“None taken.” I liked that she was looking out for another woman in case the conversation turned inappropriate. Though I wasn’t sure how we could discuss the details without some reference to bodily fluids and jacking off.
“I’ll be fine, Lo,” Franky said. “Thanks for being there for both of us.”
“No problem. I’ll see you at Book Club?”
“Yes. Oh, have you read the latest?—”
“Sure have. Lips zipped.” She shot a furtive glance at me, then back to Franky. “They won’t like it.”
What did that mean? But Lauren had already scooted out, leaving us alone.
“Who won’t like what?”
She offered a saccharine smile. “Nothing you need to worry about. So where were we?”
“Masturbation.”
Her cheeks flushed. “Right. Well, a clinic seems rather sterile, and I don’t see the need to pay someone to insert the genetic material?—”
“My sperm?”
She stood and walked over to the window that overlooked the backyard, and in the distance, Lake Michigan.
“There’s a swing set out there.”
I rose to stand beside her, careful not to touch because—I didn’t know. My fingers itched to do something other than shake hands to seal the deal. Stroke her back, rub her arm, anything to create a connection that superseded the black-and-white of that piece of paper on the coffee table.
We were about to create a life.
“It was here when I bought the place. By the time Super Kid can use that, I’ll need to replace the rusted bones.”
“We had a playset like that in our yard when we were kids. Our dog Gretzky used to go mad when we were on the swings. I miss that mutt.” She turned to me. “I know the idea of masturbating into a cup seems strange. That’s why I’m trying to make it feel, uh, cozier, by facilitating the hand-off at my apartment.”
Cozier? Like Fall vibes for your jerk off sesh? Before I could make a smart-ass comment, she went on.
“And you would need to wait until you get there because the sample should be used within sixty minutes. What if you get into a car accident on the way over, not the kind where you’re hurt, but one where the specimen is damaged or decayed while you’re talking to the police or?—”
“Okay, okay.” I held up a hand. “You’ve obviously done your research, so we’ll do it like that.” I’d take her apartment over a clinic any day, and an on-the-spot wank with the professor close by versus a lonely jerk-off in my empty house.
Though why it mattered that she was close by … well, it mattered for the next step in the process. Her part in all this. It wasn’t as if I’d imagined we would do this in a more personal manner. By having sex.
Sex with Francesca St. James.
Had I thought about it in a non-procreative way? Of course I had! I was a hot-blooded male in my prime who thought about sex multiple times a day, sometimes with one partner, sometimes with multiple, but never with myself. What was the point of a healthy imagination if you didn’t use it for taboo sexual fantasies? So the doc hadn’t entered the rotation until recently, but she was there, and rising to the top because of our current connection.
If she wasn’t dating or in a position to find a man to father her kid, maybe sex wasn’t of interest to her. She was probably one of those cold, clinical types who thought sex should be quick, two pumps and done, to fulfill a biological function or produce a child.
But I could change her mind …
“Jason?”
“Yep?”
She blinked and adjusted her glasses. “You’re looking at me weird. Were you thinking about sex?”
“I’m always thinking about sex.” So much for my poker face. More like poke-her face.
“I’m sure you can’t help it.” She patted my arm condescendingly. “I do have one more thing to discuss. Who else is in the loop.”
