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The Renaissance house fades and the lab materializes around you. The professor is still not in the lab, so you place the Time PDA on his desk and leave.

Later that day you have your Art Appreciation class, needed for your liberal arts distribution. You sit down in the classroom next to a perky blonde co-ed you've been trying to talk to. At the moment, she's ignoring you.

Class starts. The professor is showing slides of Renaissance paintings, describing the artist, the times, the subject, etc. You are only half paying attention until an image comes up that drops your jaw to the floor. It's the Mona Lisa, except its not any Mona Lisa you've ever seen.

Her hair is disheveled, and instead of the formless dress and over-robe, she is clutching just the over-robe around her shoulders. Her breasts are exposed almost to the nipple and her cleavage is magnificent. Her chest and face are flushed, and her eyes have a burning desire in them. She still has the same mysterious smile, but, with the rest of her appearance, that smile suggests a deep, physical satisfaction. You are seeing the just-fucked Mona Lisa, as painted by Da Vinci in the hours that followed your sexcapade into the past, and he managed to brilliantly capture the post-orgasmic glow. It's still a masterpiece, but an almost-erotic one, rather than the demure original. Your memories of your time in Florence flood back to you, and the vision of her jiggling breasts in your hands gives you an instant woody. The rest of the class passes without you registering anything except the image before you.

The one thing that sticks in your mind, other than her voluptuous body, is that YOU CHANGED HISTORY.