"We’re goddesses,," whispered Jo. "Making life." Lisa adjusted the lightning rod. "Yeah, right sis." Polycarbonate bones and graphene sinews, his torso glistened under the lights: broad shoulders, buns of steel, generously proportioned where it mattered. Jo's hands were clammy; Lisa licked her lips. Tonight, they'd make a man of him.
Alastair Millar is an archaeologist by training and a translator by trade; he lives in the Czech Republic.
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