The Baby Maker's Club

By: Penny Wylder


But then he takes a pillow and tells me to lift my hips. He slides it underneath me so my hips are angled up. When it’s in place, he smiles down at me. “Feet up.” He makes another stack of pillows for my feet. “We need to make sure you get pregnant.”

He leans down and gives me a kiss, then gets up and goes into the bathroom. The shower comes on.

I’m still horny. How is that even possible after what we just did? Images from minutes before flash before my eyes. His body, glistened with sweat. His fingers, buried deep within me. The taste of his cock. I start to touch myself as the memories of this stranger flood me. Being with him has given me enough masturbatory material to last a lifetime. Who needs porn when I have him?

I touch myself, reliving the recent memory. He felt so good inside of me. Sometimes when you’re with a person for the first time, the chemistry is off. Teeth and noses knock together as you navigate those first kisses. You hesitate and feel self-conscious. I’ve always needed time to adjust to new people, even in the best circumstances. But this man, this nameless stranger, I felt like I’ve known him for my entire life. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation or even thought. My body acted on pure instinct and responded to his every move and ministration. There is no denying it. He’s the kind of man I’ve been searching for in the dating apps and at the lousy bars my friends and I gravitate to on Saturday nights. How is it possible that I had to find him this way, when we have no chance at a future together? The sadness of that thought is almost enough to turn me off, but then I think about him taking me from behind, and I’m back again. I keep touching myself, rolling my fingers over my sensitive clit until I come with his sperm still inside of me.

When I’m done, I’m panting, out of breath and feeling weak and hungry. It’s getting late. I should go. The man who might just be my baby’s daddy is still in the shower. I get dressed. His clothes are still flung across the floor where we left them. I decide to fold them and put them in a neat pile for when he’s ready to get dressed. When I lift his pants off the floor, his wallet falls out. It opens when it hits the carpet and his driver’s license is right there in front of me. I don’t mean to break one of the rules of the baby-making club, but it’s right there, staring at me, and I can’t help but see his name and birthday. He’s Chaucer Brigg, thirty-two years-old.

I scramble to put his wallet back in his pants and back where I found them in a pile on the floor. The shower goes off, and I rush over to the bed and pretend to be buttoning my pants as if I’ve just been getting dressed.

He emerges from the bathroom in a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair is wet, torso glistening, every muscle beautifully on display. When he comes over to sit next to me, he smells fresh, the amazing aroma and heat from the shower emanating from his skin.

“That shower would’ve been so much better with you in it,” he says as he brushes the loose hair off my shoulder.

My mouth trembles when I smile. I feel so guilty knowing his name when he has no idea who I am. If I tell him what happened I could get kicked out—even if it was an accident. This is my chance to have a child. I don’t want to blow it. Even though I’m riddled with guilt, I can’t risk saying anything.

“But I guess there’s always next time,” he says.

My eyes open wide. So I might get the chance to be with him again after all. “There’s a next time?” I say.

He nods. “I’m told we’ll have several appointments together throughout the next two weeks.”

Now that the stakes are high, I can’t possibly fess up. I won’t risk my chance of seeing him again. No way.

“Good. I’m glad,” I say.

He looks relieved, as if he weren’t sure I’d be interested in a repeat performance. “Me too.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence. I know if I don’t leave right now, I’m going to say something. My guilt will take over and I’ll end up telling him my name and admitting what I’ve seen. Although we’ve just met, and we owe each other nothing, keeping a secret from him feels wrong.

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