by Alexis Angel
“Hi,” I answer and push my hair back, always feeling self-conscious on a video call.
“Hey!” she says bubbly into the phone.
“How are things with Zane? Have you told him you aren’t pregnant this time?”
I take a deep breath. I have yet to tell Molly the new details of my relationship with Zane. I have no fucking clue how she’s going to react, but I suppose now is as good a time as any to spill the beans. There’s no point in delaying it any further and hopefully, she won’t be too judgmental about it all.
“He knows I’m not pregnant,” I begin, albeit vaguely.
“So, how’d he take it?” she asks.
I can tell she’s at work because I can see her office behind her. She works as a real estate agent and I honestly can’t think of someone else who is fucking better at their job than Molly.
“We had sex again,” I say and bite my lip.
“Way to go!” Molly shouts. “There’s no point in wasting any time.”
“Well at first I was upset…” I say.
“You mean until he put his cock between your legs?” Molly jokes.
“Exactly,” I laugh. “And he told me he loves me.”
“Shut up!” Molly shouts again and slaps her desk. “He fucking didn’t.”
“He fucking did.” I nod to confirm.
“So apparently that helps in bed,” Molly grins.
“I, um…actually love him too,” I say and hold my breath, waiting for Molly’s reaction.
“You love him?” The shock registers all over her face.
“I do,” I say with finality. “He’s great, to be honest. And he told me he doesn’t even care about the contract. He just wants me to be happy, and if having his baby will make me so, then he’s fully on board.”
“Wow,” Molly says in utter disbelief. “I guess I’m happy for you?” She says it as more of a question than a statement.
I chuckle.
“It’s okay; I know it’s fucking weird. I’m still trying to process all these new emotions myself,” I admit.
“Do you think he’s really sincere or that maybe he just doesn’t want you to screw up his life by firing him?” Molly raises a good point.
“I can sense he’s genuine,” I say. “Besides, I told him the story about my mom.”
“That will win him over,” she says. “It’s a sob story for sure.”
“I can just tell by the way he looks at me…I don’t know Molly, something is fucking changing about him, but in the best way possible.”
“Well, I wish you all the fucking good luck in the world. If anyone is rooting for you to succeed, you know it’s me.” Molly gives me a wink.
“Thank you,” I say. “I know I can always count on you.”
“Are you in a parking garage?” Molly looks past me in the screen.
“Yep.” I nod.
“Oh no, you aren’t on an emotional shopping spree again, are you?”
I laugh.
“How do you know me so fucking well, Molls?”
“That’s what best friends are for,” she reminds me.
“Duh,” I say and face palm myself. It’s nice to have someone who understands you enough to support you no matter what.
“Well, I better go,” I say and look behind me. “I have a really great spot that I’m sure someone else is going to want to snag up themselves.”
“Okay, call me if anything changes in the soap opera of Piper Stewart,” she jokes.
“If only someone would pay me for my own show,” I quip back.
Molly laughs.
“See ya, chick.”
I hang up and take a deep breath as I grip the steering wheel and pull out of my parking spot. I still have a lot of unanswered questions and factors to consider, and I mentally weigh them on the trek back to my apartment.
As I see people waiting for buses and taxis, and darting in and out of subway centers, I think about how lucky I am to have my own car in the city. I work hard to be able to afford my lifestyle and I don’t want anything to come between or change that.
I take pride in my strong logic when it comes to business, and innate ability to focus on things I have to do.
And this is supposed to be all business. The terms of the contract are front and center in my mind. I’m not supposed to care about Zane Tanner, but now I do.
I picture his dark hair and his dark eyes piercing through my soul as he thrusts on top of me. I get shivers of pleasure and thrills as I imagine his rock-hard cock plowing through me, his solid muscles protecting me.
We aren’t supposed to love each other, but now we do, and everything is fucking different. I have no idea how we are going to move forward now, or if I should just null out the contract and forgive him for fucking the models on my desk.
I also have the pregnancy worry wreaking fucking havoc in my mind. I mean I know we haven’t been trying for very long, but I know several people that struggle with fertility issues and I don’t want to be fucking one of them.
What if Zane thinks I’m damaged goods if I end up not being able to conceive? Will he decide he really wants a family and kick me to the curb for another pretty girl who’s able to have children?
Now I’m really in a tail spin from allowing my imagination to run wild and I need to snap the fuck out of it.
As I enter my building to go upstairs, my shopping bags feel as heavy as my heart. What if Zane and I don’t really love each other, but in the intimate moment of revealing private things about ourselves the other night we were compelled in the specific situation?
The fact that I haven’t really talked to Zane much since then is also plaguing on my thoughts. Does he love me? Do I love him? Are we on the right track, or are we making a stupid fucking mistake?
I have no idea, but I only know one thing for sure, and that’s the fact that I’m fucking scared for the future.
30
Piper
To say that Zane and I are fucking like bunnies is an understatement. I know I said that before, but it’s not enough to describe what we do anymore. In fact, we put those fucking bunnies to shame.
