The Baby Maker’s Club
Each session has lasted longer than the one before. They always start the same way. The door is barely closed behind me before he starts tugging at my clothes and his lips are seeking my skin. Last time he fucked me standing up, right against the door. He pounced on me in an instant, already naked and rock hard. As he hiked up my skirt, he growled in my ear, “I haven’t stopped thinking about this pussy since the last time I saw you.” Just the sound of his voice makes me wet, and of course the anticipation of seeing him and the memories of our time together had me slick and ready to go. As he tugged aside my panties and positioned the tip of his cock at my entrance, he hissed in a sharp breath, pleased to see I was ready for him. We could hear footsteps and voices in the hallway, so Chaucer kept his hand over my mouth to mute my screams. He fucked me hard and fast, and I knew we’d take our time for rounds two and three.
I wonder if the other couples in the clinic spend so much time behind their locked doors, or if we have something different. Something special. It doesn’t really matter, though. I’ve signed a contract with the clinic and I know the rules. This relationship stays here. It will never exist outside this clinic. I already broke one rule when I looked in Chaucer’s wallet and secretly learned his name. I won’t be making a similar mistake again.
It’s hard to decide what I prefer: the mind-blowing orgasms or the pillow talk between them. Laying side by side, staring into each other’s eyes, whispering our thoughts and hopes for the future. It’s bliss. I love listening to his voice, and the way he looks at me and really listens to me when I tell him about my day or a particular fantasy I have about being a mother one day.
“Truth? OK, I see you’re playing it safe. Tell me, what’s the worst date you’ve ever been on?”
“Oh my God,” I laugh. “Where do I even start? Since I’ve moved to Los Angeles I’ve gone out with a string of losers.”
Chaucer reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. He’s laughing with me and it feels like we’ve known each other forever.
“Well there must be a loser who really stands out,” he says, a mischievous smirk forming on his face. “But if you can’t answer the question, I’ve got a pretty dirty dare you could take. The choice is yours.”
“I bet you do,” I say. “But too bad. There is a date that stands out. I met him online. He told me to really dress up, that we were going someplace upscale; super fancy. I was so excited to finally have a date outside some dive bar or coffee shop. So I bought a new dress, spent way too much money. He picked me up. My expectations were sky high. Turns out, I was his date to his ex’s wedding. That was…awkward. And the cherry on top was that he was insulted I didn’t want to go back to his place after.”
“Wow. You weren’t kidding. It’s a jungle out there,” Chaucer says. “No wonder you’ve given up on dating and chose to have a baby this way.”
That word, “baby,” jolts me. Our sex is anything but clinical, so it’s easy for me to forget why we’re here. Now that he’s mentioned it, I feel self-conscious and pathetic. It’s so easy to delude myself into thinking that Chaucer and I are in a relationship, but the fact is, I’m paying for this experience. If I hadn’t handed over my credit card to Mosaic, Chaucer would be in a room with another woman, maybe even having this identical conversation. In fact, this building is full of women like me, losers who couldn’t find a partner and had to resort to paying for sex to have a baby. How did I get here?
“Hey,” Chaucer says, interrupting my spiral of self-pity. “Where’d you just go? It’s like you drifted a million miles away from me. Did I say something wrong?”
He has true concern in his eyes, and I know he wouldn’t think less of me if I were honest with him and shared my concerns. But being too honest would just make this whole thing more complicated, and why ruin a perfectly nice afternoon in bed with reality?
“I’m just thinking it’s getting late,” I lie. “I mean, you must have someplace to be.”
“Actually, I do have something very important to do,” he says.
As I try not to let my disappointment show, I notice that devilish grin spread across his face, and then he’s lifting me off the bed and heading toward the bathroom.