by Penny Wylder
He stands up too, and places a hand on my cheek. He leans down and places his lips on mine, kissing me deeply. It’s unexpected but completely welcome. I breathe him in, memorizing his scent and the way his skin feels under my fingertips. I want to remember everything about him before he leaves and keep him fresh in my memory—though, he’s not the type of guy I could easily forget. But still. I do it anyway, then I rush out of the room before this goes any further.
4
At work the next day, it’s hard to think about anything but the incredible evening I spent with Chaucer—
I chide myself for even thinking of his name. I’m not supposed to know it. I need to get it out of my head. I can’t make the mistake of letting it slip when I see him again.
I’m trying to focus on work, but every time the door opens, I look to see if it’s Megan coming into the office. When she finally waddles in, her ankles swollen, a big-gulp soda in one hand and breakfast burrito in the other, I flag her down. She nods and heads my way, bumping the back of a co-worker’s chair and knocking his jacket to the ground. She weaves through the maze of desks in the huge room, barely able to squeeze by in her condition. She looks at the various items she knocks over as if contemplating picking them up, then shrugs and keeps walking.
She leans against my desk, takes a bite of her burrito and talks with her mouth full. “So, did you go through with it?”
I feel myself blushing and try to tamp down my smile. “I did, and it was just as amazing as you said it would be.”
Megan nudges my shoulder, leaving a grease smear on my shirt. “I told you. And how did you like the man they chose for you?”
I’m practically swooning at the thought of him. “He’s my dream guy. He was so beautiful. It’s too bad I couldn’t have met him outside of the club.”
“You’re lucky. Great sex is an added bonus, but let’s see if it does the trick.” She points at her swollen belly. “But I’m lucky too since I found a man who doesn’t care that I was pregnant when I met him. He’s just as excited about this baby as I am. I even caught him showing his friend an ultrasound picture the other day. He’s already a great daddy.”
“You guys have a really beautiful family.”
It’s hard to choke out those words since everything she’s saying is something I wish I had too. I don’t regret going at this alone, but listening to Megan reminds me that it would be nice to have a partner in this whole thing. Have someone to celebrate the milestones with.
“Did you ever learn the name of the father of your child?” I ask.
She laughs as though I said something funny. “Of course not. He didn’t offer and I didn’t ask. I would never break his trust, or the trust of the club like that. I heard from my friend who recommended the place that Mosaic kicked out a woman before and sued her. She’d found her donor on the internet and contacted him. And besides,” she says, rubbing her belly, “after what they gave me, I’d never betray her like that.”
The guilt of knowing Chaucer’s name is really eating away at me. I want to confess to Megan and get it off my chest, but I can’t bring myself to do it, even though it was an accident and I know she wouldn’t tell Mosaic.
“Yeah, that would be terrible,” I say, and twist in my chair to go back to work.
“When do you go back?” she asks.
“I don’t know, but trust me, I can’t think about anything else,” I say, unable to hide my excitement.
“You’ll probably get a call any day now. You and your partner will keep trying until you get the results you want.”
The thought of being with him again sends a shiver down my spine … and to other parts of my body.
“That’s good to know,” I say.
Sure enough, as soon as I get off work there’s a message for me about my next appointment with my partner. Tomorrow night at 6pm, same room.
When it’s time to go back, I’m more eager than ever. This time we don’t waste time with massages and small talk. As soon as I walk through the door Chaucer is tearing off my clothes. Clothes fly in all directions; my panties land on top of a lampshade.
“I haven’t been able to think about anything else since you left,” he says, his words breathy and forced.
“Me neither.”
Damn these infuriating clothes. His t-shirt hugs his muscular chest, making it a pain in the ass to get off, but when I finally manage, I’m rewarded with the sight of his beautiful body once again. It’s so much better in person than in my fantasies. He smells delectable, a scent I remember all too well. A mixture of his soap and cologne and him. It’s so unique I would know it anywhere.
Our lips crash together, our hands and bodies getting acquainted with each other once again. Our tongues tangle and I enjoy the taste of him and the feel of his teeth and mouth. I can’t get enough of him. I want to crawl inside of him, become a part of him. Before I met him, I always felt as though something was missing. A piece of a puzzle that kept me from becoming whole. Since our night together, I feel complete for the first time ever. It’s a terrifying discovery because I know we can’t be together. Our time is limited and precious. I have to make the most of the time with him while it’s here.
