Derby Line Marriage Ch 12

Francis woke before dawn on Monday morning. Patrick was still sound asleep by her side. She was careful not to wake him as she got ready for her day. She had been putting in long hours ever since she got promoted at MUFF. Patrick would not be surprised at all to find her gone by the time he gets up. Francis called her employer from her mobile phone. "Hi. It's Francis. I need to take a sick day today. I'm interviewing a sperm donor. Yes, that's right. We decided to go with a donor. Don't worry. I'll be in tomorrow. We can talk about maternity leave then." Patrick was still dreaming sweetly when she pulled down the driveway.

The sun rose to Francis's left while she drove down highway 15. Her mind was on automatic. Francis was set on her plan the night before, but her resolve started to fade the closer she got to the border. Nervousness ate at her stomach. A line of cars waited at the border crossing. Francis took her place at the end of the line. The wait was much longer than it used to be a decade ago. Security was up for all international traveling. Francis missed the old days.

Finally, it was her turn at the security booth. The border agent asked her routine questions. "Name please," he asked.

"Francis O'Connell."

"How long will you be in America."

"Just for today."

"What is the purpose of your visit?"

Francis paused. She couldn't think of a polite way to explain that she wanted her womb packed with virile Yankee sperm. She gave a less descript answer instead. "I'm traveling for pleasure."

The border agent noticed her hesitation. He also cued in on her anxiety. "Please open the trunk, Madam."

Francis froze. The lawyer in her wanted to ask what probable cause he had to search her car. The pragmatist in her realized that she would have a difficult time explaining to Patrick from a police station why she went to America instead of to work that day. She pressed the button to open her car trunk. The border agent looked through the travel bag that Francis had placed in the trunk the night before. He emptied the contents onto the hood of the car. A red negligee, a black silk robe, lubricant, a feather duster, each item made Francis's cheeks turn a bit redder.

The border agent turned to Francis. "This all looks legal so far. Do you have any drugs or weapons?"

"No, Sir."

"Alright," he said as he repacked the bag and returned it to the trunk. "Have fun in America."

Surviving the ordeal at the border crossing gave Francis new courage. Driving along Interstate-87, she started rationalizing her reservations away.

Artificial insemination was Patrick's idea. It's not as if he's getting cuckolded. Besides, Patrick was the first to wander. If he goes after a strange man's cock, why can't I? What's sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander.

Francis arrived at Albany Yacht Club at around 10 am. She had 6 hours to kill before meeting her husband's lover. Her first move was to tour the club. She wanted to know the territory before confronting her adversaries. Then she went to the lady's room to replace her bra and panties with the red negligee. She put the lube in her purse, but kept the robe and feather duster in the car. With the preliminary preparations out to the way, Francis sat down for lunch in the club's restaurant. A muscular Black man and a plump White woman sat at a table near her.

"Great news," the woman told her companion. "Kristin Davis will be at the dinner."

"Who is she?" the man asked.

"She's running for Governor of New York this year. She wants to legalize same-sex marriage. I like her for that, but you'll love her for the rest of her platform. She plans on legalizing marijuana and prostitution," the lady explained.

"She sounds good to me. You know, if she wins, you can start charging cash for me," the man observed.

"Ben, I could make a fortune as your pimp, but I would rather rack in the political favors," the woman responded.

Ben?

Francis recognized the name. She fished a scrap of paper from her purse. The phone number from the call history on her husband's mobile phone was written on it. Francis blocked her caller ID and dialed the number. The plump woman's mobile phone rang. Francis hung up immediately.

"Who is it, Isabella?" Benjamin asked his friend.

"I don't know," Isabella replied. The pair ordered their lunch.

Francis cut into her stake as she planned her revenge. She took a picture of Benjamin with her phone camera. Then she flipped her phone over to type an email to Patrick. "I'm taking a lunch break, darling," she wrote. "I've found a sperm donor to get me pregnant. Take a look at his picture." Francis attached the picture of Benjamin and sent the email. She smiled smugly through lunch at the thought of Patrick's reaction to that email. The crème brulee that followed tasted extra sweet.

