They quarreled, adding to my tension. The girls sitting beside me, a row of interviewees, flinched as her words cut harshly into her son.
"I don't like any of the girls you've introduced, Mom. This is not your concern. Showing up to my office whenever you like is not how I will find a surrogate."
"I'm trying to help you avoid using a slut, Victor."
"You're not helping at all, and that's insulting. Please leave. When a suitable candidate is selected, I'll let you know, and you might get to meet her if you behave properly."
"You make it sound like you're shopping for a uterus, son. You won't find a wife that way."
"I'm not looking for a wife."
"No, just a paid slut to deliver your child. I don't know what to say."
"It's time you left, Mom."
Six of us girls sat in the outer office, all model tens, every one of college age. I couldn't believe the outer office personal assistant didn't close the door to avoid embarrassment.
Did she wink at me?
She wants us to hear them quarreling.
A smartly dressed woman in her sixties strode out of her son Victor's office, looking irked. Her head snapped in our direction, and discerning eyes examined the line of girls waiting to be interviewed, each hoping to become Victor's uterus for hire, an up to twelve-month contract with a further year after that if an alternate breastfeeder wasn't found.
I watched Victor's mother express disdain for each candidate as her eyes sought out a future daughter-in-law, but her brain saw only sluts for surrogacy hire. I got a slight flicker of hope in two raised eyebrows, but I wasn't here for her pleasure and didn't much care for her insults.
"Send in the first lady, please, Sarah."
The personal assistant studied profile pictures on her desk and pointed a pencil at the girl beside me.
"You... Carla, isn't it?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"In you go."
I'd arrived first, but it seemed Sarah had an arbitrary approach to feeding in the sluts who responded to Victor's advertisement. It appeared on social media groups at Columbia College. A billionaire businessman sought a surrogate of the highest intellect and beauty.
We all have an IQ over one hundred and fifty.
We all passed the beauty test.
He'll never pick me.
I had a mild bout of imposter syndrome, suppressing it because I wasn't desperate for money. My dating pool was impressive, although I hadn't put myself out there and was never really attracted to anyone.
I had an understanding boyfriend, the only man who'd ever fucked me, but we hadn't reached that knee-buckling moment where love was confirmed.
Why the fuck am I doing this?
Come on, Amy. This is the best way to secure your lineage as well.
"Next."
Jesus, I'm last in. He's sure to have made up his mind by now.
She's sending me last. Sarah fucking hates me. What did I do wrong?
I stared at her, and suddenly, my fight response kicked in. If this didn't work out, so what? I was set to become top of my Ivy League Law school class.
"You're next, Amy."
"Thank you."
She called me by name.
She fucking smiled at me.
"Good luck, sweetheart."
Good luck? Jesus, I misjudged you. What's going on?
"Thank you, Sarah."
I got a cute smile as I passed her by, closing Victor's office door behind me.
His office felt cool, smelled faintly of vanilla, and was grand, with a beautiful, highly polished wooden parquet floor. I shucked off my heels, picked them up, and strolled toward Victor's ancient ebony wooden desk, admiring a Van Gogh.
"You're very tall, Amy."
"Six feet. I'm two inches shorter than you without heels."
"What heels will you wear when we are together?"
"I thought mostly, I'd be naked. If you'd like me to wear heels in bed, I can do that with pleasure."
"No dinners or evenings out together, then?"
"I'd be surprised if you wanted me on your arm for that."
"Why not? Are you ashamed to be seen with a man in his late thirties?"
"No, but I figured you'd want me kept away from the paparazzi and especially your Mom."
He smiled, studying me carefully. I'd been photographed by a professional, tastefully naked as all the girls had, so Victor had plenty of time to admire me before the interview.
I saw a handsome man with a gorgeous, thick mop of jet-black hair. His eyes pierced my soul, twinkling like stars at night. He wore a gentle expression, smiling often, disarming me.
"You're a beautiful woman."
"You are a gorgeous man, Victor. I love a rugged chin with dimpled cheeks. The gym must be your hidden mistress."
"I start at 6 a.m. And do two hours a day plus another half hour of swimming. How about you?"
"I manage an hour and a half, mostly just before midnight, but you knew that from my profile."
"College schedules are punishing, right?"
