Author's note: This is the first story I've published. I've had the idea one Sunday morning and spent nearly all day writing it out. Over the following two weeks, I couldn't leave my hands off it and started moving parts around, adding things and removing others, until it eventually became what it is. I'd like to give my thanks to Selkiegone who helped me straightening out the plot and my characters, as well as my good friend Zafrumi who proofread the piece and encouraged me to publish it. I've made some further changes after my two editors have done their magic, so any mistakes you'll find are mine and mine alone ;) I hope you'll enjoy. Please leave comments, both good and bad.
"I ... beg your pardon?!" I stuttered, the shock evident in my tone. I replayed the sound of her voice in my mind, trying to find the part where my brain could have played a trick on me and made me mishear her. I couldn't find it.
"You heard exactly what I said," Sam said, trying to keep her voice firm.
I had overcome my initial surprise. "Well, I did hear something, but right now I'd rather call the office of paranormal affairs and have them search this place for a glitch in space or time that might alter sound waves than believe what I thought I heard." Oh, me and my speeches. You'll get your ear full of them throughout this story.
"Why do you make me say it again? Do you enjoy seeing me suffer?" she asked as she tried to keep her composure. She didn't fool her friend of seventeen years.
"Excuse me?" I blurted out. "I think repeating yourself will be the least of your problems considering what you've just asked for – if you've actually asked for what I think I heard you asking for."
'
There is your easy way out, Sam. Please, take it!
' I thought to myself.
I could read the emotions in her big, intense, chocolate-brown eyes like it was in plain writing as she prepared herself to repeat what she had said moments earlier. There was shyness and shame in them – something I hardly ever saw in Sam's eyes.
"Fine," she said and took two deep breaths before continuing, "I want you to ..."
"Lalalalala," I started chanting and plugged my index fingers into my ears, desperately trying not to hear what I was going to hear. Or rather what I thought I was going to hear.
"For fuck's sake, Leon," Sam said in a tone of resignation, "you're thirty-three years old – stop acting like we're still in high school." It wasn't the first time I heard that – she called me incorrigible on a weekly basis.
I tried to be mature. "Sam, you're ..." I stopped, looking for the right words.
"Repulsive?" she mockingly tried to complete my sentence, tilting her head slightly to the side and giving me her best smile.
Repulsive? Sam was the material of every man's wet dream. Five foot seven, flawless olive skin so soft that it begged to be touched, light-brown wavy hair with natural highlights, an angelic face, incredibly long lashes, those big, pretty, chocolate-brown eyes, full lips that always look slightly pouting, C-cup breasts on her slender frame, an hourglass figure that seemed unreal, a tummy and bum just as tight as if she was still sweet sixteen, impossibly long and slender legs, and delicate feet usually wrapped in slutty three inch heels.
Sam was the opposite of repulsive, and that went for both genders.
My resolution to act mature left as quickly as it had come. "I was going to say
gay
. There, I said it. I know this comes as a shock to you, and I held back for seventeen years, but now seems the right time to tell you the truth. You're gay, Sam. You're into women. The kind with boobs and pussies. The kind that bleeds once a month. In case you haven't guessed it until now, I have a cock dangling from between my legs, and if I bleed it comes from a physical..."
"Shut up, Leon. Just shut the fuck up for once," Sam interrupted, again with that tone of resignation in her voice, "Don't you realise how hard this is for me?" Her eyes turned slightly sad now, frustrated, and still ashamed.
"I'm sorry. I'm being an insensitive bastard, aren't I?" I asked in a low, apologetic voice.
Her lips twitched as she prevented a smile. "You're not a bastard, you know your parents. But I think
tosser
would be an accurate description."
"Come here, pal." I said, reaching out for her. She moved over the sofa willingly, sat onto my lap and leaned against my chest as I placed my chin on her shoulder and looped my arms around her.
"Now ... Do you mind explaining to me why you need me to fuck you?" I asked.
It was quiet for a long time after I spoke. The silence lasted so long, I started to toy with the thought that she changed her mind so we could drop this subject and continue as we used to be.
