by Vivian Wood
“No, not exactly,” I say, shaking my head. “She just put a very definitive time clock on things. If I want a baby, I have to start now.”
“Well… isn’t that the point of going to a fertility expert?” Olive’s face scrunches. “I thought you were ready to start!”
“I just… I think I was ready to start like… looking at paint swatches for the nursery, or buying a baby name book. Not getting knocked up, not quite yet. But now, I don’t have much choice. My stupid egg-producing follicles aren’t really interested in hearing anything else.”
I sniff, and gesture for the pack of tissues. She hands them to me with a frown.
“Jeez, I’m a year older than you. Maybe I should go get my follicles checked,” she says. “I’ve really never considered not being able to have kids before.”
I blink at her. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you wrapped up in my baby fever.”
She smiles, waving my concern off.
“It’s no big deal. We are talking about you, aren’t we?”
I let out a shaky breath and sit back in my seat.
“Yeah. I guess… I don’t know. I guess I have to go through with being artificially inseminated now.”
“Or you could just have a one night stand and hope for the best,” Olive speculates. “Oooohhh, or! You can ask someone to be your baby daddy. You know, draw up a bunch of legal papers that make him not accountable.”
“Yeah, but then I would have to find someone and actually ask them. I’m not really in the business of meeting tons of guys,” I say.
“Umm, you have a date with a super handsome guy tomorrow night, duh. You don’t get a lot more easy than that. Just ask him!”
I give Olive the most disgusted look I can manage. “Yeah, right. I’ll just ask Jett to be my sperm donor. I’m sure he will love that.”
“Why not? What have you got to lose?”
“Ummm my dignity, for starters.”
She makes a pppppfffttttt noise that sounds like a straight up fart. “Do it. Your egg follicles say you should. Look, stop making that face, stop reacting, and just think about it for a second. Weren’t you the one who said that he probably wasn’t looking for a commitment?”
I pause, twisting my fingers in my lap. She is right, I did say that. “Well, yeah.”
“So… just ask him! See what he says. If nothing else, it’s good practice for when you ask the man who eventually becomes your baby’s biological father.”
I exhale. “I don’t know.”
Olive glances at her slim gold watch. “Alright. I have to get to court, and you no doubt have a ton of work to do. Just think about it, okay?”
“Alright. Hey, thanks for knowing that I was panicking in here.”
She laughs, the sound a bit like a braying donkey. I smile at her.
“I didn’t know you were panicking, I just thought you might have a tampon in your car.”
I grin. “I do! Check the glovebox.”
She opens the glovebox and fishes around, to some success. She waves several shiny blue wrappers at me.
“Got them! Thanks.”
“I really have to go,” she says, opening the door. “Think about what I said, though! Jett James would make an excellent baby daddy.”
I try to retort, but she closes the door on me, click-clacking away. I stay in my car for a little while longer, considering it.
Chapter Five
Jett
I shift on the worn oak bench I’m sitting on, glancing out at the street through the window. I move the heavy drape aside, giving me a better view, but it doesn’t help. An older woman approaches the bar and pulls open the door.
I lean back with a sigh. I can admit it, I’m anxious for Cady to show up.
Inside, the decor is all brocade and velvet, the lighting dim. It’s a hook-up bar, you can tell by the Victorian furnishings and the price of the drinks.
I sip the old-fashioned I’ve been nursing, draining the last watered down drops. I check my watch, but she’s not even supposed to be here yet.
Why did I decide to come here early? I ask myself for the third time.
But I know why. Why do I do anything? Because I’m a horny prick, that’s why.
I glance out the window, and this time I see Cady. I whistle to myself.
Hot damn.
The first time I saw her, she was dressed up, probably for work. Tonight, though, she’s wearing this incredible red sheath dress, leaving her arms bare. I slide my gaze up and down her figure, particularly the fucking miles of legs she’s showcasing.
She doesn’t see me when she comes to a halt outside. I take a moment to glance at her patrician features, her arched nose, plump lips, and high cheekbones. She runs her hand over her hair, which is tucked neatly back.
She really is so fucking beautiful. I go ahead and just adjust where my cock lies in my jeans, because it’s going to want to stand at full attention soon.
Cady runs her hands down her dress, smoothing it. I see her take a breath, and then she pulls the front door open. I swivel a little, so that she can’t tell that I was staring at her through the window.
“Hey,” I say when she spots me. I stand up. “You made it.”
She blushes and stands beside me. “I did.”
“How about a hug? It’s important to keep touch a part of our relationship,” I joke.
A faint pink tinges her cheeks, but she opens her arms to my embrace, pressing her body against mine. She’s so much smaller than I am, almost delicate in my arms. That thought leads me to thinking of what she would look like under me, or on top of me, moaning my name.
My cock comes to full attention. I release her and step back quickly.
“Here, come sit. We have a waitress…” I tell her, shepherding her to my little corner booth with one hand on the small of her back. I look around, and signal the waitress.
The fashionable young woman serving us comes over. She’s got curly blonde ringlets, a black leather dress, and some rather interesting tattoos.
