The same young man came back into the house behind me and frowned in my direction, "The stereo is mine champ." Then strode deeper into the house with ...is dirty shoes. I saw that the floor was already soiled, the perfection of the floor already marred numerous times today.A older, but very beautiful, woman came into the foyer and stopped when she saw me. "Who are you?" She asked rudely."Tom."She blinked, the corner of her lips turned up into almost a snarl as she recognized who I was and then. That’s how Blacks in America treat Black fiction writers whose works they disagree with. Scores of Black writers only write about romance, sexuality and other such trivial topics. They don’t seem to like Black writers who dare write about the unusual, such as science fiction, horror, or a pro-Black look at the world of American politics. Too often, Black people don’t support their own. White people always support their own. That’s why racist cops who shoot unarmed Black men get acquitted ( when. Sandra agrees but soon afterwardsruns into a familiar person at the grocery store: HERSELF! Sandra findsout from her new twin DynaLyfe has been selling rich terminally illpeople new leases on life in a brand new body: clones of Sandra's body.With Sandra's genes and brain structure uniquely suited for mindtransfer, soon thousands of clones looking just like her are wanderingaround. Can Sandra remain herself when everyone from famous gunned downrappers to old CEOs start looking just like. “Show me” his wife says.He does, then, purposefully, he swallows some, but not all. Something slimy, something real. Over his tongue, down his throat, swallowed. The taste. It tastes like sex, it tastes nasty, it tastes intoxicating. And it lingers, it sc****s the back of the throat, gently, but persistently. There's still one more man, and then himself. “Honey, kiss me.”There's a moment. She doesn't react right away. Does she not want to? But he hears something, fuck it, he should just take.