All characters are at least 18 years old.
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I had to give myself a good talking-to the next morning. At the very least, I had to promise myself to keep the fantasies in my head, rather than let them manifest themselves in any real way. I leaned away from the mirror and did a once-over of myself before cupping one of my breasts. They were still aching, which was odd and mildly concerning. Had I slept on them wrong or something? Eaten anything unusual in the past few days? Nothing really seemed out of sorts, so I just decided to endure it and see how the day went.
There was a light rain outside, not helping the mood. Drew was in the kitchen, looking very panicked as he struggled with a pan and spatula. He glanced over at me as I entered, giving a rushed "Morning, mom," before returning his attention to breakfast. I peeked in the pan and saw a disaster of an egg, the sunny side up with its yolk burst from the high heat and thoroughly cooked through. "Can't even cook a goddamn egg," he was muttering as he scraped it up and plated it.
I patted his shoulders and laughed. "Everything takes practice, Drew. There's never any shame in learning and improving. I'm proud of you." He gave me a doubtful smile as I took the egg, using a fork to turn it over. "See? Not even burnt."
I beamed at him, and he gave me a grudging smirk. There was no mention of last night's kiss, and he seemed perfectly normal. I felt like a masked vigilante. During the day I was an independent woman who lived a modest life. But at night, instead of a crime-fighting superhero like in the movies, I became a shameless tart who craved a man to satisfy her lustful needs. So maybe not much like a masked vigilante at all; I was dreaming of seducing my son and marrying him. I was just a jade. Not a great thought to start the day.
But the real trouble began when I got to the office.
"Hey, Coco," Jazz called over the divider as I sat down at my desk. "Everything alright from Friday?"
"Yeah," I sighed. "It all seems to have worked itself out."
She popped her head over the wall of the cubicle with an eyebrow arched so high I thought she might pull a muscle. "You sure it ain't got nothing to do with Leon?" Before I could answer, she added, "Oh, you got something on your top, sugar."
I looked down, and there were two wet spots on my blouse, right where my nipples were. Immediately I folded my arms in front of my chest, turning away from Jazz. Impossible. There was simply no way this was happening to me right now. The next thing I knew, Jazz was in my cubicle, leaning over me.
"Girl, are you milking?" she stage whispered.
"No! No. I don't know." I couldn't help but sound miserable as I stole another glance at my top. How had I not noticed this wet feeling earlier? The rain. I hadn't even been rained on, but my mind must have misattributed the dampness. More importantly, how could I be lactating?!
"I'm glad to see you're back, Colette," came Leon's voice from behind us. We both whirled, my arms still folded in front of me, and he looked between us uncertainly. "Though you really should know better than to be gossiping during company hours. At least be subtle about it." He gave us a teasing smile.
"Sorry, Leon," I stammered. "Just a... uh... stomach ache. Bad... eggs this morning." *Sorry, Drew. This isn't about you, but I'm drawing a blank for excuses.* I stood and hurried to the restroom, Jazz trailing behind me. "Check the stalls," I instructed her.
She made sure we were alone before locking the door to the restroom itself, while I unbuttoned my blouse and pulled my bra up over my breasts. Jazz whistled in appreciation and I glared at her disapprovingly before looking at myself in the mirror. Beads of white liquid were forming at my nipples, and I shook my head reflexively. How could this be happening? I wasn't pregnant. I'd had sex exactly once in my life, and I'd already borne the fruit of that union. My days of breastfeeding were firmly behind me.
*So then what the fuck was happening?!*
I hadn't missed my time of the month, it was just last week. Nothing had gone inside me... except for the vibrator. But that was mint condition, firsthand, store-bought. There was no way it could have somebody's semen on it. And even if it did, it was way too soon to start producing milk if I had conceived. I thought back to what I was doing a few months ago. Nothing out of the ordinary.
The cause didn't matter right now. At the moment, I had to somehow deal with this situation. Pumping the milk came to mind, but how was I going to slip out of work to buy one? Jazz couldn't go either, and Drew was at school. My parents were in the next town over. I squeezed one breast experimentally, and a trickle of milk dripped onto the counter.
"Damn, calm yo tits, girl! Literally!" Jazz pulled out a paper napkin and cleaned up the mess I'd made. "You said you weren't getting none. Why didn't you tell me you were knocked up?"
"Because I'm not knocked up, Jazz! Just look at me!" I snapped. With a sigh, I continued, "I'm sorry for yelling at you. I'm just really freaked out right now."
I pulled my bra back into place, inadvertently squeezing another dribble into the sink as I did so. There was only one person who could run and get what I needed and deliver it to me in a timely manner. Somebody I knew who was in the city and didn't have work or school. I pulled my phone out and dialed. The phone rang until it went to voicemail, a generic message to leave my number after the tone. I cursed and ran my fingers through my hair, racking my brain for a solution while Jazz went on in the background about something or another. My phone suddenly rang and I sighed in relief before answering.