My pussy is sore, but I’m still having the time of my life and endless orgasms with Zane. He’s such a fantastic lover and his huge cock satisfies me to no end.
I’m in the middle of another ovulation cycle, and alas, the dreaded two-week countdown to taking another pregnancy test commences.
I try to keep myself as busy as possible, mainly by fucking the living daylights out of Zane.
When I’m not with him, I have lunch with friends, I stay at work for long hours, and I bury myself beneath books and movies to stay distracted.
I’m at work when Zane’s Face Time pops up on my personal laptop.
“Hello,” I grin and look at him as he waves. “You look extra saucy today,” I note.
“Thank you.” He does a little bow. I can see that he’s also in his office.
“Do you want to go to dinner tonight?” he asks.
“Hell yeah, can we leave now?” I joke.
Zane looks at his watch.
“Um, it’s 2:30. I just had lunch actually.”
“So? Aren’t guys always hungry?” I laugh.
“Hungry for sexy girls.” He winks.
“You’re so naughty,” I tease but I fucking love it when we flirt back and forth.
“I can prove it to you how naughty I am later,” he says.
“Okay well, just pick me up from my office later and we’ll go to dinner,” I say.
“Where do you want to go?” he asks.
I shrug.
“Surprise me,” I wink.
“You got it,” he says and we say goodbye.
A few hours later, we are walking out of dinner, truly feeling stuffed.
“That’s the best fucking eggplant parm I’ve ever eaten,” I say and rub my belly.
“Are you rubbing your belly because you think you might be pregnant or are you just full?” he asks.
; “Maybe a little of both.” I give him a sly grin.
He leans closer to me and he smells masculine and perfect. He gently places his burly strong arms on my belly.
“I hope you’re pregnant this month,” he whispers, his voice full of hope.
“You and me both pal,” I say as we walk away, back towards my house.
I’m staring at the beginning of the second week right in the face, and neither one of us is backing down.
I’m ready to take this pregnancy test, but I still have to wait a few more days. I’m taking a walk in the park with Molly, watching the leaves change from green to oranges and reds.
“I fucking love this time of year,” I confess.
“So do I,” Molly agrees.
“To be honest I’m just fucking tired of sweating like a pig in the summertime,” I laugh.
“It’s nice not having to reapply deodorant a thousand times a day,” Molly jokes.
We stop by a pretzel car to get bottled water and stand there for a few seconds, glugging them down.
“Damn that’s refreshing,” I say and nearly finish the entire bottle in only a few gulps.
“How many miles are we walking again?” Molly asks.
“I don’t know actually,” I laugh. “I forgot to put on my mile tracker.
“Me too.” Molly rolls her eyes. “We are pathetic at working out.”
“I just want to get as much exercise as I can, just in case I balloon up like a blimp,” I mention.
“Are you talking about the fact that you may be pregnant?” Molly’s voice is high with curiosity.
“Maybe,” I say and toss my empty water bottle into a nearby trash can. “We’ll see.”
“How many more days of waiting do you have?” she asks.
“Oh not that many,” I say. “Just like a million.”
Molly laughs.
“The waiting is the hardest part.”
“Remember when you were a kid and it seemed like Christmas took forever to finally come?”
“Yes!” Molly exclaims. “Now its like if you blink your eyes, December is over.”
“Tell me about it,” I agree.
“Well the waiting game for taking the pregnancy test is sort of like waiting for Christmas as a kid.”
“Well I hope it works out for you.” Molly gives me a genuine smile.
“Thank you,” I say as we continue to press on with our walk. “My fingers and toes are crossed.”
I know that each chance we have to fuck, we need to act on it, because the more we have sex, the better our chances at conceiving.
The fateful day is finally here. I stand in front of my bathroom counter, staring down at an unopened pregnancy test kit.
I just don’t have the nerve to open it and take the damn thing. But my bladder is going to fucking explode already, so I better get to it.
I take a deep breath and open the wrapper, revealing the stick that holds my destiny inside.
“You can do this,” I say aloud, giving myself a tiny pep talk as I stare at my reflection in the mirror.
My palms are sweaty. My throat is dry, and it feels like it’s going to close up. I can hear my pulse in my ears and I’m so nervous I might puke.
I just want to get this fucking over with. I sit on the toilet and begin to pee on the stick. I close my eyes, because I just can’t fucking look.
I’m not sure what more I’m afraid of, the disappointment of it being negative again, or the scary thrill of seeing it turn positive.
I place the test face side up on the little ledge by the window in the bathroom. I still refuse to look at it as I pace my bathroom.
I need to work up the courage to look at it, and prepare myself for the answer whatever the fuck that may be.
Finally, I take a deep breath and I can’t wait any fucking longer. I pick up the stick and look at the results.
At first I just stare blankly at it in disbelief.
Is this really happening? I’m so nervous, my mind could be playing tricks on me, and manipulating what I see.
I blink and shut my eyes, taking a deep breath. Then I open them to look at the results again. And it hasn’t changed, and there are still two pink lines.