"Yes. It's hectic, but I'm able to contain the stress."
He eyeballed me affectionately, absorbing every curve, pausing to enjoy my pert breasts, long blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and silken legs showing from my knee under a black pencil skirt.
"You wore the longest skirt, best fitting blouse, and without showing more cleavage than would be decent when visiting my mother."
"Will we visit your mother often?"
"Would you like to?"
"Would you like me to?"
"I could do this for hours, Amy."
"Do what, Victor?"
"Play mental chess with you. Your wit, charm, and intellect are a delight."
"If we played real chess, I'd beat you."
"Is that because you believe yourself to be of higher intellect?"
"No. It's because my father taught me to play from age three. You and I have the same IQ. I saw nothing in your profiles about chess as a hobby."
"You did your research?"
"I did. You prefer adrenaline sports, most worryingly, free climbing."
"Why does that worry you?"
"I'd rather my child not become orphaned because you took unnecessary risks."
"Would you prefer I strike free climbing from my hobby list?"
"I would. I wish you a long and healthy life with nothing but success."
"Why bother about me if you are simply a uterus for hire?"
"I want my child to be the best possible successor to a billionaire and that he or she has a father who lives a long and happy life."
"Does that matter to you, Amy?"
"Much more than the money does. When I succeed in this role, my DNA goes forward in the human story with every possible life advantage."
"You sound tough. I read somewhere that you did a lot of charity work."
"Yes, but having a kind heart for others doesn't prevent me from wanting the best for my offspring."
"So... how do I measure up in your analysis?"
"I'm here, Victor, and very keen to copulate and be inseminated by you."
"Do you want the job right away, or is there a cooling-off period that was allowable in the contract?"
"My ovulation starts in three days, so you can clear the desk now if you wish."
"Wow, Amy. You are an imposing young woman."
"My boyfriend believes so."
"I read about him. You were the only girl who answered that question. Everyone else said they had no guy or chose not to answer."
"I am honest in all things. It avoids problems no matter how hurtful they feel at the time."
"What does your boyfriend think about me fucking you?"
"He's accepted that I'm off limits to him sexually. It probably means we'll break up very soon."
"Why?"
"I don't want a husband who will let other men fuck me."
"Isn't that a little harsh, considering this is your idea?"
"I don't think so. We both had a choice, and I wanted this opportunity to deliver you a child; he could easily have said no, and I wouldn't be here."
"Would you like to call him one last time to confirm?"
"If it eases your mind, Victor, I will."
Justin was a cool boyfriend, but when it came to it, I didn't think we could last the journey. He'd reacted nonchalantly when I suggested applying to be Victor's surrogate.
I set my cell phone to speaker and called my boyfriend.
"Hi, Amy. How did it go?"
"Hi, sweetheart. I'm with Victor right now. I think it's going well."
"Why are you calling? Is there something you need?"
"It's a last chance for you to veto this, honey. I won't mind if you say me fucking Victor and having his baby isn't going to work for us."
"I'm fine with your decision, Amy. I have no hang-ups about you being with Victor."
"Remember, we can't sleep together for at least a year, Justin."
"We've been through all of this, Amy. Go for it, sweetheart."
"Okay honey, bye."
I felt a little embarrassed that my boyfriend considered me of such little value that he would allow my infidelity so easily. There was a profoundly taboo reason that Justin and I hadn't discussed yet.
Victor seemed shocked but still very enthusiastic to pursue me. I was surprised, thinking that having a boyfriend might have been more of a concern.
"Amy, would you mind explaining why he's so ready and willing to let me sleep with you?"
"Umm... that wasn't a question in the profile."
"If you don't want to answer, I'll understand."
My heart pounded, and my palms went icy cold as the blood drained into my legs, urging me to leap up and pursue a rapid escape barefoot through the office, down thirty floors, and out of Victor's building.
"He regularly sleeps with another woman."
"What the fuck?"
"I know. I can't compete with that, so I won't."
"How long have you known?"
"I found out the week before applying to be your surrogate."
"And that's when you guys stopped sleeping together?"
"Yes. He said Claire is in the past, but I know that's not true. My instinct tells me he's happy to move on without a fuss, and I shall, leaving him to pursue his true love."
"It's not fair."
"It's none of my business."
"So you'll move on to me?"
