The Surrogate #8
A Rush Of Blood To My Head
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“I could spend the whole day in bed with you, Victor.”
“You have lectures.”
“I’m very hormonal and full of your semen right now.”
“Does that make you feel happy, Amy?’
“Yeah, very. It’s like my body approves of what we’re doing.”
“Does your body approve of me?”
I was surprised by the question and a tiny ruffle in his expression that suggested my validation was important. I couldn’t fathom anything more because he hid his feelings well.
“Is my approval important?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I respect you, Amy.”
“After a few days?”
“It’s been weeks since I began researching you.”
“Among others, yes.”
“But it was mostly about you for the past two weeks before we met.”
“Do you like the idea of me, Victor?”
“You’re toying with me?”
“Yes, sorry. It’s more flirty than I expected to feel.”
He caught me fishing for his feelings in a vague ocean of emotional turmoil. I needed something to cling to and couldn’t understand whether that was an erosion of my independence, a new need to make friends or insecurity.
When Greg pulled my car up to the front door, a recent delicious orgasm was fresh in my mind. I wore a panty liner and brought more in my bag, not wishing to leak semen into my gusset and feel uncomfortable throughout the day during lectures.
He smiled, and I felt guilty; imagining something in my happy expression or body language gave away the fact I’d already made love before school.
Made love?
It sounds better than being fucked every day.
Doesn’t making love require participants to feel love?
We copulated… yeah, that’s it… we copu-.
“Did you enjoy breakfast, Amy?”
“Umm, breakfast… I err. Oh, I didn’t eat yet.”
“Check the center console. I have muesli bars in there for times like this. Take what you want.”
“Thank you, Greg.”
“Anything for you, Amy.”
Something nagged at me, and I desperately wanted to act on it. My adherence to specific guiding directives pertaining to my surrogacy seemed simple when I’d figured them out from the comfort of my apartment sofa, but here, on the battlefield of my life, they failed me.
“You look troubled, Amy.”
“I’m not usually so easy to read.”
“Maybe it’s because you are comfortable here. I mean in Victor’s home… actually, it’s your home too. I didn’t mean in this car.”
I giggled at Greg’s awkwardness. I knew he considered my comfort of paramount importance and that driving me was more than a job to him.
“Don’t worry about me, Greg. I know what you mean. I am comfortable in my new home. You’ve all made me feel very welcome.”
“May I ask what’s bothering you, please? Is it family friction?”
“No. That was anticipated. This problem is something else.”
“Hannah?”
“Yes. I miss her.”
“Are you upset she left?”
“Correct again. Greg, you should be a therapist.”
“Chauffers share that quality with good bartenders, except we’re like Ginger Rodgers.”
“You mean Fred Astaire’s dance partner?”
“Yeah, she did everything the same as Fred, only Ginger did it backward and wearing heels.”
He tapped the rearview mirror and smiled, then laughed while I joined in. I liked Greg and felt his positive vibe lifting me.
“Are you saying chauffeurs do therapy better than bartenders?”
“And without plying the subject with alcohol. We turn muesli bars and water into confessions and positivity.”
“That you certainly do, Greg.”
When he opened the door and offered me a hand, Greg smiled like there were no problems in the world worth worrying about. I felt the sun’s warmth and a fresh light breeze that picked up the hem of my knee-length floral skirt when I strolled, feeling happy, towards my campus front door.
I had a lesson about Miranda and variations on arrest procedure first thing. It was tedious, but then, any lecture almost entirely process-driven was as much a chore for the lecturer as it was for those receiving it.
“Learning Miranda is a necessary evil. You must understand when a poorly applied process has impacted your client’s rights. Understanding this gives you negotiating room with the District Attorney.”
I knuckled down, taking copious notes while others chatted in whispers or via their messenger apps. The police officer, turned lecturer giving up his experience for three hours, reached roughly one-third of the class with his message.
