The Surrogate - Ch. 07

Shake it off, Amy.

You trained with her for one hour.

Think about the big picture, Amy.

The gym felt lonely and sounded hollow without Hannah chatting to me, so I plugged into my favorite playlist and spun hard. Kayleigh's warm-up routine fared no better because, for no reason other than my competitive nature, I'd blasted ahead of the peloton and had nobody to talk to.

It's no use.

I need coffee and someone to talk to.

I leaped off the bike, leaving class ten minutes early. I had enough of a sweat on to record my training session as a success, but I needed company.

Pushing away someone who wanted to befriend me was a new experience for me. I usually gave people a chance and let them in, at least until discovering whether we were compatible.

This time, I pushed Hannah away, and it felt hurtful. My rationale was sound, but the method used might have been a little too robust.

I pushed open the door to Victor's industrial kitchen, surprised by its scale and how well-equipped the place was. Three chefs continued food preparation in a double squash court-sized pristine catering emporium. At the same time, I stood near the pass, looking back into the decorative house kitchen, keeping the door between both open with my foot outstretched.

The two kitchens couldn't be more contrasted. One served pre-cooked food from the other, appointed with brand new, never-been-used ovens and hob. That kitchen had beautiful blue ceramic tiled splash guards and walls, with granite and highly polished wood surfaces. The other kitchen was a plastic, half-walled, stainless steel hard-core catering hub capable of feeding hundreds.

A disapproving cough behind drew my attention, and I saw the man whose domain I was neither entirely in nor out. He smiled, nodding at my offending leg.

"Someone might trip over your foot, hurting themselves or you."

"Oh, sorry."

"In or out, Amy? Choose now."

"I'm all in, chef."

"That's what I heard about you. Fancy a coffee... chef's style?"

"Extra strong?"

"Overwhelmingly so. Guaranteed to keep a Columbia Law student awake for weeks. Could it be one of your last for a while?"

"How so?"

"Pregnancy and coffee aren't a favorable combination."

A thought struck me as I sat on a stool near the pass that Martin, head chef in Victor's household, kindly provided.

I researched surrogacy, not pregnancy.

"I'll take proper advice when the time comes, Martin."

"We'll construct a diet to energize you for all that study work ahead. You might fart a lot, but at least you'll stay awake."

"Didn't you know girls don't fart until you marry them, Martin?"

He laughed heartily, slid a triple espresso across the stainless steel work table to me, and then went off to issue instructions.

I can do this. Learn about pregnancy next.

I should relax, though.

Try to find Hannah and make things right.

Martin returned, looking grumpy, eyeing me like I might have done something terrible.

"Am I allowed in this kitchen?"

"Yes, of course, with my permission. If I'm not here, I'd rather you didn't because the younger chefs might become distracted and slice off a finger or something equally dumb."

"Are you annoyed with me?"

"No, not at all."

"You look grumpy, Martin."

"I just heard that Hannah left without even saying goodbye. Her name got scratched off the menu like she was never here."

"Ahh, sorry. That might be my fault."

"How could it be? You've been here two days... unless she finally gave up on reconciling with Victor."

"She did."

"Well, that's a good thing, right?"

Oh dear god, you like her.

Martin's face brightened immeasurably on news that Hannah might be available rather than departed. His cheeks flushed, and he beamed like a Cheshire cat. I instantly knew what a crush looked like and felt sorry that my almost new best friend wasn't here to enjoy his excitement for herself.

Martin was very handsome and precisely the kind of man I might date were I not embarking on a surrogacy adventure, which I was, so I couldn't.

"You have a crush on her."

"Nah... Hannah wouldn't be interested in me."

"That's a silly thing to say."

"Is your's a legal opinion or as a houseguest whose food I prepare?"

"That's a good point. You have the opportunity and means to poison me; I shouldn't provide a motive."

He chuckled, still rolling warmly in an emotional bath of Hannah's availability. After sipping a good amount of espresso, I pursed my lips, enjoying how it ignited my body, preparing me for the day.

"Do you know where Hannah went, Amy?"

"No idea, sorry."

Stick with the truth and don't offer anything you don't have to.

"Okay, well, that's that. I'll track her down."

After I smiled and said goodbye, guilt struck me heavily. I carried my burden to the elevator, where powerful pulleys and steel cables took over, lifting it to my bedroom floor.

If I told him about the other house Victor has, he could track down the chef and ask about Hannah. He probably already knows the address.

I could have told him that Victor knows where Hannah is.

Greg probably took her there as well. I could have told him that.

But then I'd be meddling and become a hypocrite.

I hated people who did generous things purely to salve their conscience. I wasn't about to tarnish Hannah's fresh start with a hint of romance she missed simply because I was having a guilt trip.

Maybe she didn't miss it. Perhaps Hannah ran to avoid Martin once, realizing it was over with Victor.

He's a cute guy.

Perhaps not in her opinion, though.