After lunch, Francis discretely followed Isabella and Benjamin. She noticed a definite friendship between the two, but a complete lack of sexual attraction. Francis attributed their platonic state to Isabella's corpulence. She felt sure that the way was clear for her own fit figure to slide beneath Benjamin. Her skin became clammy at the thought of Benjamin's bulky body on top of her.

At a quarter past three, the wandering duo made their way into the ballroom of the yacht club with Francis stalking from a safe distance. Set tables filled the room. A banner reading, "Marriage Equality" hung over a podium. Pamphlets on each plate explained the rational behind legalizing same-sex marriage. It began to dawn on Francis that Isabella was planning a political dinner, not a romantic evening. Francis put one of the pamphlets into her purse.

Two gentlemen entered the room holding hands. Isabella pointed at them as she spoke to Benjamin, "Blake and Mark are here. Go talk to them. Mark told me he wanted to see you again very much."

"See," huffed Benjamin, "and you told me I can't make friends." Benjamin walked up to the gay couple. "Hey guys. Good to see you again. Isabella said you wanted to meet with me."

"Yes. I did," Mark agreed. "I'm hoping to hire you."

Benjamin replied through gritted teeth. "Wonderful. I'm always looking for more work."

"Good," Mark said. "I own a porn company --"

"Hold on," Benjamin interrupted. "I may have fucked the two of you the other night, but I'm not about to do stuff like that on camera."

"That's ok," Mark assured Benjamin. "We're not really looking for DILF actors at the moment. I want to hire you to work on our website. Isabella said you're a webmaster."

Crestfallen, Benjamin presented his business card. "Yes. Call me during the week with details on what you need."

Mark gave his own business card. "Sure thing."

Francis took advantage of Isabella's temporary isolation to challenge the woman. "Hello. My name is Francis. I'm here for Benjamin."

Isabella looked her over. "You're here for Benjamin?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yes. I plan to get some of his big Black cock tonight. Why does that surprise you?" Francis asked.

"You don't look like his type. Are you a tranny?" Isabella put her hands on her hips.

"No. I'm all woman," Francis assured her.

"Honey, you have a better chance of getting into my pants than of getting into his, and with your attitude even that chance is slim," Isabella informed Francis before walking off to join her friend.

A buzz from Francis's purse kept her from following Isabella. It was an email from Patrick. Francis viewed it on her mobile phone screen. "He looks good. Do you want to make the arrangements, or should I," it read. Francis could not believe Patrick's nonchalant response. She sat at a table to compose herself. Then she glanced over the centerpiece to spy on Isabella and Benjamin.

Benjamin was arguing with a woman near the podium. "Marriage is a contract. The First Amendment Freedom of Assemble gives us the right to make what ever contracts we want. Banning same-sex marriage is a gross violation of our constitutional rights," Benjamin insisted.

"We can't allow people to make up whatever type of marriages they want," replied the woman. "If we allow gay marriage, what's next, polygamy?"

Isabella joined the fight with a raised voice. "What's wrong with polygamy? Many cultures allow multiple spouses. How can you be so jingoistic as to impose your Western norms on the entire state, you bigot!" The woman slunk away rather than face the accusation. Isabella looked up at Benjamin. "What would you do without me to win your debates for you?"

Benjamin sighed. "I prefer reason over rhetoric."

"That is why you will never get anywhere in politics." Isabella poked her buddy in the abs. "I see Patrick never arrived."

Benjamin brushed her finger away. "It's just as well. I wish you didn't call him."

Isabella lightly punched Benjamin on the shoulder. "You should be the one to call him, you dork. You are pining for him."

"It doesn't matter how much I pine. I'm not calling him. He's married," Benjamin confessed.

"Oh. I didn't know." Isabella asked, "If he's married, why did he date you?"

"We didn't date. He was in the city. I offered to show him around before I knew he was married. When his wife called him, I told him to forget it. We only talked for a couple of minutes. It was enough to make me breathless, but he probably doesn't even remember me," Benjamin said.

"Oh dear," Isabella and Francis whispered together.