by Kat Addams
“For a baby name, silly!” she groaned.
“Oh. But what if it’s a boy? Would the opposite of Penelope be Peter?”
“We can’t name our boy Peter. People would make fun of him his whole life because that is a penis!” She laughed.
“Well, I guess that leaves out Willy. Or Johnson. Or Dick. Or Richard. Or Donger. Or Thomas.”
“Thomas? Is that an Australian term for a penis?”
“No. Not exactly. Just mine. Well, Tom for short,” I said, sticking my hand under the covers and giving ol’ Tom a pat.
“You named your penis Tom?” Layla giggled in that singsong voice that always drew me under her spell.
Tom stirred.
“My parents were very conservative. They were great parents, supportive and loving, but they skimmed over reality a lot. Sometimes, that was a good thing. They shielded us from the terrible things in life as much as they could and let us be children. We weren’t allowed much television, and watching the news was out of the question. But, sometimes, their methods weren’t that great either. Proper terms weren’t used in my house. I didn’t even know what a penis was until I was thirteen. My mother had always told us just to wash our Tom, and that was it. Everything I learned about my Tom, I learned from friends at school and porn magazines I’d swiped from the corner gas station as a teen.”
“Whoa. This is a lot of information at once, Aiden! First, you have a penis named Tom; second, you were sheltered; and third, you stole porn magazines? Jeez Louise! You’re a bad boy.” She giggled again. “What did you learn in porn magazines?” Her voice became low, sighing, soft. She’d sounded the same way in the back of my car when she asked me to stick her with just the tip of Tom.
It only took me a split second of thinking before I decided on my next move. Just because Layla was pregnant—with my child, no less—didn’t mean that we had to stop fooling around. It was perfect. We didn’t have to worry about birth control at all anymore because what was the worst that could happen? We could still be friends with benefits. Besides, her carrying my child was a turn-on.
“Layla,” I started to offer her my proposition, but she caught me off guard with a moan and a faint humming noise.
“Aiden, just because we’re in this predicament, things don’t have to stop. If you know what I—mmm—mean. I hope this doesn’t scare you. But I’ve been so ravenous lately. I guess it’s my hormones. I have needs. I need to be touched. So … bad.” She sucked in her breath through her teeth.
Tom stood at attention, bobbing up and down, as if in agreement. I closed my eyes and gave him a firm stroke.
“Layla, are you … is that a vibrator I hear?” I grunted, tugging my dick.
“I can’t help it. I told you, hormones! Besides, what’s the worst that could happen if we kept fooling around to meet each other’s needs? Not like I can get pregnant again!”
My eyes flung back open. She had taken the words right out of my mouth. I didn’t need to make myself look like a fool by asking her if we could still do the naughty stuff. This was why we made such great friends. Birds of a feather.
“I like the way you think,” I growled. “And I also like the way you sigh. I like the way your lips nibble mine as you get closer to coming, and I like the way your legs wrap around my hips, pulling me in close. Tight. Needy. I like the way you giggle into my ear, and I like the way you buck against me when I bury myself deep into you. I like the way your breasts bounce with each thrust of my cock and the way your eyes flutter back when my balls slam against your arse.”
“Keep going.” Her voice shook.
I wanted to tell her that I liked her pretty-in-pink style, glitter and all, or the way she wore her hair, wild and untamed. I wanted to tell her that I liked her drive and ballsy attitude, which perfectly balanced with her nurturing side. I wanted to tell her that when we’d hugged that one time, she had fit perfectly into my arms, and I wanted to do it again and again, but instead, I stuck to friendly pats on the back.
I’d love to tell her how when she came up behind me and rested her hand over my shoulder, it gave me a sigh of relief that she was there. Finally there. With me. I wanted to tell her that for the sake of our child—and maybe for the sake of me too—we could try this relationship thing. We were friends, perhaps even best friends. What could go wrong? I needed to get my head out of work a bit anyway.
But I chickened out.
