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Chapter 6- For Celebration
“Marco, hey, I need some grown-up advice, man. Give me a call.” I left the message on his voicemail first thing Monday morning, knowing he would be working and wouldn’t answer. I didn’t want to have to try to explain anything over the phone, but I really needed to talk to someone. Marco had always been more like an older brother to me, and once he had gotten married, Becca had relished the role of big sister.
During the drive back from the wedding, I had done a lot of thinking. In between listening to my new albums, I had thought about what to tell Claire. Then I had started questioning my decision and back-tracking. I was mostly afraid of how she would take the news, especially if I told her that I had been withholding critical information.
Then I thought, well, what if we could make this something more? We’d both insisted we wouldn’t and that we didn’t want that, but we enjoyed being together, the sex was outstanding (when we had it), and it would mean I didn’t have to be alone. But eventually, the truth would come out- once Claire failed to get pregnant, there would be tests, there would be tears, and there would be an end to it all. No, that wasn’t going to happen.
I spent the rest of Monday catching up with my assistant, checking on the status of all the work that I had missed. Then I started fleshing out the proposal I had told Claire about, sketching out some ideas to discuss with my graphic artist. The hotel had given me some good ideas, but what had most impressed me was the church grounds. I worked on something with a sanctuary/monastic feel to it.
Marco called me that afternoon. “Is it urgent?” he asked. “Becca would rather I didn’t leave tonight, but I’ve got a late lunch open tomorrow…”
“Not urgent. I can do a late lunch- wanna meet me at that sandwich place near your office?”
“Jelly’s Deli? Yeah, sounds good. Is 1:30 too late?”
“Perfect. Thanks, Marco.”
“I love ya, Russ. Take care.”
It was late June, and the apartment complex was finally cleaning the community pool. It had been open since Memorial Day, but it looked gross to me, and apparently to almost everyone else. They had gotten in cleaned over the weekend, however, and so I got home from work, threw my bag on my couch, changed into my trunks and ran out to the pool.
It was nice and refreshing, though not nearly as refreshing as I knew it would feel after one of the days when I had been working outside all afternoon. I wasn’t the only one enjoying the sun and water- our neighborhood was close enough to a university that we had more than a handful of college students living among us, even in the summer. At least a half dozen of the deck chairs were taken by young coeds sunning themselves. I tried not to look, not wanting to get myself horny with no outlet for my lust.
After a few minutes of sinking to the bottom and trying to swim a lap without surfacing, I was resting on the steps, wiping the water from my face. One of the coeds in a modest black bikini stood up and walked my way. The water made my eyes foggy, but I could still see her shape approaching me. She walked right up next to me and squatted down. I could tell she had dark hair and sunglasses, but if I turned my head I’d get a face full of boobs, which might be awkward.
“Hey handsome,” she said in a deep, sultry voice. “If you’re free tonight, why don’t you come over to my place and…watch some TV.”
I turned my head, pulling it back to look at her face. Claire pulled off her sunglasses and beamed at me. I hung my head and laughed.
“You really didn’t see me over there?” she asked.
“I’m trying not to look that direction. It can only end in frustration for me,” I said, trying not to sound bitter. Claire didn’t seem to know how to respond, maybe recognizing that there really was some sacrifice on my part to keep the terms of our agreement. But then a wicked smile formed on her face and she said, “Maybe after you knock me up, I’ll complain to some of the girls around here about the loud sex noises coming from your apartment. I’ll tell them you seem to have a way of making the ladies beg for more.”
“Claire…” I warned her, more worried about having a visible reaction in my trunks than about the silliness of what she was suggesting.
After a moment of quiet, she said, “Well, anyway, I wanted to say thank you again for coming out to the wedding last weekend. You helped keep it from being a complete emotional disaster for me.”
“I’m just amazed that you’ve turned out so normal, after seeing where you’re coming from. Have you ever gotten therapy or anything? Because your mom…jeez! I can’t imagine living with that every day.”
