Kathy Black was mad as hell. She had been sitting in her gynecologist's office for FORTY FIVE minutes waiting for her 4:30 appointment. With this delay she wouldn't be able to get back to the office this evening to polish the brief she was preparing for next Monday's hearing of the Ferguson case. She couldn't understand how Janet could let her office staff do this to her. Especially now that she was a Junior Partner, her time was valuable. This delay was costing her close to $1,500.
Kathy had been in a foul mood today, anyway. That asshole, Paul Graves, had been skulking around her office trying to get her to go out with him again. What a skumbag! He knew that she knew he was married and he didn't make any secret about his lewd intentions. Did he think that just because he was a Senior Partner, the newest Junior Partner would sleep with him in gratitude?
She certainly didn't need a pushy bastard like Paul Graves in her life. Kathy already had a perfectly satisfactory boyfriend who was properly infatuated with the sexy young lawyer. She had only to wait another six months until his inheritance vested fully to let him make her Mrs. Trent Atturbury. She would take his name and take his money and in return he would get ... to be seen in public with her.
Trent's family didn't like Kathy. Daddy thought she was a high-class bitch and a golddigger. That was because Bob Atturbury knew a lot more about women and about life than the somewhat othoerworldly Trent ever would. One of the few mistakes Kathy had ever made with a man was to think she could sweeten up old Bob by seducing him. Oh, getting him into her bed was no trouble; he was a horny old goat. Fucked damned good, too. Better than Trent, but then, who didn't? The next morning, however, Bob just laughed at her and said he had only wanted to see just how big a slut she was. Fortunately, although Trent didn't have half his Daddy's brains, he would soon have half of Daddy's money.
***
The receptionist behind the counter wasn't helping Kathy's mood, either. "Suzie" was yacking away on the telephone. Kathy cringed at her own politically incorrect characterization of the young woman who was, no doubt, a victim of an oppressive patriarchal society, but dammit, she was an obvious bimbo. To make matters worse she was painting her nails a garish red while she talked to a girlfriend about the way some `total hunk' could `turn her inside out' in bed. Where was Ruth, Janet's regular receptionist, Kathy wondered?
Truth be told, the premises also had Kathy's nose out of joint. Dr. Janet McGuire's former office had been a suite in a downtown office block near Kathy's own. When Kathy had made this appointment for her annual check-up, she had been surprised to learn that Janet's office had moved. Whatever possessed Janet to bring her downtown obstetrics and gynecology practice -- so convenient for career women like herself -- to this large old house on the outskirts of town? The grounds were indeed spacious and the setting was beautiful in a bucolic sort of way, but so out of character for Janet. Kathy had chosen Janet as her OBGYN in part because they were similar types: ambitious, single, hard-working, hard-playing, city girls.
If the house and grounds were puzzling, the new decor was ghastly. Kathy had appreciated the understated former waiting room, done in dark woods and green leather. It had looked like the public area of any other professional firm. The present surroundings screamed out a change. The room was furnished with low couches in the most cloying `feminine' pastel upholstery. The pattern of the wall covering looked like a cheep valentine. Flowers, voluptuous nymphs, cupids shooting arrows! Gad! The classical music Janet had previously favored had been replaced by `romantic' soft rock. Kathy had made the receptionist turn off the TV tuned to Oprah re-runs.
The reading material only rubbed in the office's disconcerting transformation. Gone were the almost up-to-date issues of "The New Yorker," "New Republic," "Progressive," and "New York Review of Books." In their place were copies of magazines Kathy had never seen before with names like "Maternity Today," "Babies!," "Body and Child." The worst was one was "Total Woman." Kathy leafed through it in disgusted fascination. She couldn't believe Janet knew what was out here in her waiting room. This publication was an insult to any modern woman. It was filled with "advice" on how to look, dress, talk, and act to please men. "Men Like Minis," "The Lost Art of Being Seduced," "Let Him Give You Super Orgasms." "Is Breast Enlargement for You?" (If you were less than a 40DD, the unsurprising answer was "yes.") Revolting!