I enjoyed his lectures, benefiting from his real-life police experience, although today was hard for everyone. When it was done, he smiled at those who’d been attentive, ignoring the rest, meandering his way over to me.
“Hi, Amy. Thanks for paying attention.”
“It was a great lecture. I must unpack it later; go to reference books and embed the details to recall everything at will.”
“That’s why you are top of my class, Amy. Lawyering is like policework and everything else in life. You must grind through degrees of hardship to succeed.”
“Mr Rodgers, can I ask you a question?”
“Of course.”
“How obsessively must you try to find someone before it’s considered stalking? Is the law on this just a test of whether you are making someone afraid by harassment?”
“Pretty much. Are you looking for someone?”
“Yeah. I pushed them away, and now they don’t want to be found by me. If I pursue the person in question, it may compromise a friend.”
“Your friend knows where this person is?”
“Yes.”
“I would steer clear of asking them. That’s messy. Do you have a full name?”
“Yes.”
“Social media would be my first call. Find out where they might enjoy a coffee, then innocently bump into them. No stalking, no foul.”
“Okay. Thanks, Mr. Rodgers.”
He smiled, then went to the podium, where a few students waited to ask him for a recap on something they missed.
“If you missed the lesson, pay better attention next time, folks. I don’t suffer fools, so please clear the hall for the next lesson.”
A few cursed under their breath, exiting close by me. I headed for the coffee van, knowing caffeine was a luxury I must curtail soon for the sake of a growing embryo.
I had a couple of days of ovulation left, then around ten more until my period started, and, being regular as clockwork, I expected to know quickly if Victor’s sperm had impregnated me.
What happens when we don’t need to copulate?
Do I kick Victor from my bed?
Do I want to?
Will he leave my bed and then return when my fertility cycle renews?
I sat cross-legged on a bench in a shrub garden close to the coffee van, sipping my cappuccino, hoping that Hannah would walk past me by some minor miracle.
“Hi, are you Amy?”
“Yes. How can I help?”
“I’m Graham; my principal is Felicity.”
He said it as though I ought to know who she was. I glanced in every direction but couldn’t see a woman aside from one of two people standing behind him. He dressed smartly in a suit, wearing an overcoat that seemed unnecessary.
My hackles rose, and fear gripped me. Danger surrounded me, and I wasn’t sure anyone would come to help if I screamed.
“Okay. Why do I feel like the guy and woman behind you are bodyguards?”
“They are my associates. We are all here to support you, Amy.”
“And how, no… why, are you all associated?”
“We’re here to make you an offer. More specifically, Felicity has an offer for you.”
“Where is she?”
“Felicity will meet you in time. For now, we’d like you to know the baby you will carry is a valuable commodity to us.”
“That’s a fucking sinister thing to say.”
“But not illegal.”
“What’s your angle?”
“If another man’s seed fathered your baby, it would suit Felicity very well.”
“Any other man?”
“No, our proposed father is a particular man, and we already have his seed.”
“Fucking hell. Have you any idea how twisted you sound.”
“It’s worth a great deal of money to you. Your child will be the heir to Victor and another fortune.”
“Do you mean to insert your suitor’s semen inside me using IVF?”
“It’s a simple procedure, especially for a fertile subject.”
“What if I am already pregnant?”
“That’s easily solved, and then we roll over to the next month bearing a healthy child.”
“You want to abort my baby? Are you a fucking freak?”
I stood up, gathered my things, and got one hastily taken snap of the bodyguards from an awkward angle. I knew the guy speaking to me would obscure his face immediately after he saw me raise my phone, but his thug’s reactions would be far enough behind for me to catch their faces.
Then I sprinted, and they pursued me.
“I want that phone, bitch.”
“Fuck off.”
I kicked a hallway door, flying through it, slamming it backward into someone’s face, enjoying their scream as the heavy wood struck something tender.
