kevin.

“Don’t you DARE,” said Ingot again, staring at the Earth turning below them. He grabbed Danny by the back of his shirt and pulled him up higher, setting the shot himself. Ingot and Danny both looked through the camera’s viewfinder at the end of Patrick’s penis, now in Amanda’s mouth, plucked expertly away from Melanie and held, twitching. Behind Amanda was the planet Earth in the window. Spinning to infinity – so big, so bright. That was Australia in the frame, thought Ingot. This was going to be huge in Australia.

Patrick pulled out of Amanda’s hand, turned slightly, and squeezed.

A thick trail of semen ejected from the tip of his penis and soared through space, spiraling like a perfect football. The expulsion made everyone stop in mid-sentence, mid-action, mid-shriek. No one could even breathe as they watched the glistening trail of human DNA shoot across the room, splash on the polished window, and coat the whole reflected planet -- every man, woman, child, and dog -- with gooey, warm, uncontrolled ejaculate.

Melanie started to cry, but Ingot had the shot, and no one could take that away.

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