We were Sam and Leon. Leon and Sam. We teased each other, we toyed with each other, we flirted with each other, but it was always clear that that was it – and apart from a dare that got her twenty quid, which she split equally with me, we never even kissed. You might think that I felt like the luckiest bloke on the planet because I was the only man to ever have his lips on Sam Wilson's, but I didn't. Not back then, and not now.
Sam was my pal, the best I ever had. I was long past her physical attraction, and I enjoyed the human being inside the beautiful shell. I felt safe with Sam. I could tell her about the girl-trouble in my life, get the female perspective on things which very often is exactly what you need, without having that little nagging voice in the back of your head that maybe, just maybe, the girl in front of which you pour your heart out is also a potential sexual partner and therefore you should watch your tongue. Not Sam. Sam was just Sam to me.
The silence continued, and I reached over to take a sip of diet coke.
"Because I want to have a baby."
That diet coke tried to make its way out through my nose. At least I had managed to keep my mouth closed and hadn't sprayed the nasty black liquid all over Sam and the sofa. She giggled, but handed me a fresh tissue out of the pocket of her jeans.
"You want
what
?" I eventually managed to gasp, still cleaning myself with the tissue, only to remember her earlier words, "Oh, never mind, I heard you, no need to repeat yourself. Sam, I ... I don't think I want kids."
"I don't expect you to raise it. I can raise a kid myself, Leon. I have a good job, a good income, and there are many single moms out there, it wouldn't be anything out of the ordinary." she countered. It came out like a prepared speech.
"But it would still be
my
kid. It might get my ugly visage, might suffer my fate to gain three pounds by only looking at chocolate, my overflow of body hair I have to take care of way too frequently, my ..." I paused – why exactly were we having this discussion?
"Come on, Leon, you turned out pretty handsome and you know it. But more importantly you're intelligent, funny and you have a big heart. And I don't feel much of those additional pounds right now. You used to be a more comfy cushion." she said with some amusement in her voice.
Sam always overdid it when she described me. I hadn't fallen from the ugly tree, but I wasn't a hunk either. I was six foot tall, had dark hair, blue eyes, wide shoulders and a relatively athletic body that was the result of countless hours at the gym and just as many sacrifices when it came to food. I showered and brushed my teeth daily, had a standing appointment at the hair dresser every three months and a generally well-groomed appearance – something that comes with working in the City of London. According to Sam, women should practically eat me alive. Only, they didn't. I wasn't completely unsuccessful and usually spent three to six months every other year in a relationship. I figured I just hadn't found the right one yet.
"Then you'd have two people in your life who don't know when to shut the fuck up. You sure you want that?" I exhaled. "Sam, where is this coming from? You never wanted kids. We've talked about this so many times..."
"I just feel my biological clock. It's one thing to say no if you have the option, but when you feel the option slipping from you, it's much harder to stick with your decision." she mused.
"And you ..." I paused.
Sam finished my sentence, "... wonder if this is everything life has to offer. Chasing bitches for a bit of pussy, only to get my heart broken because they eventually discover '
Oh, I'm into dicks after all
'. I'm a woman, Leon. There's a big part of my body that is made to conceive and give birth to a child."
"What about test-tube fertilisation?" I asked, not sounding very hopeful. Sam and her doctor phobia.
"To get a stranger's baby? The baby of a complete tosser? Besides, Leon, you know how it takes me a month to mentally prepare myself just to make the appointment at the gynaecologist's. That guy only takes a sample out of my vagina and I'm frightened to death. Guess how I feel if he actually puts something in there!" She sighed.
"So you rather have sex with me? I'd pick major surgery over sex with a bloke!" I countered.
"Well, I wouldn't." Simple enough response.
"Why me? There's a lot of other fit blokes out there."
"Because you're my best friend? Because I trust you? Because the other blokes can hardly keep their tongue in their mouth when they see me? Because they might have STDs?" she argued. Oh yeah, Sam's strongest argument against having sex with guys were STDs. I guess if you're afraid of doctors, it makes sense to be afraid of anything that could make you go to a doctor.
I sighed. "Speaking strictly hypothetically, we'd shag, you'd get pregnant and that's it?" I asked.
She turned her head to look at me with that shame in her eyes. "It might not be a one-time thing."
I was lucky not to have diet coke in my mouth this time. "
What
? You think you'd fall for me, we'd marry and be happy ever after?"