If I wasn’t so busy trying to fuck Cady, I would sure as shit be talking to her.
“You need to see a menu?” she asks Cady.
I see Cady take the waitress in, but I can’t read any reaction. What is she hiding? I wonder.
“I’ll have a vodka and soda with extra lime,” Cady says.
“I’ll have another old-fashioned,” I say with a smile.
As the waitress heads to the bar, I see that look on Cady’s face again. The same calculating look as before, only this time it’s about the interaction I just had with the waitress. I’m not sure what she’s thinking, but I’d rather not risk it.
I need some questions, to distract us both.
“Alright. Quick facts about me,” I say. Her dark grey gaze is on me now, so intent that it almost burns.
“Oh?” she says, arching a brow.
“Yes. I was born in Asheville, North Carolina. My parents are a contractor and a school teacher. I have one brother, who is younger by two years.” I pause for a moment. “I’m thirty five years old, and I think I already told you what my job is.”
“Yes, you did,” she says, leaning back against the bench. She sweeps a lock of raven hair behind her ear. I think to myself that she looks like a model, with her red lipstick and slicked back hair.
“Give me your quick facts,” I suggest. “You know, so that our ‘relationship’ can continue.”
She smiles at my use of air quotes.
“Fair enough. I was born in Santa Fe. I…” she says, then falters. “I grew up in the foster care system, bounced around from home to home. I’m thirty three, and I already told you my job too.”
“An attorney, right?” I ask.
“Mmmhm. A civil litigator,” she affirms.
I notice that when she shifts, she gives me a shot of her cleavage. I’m not one to complain about a thing like that, though. The waitress brings the drinks, and I don’t even look at her.
I see the tiniest m
oment of satisfaction in her smile. Bingo, I think. So you like being the center of attention, huh?
I hide my grin behind my drink. She takes a sip of hers, leaving a perfect red lipstick mark on the rim of the glass.
“Did you hear anything out of your ex?” she asks.
My ex? I think back to last night, and then remember what I told her. I lied about Emily being there, but I doubt that Cady cares.
“Not a word. You really did me a favor,” I say, moving a little closer. I’m almost touching her arm. The next step is to casually put my arm around her shoulder.
Soon.
“I’ll have to remember that,” she says, flashing me a smile. “For blackmail.”
I grin. “Definitely. Feel free to extort anything you want from me. I’m all yours.”
“Is that right?” she says, blushing prettily.
“Oh yeah. I’m a really good guy to… you know. Know,” I say with a wink.
“I see. So if I asked the waitress and the bartender how many girls you’ve brought in here before…”
Busted. So she had noticed what type of bar this was, then.
“I plead the fifth on that one,” I say, raising my right hand.
“Yeah, I get a Tinder date kind of vibe from this place. Like I wouldn’t want to sit down unless I was wearing panties, just to be safe,” she jokes.
“So you’re wearing panties, then?” I say, grinning wolfishly. I can’t help but tease her. She brings it out in me more than usual.
She looks embarrassed. “Maybe.”
I casually stretch my arms, and then slide one around her shoulders and move a hair closer. Her pert breast and lush hip are touching my arm and leg. She looks up at me with those big grey eyes. Her perfectly plump red lips are a temptation.
Soon.
“Let me guess,” I say. “A pair of lacy boy shorts? Or… no, I’ve got your number. A teeny, tiny black thong.”
She blushes all the way to the roots of her hair.
“A lady doesn’t talk about her undergarments in public.”
I lean close to her ear, whispering. “I’ll find out sooner or later, though. Won’t I?”
I wish I could take a photograph of her expression in that moment. The combination of perfect shock and suppressed lust is writ large across her face.
It almost breaks my heart when she turns away, gulping her drink down. But I am a step closer to figuring out what makes her tick. I think she likes a little dirty talk, which has me even harder than before.
I relax, keeping my arm around her, and change the subject. We talk about my tattoos, and a little about our jobs.
She seems relieved, though I notice that the tension isn’t gone from her body. We talk a bit, order more drinks. I tease her, and she blushes.
I like the way I can make her flush again and again. It makes me wonder about her face when she orgasms. I’m willing to bet that she has the most amazing O face.
I’m planning on finding out firsthand what it looks like, tonight.
I’m a little distracted by looking at her body as we chat. Her legs are smooth and toned, every inch that she’s displaying perfect. I usually go for short women, but Cady’s long legs have got me thinking of all the positions I want to put her in.
Would she ride me like a stallion, or would she like me to fuck her from behind?
And don’t even get me started on her tits. She’s bustier than most of the women I date, and I imagine her bare breasts are absolutely, jaw-droppingly fantastic.
“I’m sorry, what did you ask? I was busy staring at you,” I say, shrugging.
Cady blushes. “I asked if you had any heart disease in your family. Or genetic conditions.”
I run my hand over my mouth and my beard, thinking. Do I?
“I don’t think so, no. What’s with the medical questions?”
She doesn’t answer my question though, she just follows it up with another question.
“Umm. Are you… like, clean?” she asks, her face burning bright red. “I mean, have you been tested recently for STIs?”
