The pain in what Greg felt were his kidneys wasn’t going away. He’d sneak in a session at the Jacuzzi later, before nightfall. It was his one day off the road for the next week.
The continental breakfast at the Motor Inn consisted of Fruit Loops in almond milk, a banana, coffee, and the local paper. Generous, he thought as he admired the way the sun glinted off his red glittering rig. Greg always skipped to the Funnies first, which helped him start the day out in a good mood, and then straight to the science “Discovery” section. Always good to have some new facts to chat about with others on the CB, even if it was more of an advert than science journalism.
The irrefutable facts it proclaimed (to your benefit) were as follows:
Hot tubs LOWER sperm viability!
7/8 die in >105F heat!
Are you and your partner having trouble conceiving?
Call for a free legal consultation! You may be entitled to a BIG PAY OUT!!!
What happened to the other 1/8 sperms? Maybe they were heat resistant, or found a way to survive in colder areas of the balls. That is where sperms lived, right? Greg had smaller-than-average testicles as best as he could judge from pornography. Then he forgot about most of the article.
Candy sat on the stale, maroon comforter in Greg’s motel room and took off her earrings.
“You got any kids?” she asked.
“Yeah… two teens. Phew!”
“Me too. A little girl. She lives with her daddy, though.” She put her earrings on the nightstand and paused her movement for a second. “You ever think you want any more?”
The “Discovery” blurb was in Greg’s mind when he replied, “No. I can’t. It’s biologically impossible.”
She smiled and put down her purse.