"Sasha," I gasped. "I'm so sorry to be bothering you, but I need a favor."
"*Da. Chto?*"
"I need you to go buy me a breast pump and some nursing pads. And... And maybe a home pregnancy test," I forced out. "Bring it to the address I'm about to text you, and ask for Jazz. Somebody will be down to pick it up. I'll pay you back this afternoon."
"Everything is okay?" she asked. Her tone sounded strange over the phone, but I didn't pay it much mind.
"Yeah, just a minor emergency, but nothing to be concerned about. Just get those things to me, quickly please."
"*Konechno*. No problem."
"Thank you so much. You're a life saver."
After I hung up, Jazz trilled her lips. "So you just gon' camp out here 'til this girl arrives and I go and get the stuff? What do I tell Leon?"
"No idea," I sighed. "Whatever you can make up." I looked at my feet. "I'm sorry Jazz, for making you do all this. Covering for me and everything."
"Aw, I didn't mean it like that. Just wondering if you're gon' be okay by yourself, 'cause I gotta head back out." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder at the door, and as if on cue there was a frantic knock, making her jump.
"Yeah, I'll just hide out in one of the stalls," I said, buttoning my blouse back up. "When I text you later, could you go downstairs and get what that girl Sasha is delivering? She's a pretty blonde teenager with long hair. Looks kinda flirty, has a Russian accent."
"Sure thing. But it sounds like there's a story there, and you're gon' tell me it soon, got it?" I nodded, and the knocking started again, sounding even more panicked. "Aight, I better let her in, or there's gon' be another mess to clean up."
I hurried into one of the stalls, and Jazz had a little spat with the woman at the door before leaving. About half an hour later, Sasha texted me that she'd arrived, and I texted Jazz to go meet her downstairs. A few minutes after that, Jazz came back into the restroom.
"Coco? Where you at?"
"In here." I waved, and she swung a duffel bag over the stall door. "Thanks, Jazz. I'm gonna need some time to get this done."
"Better haul ass," she warned. "Leon's starting to notice."
She left, and I rummaged through the bag. There was more in there than I asked for, namely a bundle of clothes. It hadn't even crossed my mind that I'd have to change my top and bra. First things first, I got the pregnancy test out and followed the directions. While I waited for the results I began pumping, watching the milk flow out into the bottle. It had been eighteen years since I last did this.
Not pregnant. Of course I wasn't pregnant. Abstinence was the most surefire way to prevent pregnancy. Its advocates never shut up about it, and they'd better believe I was as abstinent as they come. *So then why...?* I'd have to look up other causes later. In the meantime, what was I going to do with the milk? It seemed a waste to dump it, but there was no baby to feed. Well, I did have a baby, but he was eighteen years old already. I smiled. Every now and then, he would stress that I needed to remember the distinction between 'a baby' and 'my baby.' It's not that I didn't know the difference, but sometimes I did have to remind myself that he was a grown-up already.
I eyed the half-filled bottle and sighed before standing and lifting the toilet lid. Unscrewing the bottle, I poured the contents away then stowed the pump and took a look at the rest of my supplies. Nursing pads, just as ordered. There was a bra that turned out to be the right band size, mysteriously. Did Sasha know my measurements? Apparently not, because while she had guessed the band size, the cup size was two sizes too small. That wasn't something you usually got wrong, by so large a margin.
Scratch that, the band was larger than my usual bras to compensate for the smaller cup. It was a tight fit, exasperated by the fact that I had to slip nursing pads in. I didn't even need a mirror, and I could tell. The result was somewhat beneficial, because a tighter bra would help with the leaking, but it really boosted up my assets and looked like I was wearing one of those push-up bras.
To make things more embarrassing, the shirt Sasha had gotten me was scandalously low-cut. I had half a mind to just wear my stained blouse. The shirt's buttons began at the bottom of my sternum, accentuating my cleavage. When I stepped out of the stall to look at myself, I couldn't help but groan. I looked nowhere near as conservative as I normally did. Was I here to work or to seduce by colleagues? I wasn't a sexy intern, I was a mother. Still, I couldn't complain; this was probably all Sasha could whip up under the circumstances.
I hurried back to my desk, stowing the duffel bag and checking to make sure Leon wasn't waiting for my return. After giving Jazz an eyeful and assuring her everything was alright, I focused on work to catch up on the time lost, and to take my mind off wondering what Drew would think of my appearance.
--
"*Privet*, Coco."
"Privet, Sasha." I exhaled heavily as I sat down, my coffee steaming in the crisp air. I'd come to the cafe straight from work, and was still wearing the top she'd brought me.
"*Kak pozhivayesh*? How are you?"
I took a sip of my coffee and paused. "This is hot chocolate."