Our bodies collide, skin on skin, breasts to chest, groin to groin. I push him onto the bed and he gets this adorable grin on his face that makes me laugh. When I climb on top of him and straddle his waist, his grin fades into something far more serious.
He’s already hard underneath me, and I take his cock and lower myself onto it, slowly. I feel my pussy stretching around him and I moan as I take it deeper. Watching it disappear inside me makes me wetter, and seeing the effect it has on him sends electricity shooting through my body. When he’s completely inside me, I’m still, adjusting to his size and never breaking eye contact. Is he holding his breath? This is the deepest I’ve felt him inside of me yet, and he’s warm and hard, perfect. He reaches up and touches my breasts, tracing a finger around my nipple, and then the other. He puts another finger in his mouth, and then traces my clit with his wet fingertip. The combination of him teasing my clit and nipples creates an irresistible circuit of desire. As much as I want to stay in this moment, eyes locked and amped up with anticipation, I need him to fuck me, and now.
I roll my hips and he hisses with pleasure. God, he’s deep. I lift my hips, feeling him sliding out of me, but just as I reach the head, I fall down on him again, impaling myself.
“Fuck, your pussy feels good around my cock,” he says. His words shiver through me, turning me on even more.
I ride him hard and fast. I hold onto the headboard and lean down toward him. He catches my nipple in his mouth and sucks. My hair has fallen in his face, but I can still see his eyes, and he’s staring up at me. As I ride him, we hold this connection, and I can’t remember ever feeling this close, this connected, to a man before. He reaches up and laces his fingers through my hair, pulling my face even closer to his, so that we share breath, and I can hear his grunts of exertion and satisfaction.
The intensity increases until it’s too much for Chaucer, and he takes over. He flips me over, his cock never leaving my pussy. He hooks my leg over his shoulder and starts fucking me. Fast. My body quivers with the first signs of orgasm. My moans become louder, my body shaking as the sensation tears me apart. As soon as it happens, I can’t move, I can only feel. Chaucer does the rest for me, holding on to my hips and fucking into me. He explodes inside of me just as the peak of my climax hits and we let out a chorus of sounds that come along with our release.
As soon as my orgasm passes, he slumps down onto me. He remains inside of me while we catch our breath. Even mostly limp, I can still feel his size taking up space in me. I love the way it feels, how warm he is.
I peck lazy kisses onto his neck while he runs his fingers through my hair. Our bodies rise and fall with our breath, and I feel perfectly content. This time was even better than the last, which seems impossible. I feel every inch of my body pressed against his and I don’t want anything to b
reak this spell.
As our breathing returns to normal, he rolls off of me. He turns on his side and props his head up with his hand to look at me. I’m naked and exposed, and even though we’re no longer in the throes of passion, I’m not self-conscious with him looking at me. I feel beautiful in his presence. The way he looks at me makes me feel like the only woman in the world. I know I’m not supposed to fall for him; it’s not allowed. But I can’t help the warmth that spreads through me when I’m with him. This is a man I could love. If I’d have met him on a blind date, or at a bar, this would all be different, but my feelings would be the same. I don’t know for sure if it’s the same for him, but I think it is. People don’t have sex the way we do and not feel something more. A deeper connection. A man doesn’t look at a woman the way he looks at me and not feel something.
Right now, he could just leave. He could walk away when the deed is done, but he doesn’t. He stays. That’s more than I can say about some of the men I’ve been with in the past.
I roll on my side and we face each other. He reaches out and runs his fingers along the curve of my hip. “I still can’t believe a beautiful woman like you is in a club like this. I’m surprised you don’t have men lining up at your door trying to claim you as their own,” he says.
I touch his arm, tracing the muscles the way he’s tracing my hip. We lie together exploring each other with fingertips, studying each other’s faces and taking our time. It feels so good and so natural that it pains me to think we can’t always have this. There’s an expiration date on this happiness, but I try to push that thought aside, and enjoy the time we have together.
“It wasn’t in the cards for me, I guess. I date a lot of toads. Unfortunately, none of them turned to princes.”
“If those men can’t see how incredible you are, you’re better off without them. Sometimes I think women do better without a man anyway. My dad was loser. He just dropped out of the picture and left the burden on my mom. She’s amazing. I have a lot of respect for women who go it alone. But if a woman wants to be with a man, she deserves a man who respects her.”