“I like the way you exhale as soon as I slide into you and the way your body relaxes at my touch,” I said, tucking back anything that might have taken us out of the friend zone.
I stopped stroking my cock and listened to her breathe. When her breaths quickened, it amped up my dirty talk
“You’re such a beautiful, fertile goddess. I want to take your nipple in my mouth and taste your life force.”
Silence.
Click.
The vibrator turned off.
“Life force?”
“Sorry. Sorry! Fuck! What I meant was, your milk. I just had this image of you riding me with your big, beautiful breasts in my face, dripping. And … well, I’ve never been into that kink, but at the moment, it sounded hot. Milk. Not life force. Damn it. I screwed that one up.” I kicked my leg out of the covers, fanning myself with the blanket.
Click.
I heard the low hum of the vibrator turn back on.
“I’m going to ride you until your dick is raw, squeezing my nipples and spraying you with the sweet nectar from my goddess breasts. You’re going to taste me, drinking every last drop until you’re my dirty little milk bucket.”
I didn’t care how weird this was getting. I began stroking Tom so fast that I thought I might start a fire under these sheets.
“Mmhmm. Give it to me, Mama. You’re so fucking sexy. I want all of you. I want to worship the dirty little fertile goddess you are. Fall at your feet, working my way up until I taste you between your legs too. I want every bit of you squirting in my mouth.”
“Fuck!” she cried, her voice wavering in and out in that familiar sound she made right before she came.
My eyes rolled back into my head as I gripped my dick and tugged the poor thing until he couldn’t take it anymore. He throbbed in my palm, pulsing out hot loads all over the place. I tried to keep him steady, but once Tom got going, he tended to spray like a demon-possessed fire hose. I even felt a spurt of sticky slap the side of my nose.
We sighed into the phone, slowing our breaths together before laughing. It wasn’t an awkward giggle at all. Nothing had felt awkward about what we just did, not even the milk bucket comment.
“Aiden?” she asked.
“Yes?”
“Thanks, friend. I needed that. I’m going to go to sleep. I’ll text you tomorrow,” she said before hanging up.
Friend-zoned again.
I turned the shower off and grabbed a towel, ignoring my hard-on. I didn’t have the time to tickle Tom. I’d spent too long in the shower, contemplating how, last night, Layla and I had gone from picking out baby names to having breastmilk-fetish phone sex, which was why my dick was standing erect—again. I hurried into my closet, rifling through my drawer for socks and underwear. I grabbed whatever was at the top of the drawer and sat down on the edge of my bed.
I had a meeting with the realtor on a potential property that had recently become available, and even though my brain was on Layla and babyland, I had to focus on being as professional and business savvy as possible. After all, everything I did now would be my child’s future inheritance, just as I had inherited my parents’ restaurants.
My phone dinged on the nightstand beside me. I reached over, stretching to grab it. I expected Jay wanted to tag along with me today. We’d both seen the site before but never toured inside the old place. In its prime, the building had housed a popular, old Italian restaurant. But the aging owners had recently retired and decided to sell it and move back to Italy. The space came with a decent kitchen and equipment, according to my realtor, and the location s
at right around the corner from the university, where business had been booming recently.
The entire university district had reinvented itself last year by catering to the hipster, crafty, artsy vibe, which had sprung up in Outer Forks. It was perfect for the idea I had for Scarlett Herb, the second. This time, I wanted to build a more down-to-earth restaurant but still keep the fancy meals, just on a more college-friendly budget.
I unlocked my phone, opening my texts.
A picture from Layla popped up on my screen. She was posed sideways in the mirror in nothing but a bra and panties. She held the phone up with one hand and rested the other on her growing belly. It stuck out like she’d eaten an entire pizza the night before. I knew because I’d been doing that a lot lately—stress eating—one of my many talents … or faults. I stared at her picture, zooming in on her face and her belly. I’d heard of a pregnancy glow but never actually seen one until now.
Layla’s face lit up as bright as a sunbeam. Her cheeks were beginning to soften in a chubby cherub face that warmed me from my toes to my earlobes. Her smile was the epitome of happiness, radiating joy, even through the phone. I caught myself goofily grinning and cleared my throat, exiting out of her picture and reading her text.