I sprinted down the corridor until I reached a lecture hall that I stumbled into. The room stopped in time like you see in the movies. I’d disturbed two hundred students and a lecturer who stared down his spectacles at me.
“I’m being chased, Professor.”
“By whom?”
“Seriously bad people.”
“You’d better hide in my lecture. It might wake a few dozing fools.”
He pointed casually at the students, who looked like this was the most exciting thing ever happening to them. I leaped up four levels and dove amid a group of six girls, one of whom slipped a beanie hat over my hair.
Others copied her, and soon, the room was half full of girls wearing hats of one description or another.
When the doors burst open, I saw my pursuers looking furiously in every direction, unable to identify me from the crowd.
“Who are you?”
“Sorry, Professor, we’re looking for a girl we think ran in here.”
“Not anymore, you aren’t. Get the fuck out.”
“We’ll look for the girl first, if you don’t mind. Just be patient while we do our job.”
They reached a few paces inside, then stopped dead when the guy who spoke to me saw the lecturer press a button on his podium. He stared at my assailants, seeming wholly confident of his upper hand.
“Armed security will arrive in a few minutes. That silent alarm is a panic switch to say we have a serious issue here.”
They ran, angrily slamming the door behind, while I clasped my heart, leaning back in a seat, breathing deeply to recover from my life’s most terrifying experience.
The professor examined me closely, and I saw a light bulb flick through his eyes.
“Are you the surrogate student?”
“No. Those men approached me about paying for sex. The guy who spoke to you said his boss wanted to meet me.”
“Jesus Christ. You need to get to campus security now.”
“I thought they were coming here?”
“That button was for my lectern light.”
“Okay. I’ll leave now. Thank you.”
It took me a few minutes to convince the three guys escorting me from the lecture hall to return with my thanks. I stopped short of the security office, not wishing to cause any more of a scene. I flipped my phone open and speed-dialed Victor.
“Hi, Amy.”
“It’s an emergency. Come and get me; bring guns.”
“Are you okay?”
He sounded panicked, as did I. My obfuscation of truth to the lecturer was hastily devised to avoid attention being turned to my surrogacy at school or by the media.
“You have enemies that want to disrupt my pregnancy.”
“You’re not making any sense, Amy, but I’m on my way in a black Mercedes G Wagon; Greg will also be there in your usual car soon. Get inside the first one you see. Front entrance, please.”
Given the terrifying circumstances of my flight, I strolled through the halls as casually as possible. Mingling with other students, nodding, and smiling felt odd because I usually kept my distance.
When I reached the exit door, screeching tires announced the arrival of my armed guards. Victor leaped out of a rear passenger door, looking like a calm, deadly knight dressed in a light grey suit, surrounded by four menacing bodyguards with bulging jackets.
He smiled confidently at me, reached out a hand, and held the door while I slipped inside. He followed me, and I suddenly felt tears welling while my heart pounded.
“You look like it was no big deal.”
“Character is everything, Amy. If you have that, you can deal with anything, just as you did.”
“I was terrified, though.”
“So was I when you called. Your character came through, Amy, and you dealt with the situation. It is a proud moment.”
“I’m not fucking doing that again. Who is Felicity?”
“I’ve no doubt she doesn’t exist. Did you get any photographs of the men who attacked you?”
“Yeah, but not of the main guy that did all of the talking. I got the henchman, umm, and a woman.”
“They will have everyone on University CCTV, Amy. I’ll get the footage from security. Did you file a complaint?”
“No, and I denied being a surrogate for you when the lecturer that hid me asked. I didn’t report to campus security, figuring we wouldn’t want this incident in the media.”
“Clever girl.”
I sobbed like a suffering child, planting my face in both hands and leaning forward. Victor hauled me into a tight embrace, hugging me while kissing the top of my head.
“I don’t want to have someone else’s baby, Victor. I want to bear your child.”
“Did they want to impregnate you?’
“Yes… yes, how fucking vile is that?”