Claire nodded slowly. “My sophomore year at university I got some help. And a few times since then. Which, by the way, is why I can’t adopt. They see the word ‘depression’ in your history and it’s almost immediately rejected. But anyway…just getting anadolu yakası escort far away from my family made all the difference in the world.” As she finished speaking, Claire lost her balance and grabbed my shoulder to steady herself. Then she pushed herself into a standing position and said, “I’m going back to my chair. This music doesn’t listen to itself, you know.” She put her earphones back in and returned to the lounge chair she had been on. Knowing Claire was there now made it hard not to look over every now and then.
But soon my stomach convinced me that I had waited long enough for dinner, and I went over to get my towel. I looked Claire’s direction as I dried off. Her sunglasses made it impossible for me to see if she was even awake, but just as I looked over, she lifted her head and held up seven fingers to me. I could see her eyebrows were raised, asking a question. I gave her a discreet thumbs up, remembering she had asked about watching some TV that night. Unfortunately, we had so often correlated TV with our monthly sessions that the thought of watching the show with her caused my cock to stiffen as I walked up the stairs to my apartment. I worried that, after my experience with Claire, I would forever find detective shows to be strangely arousing.
The next afternoon, I met Marco for lunch. I was glad for the late time, because it meant the restaurant wasn’t crowded; we could sit in the corner and not be overheard. Once we got our sandwiches and sat down, Marco said, “So what’s up?”
I clenched my teeth and breathed in deep. I still hadn’t decided how much to tell Marco, but I started with just summarizing how things were going. We’d tried for three months now, we were also hanging out together, I had gone to a wedding with her- basically that we were becoming friends.
Marco interrupted me and said, “You’re not falling in love with her, are you? I mean, that’s fine if you are, but that’s not what this is about, is it?”
“No…no, I don’t think so. I thought about that. She’s really great, but I don’t feel that way about her. I don’t have that desire to bare my soul to her and start rearranging my future around her. But just the same, it would be nice to have someone in my life…but no, that’s not it.”
“Do you think she’s being straight with you?”
“What do you mean?”
Marco shifted in his seat and finished chewing a bite of his sandwich. I realized we must be quite a sight- him in a suit, me in my landscaping clothes. “Look, I don’t want to go into a big old I-told-you-so. I’m sure I’ll get a chance for that later. But I was thinking, what if this is all a trick? What if the whole, ‘get me pregnant’ thing is just a ploy to get a man? What if she’s trying to snag you? You know, get you to sleep with her and then start building the emotional bond…”
I gave it some thought while we ate for a few minutes. Then I took a big drink of soda and said, “I really doubt it. She’s had her chance to get closer…to build that bond…but she doesn’t do it. She says she doesn’t want to make this more than it is.”
“Maybe she’s just really good at messing with your head, making you the one that pursues her, making you think it’s your idea.”
“Well, there’s that, but that’s not the only thing.” I then told Marco about how Claire didn’t want to have sex. I spoke in a low voice, despite our relative privacy. Marco leaned in to listen and his eyes widened as I described her plan for how it would work.
“You’re shitting me,” he finally said, lowering his voice to just above a whisper. “All this trouble setting it up, and she’s not even willing to have sex to make it happen? And you’re OK with that?”
“Well, no. I pushed back a bit, and…”
“You didn’t force her, did you? Or intimidate her?”
“No! Man…you know me better than that!”
“I don’t know, bro. A woman leads me on like that then says I just get a self-induced hand job with a quick dip at the end, I might get frustrated. Not that it would be OK, but I’m saying I wouldn’t be surprised. You said you wanted some advice, I didn’t know if maybe you got yourself into some legal problems.”
I shook my head in disbelief, surprised that he would think me capable of that. “No…I got her to agree to once a month. You know, mostly the way she wanted it, but once a month we actually…you know.”
“Wow. I mean, Russell, you have gotten yourself into something really weird. How long are you going to stick this out- until she’s pregnant?”
“That’s the thing, man. I think I need to back out. It just doesn’t feel right. The contract doesn’t say anything about that, right?”
“Nah, it just covers what happens after she gets pregnant. I couldn’t legally say anything about the process. You’re not obligated to do anything until she’s knocked up, and then you’re obligated to do nothing- to stay out of the picture. The actual getting knocked atalar escort up part is up to you guys.”
“I guess what I’m really worried about though, is that I don’t want to lose her as a friend. She’s a nice girl Marco, and I’d like to keep up a friendship. That’s what’s so weird. It was easier when she was a virtual stranger.”