Layla: 20 weeks. This little nugget is growing and decided to wake me up today. I felt a fluttering in my stomach last night. It had to have been her. I’ve felt it off and on all morning. She’s active! Not sure where she gets that from. Maybe it’s because we took dance lessons right before she was conceived. Maybe she’s practicing the swing in there. Just thought you’d like to see. I also wanted to remind you of our appointment on Friday. Hope you have some baby names in mind. No Peters or Toms.
I thought back to the night before and all of the things I’d wanted to say, but I glanced at the time and decided to put that idea away for later. Maybe after Friday’s ultrasound, we could talk. I’d feel her out and see if she wanted to invest in something more than mates.
Me: You are as beautiful as spring’s first blossoms. I can’t wait until I can feel that little nugget too. I’ll see you Friday.
I stood up, tucking my phone into my back pocket, and grabbed my keys and wallet. I took one step forward and two steps back, repeating myself until I was dancing out the door. I was pretty sure I wasn’t performing the correct steps I’d learned in class, but I didn’t care. I happy-danced my way to my car, my meeting, and into my new restaurant. Hopium. It was a hell of a drug.
When Friday arrived, I took the morning off not only to see my baby in Layla’s belly, but also to share the good news that Jay and I had signed the contract on the new space. In about two weeks, I would begin to build a new dream with my new place. The old Italian restaurant had great bones. I wouldn’t need to gut the entire site. The exposed beams, metal fixtures, and brick were all a part of my vision anyway. I’d add fresh paint, swap a few fixtures out, hang trendy and local artwork. My real project would be the massive bar I envisioned.
I wanted the bar built completely custom, upscale yet not. Somewhere college kids could grab a craft cocktail without breaking their budget. The entire craftsman atmosphere would fit in well with the local vibe. Even Jay had become excited about our new project. We’d been huddling at our bar over the last few nights, discussing our dreams and ideas until we closed. I couldn’t wait to tell Layla all about it. After all, she took her courses right around the corner, and I’d be able to help her by watching our baby at the new restaurant, just like my parents had watched me playing at their feet while they ran their restaurants.
I sat in Celeste’s waiting room, glancing at the clock on the wall. Layla was running late again. Usually, I didn’t mind the few extra minutes she took. But I could barely contain my excitement today and wished she’d hurry up. I tapped my foot on the floor, rifling through a stack of magazines.
“Someone is impatient to see their little one,” Deb said.
I’d met her briefly the last time I was here with Layla. She had tried to explain to me her role as a doula, but I was still confused over what exactly she did. It sounded a bit New Age. If Layla had asked my opinion, I would have told her to go straight to a doctor’s office. But I wasn’t the one birthing the child, and I knew better than to open my mouth about what I thought I knew about labor and delivery. Besides, Celeste seemed more than ready to handle any situation and even kooky Deb too.
“Not impatient. Just excited.” I smiled, thumbing through a parenting magazine.
“Sorry!” Layla burst through the door. “I’d give you an excuse as to why I am late, but I don’t have one.” She hurried to the front desk, signing her name before plopping down next to me.
My eyes hadn’t left her growing belly.
“What’s that look for?” she asked.
“You’re stunning. Radiant!” I caught her eye.
She did look gorgeous, but my focus was on the way her stomach poked out like a football. Of course, I’d never tell her that. I gulped, hoping my baby didn’t have an oddly shaped head or giant feet or whatever it was making Layla’s belly stick out abnormally.
Layla eyed me, smiling. “Thank you. You look pretty stunning yourself in that tie.” She wiggled her brows.
“Ha! Have you ever seen me without one?”
She tapped her chin, cocking her head to the side. “No. You usually throw it over your shoulder when you’re on top. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen you entirely naked. And I don’t think you’ve seen me entirely naked either. Hmm.”
I had no idea how our conversations kept leading to sex or sexy times or whatever, but I didn’t fight it.