I’m pregnant.
Wait, I’m pregnant!
I can’t fucking believe it. I laugh, I cry, I scream. I run around my apartment and I take deep breaths.
I look at the test again. It’s still positive.
I pick up the phone to dial Zane but then immediately throw it back down on the bed. I’m not ready to call him yet.
Suddenly, a wave of insecurity floods me. I still don’t really know where I stand with him, or what his reaction will be.
Sure, he told me he just wants me to be happy…but will he also be happy? Or will this just be a burden on him?
I have to make sure he knows that there’s no pressure on him. I decide to wait it out, and tell him later when my emotions calm down. I need to think of the best way possible to tell him, and I don’t have the answer to that yet.
31
Zane
I’m lying on my couch, trying not to fucking stress over the past couple of weeks with Piper. I’m blankly staring up at my 60-inch flat screen TV that hangs above my fireplace mantel. My favorite team, the Giants, are playing and winning the football game.
The part that sucks so much about this nice little ambiance scene that I’m tossing your way is the fact that I should be cozy in my fucking house, watching my game, but I just can’t fucking concentrate on anything right now.
I love Piper.
This isn’t the first time I’m admitting it to you, to her or to myself, for that matter. It’s all out there in the open, flying with the breeze.
It takes an enormous amount of fucking courage for me to put myself in the kind of situation where I’m fucking vulnerable as shit.
Let’s face it―I’m Zane Xavier Tanner, and I’m a fucking bad ass. I know it, Piper knows it, and everyone fucking knows it.
When it comes to women, I fuck them and usually dump them, but something is different about Piper. No, it’s not because she grabbed me by the balls and made me sign her contract.
I don’t even care about the Baby Batter contract anymore. I know Piper pretends to be a hardass but she really is a sweet girl who’s hurting underneath it all. I know; really fucking deep for me, right?
I sigh and stand up, feeling restless all of a sudden. I need to busy myself so I don’t go fucking crazy. I hear the crowd roaring on the TV. Fuck yes! The Giants score another touchdown.
I wish that I were at the game right now―and with Piper. It would be fucking fun, and I want to be able to enjoy outings and road trips with her.
Is she a potential soul mate, you ask? Maybe, but maybe fucking not. I just haven’t figured that shit out yet, okay?
I’m conflicted, because I love Piper enough to give her what she wants, which is a baby and a family. I just don’t know how to process and digest these new loving feelings for her, and I’m scared as shit. I’m fucking man enough to admit when I fear something.
The stakes are higher because of the fact that I fucking love her now.
She says she loves me, too, but do I believe her?
I think so…I mean, she looks like she loves me when she says it. When we fuck, it’s passionate and shit, so that has to count for something, right?
I walk to my fridge and pop open another beer, but then I grab some Doritos from the pantry, too. Maybe if I snack a little, I’ll become distracted.
Fat fucking chance. Even though the chips are good as hell, I’m still thinking about Piper and her sexy, wet pussy dripping with love juices.
My cock tingles under my pants. I think about jerking off to the image of Piper’s legs spread wide open, but the churning in my stomach prevents me from being able to fucking enjoy myself.
I take a cold shower, hoping that the water will help release some of the steam I’m holding within, but it only makes me fucking colder.
I grab a pair of shorts and a long-sleeved tee and wrap myself up under a blanket.
I try to fall asleep, but I’m too wound up internally. I know it’s a fucking crazy idea, but on a whim, I decide to go for a walk.
I love Manhattan at night. There’s something about the lights and how the crazy people come out of the woodwork that just really make the city seem electric and alive.
My energy level is fucking out of it tonight. I’m hot, I’m cold, I’m tired, and I’m energized all at once. I’m hoping that my night stroll will pacify me and help me calm the fuck down.
When I go out on the street, I’m immediately hit with the familiar sounds of sirens blaring, horns honking, and neon signs illuminating the whole place. Everywhere I look, I’m assured that Times Square is the perfect fucking place to be distracted and to lose myself in my thoughts.
I walk the entire way, stopping only to absorb the flashing scene, still all lit up like a fucking Christmas tree, even though it’s well into the late evening.
Most normal people are back at home, tucking their kids into bed and getting ready for a fucking session before they doze off.
This thought pulls me back to my present fucking problem, and that is the fact that children and a family are not a part of my master plan to conquer the universe, and up until now I viewed even the sheer thought as a massive roadblock that would derail me.
Am I the kind of guy who can tuck little kids into their beds at night and kiss their soft cheeks and smell their baby soap scented hair? I’m not sure yet. The idea is both intoxicatingly refreshing and fucking repulsive all in fucking one.
I run my hands through my hair as I walk past the NYPD station right in the center of Times Square. I sit in those little red bistro seats, and people watch until I’m exhausted and bored, still without an answer to my impending shit storm problems.
I still don’t fucking have a damn clue where I stand with Piper, or where things are going to leave off, but I know one thing for fucking sure: I care more about her than anything, and I definitely don’t want to hurt her.