The Sperm Donor
Richard Hatfield, or "Dickey" as his family and friends called him, looked in his bathroom mirror and smiled. What he saw reflected back at him was a young man of thirty-two, with jet-black wavy hair, deep-set eyes of cerulean blue, and a smile that could melt ice. He was the proverbial matinee idol; the physical embodiment of every red-blooded woman's lustful desires; the veritable "god's gift to women" kind of man.
But that was not his only reason to be proud. He had also been blessed with a muscular, 6-foot, 2-inch frame. And the best part of it was, he barely had to touch a set of barbells to maintain it. When his male friends at the gym asked him how he managed to keep himself looking so physically fit with such a minimum amount of effort, he merely replied that it was a combination of favorable genetics along with a penchant for chasing women around town--although it would have been more accurate for him to have said that it was
they
who chased
him
.
If these formidable physical attributes were not enough, he also possessed a great deal of sexual charisma and charm. At a very young age he learned how to use his astonishing good looks to manipulate people--especially women. His two younger stepsisters, his adoring aunts, and a slew of cousins all paid him deference in one way or another. Even his own mother treated him like her prize possession, catering to him to the point that bordered on the obsessive. Any female with whom he came in contact, be it family or the neighbors on his street or his female classmates, universally fell in love with him at first sight. It was almost as if he had become the incarnation of all that was beautiful in human physiognomy; molded into one singular and beatific representation for all lesser mortals to worship.
And there was one other quality that he possessed in abundance: a fertile and brilliant mind. Like his father, who was an eminent research scientist at NASA, he had a great passion for mathematics and astronomy. The study of exobiology, in particular, fascinated him, and he stayed up late most evenings envisioning life on other worlds and what forms they might take. This led him to pursue the Master of Science program at MIT where he graduated summa cum laude with degrees in biology and exobiology. But despite his academic pursuits and the demands it had made upon his time, there was never a shortage of women to fill his life.
It was no wonder that he had more girlfriends than he knew what to do with. Ever since he was old enough to start dating, girls would call him incessantly asking to go out with him; some were even bold enough to show up unannounced at his front door, hopeful just to get a glimpse of him. All this fussing over him proved very dismaying to his parents and sisters, but it was not without its comical overtones.
On one particular evening on his way from the bathroom to his bedroom, he discovered an unsightly lump in his bed. Thinking it was his sister playing a joke on him, he jumped on the bed and playfully grabbed her by the throat only to find himself staring into the horrified eyes of Cindy Wells, the pretty teenage daughter of Jason and Sarah Wells, his next-door neighbors. When questioned as to how she managed to find access to his room, the girl told him that she had snuck into the house during the day and had waited in his closet until bedtime. To his credit, he did not tell either her parents or his parents what had happened, safely escorting her out the back door without anyone noticing. He laughed about it afterward, but it proved to him what lengths the female of the species would go to just to get near him.
All through his twenties he was never found without at least one woman hanging on his arm. For him to be seen unescorted by some beautiful female was almost unheard of, and while many men envied him for his good fortune, many despised him too. To them he was the man who had everything: good looks, splendid physique, brains, charm, and a winning personality that never failed to win people over. The only thing that he did not possess in abundance was money. Although his father earned a good living from his job, his previous marriage, and three children from that marriage, placed a heavy drain on his personal finances in the form of alimony and child support. So, while it looked to the rest of the world as if his family was safely ensconced in the upper-middle-class lifestyle, the truth was that great sacrifices had to be made to maintain that illusion. It was not that they were poor as such, but that they had to struggle to keep up appearances. And it was the constant threat of imminent financial doom that hovered over the family for years, and which remained unresolved long after Dickey had left at the age of twenty-two to live in Boston.
Upon completing his formal education, he found employment at Brigham and Women's, a research hospital conducive to fostering the study and implementation of novel and advanced medical techniques, and which possessed one of the world's most innovative biological research facilities. Dickey's exemplary academic record, along with his father's formidable influence, helped secure him a position as junior research scientist in the hospital. His pay was modest, and although he knew his financial situation would improve over time, he was always seeking ways to supplement his present income, such as doing online editorial work for various science publications or teaching science courses at a local community college.
Over the years had fostered many relationships, both personal and professional. And when he heard from one of his female co-workers that a new adjunct facility, headed by a famous woman biologist from Canada, was shortly going to open its doors, he was one of the first to apply for a job on the staff.
"So, tell me more about this woman, Dr. Fallon LeClair," he asked his co-worker, a pretty, twenty-eight-year-old blonde woman named Melody Shine. "Who is she?"
"She's a geneticist who once worked for Dr. Christiana Swensen at the Swensen Research Clinic in Stockholm," Melody replied. "She helped develop the EJAX-472 serum."
"Holy shit," he exclaimed. "And she's going to head the fertility center here?"
"In two weeks. That's what I heard through the grapevine."
"I put in an application to work for her. I couldn't pass it up."
"I did too!"
"You did?"
"Yes! This morning in fact. You're not the only one who recognizes a great opportunity when they see one."
He clapped his hands together and smiled. "Oh, man! To actually work with someone who helped to develop the world's greatest male fertility drug. Now that's a privilege."
"I think so. I hear that the clinic is going to be staffed exclusively by women, and that all the patients will be women as well."
"That's unusual."
"It's strictly going to operate as a female fertility clinic. From what I've heard, Dr. Fallon is not too enamored of male doctors."
"Why is that?"
"It seems she was indoctrinated into the Swensen mindset: male doctors are jealous; they tend to humiliate and downplay your achievements...and so on. I don't think it's particularly healthy to maintain that doctrine, but I can certainly understand the reason for her antipathy."
He frowned. "Well, I guess that doesn't say much for my chances."
"I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you. But you never know. With that handsome face of yours she just might make an exception."
A week later Dickey got a call from one of Dr. LeClair's associates, a woman named Sheila Ford, who had formerly been a doctor of internal medicine at Stockholm University and who had worked for Dr. Swensen in a supervisory capacity. She told him that Dr. LeClair had reviewed his resume and credentials and wanted to set up an interview with him.
"We're flying down from Montreal in three days," she told him. "Can you meet with us on Thursday afternoon...say at 3:00 p.m.?"
"No problem," he replied, trying hard to hide his excitement. "Where?"
"Dr. LeClair and I will meet you in her office on the second floor of the clinic. Room 222."
"I'll be there."
She and I look forward to meeting you, Dr. Hatfield."
"As do I."
He hung up the phone and shouted for joy. When he told Melody the news, she congratulated him and then explained that she, too, had been called and that she would be meeting with Dr. LeClair at the conclusion of his interview.
"That's great, Melody!" he said, patting her on the back. Maybe we'll be working together."