Marco didn’t have much to say about that, not that I expected him too. It was too unique of a situation to make any sense. But we talked about it, and we talked about friendships and women and eventually it was time to leave.
“I’ve got a 3 o’clock across town,” Marco said, standing up. “Hey, are you still going to be my grill master at the Labor Day party?” Marco and Becca had a big cook-out the first weekend of every September. They invited a lot of his clients, coworkers and neighbors. I usually had the responsibility of running the grill the whole time.
“Definitely,” I said enthusiastically. “I’ll make sure to bring my own sauces this year.” My homemade barbecue sauces were much better than the bottled ones Marco had insisted on trying last year. And I wasn’t the only one to say so. “Wait…you’re still having that this year? Isn’t Becca…”
“She’s due next month. Should be plenty of time. I just need to make sure I’ve got someone else running point in the kitchen.” Then he added, “Bring Claire, if you’re still friends at that point. Oh, and if your band wants to, you guys should set up on my deck and play a few songs. That would be so awesome!”
“We’re not a band. We just…jam together,” I said, leading us out the door.
“Whatever, just see if they want to play. It’s only for fun, real informal, you know that.”
“I’ll mention it. But don’t count on anything.”
The next few weeks dragged on. The weather was hot, which made work uncomfortable. I ended most days with a jump in the pool, occasionally seeing Claire out there sunning herself. Our next jam session was a short one on Thursday night, and Mona wasn’t able to make it at the last minute. We still had a fun time, though. Steve made a point to tell me, “Mona said she’s really sorry she had to cancel. She was looking forward to this. She said to call her later.”
Claire playfully answered, “Oh, sure, I’ll give her a call!”
Steve looked uncomfortable and stammered, “I…uh…I think…Mona said…”
“Ohhhh,” Claire said, smiling at me, “she wants Russell to call…interesting…”
I quickly changed the topic, mentioning the cook-out and the chance to play. Rusty seemed to like the idea, and Steve said he was always up for something like that, especially if there was free food involved. Claire seemed less enthusiastic, but it was mostly logistics. Moving a keyboard isn’t fun. But at least now I had a clear reason to call Mona, I thought.
July was drawing to a close when I saw Claire at the mailboxes one day. “Is your Saturday free?” she asked. She was smiley and touchy and I wondered a little about Marco’s suggestion that she was playing me.
I confirmed that I was free all weekend, and she said, “Good. Come over Friday for dinner and don’t plan anything for Saturday.”
I realized we hadn’t set our times for the month, and I had perhaps missed the chance to call it off. I had meant to bring it up when she scheduled the times a couple weeks in advance. “Oh…right. OK, I’ll be there.”
I called Mona that week, letting her know about the Labor Day party. She was hesitant to commit, not knowing what work looked like. “Most people don’t go to a restaurant on Labor Day, though,” she said. “So even if both Steve and I are gone, Macy should still be OK with one other chef. I’ll ask her. Was that all?”
“Well, pretty much,” I said lamely. “We missed you the other week. Text me some good times and we’ll get together again. Oh, and I listened to that album you recommended- it was really good.”
“You bought it?” she sounded surprised.
“I bought all the ones you guys mentioned. Yours was…the one I most resonated with. I’d like to play a few of them next time.”
“What about the other ones? The other albums?”
“Well, Steve’s was maybe too artsy for me- I felt like I had to think too much about it while I was listening to it. Claire’s was basic, simple- about what I would have expected. Rusty’s…” I just laughed. It had been weird. One of the tracks was just a group of guys humming while chickens clucked in the background. One song ended with what I guessed was flatulence, and the lyrics probably only made sense when the listener was under some pharmaceutical influence.
“Say no more,” Mona chuckled into the phone. “He’s a character.”
“You know,” I said, “The two of you sharing an apartment would probably be the premise of a great sit-com.”
“Or a murder drama,” she shot back.
“Fair enough,” I said. “But anyway, just let me know about the next get-together. Your ataşehir escort schedule seems to be the busiest, so we’ll try to work around it.”
“OK. You sure that’s all?”
“I think so. Am I forgetting something?”
“Maybe not. Just checking.”
I hung up the phone, more intrigued by Mona, more interested in her, and somewhat more frightened by her. I started to think that she might be my best way out of the arrangement I had with Claire.
