Yeah, okay, a girl could only hold out for so long. I gladly gave in and sent him my agreement in the form of four letters.
Me: Deal.
Will: Lovely doing business with you, Ms. Marco. ;) See you tonight.
I put my phone in my purse and focused my brainpower toward imagining tonight with Will.
Will’s face between my thighs… Will’s mouth on my pussy… Lots of orgasms…
And, suddenly, the sounds of Cassie shouting outrageous bids on every nude wasn’t so stressful anymore.
Today was the day. I was finally going to know what it felt like to have a baby.
Of course, I wasn’t a medical marvel, and Melody, my would-be baby daddy, had been good about remembering to use protection, but as Melody placed the first electrode on my stomach, I geared up to feel labor pain all the same. She’d rented a machine that allowed men to feel stomach contractions via electricity, and from the looks of the line waiting to try it out, it appeared to be the biggest hit of the day.
She’d been organizing this charity event for weeks now, and as I looked around at the crowd, games, and crazy-long line at the booth where donations were made, I grew to nearly bursting with pride. Not to mention all of the pregnant women who’d come to get prenatal care for free. It was obvious there was a demand out there that needed a supply.
“You did a great job on this event, Mel.”
“I know,” she agreed with a smile, and I laughed.
She smacked another electrode sticker down, right on top of some hairs, and I groaned. “Oh man. That one is going to hurt when you pull it off.”
She froze, her eyebrows nearly climbing to her hairline. “You’re kidding, right?”
“What? No? Why would I be kidding?”
“Oh, Will. You’re in trouble. Labor is going to hurt a whole lot worse than a tiny little waxing.”
I hadn’t understood the appeal of this kind of attraction, asking women to bring their men down for an experience in torture. But there literally had been a line of people waiting to do it all day long. The women looked positively gleeful. In fact, even Thatch and Cassie were getting set up a couple of beds down.
“What do you think, William?” Melody teased as she pressed on the last sticker and connected the wires. “Are you ready to have this baby?”
I laughed. “Normally, I’m telling women they don’t have a choice.”
“Exactly. This baby has to come out one way or another.”
For the first time since I’d agree to this, I started to get scared. “But…there’s not an actual baby in there.”
“What are you saying?” she shouted in mock-anger. “Are you saying this baby isn’t mine?”
“Mel…”
“I went on Maury, I took a paternity test, and William, I am the father.”
“Mel…”
She hit the switch to turn on the machine, and I jumped as it buzzed to life. Oh God.
“Ready for your first contraction?”
“I’m not sure… Should I—” I started to ask, but she didn’t wait or answer. Instead, she turned the dial halfway to the max and hit the button to start.
“Oh, Jiminy Cricket!” I shouted. She laughed. “Wow. That…that doesn’t feel good.”
“You thought it would?”
“Well, no…but, good Christ.”
As the squeezing, cramping pressure settled in my stomach, she rubbed at my wrist. “Want me to turn it up?”
“Not really,” I answered honestly, and she laughed again.
“You’re not even in active labor yet.”
“What?” I shouted, and her laugh turned into a cackle. People lingered around us as my shouts turned pained when she racheted up the dial and started my next contraction.
“Oh my God, I think my balls are swelling. Oh Jesus Christ in a tourniquet. Ooh. Oh, fuuuuudgesticks.”
“Almost done,” Melody wheezed out through a chortle. “Just breathe.”
“How do women do this? I mean, I’ve always known. But I’ve never known. You just can’t know until you know.”
“Oh dear. And you haven’t even gotten to the bowling ball out of a tube part yet.”
Panic overwhelmed me as I looked to the countdown screen on my right and strongly considered crying. Another contraction was going to start in twenty seconds, and I wasn’t going to be ready. Hell, I wouldn’t be ready in twenty years, but time wouldn’t wait for me.
“Titties and whipped cream!” Thatch yelled from two beds down. “What the hell setting do you have that thing on, woman?”
“What?” Cassie asked as a bead of sweat rolled off of his forehead. “You’re a big guy. You make big babies. Just making sure you get the real experience.”
I closed my eyes tightly and let my head fall back on the bed. The sound of the two of them was the absolute last thing I’d want to listen to during labor.
Meanwhile, a crowd was starting to form around my bed, patients and employees alike, and I wasn’t sure I liked the feel of that either. “Is this what it’s really like?” I asked all of them. “Just a crowd of strangers watching intently as you go through some of the most horrendous pain of your life?”
Several of them nodded and laughed. “For about twelve hours,” one of them shouted.
“Wow. What a horrifying miracle.”
Melody’s laugh was contagious as she found humor in my torture. Honestly, with this woman, it didn’t really ever matter what she was laughing about, even if it was about me, as long as she was laughing.
“Think you can take more?” Melody asked. I wanted to say no, but a sudden vision of her a couple of years down the road, laboring with our kid, made me reconsider.
“Go ahead,” I offered. “Turn it all the way up. No reason to half-ass it. Plus,” I teased. “I want to hold my baby.”
She did as instructed, turning the dial to the maximum and grabbing on to my hand for support. “Just don’t break my hand, okay?” she requested with a laugh.
I wanted to agree, but as the pain started to roll through me, like an actual violent wave that pulled me under and held me there, I wasn’t sure I could follow through.
“Ahh. Holy hell.” I grabbed my stomach and writhed. “Christ almighty, how is this natural?”
I had to admit, I didn’t think I’d ever done anything that would give me as much perspective as this would. When women demanded the drugs, I’d be a lot more sympathetic to the speed with which it occurred—even if I had to drag an anesthesiologist up to the fourth floor myself.
Feeling normal again, Melody and I took our place in the free care tent to help out with some of the patients who’d made their way down, desperate to see us. Our first one was sitting on the table with her arms crossed protectively over her chest.