This is a sequel to the first part of "Being of Service." Suffice it to say, read the first part first! If you have, you can skip this paragraph summary of the first part...
Shelly, an old high school girlfriend, had gone her separate way after graduation. I didn't hear from her, though heard from others that she had become a lesbian and was living in Seattle. I was surprised when she called me twenty years later, to tell me she and her partner wanted a child. When I found out they wanted Shelly to get pregnant the natural way, I opened my mouth to say no, but out came yes, even though I had had a vasectomy and knew I could not get her pregnant. Okay, I'm an asshole who thinks women are objects. But how often has a lesbian asked you for a sperm donation? Yeah, thought so. I wanted to say no, but instead my little head said yes. I justified my decision because they were treating me as a sperm bank. That's an object, isn't it? Did she love me? Did she want me to be happy? No, she just wanted my wiggles and jiggles to get what she wanted...
*****
Shelly was coming to visit again. It was the sixth. The previous times Susan had come, too. But Susan couldn't pull off yet another two days away from work. I met Shelly, alone, at the airport.
"Good to see you," I said, trying to smile.
I had just received a phone call from Susan, threatening to kill me if anything happened to her precious Shelly.
I had had enough, and without Susan it was going to be easier. I was ready to relieve myself of my guilt, about my vasectomy. I was going to tell her.
"Good to see you, too," Shelly whispered, bending forward then leaning into me for a kiss on the lips.
It surprised me, not the kiss, just the lips, and the length, and the sensuality. I opened my mouth as her arousal spread to me. She pulled away, looked nervously around.
"Not here," she giggled nervously.
I opened her door and waited. She slid onto the big front seat of the 1965 Lincoln Continental. It was the same car I drove ten years ago in high school. I'd bought it from my dad. I had the roof down. I tossed her luggage in the back seat.
"What d'ya think?" I asked, closing her door. "You won't be too cold?"
She smiled, shook her head, and I was a nervous senior all over again. I ran to the other side, got behind the wheel.
"Takes you back, doesn't it," I said.
Shelly ran her fingers delicately along the dashboard, then down across the push-buttons for the radio.
"Is this...," she started.
"Yeah," I interrupted.
She looked at me with eyes that lit my fire. I put the key in the ignition and cranked up the rumbling engine. I looked at her and smiled.
"You remember?" she asked, sliding over next to me on that long, front bench seat.
I put it in gear and punched the accelerator, jerking the car towards the exit. Shelly let the sudden power take her, put her head back and laughed. As we picked up speed on the on-ramp, her beautiful hair floated above and behind her. She moved closer. I reached across her to turn on the heat. She put her hand on my hip. I flinched.
"Shelly..." I stumbled.
"It's okay," she said, giving my leg a squeeze. "It feels good not to have Susan lording between us."
It was true. Susan was always keeping us apart, even when we fucked. The butch had never been as enthusiastic about having a child, about Shelly getting pregnant, about me getting her pregnant.
Shelly's finger drew a line down my leg, then moved down to the inside of my thigh. Her long, pink fingernails scraped along as she headed to my crotch. I tried not to notice, just kept driving, working to keep my speed constant. And I did, until her hand reached my ball sack, which she cupped and pressed gently. The Lincoln jerked forward.
