by Jamie Knight
“Tell me about it,” she said. “I’ve been racking my brain and researching on LexisNexis like crazy, but I could really use a sounding board and to hear your thoughts on how I could possibly convince Strater to rule for our client here.”
“Oh, my God, Judge Strater is deciding this?” I asked.
“Yep. It’s just my unlucky day, I guess.”
I knew where she was coming from. Sometimes I felt like every day was my unlucky day. At work, as well as in my personal life and especially when it came to dating or wanting to have a baby.
But enough about me. I had talked to her about my own problems long enough.
“Okay, it definitely seems like you need some help,” I told her.
I was still excited about this new prospect for trying to get pregnant, but I knew it was time to focus on work. Still, I wanted to keep the ball rolling on my never-ending quest to getting myself artificially inseminated.
The next step to getting another appointment at my clinic was choosing a donor. I could ask for a referral to this turkey baster clinic the next time I was there, but they required a donor selection before I could go back.
I randomly chose the first guy I saw who had green eyes that matched my own and clicked on the link underneath his profile with determination.
‘Are you sure you want to select this donor?’ the screen asked me, forcing me to click ‘Yes’ again.
So, maybe it wasn’t as easy as just swiping right.
But it was nearly that easy, I thought, as I saw a message saying, ‘You’ve been matched with this donor. Your next appointment will be emailed to you from your clinic.’
“Alright,” I told Judy, as I exited out of the website before Masterson or another mean partner could come in and see what I was up to. “Let’s figure out a crazy argument that will win this case for you.”
“You’re the best, Anne,” she said, with a big smile on her face.
“No, you’re the best, Judy,” I told her, thinking about how I couldn’t wait to try this new method she’d told me about. “I mean it.”
Chapter Two - Anne
“So,” said Dr. Roberts, entering the room after knocking softly. “I hear you’re ready to have a baby.”
He sounded more excited that I felt in that moment. His face lit up like he was a gameshow host. I didn’t quite match his level of enthusiasm, but he did make me chuckle a little.
I pulled the hospital gown tighter across my curvy frame. I had always been teased as a kid for being fat and wondered what pregnancy would really be like.
Would my stomach blow up even bigger, like a giant balloon?
Would my hands, feet and ankles swell, like the horror stories I’d heard from some friends of mine who had needed to go on bed rest before delivering their babies?
“Do I need to start from the very beginning, going over a brief history of IVF? Or have you already read up on the necessary information? I see that this is your second visit with us, but your first time seeing a doctor.”
He gingerly fingered my file that had just a few sheets of paper inside of it. His kind, dark eyes focused pointedly on it.
“That’s right. This is my first visit to see you and have this actual procedure done, yes, but I was referred here from the Larchmont clinic I was going to and I actually started the hormone process for IVF with them,” I explained. “I already picked out the donor… uh… samples…”
“Samples?” asked Dr. Roberts, as if pretending to be confused. “Oh, you mean the sperm?”
He chuckled.
I could feel my cheeks turning bright red. I was beginning to question my decision to be here or, at the very least, started to wonder if he would be the right doctor for this procedure.
He was not like any other doctor that I’d ever seen. His bedside manner seemed to involve being playful and charming. Not to mention the fact that he was totally hot.
The article that Judy sent me, which I’d studied a lot at home, had not included a photo of him. But in real life, he looked just as amazing as his resume sounded in the article. He had dark, curly hair, dark brown eyes and looked like an athlete.
I really shouldn’t be attracted to my fertility doctor. I knew this, but I figured that I was already here and obviously he must know something about the process, so I dismissed the thought.
“I also had the consultation here with your clinic, as you mentioned,” I told him, getting back to business so as not to let my lustful thoughts interfere with the purpose of this appointment. “As I told that nurse, I’m excited to hear of and to try your method instead of having to do all the other stuff, maybe.”
“Yes, it is definitely what most of my patients find appealing,” he said. “Of course, it doesn’t work for everyone and I’m sure they went over the odds and the risks and all of that during your consultation and check-up. But do you have any questions?”
“Nope,” I said, shrugging. “Other than, when can we get started?”
My heart pounded, ready to finally try to have a baby.
“Right away! Can you lean back and put your feet in the stirrups here?” he asked, gently touching two metal arms which hung out from the ends of the table.
I leaned back and closed my eyes.
I could hear him fiddling around with some instruments.
“Go ahead and open your legs, please,” he instructed, his soft, globed fingers grazing the inside of my thighs.
I took a deep breath and did as I was told.
He eased a piece of cold plastic inside me, stretching me open as he clicked the device into place. I jumped, not expecting to feel so exposed.
But considering the fact that I had never even had sex, I shouldn’t have been so surprised. It had been embarrassing to have to inform both fertility clinics of that little fact.
Who the hell tried to have a baby when they had never before even had sex?
Me, that was who.