“No, I haven’t. But I think staring at you in the nude would have me awestruck and speechless. You’re divine.”
And a little lopsided, I thought as my eyes fell to her belly again.
It was only days ago she’d sent me the picture of her plump, round belly. Now, it looked as if she had grown two times her size overnight.
“You Aussies sure do have a way with words.” She sighed, reaching for my hand and placing it on the football. “Feel this.”
“I can’t feel anything!” I pouted.
“Really? Try here!” She moved my hand.
“Nope.”
“Huh.” She folded her arms across her chest and leaned back into the chair.
I cupped my hands around my mouth and leaned in, putting my lips next to the football baby. “Hey there, little nugget! I’m excited to see you today!” I patted Layla’s belly and sat back up to the tune of Deb’s and Layla’s laughter.
“This one’s going to be a good father,” Deb said before disappearing behind the desk.
“Layla! Come in!” Celeste said, opening the door and beckoning us back toward the ultrasound room. “Are you ready to see if you’re having a baby boy or a baby girl?”
“Yes!” I nodded.
Or a football baby.
I wanted to ask Celeste if everything was normal, but the thought of me pointing out Layla’s odd-shaped stomach would likely result in the entire DTF gang showing up at my place of business and handing my arse to me.
“It’s a girl. It has to be. I’ve been craving only sweets. Isn’t that a thing? I heard that was a thing. Sweets for a sweetie-pie princess.” Layla hoisted herself onto the table with my help and leaned back.
Celeste peeled down Layla’s maternity pants, squirted the jelly on her mountain peak, and rolled the wand over our child—or abomination. I’d find out whichever it was soon enough.
“Dad, any guesses before the big reveal?” Celeste asked, her eyes glued to the screen in front of us.
“If Layla says it is a girl, I believe her.”
“Look at you, believing women. Do they teach you that over there in Oz? We could use more men like that in the States. Never mind you. I’ll not get off on that tangent. We’re here to see this baby … ready?” She looked from Layla to me and back again.
Layla shut her eyes tight. “Yes. Let’s hear it. Dear Lord, baby Jesus, ple
ase make it a—”
“Girl!” Celeste shouted. “It’s a baby girl!” She clapped her hands together. “Believe women!” she shouted again before clearing her throat and simmering herself down.
Layla laughed. “Believe women!” she shouted. “I told ya I was having a girl!” She smacked the back of her hand against my arm.
My eyes were glued to the screen, checking for an abnormally large head on our baby girl.
“I believed you. But, Celeste, is everything else okay? Is she a healthy girl? Does she look all right? That’s all that matters to me. And Layla’s health. If both of my girls are healthy, I’ll be able to rest easier.” I tugged at my tie, loosening it before wiping my sweaty palms down my pants.
Celeste continued moving the wand around and pressing buttons on the ultrasound machine. “Yep. These measurements I’m taking right here show all is well. Nothing abnormal going on. Both mama and baby girl look as healthy as can be. Let’s listen to the heartbeat again.” She turned the dial, sending my daughter’s heartbeat thumping off the walls.
I breathed a sigh of relief.
Nothing was wrong with my child, only the way Layla was growing her. I could rest assured that she didn’t have an odd-shaped head or a giant big toe.
“It’s because my stomach is shooting out like a torpedo, isn’t it?” Layla pursed her lips, staring up at me from the table. “That’s why you asked.”
“What?” I gasped a little too loudly. “What do you mean?”
“Hold up,” Celeste said, pushing a button beside her and paging Deb into the room. She quickly wiped Layla clean and pulled her pants back up and her shirt down, covering her belly.
Deb shuffled into the room and cooed at the screen. “You rang, madam?”
“Congratulations on your healthy and normal baby girl, you two. Deb will get you set up with another appointment, and I will see you soon. If there’s anything you need in the meantime, give us a call. I’m out!” Celeste smiled, leaning down to Deb. “Tag, you’re it!”
Deb nodded, and Layla burst into tears.