I stare at him, taken aback by such a personal revelation. I’m surprised he would talk about his life outside of the clinic walls. Isn’t that against the rules? Regardless of the rules, I’m glad he’s sharing these things with me. Knowing how much respect he has for single moms makes me feel even closer to him. It shows the kind of man he is and makes me feel even more confused about the feelings I’m developing for him. It figures I’d fall for the one man who isn’t available. This really sucks.
“How was it growing up with just you and your mother?” I ask. I want to know because when I have a child, I want him or her to be proud of me the way Chaucer seems to be of his mother.
“It wasn’t just us. I have a little brother as well. He was a pain in the ass for us both, but my mom was incredible. We didn’t have much, but at the same time we had everything.”
I smile at that and hope one day my own child talks about me with such admiration.
“Does it bother you at all to know you have children out there that you’ve fathered and will never see?” I ask.
I regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. That’s way too personal of a question to ask. I open my mouth to try and take it back, but he laughs and says. “This is actually my first time with the club. No kids. A friend of mine told me about it. I’m not sure how I will feel about having a child I won’t see. I know I’ll be giving a gift to a woman who deserves it, who actually wants to be a mother—and of course, the sex doesn’t hurt. Maybe that will change when I’m older and when the child is older. I don’t know. Right now I’m just trying to bring happiness to someone who needs it.”
He brushes my hair out of my eyes. “What about you? Tell me about your family and what makes you want to be a mother so badly.”
“I don’t have a family. Not really. I have some friends, but that’s it. I was raised in foster care and aged out of the system without ever being adopted. I think that’s why I want to be a mother, to give a child the life I always wanted for myself. To finally have a family”
“That must have been lonely.”
I bite my lip. I don’t want to cry, but it always hurts when the subject of my childhood comes up. “It was. It still can be at times. Growing up in foster care has made it difficult for me to trust and get close to people. I’ve only ever had myself to depend on.”
“You can always trust me,” he says, laying a gentle kiss on my lips.
I kiss him back, and revel in the comfort of his warmth and the sweetness of his lips. When he says I can trust him, somehow I believe it.
We kiss and things start to heat up, but then the phone starts to ring. “I should get that. It might be work.”
“Of course,” I say.
He answers it and suddenly his face takes on a serious look and his eyes go dark. I want to ask if everything is okay, but I don’t want to interrupt. I’m concerned, though.
Whoever is on the other line has a lot to say. There’s not much on his part. After several minutes he says, “Yes, I understand,” and hangs up.
“Everything all right?” I ask.
He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes and I know something’s wrong. “Yeah, it’s fine, just a work thing like I thought. Unfortunately, I have to go.”
I’m disappointed and it’s hard to hide. He smiles at me. This time when he does it, there’s that familiar warmth that I’ve become obsessed with. I want to hold him and beg him not to leave. I’m not ready for our time together to be over.
I don’t do that, of course. What we have was never meant to last.
“Take care,” I say because it’s the only thing that feels safe to say. Anything else might reveal my true feelings.
When he’s dressed, he stands in front of me and holds my face in his hands. “I am really sorry I have to leave now, but I see we have another appointment in two days. So I guess same time, same place?” His mouth quirks up into a smile. He looks deep into my eyes and kisses me.
“Yes, same time, same place. I’ll be looking forward to it.”
He turns and walks to the door. As I watch him leave I’m disappointed, but I’m also giddy thinking about seeing him again. If this isn’t what falling in love feels like than I don’t know what is.
5
“Okay, okay, it’s my turn now! Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” I say.
It’s our fourth and final appointment for this month. Mosaic said she’d set up more for next month if this round didn’t do the trick. As much as I hope there’s a little baby already growing inside me, part of me wishes these sessions didn’t work, so I could have more time with Chaucer next month.
Room eleven has become a sanctuary for me. Like a bubble. An amazing, sex filled bubble. Not only have I had the best sex of my life in this odd little room, but I’ve connected with a man like I haven’t ever before. Chaucer is the most sensitive, attentive man I’ve ever dated. Scratch that. We really aren’t dating, are we? This entire situation has become confusing, but in these four walls, the complications disappear. It’s just the two of us, focused on each other.
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 t
ake 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.”