“How much money did they offer, Amy?“
“We didn’t get that far. I ran.”
“Good girl.”
“I’m so sorry, Victor.”
“It’s not your fault. I should have foreseen this.”
I felt responsible and convinced that I should have run sooner. Perhaps I’d become too high profile and beckoned this kind of offer. I was being stupid and highly emotional, but all I wanted to do was be hugged, which is precisely what Victor did.
“I’ll recruit some bodyguards to help.”
“I don’t want a gang of burly men following me in gray suits.”
“We’ll select people your age, men and women, highly trained, possibly ex-military or FBI, and they will dress like students attending your classes.”
“How will you swing that with Columbia?”
“Universities always need charitable infrastructure donations. I’ll ask if the swimming pool needs an upgrade. If not, every University needs a new library wing.”
I stared up at him with damp eyes that stung from salty tears. I felt happier that Victor seemed confident of my safety. I lay on my back, flipping off my heels before pressing both soles against the passenger’s side window while laying my head in his lap.
“Don’t you want to reconsider our agreement, Victor?”
“Why would I do that?”
“Your baby is a recognizable and easy target because of me.”
“I’ll hear no more of this being your fault, Amy, and I thought you just confessed to wanting to have my baby?”
“I did, and I do.”
“I would not choose any other woman to bear a child with me, Amy. So let’s please move on.”
“Okay, Victor.”
I dozed off, heavily exhausted by the massive expenditure of nervous energy. When I woke as his G Wagon pulled up in the driveway, Victor helped me out of the car.
“This isn’t your home.”
“It’s a backup home I keep for security. Only Greg knows its location.”
“Why are we here?”
The front door opened, and I saw Hannah. She ran down the steps with an ear-to-ear grin, splitting her overjoyed expression. She hugged me and held both my hands.
“Is this your home?”
“Victor moved me here at my request.”
“I wasn’t supposed to know where you lived, Hannah.”
“Greg told Victor you missed me. Your baby partner passed that on and asked if I’d meet you.”
“I’m glad he reached out to you, Hannah. I’m also sorry I chased you away.”
“You didn’t cause any problem for me, sweetie. It was a wake-up call for me. Victor and I have settled matters between us.”
“Will you come back?”
“No, but you can visit me here anytime, and in a few months, when love wears off, I’ll come and see you.”
It was telling that Victor waited outside and in his G Wagon while Hannah brought me inside. She led me into a beautiful kitchen, activating a Breville espresso maker. I sat on a padded leather stool and leaned on the wooden breakfast bar.
My new friend stared at me, grinning, hiding an unhappy disposition.
“Are you okay?”
“I need to flush Victor out of my system, Amy.”
“I get it. It feels lonely in the house, though, especially in the gym.”
“I’m quite noisy.”
“And very kind.”
“I like building relationships, Amy, not destroying them. I hope you and Victor succeed.”
“You make it sound like we’re in a relationship.”
“You are.”
“Yeah… but it’s not a romantic one.”
She leveled her gaze at me, locking my eyes in a tractor-beam stare. It was a, you’re not kidding me expression until Hannah smiled, slid a double espresso under my nose, and wrinkled her nose as though I were being humorous.
“Yeah, okay, Amy. Whatever you say, babe. Now tell me about your adventure.”
“You know about what happened this morning?”
“Victor called and said you’d need a girlfriend. Here I am.”
“Am I a charity case, now?”
“Hardly, sweetheart. I already made my case to be your friend.”
“And I rejected you. I’m sorry, Hannah.”
“Shall we turn the page, forget about the past, and move on?”
“I’d like that, Hannah.”
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O KATE i can't remember getting this excited in both Burning desire and The surrogate without as much sex like in lesbian novels. I look forward to the next parts as you write them. I also look forward to cute 22 and more.
Wow, I didn’t see that coming Kate. What complex tales you weave, and with so much in depth research. You richly deserve all the support we can give.