I couldn’t help it, though. I hadn’t wanted to give up my virginity to just anyone, and I hadn’t found the right guy – or even a semi-right guy – and after a while, it simply became easier for me to keep holding onto it. It had started to become like a part of my identity or something.
I figured it was a good thing, since I wouldn’t be distracted with dating or sex when I became a mom. There would be plenty of time for that later, when my child was in school and perhaps I ran into a single dad in their class.
I needed to turn off my brain, as it was going a million miles a minute. I was relieved when, after a few seconds of shining a flashlight inside of me, Dr. Roberts took it out.
“So, tell me more about your fertility history. I know you did the whole run down with my clinic and your last one, and I glanced at your file to make sure you were in the right place” – with this, we both chuckled – “but I have to admit I have a lot of patients and I find that the best way to remember what’s going on with each of them is simply to talk to them.”
“That makes sense,” I told him, even though I was not looking forward to having to go through all the embarrassing details again.
I was sure that if I had more traditional circumstances for winding up at a fertility clinic, I would have appreciated the time and concern he was showing for my exact history and situation. He really did seem like a good doctor, and I was grateful for Judy once again.
Not to mention that this procedure was a third of the price of the IVF I had been thinking I would get. She had saved me money along with saving some of my sanity.
“Have you had challenges getting pregnant naturally?” asked Dr. Roberts, while he was running his hand across my belly and pushing down softly. “Has your partner been checked for any issues?”
“No,” I answered. “I’m not in a relationship and haven’t even been trying to conceive a baby naturally. I’ve just decided that I want to have a baby and I really don’t see why I should wait.”
I started to fidget uncomfortably.
Even though I understood why we were talking about it now, I wished I didn’t have to. I had had this same conversation with my mother, several married mom friends, and anyone who felt the need to ask why my uterus had not as of yet produced a child.
“It’s okay,” said Dr. Roberts, a softness about his voice that almost threw me off. “I see plenty of women who feel the same way that you do. Usually, though, by the time they come to me, it’s been after several failed pregnancy attempts, so they want to address the problem medically. So, you’re telling me that you haven’t had any previous pregnancies?”
He picked up my flimsy file folder from the counter and started writing in it.
I would have to have had sex for that, I thought.
But I wouldn’t dare share that embarrassing tidbit with this surprisingly handsome and charming doctor.
“Right,” is all that I answered.
“I usually like to ask women who come in with your story this question, so I hope that you don’t take it the wrong way,” he said. “What makes you so sure that having a baby on your own is what’s best?”
There it was: the million dollar question.
I gave him the answer that I’d rehearsed and given to others many times before.
“I have a very vibrant and thriving career as a lawyer, so I know that, financially, I am in an incredible position to take care of a baby. The catch 22, though, is that, because I work so much, I simply haven’t found much time to date. And the guys I have dated have been absolute jerks. I decided to write off the whole idea of dating, as I don’t need a man who is going to treat me like shit, just so that I can become a mother.”
He was looking at me intently. I shook my head, mumbled “sorry,” and told myself to get to the point. The medical point. Because this doctor wasn’t here to listen to the soap opera that had been my life. He didn’t care about my dating history; he only cared about why I was here.
“It’s fine,” he said, nodding his head gently. “Continue.”
Perhaps the look had only been one of curiosity or astonishment.
“So, anyway, instead of waiting on Mr. Right, this imaginary guy who may never show up, I decided I’d rather take advantage of what I do have: a ticking biological clock. I say ‘ticking’ because as far as I know, and according to the tests my regular ob/gyn made me take before she would even agree to refer me to a fertility specialist – um, the Larchmont one, before you – I still have a chance at having a baby. So, basically, all that’s missing is the guy, and from what I understand, your fine establishment has a way to hook me up with what I’m missing. Is that right?”
Dr. Roberts smiled sweetly, putting his large but gentle hand on my shoulder.
“That’s right. We can definitely help you. Now, have you raised children before, is the next question? No step children, little siblings, maybe nephews or nieces?”
“No, none” I admitted, slowly shaking my head. I was an only child and my life had been surprisingly bereft of little children, which may have been why I felt the need to have one so badly. “But I know that I will be a great mom. I just know it. I simply haven’t found anyone that I want to be with.”
“Well, if you lean back again, I can do my part to make your dreams come true.”
He held something that looked like a turkey baster filled with white liquid.
Sperm.
It was the sperm he had chuckled about earlier.
But I told myself not to think about that.
Instead, I leaned back and closed my eyes while he did his thing.
“Now, if this doesn’t work, we can try again, but you’ll have to set up another appointment,” he was saying. “And don’t worry. If several attempts don’t work, we can move on to the IVF were going to do, anyway. It’s good that you are on the hormones, to increase the number of eggs you release, since that will help your chances with this procedure, and you’re already on track for IVF if we do need to try that next.”