This is the first question she’s asked that has made me feel a little weird. I give her a suspicious glance.
“Why?” I ask flat out.
She puts her hand on my biceps in a soothing gesture.
“Just tell me. A girl has the right to know who she’s… maybe… doing stuff with, doesn’t she?”
My brows arch. “I’ve been tested within the last month, and came back with a perfect bill of health.”
Her face continues to burn. She bites her lip for a second.
“Okay. Ummm… I want to ask you something,” she says, her words hurried. I open my mouth to say something, but she stops me. “No, let me finish. I understand if it’s too much, but… I’m trying to get pregnant.”
“Whoa… what?” I say, taken aback. “You’re… what?”
“I’m trying to ask you to… you know… be my sperm donor. Except I want…” She has to stop, burying her face in her hands for a second. “This is way harder than it should be.”
“Are you asking me to… are you asking if I will get you pregnant?” I say. The words sound super weird coming out of my mouth.
“Yes!” she says, her words still coming out in a rush. “I can skip the whole fertility clinic thing if I find someone… someone that I like enough.”
I withdraw my arm from where it was resting around her shoulders and rub the back of my neck. What am I supposed to say to that?
“I don’t know…” I manage. “I just… I don’t know.”
“Listen,” she pleads, putting her hand on my thigh. “You know I’m a lawyer. You like freedom? I’ll have papers drawn up to make sure you stay that way. I’ll make sure that the agreement is airtight.”
She sees me glancing away and grows a little desperate.
“Jett, please look at me.” I look at her, and she smiles. “Hi. Sorry. I’m just… you’re so freaking hot, and you’re healthy. You obviously have great genes. And I can only imagine that our… our sex would be… preferable to whatever cold, clinical stuff the sperm bank has to offer. I’m basically asking…” she says, turning red again. “I’m basically asking you to have unprotected sex with me.”
“It’s just… a lot to take in,” I say uneasily.
On one hand, she’s actually pleading with me to pretty please come in her. On the other hand, I don’t fucking even know what to think about having a kid. Even if I wasn’t responsible for giving it any of my money or time, I would… what? Just walk around, knowing it was out there?
“I know it’s asking a lot. A really, really big favor. I understand if you need to think about it.”
I look at her for a long moment. She’s so tempting in that little red dress, with her long legs crossed. I want to experience her, to feel her plump lips wrapped around my cock, to feel her spasming around my cock. I want to see her blush red as a rose with her orgasm, see the storm passing through those wide grey eyes.
The wild side of me whispers just do it. But the reasonable side of me says please PLEASE think about this.
“Can I think about it?” I say at last.
She releases a breath, relieved. “Of course! Think it over, consult a lawyer… whatever you need.”
Cady moves a little, then opens her purse. She throws a hundred down on the table. Apparently she’s paying for the drinks tonight.
I’ve never felt like a prostitute before, but the situation is straying close to that territory now. I’m still at a loss for words.
“I’m just… I’m sort of…” I say, waving a hand.
“No need to explain. Just… you take all the time you need. You have my number,” she says.
She leans close, putting her hand on my pec. She kisses me gently on the cheek. I groan and catch her lips with mine, unable to help myself after fantasizing about her all fucking day.
The kiss is sweet and gentle, just a brushing of lips at first. Her lips are softer than anything I can imagin
e. I deepen the kiss, flicking my tongue against her teeth. She makes a quiet noise that is one part keening, one part animal lust.
I swear, that sound has me rock hard in seconds.
She opens for me, and my tongue sweeps the inside of her mouth. Jesus, she tastes sweeter than fucking candy.
I feel her push against my chest, and reluctantly let her go. We stay like that for a second, just looking into each other’s eyes, trying to read whatever is there.
Then she bites her lip and wipes at my lips with her fingers. “I’m afraid I’ve gotten red lipstick on you.”
“I wear it like a badge of honor,” I joke.
Cady smiles and scoots away, then gets up.
“I’ll be waiting for your call,” she says. “Goodnight.”
“Night,” I say.
I watch her walk out of the bar, and then I watch out the window. She cuts quite a figure on the darkened street, an elegant lady in red.
I sit back with a sigh. What the fuck just happened?
I’ve made plenty of propositions. Hell, I’ve even been asked for sex a few times.
But never in my thirty five years of life have I been asked to get someone pregnant. That, I swear, is totally and wholly unique.
I get up and leave a few minutes after Cady, my brain working overtime.
Yes, there is Cady. I have a pretty good feeling about her. That lust could be its own reward, honestly.
But what she’s asking? For me to create a life? That’s serious shit.
I have a lot of thinking to do about Cady and her proposition.
Chapter Six
Cady
By Friday, I’ve given up on Jett completely. I get home around eight at night, carrying a huge stack of legal briefs. I’m completely exhausted as I climb the stairs to my Midtown condo. When I get to the door, it’s a struggle to shift the briefs around enough to dig my keys out of my purse and unlock the door.
I finally get inside and dump the briefs on my kitchen island. I toe off my black heels, feeling relief as my bare feet hit the cool cement. Is there anything better than taking your shoes off after a long day?