I was surprised when she shook me awake.
"Come on, Sleepy Butt," she said, giggling, "let's get me knocked up."
I rolled out of bed, went into the bathroom, peed, brushed my teeth, and ran a brush through my hair.
In the bedroom she was waiting, looking like it was date night. Her makeup was right, her hair well-coiffed, and her nails done. She was in a bright blue sundress with matching heels.
"You look GREAT!" I said.
She giggled and said, "You look naked. Come on, Honey, big day."
So, I took her lead. I pulled on fresh boxers and then one of my few pairs of actual slacks, not jeans or cargo pants, my argyle socks, not white gym socks, and button down, Oxford cloth pin striped shirt, not a T-shirt emblazoned with something like "Too Cool." I went back into the bathroom quickly and combed my hair and shaved, something I rarely did these days.
Finally, presentable, I went back into the bedroom and took her hand.
"Come on, Beautiful," I said, "I can't wait."
We walked to the car, hand in hand, like teenagers going on a date. I opened the door for her and held her hand while she got settled in.
On the way to the clinic, I had my "Favorites of the 60s" playlist on
Pandora
and we sang along with a lot of the songs.
At the clinic, I ran around and opened the door for her, a little courtesy I rarely bothered with but, as she pointed out, this was a "big day."
Inside she greeted the receptionist by name, Irene if you care, and signed in, the whole process taking about 30 seconds.
"Go on back, Room 1," she said, "you know the drill."
Nancy was almost skipping in her excitement.
Room 1 was a very standard examination room. There was a counter along one wall with some cabinets and a sink. A big erector set of a contraption held a big light. Directly centered in the room was a big examination table. It was obviously a high-end version, the leather was soft and supple and, more importantly, well-padded. It looked almost like a single bed except for the chrome rod and stirrup device at the foot end.
"Grab me a gown, Honey," Nancy said, pointing to a little closet at the end of the counter as she kicked off her shoes and started on the buttons of her dress.
In the closet, I found one of those hospital gowns that open in the back in exactly the same print as you would find in every hospital and clinic in the world.
I watched her undress, something I always enjoyed. In this case, it was a brief, straightforward operation. She took off the sundress and folded it carefully, did the double-jointed thing to reach behind and unhook her bra and shrug out of it, and then worked her panties down and stepped out of them. She laid the bra and panties on top of the bright blue dress, turned, and held her arms out.
I slipped the gown over her arms and then turned her so I could do the ties at her neck and waist.
"Christ," I said, turning her and looking her up and down, "you look like a kid on Christmas morning."
She giggled and said, "That is EXACTLY how I feel."
She hopped up onto the examination table leaving me the hard plastic chair.
For the first time since I met her, I felt awkward. I didn't know what to say.
Evidently, she didn't either so we sat in an uncomfortable silence for the first time.
Dr. Jim broke the awkwardness, bursting into the room without knocking, all energy and goodwill.
"And how is my favorite broodmare doing this morning?" he asked by way of greeting.
She giggled and said, "99.4 and ready. Knock me up, Doc."
He laughed and patted her knee.
"Feet in the stirrups," he said, "and let's see how we're doing."
She put her feet in the metal stirrups and he tightened a little belt across them. "We don't want her moving around for this," he said over his shoulder to me by way of explanation.
He adjusted the arms on which the stirrups were mounted until her legs were parted wide, leaving her completely exposed, those beautiful, delicate, pink inner lips hanging free almost to the bottom of her ass.
He turned to me then.
"Well, David," he said, serious now, "Would you like to do the honors?"
"What's that?" I asked.
"I just thought you might like to be the one to do the implantation," he said.
Nancy tilted her head up, awkward in that position, and said, "Yes, David, knock me up."
"What do I do?" I asked.
Dr. Jim pulled a little stool over. It rolled on three legs and was like the mechanic's stool I had for working on cars.
"Sit," he said.
I sat.
"Now," he said, "with most of our surrogates this whole process involves the speculum and lubrication and lots of technique. But Miss Nancy makes it easy."
He patted her lightly on her
mons Veneris
, that beautiful Mound of Venus that marked the entrance to her core, and said, "Push, Nancy."
She grunted softly and her cervix emerged, that very pink dome, shiny with her natural lubricants, looking like a small mouth.
He reached into a little box on the rolling tray and pulled out an oversized syringe with a long flexible plastic tube on the end. At the end of the tube, there was a small rounded knob. The plunger on the syringe was half out, about two inches.
"This goes all the way in," he said, pointing at the round end, being careful to not touch it, "and then just push."
Nancy had relaxed, laying her head back on the little pillow.
I felt nervous for some reason. I mean, it's not like I was looking at something I had never seen before. But there it was.
I was nervous.
"All the way in," Dr. Jim said.
So I did. I touched the rounded end to her cervix and started pushing. There was resistance at first, but once the little knob penetrated the opening the rest slid in easily.
I felt the drama of the moment and held still for a long ten count before I slowly pushed the plunger.
"Hold it there," Dr. Jim said over my shoulder, so I did.
Some time passed, I really don't have a sense of how long although looking back I expect it was no more than 10 minutes.
"Okay," he said, "now pull it out, very slowly."
I did as he instructed. The tube came out, slowly, with just a slight resistance. I could feel as the knob on the end met the muscle of her cervix and had to pull a bit harder. When it was out, there was a single clear drop that accumulated at the bottom of her tiny opening. I wanted to taste it but I didn't.
"Okay," Dr. Jim said, "Up on the table, flat on your back, feet up, for an hour," as he undid the belts holding her feet locked to the stirrups, and patted Nancy on the thigh.
I watched her squirm up onto the table.
"Now give your bride a kiss," Dr. Jim said, "and come with me."
I kissed Nancy, told her she was beautiful, and followed Dr. Jim.
His office was well-appointed. Two walls were lined with bookshelves and to my untrained eye the books and journals looked, well, "medical." The desk was oversized and ornate, with a single folder perfectly centered on the flat surface.
"Have a seat," he said in the way of someone in charge accepting someone into his office.
I sat.
He chuckled.
"Relax, David," he said, "I've been working with Nancy a long time, now, and she knows what to do. Think of this as a, well, as a 'briefing.' There are some things you need to know."