The articles that didn't deal with having sex were about having babies. "Persuading Him to Give You Another Baby," "Twins are Twice the Fun," "Herbs To Increase Your Fertility." "Secon Time Around" suggested that one the youngest child was in college it was fun to have a couple more, "just for fun!" "The Talk" advised explaining your surprise pregnancy to your teenage daughter by telling her that, "Daddy decided he wanted Mommy to have more babies and Mommy loves Daddy so much she wants him to give her one." And not to worry because "Daddy makes enough money so Mommy doesn't have to work and can stay home to take care of you and the new babies." Outrageous! Judging by the reading material, the OB part of the practice seemed to have swallowed up the GYN.
"The doctor is almost ready to see you," Suzie announced. "Let me just take some information. Give me a second to get over there; I'm not moving too fast these days," she grinned.
When the receptionist stood up, Kathy gasped and saw what she meant. Suzie wasn't just pregnant, she was huge.
Suzie smiled again when she noticed Kathy was staring as the receptionist waddled up to her with the clipboard. "Twins," she said pointing with pride to her bloated abdomen.
Suzie asked a lot of the usual questions. She seemed really to perk up when she heard that Kathy was in the middle of her menstrual cycle. Some of the questions on the other hand, seemed unnecessarily personal and rather crudely phrased. Did Kathy have a regular boyfriend. How frequently she "get laid?" How many times a night could he "screw" her? Did she have multiple orgasms each time her "did her?" How did she manager when she didn't have a man to "get her off?"
Even aside from the vulgar language, Kathy was put off by the whole interrogation. Everything the nurse asked seemed to be either prying or information that the regular receptionist would not have had to ask. "Where is Ruth, today?" Kathy inquired letting more annoyance into her voice than she intended.
"Oh, she leaves early every afternoon so she can nurse her new baby boy."
Kathy was dumbfounded. Ruth? Ruth Pritchet with a baby? Kathy knew that several years ago Ruth's abusive husband had run off with a younger woman he had made pregnant, leaving Ruth struggling to bring up two teenage daughters. The experience had left Ruth with a rather sour (realistic, in Kathy's opinion) view of men. Ruth had never so much as mentioned dating. How, in less than a year since Kathy's last appointment, had Ruth met (and married?) a man and given him a baby? It made no sense. The beatific smile of the receptionist compounded Kathy's dismay. Didn't the little ditz realize the loss of independence that having baby presented to a 45 year old woman like Ruth with almost grown children? No, Kathy thought, `she' wouldn't! That's why she'd let some guy make her pregnant.
"Kathy, `darling.'"
Kathy was still trying to digest the news about Ruth as her head snapped around to see her friend, Emma Parks. Kathy was in for her second shock. Emma was just coming out of the doctor's inner office, beaming. Well, `glowing' was the cliche‚ word. Kathy hardly believed her eyes. Emma's tummy poked out under an almost indecently short maternity dress. She looked about seven months gone.
"Emma!... You're..." Kathy stumbled over her words, overcome by surprise.
"Pregnant!" her friend confirmed with a big silly grin.
"Uh, congratulations," Kathy offered somewhat insincerely. Emma was a woman about Kathy's own age whom she had known since before her friend had met and married Frank last year. Kathy was leery of commitments herself, but had to admit that Frank, a gentle, funny suitor, seemed OK for Emma. The rising marketing executive had told her, however, that after the wedding Frank had turned out to be "kind of a Neanderthal." "He would be happy to keep me home, barefoot and pregnant if I didn't hold him off," she laughed. Emma didn't plan on giving Frank any children for some time, however, until her career was better established. She was fighting her way up the ladder of a somewhat old-fashioned firm and she didn't want to "give the old bastards any excuses" not to recognize her ability.
"Yes, isn't it `wonderful'?" her friend gushed.