Friday rolled around, and I showered after work before heading down to Claire’s. She was happy to see me, and pranced ahead of me into the apartment, her hair bouncing in a ponytail behind her. The smell of home-cooked food greeted me as soon as I stepped inside. I closed the door behind me, and Claire pulled me by the arm into the living room.
“Pull down your pants,” she said with a smile. I slipped them off, and Claire pushed me back onto a soft chair. Kneeling on the floor in front of me, she pulled my cock out through the hole in my boxers. I was on my way to hard, and when Claire took me all the way into her mouth, I quickly got the rest of the way there. She pulled up a bit, unable to take my whole length once I was fully hard.
I could see she wasn’t wearing her trap door pants, so I couldn’t tell what her game was. She began using her mouth and hands to stroke me slowly. I put my hands on the sides of her head, holding gently as she bobbed up and down. It had been over a month since we last had sex and…well…probably a year since my last blow job, so I was quickly rushing to the end. Claire seemed fine with that, speeding up and sucking as she went.
“Claire, I’m close…” I warned her, trying to give enough time for her to get up, lower her pants, mount me and take my cum where she wanted it.
“Mmm-hmmm,” she hummed, not stopping. The vibrations made me gasp, and the indication that she wasn’t stopping made me confused.
“Claire…last chance Claire!” I said with obvious urgency.
She popped her head up, looked at me and with laughter in her eyes said, “Go ahead.” Then she took half my length back in her mouth, sucking on it while she pumped me with her hands. That was all it took to launch me into orbit.
“nnnnggggaaaAAHHH!” I shouted, gripping the armrest with my hands to keep me from pushing her head down onto me. Claire’s hands wrapped around me, clenching tight, but not to the point of being uncomfortable. I released spray after spray into her mouth, pushing my hips up off the chair, trying to get deeper. Claire moved one hand under me and pressed up under my balls, near the entrance to my butthole. The pressure there made my cum feel stronger, more satisfying. I felt another strong couple of squirts release into her just before she pulled back. I watched in fascination as her lips trailed across my cock, taking every trace of my cum with them.
Claire rocked back, sitting on her feet on the floor. She discretely swallowed my load, then picked up two champagne flutes I hadn’t noticed on the end table. She handed one to me, clinked her glass against mine and said, “Cheers!” Then she swished out her mouth with a gulp of sparkling apple juice. I took a swig of my own, then panted a few seconds before asking, “Claire, what the hell was that about?”
She smiled and reached into her back pocket. Pulling out something that looked like a plastic white thermometer, she held it in the air and said, “We’re celebrating. I’m pregnant!”
I sat there stunned for I don’t know how long. I still had that stupid grin that a guy usually gets after an incredible blow job, which made me look excited by the news, but really I just hadn’t responded yet. I was dumbfounded, floored, completely flabbergasted.
“You’re sure?” I said cautiously.
“Yep!” she beamed, standing up and moving onto the couch. “I found out last week, when my period was late. That’s when I told you to come over this weekend. Then I just double-checked this evening. You did it! Which, by the way, explains the sparkling apple juice- no more alcohol for mommy!”
My post-orgasmic grin was slowly replaced by a genuine smile, then an open-mouthed expression of happy disbelief. I wanted to ask if it was definitely mine, but I knew that would be received poorly. I had a lot of questions for her, but now was not the time. I figured I could ask at least one, though. “So the…awesome…blow job I just got from you…?”
“Russ, I am so excited and thankful right now. And I want to show you my appreciation for helping make my dream come true. So since we didn’t need that seed for breeding, I figured the first thing I could do would be to give you something you haven’t gotten since we started this.”
“Claire, that’s…amazing. Thank you. But you didn’t have to do that.”
“I didn’t hear you stopping me,” she teased. “But you’re right, we never said anything about this in our agreement. I just want to say thank you- thank you for getting me pregnant but also for being a perfect gentleman about it. For respecting me, being nice to me, and being my friend.”
“You’re very welcome. And that blow job was more than enough thanks,” I said, still feeling the glow of it.
“That’s just the beginning,” she smirked. “I made us dinner, which you might or might not think is a reward. I’m sure Mona could do better.”
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