"We supernaturals don't have to eat," she said equably, "so we seldom have to defecate. But if that sort of thing stimulates you—"
"I meant the meter. It stuck a ticket on my car. That's a dollar fine."
"Oh, I can fix that. We fuck up machines all the time. Let me get my ass on it, here—"
"I'll pay the fine!" he cried as she hoisted her skirt and lifted one shapely leg. There were whistles from a neighboring car. "Leave it alone!"
She shrugged. "It's your dough."
"Just get in the car, why don't you!" Prior was anxious to get away before more of a crowd collected.
He drove her to a private park, certain by this time that he didn't want her at his apartment. She climbed onto the back seat, got on hands and knees, let her breasts dangle low, bared her bottom, and he mounted her from behind and jetted somewhat feebly into her upraised aperture. She was still a luscious hunk of distaff flesh, but he had seen what he had seen, there on the beach, and knew what he knew, and it shook him up quite apart from the VD threat.
Luscious hunk? As his shrinking penis sucked loose, he realized that she had assumed the neuter form: breastless, narrow-hipped, hairless. He felt like a pederast. He didn't like pederasty. "Now you're done; get out," he said shortly.
Chapter Three
After he was rid of her he drove home and took a long morose shower, scrubbing his limp penis thoroughly. Then he dried under the air-blast and spilled wine-scented shaving lotion on it from glans to scrotum, hoping the alcohol would burn off any remaining contamination. It stung like hell, but it didn't ease his mind much.