I looked down at Dr. Roberts, who was focusing between my legs, and I couldn’t help but notice once again how attractive he was. His dark, curly hair covered his head like a mop. The masculine scent of his cologne permeated the room and added to his appeal.
Stop it, I told myself.
The last thing that I need is a schoolgirl crush complicating what is supposed to be a simple procedure at the doctor’s office.
And not just any procedure. The one that had the potential to give me what I had been wanting so badly.
But, the more that I told myself not to be drawn to him, the more I found it harder not to be.
Chapter Three - Ted
The alarm on my front door chirped loudly as I walked into my home, my sanctuary.
I barely stopped to turn it off before making a beeline straight for my home gym. I’d had it built on as an addition to my spectacular home a couple years ago. And I definitely put it to good use.
“You aren’t even going to use it,” teased Ron, my old college roommate, on one of his visits to my new house shortly after the gym had been built. “It’s just going to be like your gym membership that’s collecting dust in your wallet.”
I winced, thinking of the gym membership that I had never even used. But that was because I was always busy working. And having a gym at home would help me stay fit because there wasn’t a commute.
When I got into the gym, I put loud rock music on the stereo and warmed up on the treadmill. Even though I knew that staying fit was part of a healthy lifestyle (and it was something that I constantly preached to my patients), my visit to the gym that day was less about fitness and more about blowing off steam.
For some reason, I couldn’t stop thinking about Anne McAllister, the new patient that I had seen today. She was incredibly beautiful, especially when she smiled. I kept finding myself cracking jokes, just to try to see her smile that seemed to cover her porcelain-like, freckled face.
Her green, almond-shaped eyes had a light in them that I had never seen before. And I all but melted when she would look at me.
I couldn’t deny I loved her curves. I had always been a sucker for wide hips and full breasts. And even though I knew I shouldn’t be thinking of my patient like this, as a red-blooded male, I couldn’t help but think how I would love to bend her over and grab a hold of her round ass cheeks while I fucked her.
I told myself not to have such thoughts.
Plus, what I particularly liked about Anne was that she was as smart as a whip. I could tell by the way she formulated her words, selecting them carefully so that they almost had the lilt of songs.
I pressed a button on the treadmill to pick up the pace.
One thing I couldn’t understand, though, was with so much beauty, brains, personality, and an excellent career to boot, why didn’t she had a boyfriend or husband that she could have a baby with?
Surely, she could have had anyone that she wanted.
Or was there something that I was missing?
I was starting to break into a sweat and my breathing was becoming labored. I tried to focus on my workout more and on Anne McAllister less.
This wasn’t like me, to fantasize about patients. I had always been very professional, in spite of the nature of my work. But, for some reason now, my mind just kept going back to Anne.
I had spent so many years building my career and reputation. And as I looked around at what my buddies liked to jokingly refer to as my “man castle,” I knew that it had all paid off. I was a rich doctor whose claim to fame was starting up and running successful fertility clinics, and who was known for bringing back a technique that could work instead of or along with newer technological methods.
I had done countless speaking engagements, being interviewed and even teaching about IVF to those in the field as well as to students. I was well known and respected as one of the top doctors in the industry.
And it was largely due to my professionalism. I had seen other doctors come and go because
they couldn’t keep their dicks in their pants and would get involved with a patient romantically. Or even just sexually.
So, I knew firsthand that getting involved with a patient would spell death to my practice and career. In fact, I usually wouldn’t even toy with the idea of dating a patient.
But, as hard as I tried to dismiss the thought, I kept thinking about Anne. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to go out with her on a date. I just knew that she would be interesting and sexy and…
What was wrong with me?
I had all the reasons in the world why I shouldn’t be thinking of her, but it seemed like she was all that I could think about at all. It was almost like I couldn’t help myself.
I pushed another button on the treadmill and slowed down to a halt. It didn’t seem like working out was helping me with distracting my mind. I walked back down the dark hallway to the living room, grabbed the TV remote, and sunk down into my leather couch.
Then I started flipping through the channels. But nothing was really catching my attention.
This was why I really didn’t watch much TV, I thought to myself, tossing the remote aside, then rubbing my temples and closing my eyes. Even with my eyes closed, I just kept picturing Anne’s face.
Is this really what all these years of being a bachelor has done to me?
One visit from a pretty woman at the practice and she’s all I can think about?
But I knew that wasn’t it. There had been tons of beautiful women who walked through our doors before and I had never had this reaction. In fact, I often found comfort in the fact that I was a bachelor because it had been my experience that dating was often more trouble than it was worth.
Some women seemed to be like vampires when it came to dating rich doctors. They always seemed to want to rush to the altar or, at the very least, seemed to want me to get them pregnant with one of my… what had Anne called it… my samples?
I couldn’t help but laugh out loud now that I thought again about how she’d said that. My laughter bounced off the walls of my house and landed back in my ears, sounding like tinny raucous. Anne had been so cute without even trying to be.