I considered Hannah and Martin, picturing them together while showering alone, occasionally peering around the glass partition when I heard noises, hoping Victor might show up.

When he eventually did, my surrogacy partner seemed utterly exhausted. He had three power drinks in hand, one of which he drained in seconds.

"You had a hard session?"

"Yes. I'm shaving off my anger and arrogance."

"What do you mean?"

"I have an important meeting this morning. The man coming here is truly detestable and brings out the worst in me."

"Oh my. That's quite a revelation."

Wow, I wasn't expecting emotional unburdening.

"He tells me about the hookers he bedded in a hotel suite the night before. It angers me because we have no friendship to base such conversations on, and such things are not my pleasure."

"You don't seem angry or arrogant to me. Perhaps a little guarded, but that's normal for people playing at the high-stakes table.."

"I keep myself in check through several means. My hubris can become awful if unchecked."

"And you use sport as an outlet?"

"Among other things, yes."

"What other things, Victor?"

"Therapy, by deploying coping strategies and some other things."

What other things?

"I use a simple strategy in life that I principally developed for the courtroom."

"Please share with me, Amy. I'm always willing to learn."

You are, and I admire that about you.

"Before any meeting, encounter, lecture, or even phone call, I picture the person or people I'm dealing with and review their past behavior traits and interactions. I imagine the context of my call or meeting and assess their anticipated response."

"So, if you expect them to behave like an ass, and they do, it doesn't provoke you?"

"Exactly. It doesn't even surprise me because they are doing what I expected. I wouldn't make much of a trial lawyer if someone knocked me over with a sentence."

"So, if the guy coming to see me today is an ass, I should expect him to be an ass before he arrives?"

"Not just that. You should plan your response to when he behaves ass-like."

"And hold back my temper."

"Yes, but also use the moment of his weakness to press home your advantage. He's probably acting this way to knock you sideways."

"Fuck, Amy. Jesus Christ."

"What is it?"

"I think you're right. It's a negotiating tactic. He isn't a whoremonger at all."

He might be.

"This is standard trial lawyer 101. Courtrooms are a fucking vicious playground, but then, people's lives and delivering justice are the highest stakes. Even more so than all of your riches."

"It's so very true."

He looked contemplative, stripping off before me as though we were a decades-old husband and wife. I drank in his rippling chest and bicep muscles as he peeled off a sleeveless sweat top, loving how his body descended into a ripped six-pack, pinching in at the waist.

And that fucking cock. Jesus, I could use a little of that fuck stick buried deep inside my lady parts right now.

I was glad when he smiled and left for the shower. With my hair dry, I was fully dressed in a lightweight summer floral pattern dress when my dripping wet, bronzed Adonis returned with a semi-erection.

"How would you deal with this guy I'm meeting, Amy?"

"Do you have a profile on him?"

"No. Should I?"

"We use trial scientists for important cases. They have psychological workups on everyone: judges, opposing counsel, even the jurors to help select them."

"Because the stakes are so high?"

"Exactly. How high are your stakes?"

"Enough to know I should be reading a psychological profile right now."

"You should probably have a performance psychologist and profiler on your staff. They would help key managers maintain high mental fitness and do this profiling. Look inside the FBI.

"Fucking hell, Amy. How do you know this?"

"Because I intend to be a winner, like you."

"The General who loses his temper will launch his troops to the assault like swarming Ants."

"You know your Sun Tsu, Victor."

"I need to understand my lawyering better, Amy."

"There is a reason why William Shakespeare said, let's kill all the lawyers."

"If you were me, what would you do in this circumstance?"

"How do you ordinarily counter the other side in a negotiation?"

"Figure out their desired outcomes, red lines, and bail-out position."

"Then treat his behavior as part of his negotiating tactic designed to meet that end, and he becomes simpler to deal with."

"Got it."

He lifted my satchel, using it as an excuse to wrap his arms tightly around me and kiss me. It wasn't necessary and shouldn't have been done in the spirit of our surrogacy agreement, but it felt nice to be held by a man who wanted me.

His cock prodded me suggestively, but Victor made no move to further any sexual objectives.

"Perhaps we should train earlier and make good use of your morning wood, Victor."

"What time will you return from University?"

"Noon."

"I shall be ready to become the property of a lady, should she call upon me."

His lips sizzled my heart before they brushed lightly against mine. His passionate kiss and my wanton response with a flickering tongue deep in his mouth proved this was no normal surrogacy. I needed companionship, and that was still a long way from us loving one another and becoming entangled.

"I have half an hour. I'm a compulsive early arriver for everything."

"Can you dispense of that for one day? Columbia is only ten minute's drive away, maximum."

"I'm wearing a dress, so access is simple."

Victor lifted and carried me to our bed, and I giggled delightedly while he tugged off my panties. I noticed a massive cock at full erection, wanting it deep inside my hole, bottoming out, spilling an ocean of semen inside my fertile organs.

"Hunt down my egg and make me pregnant, please, Victor."

"How could I refuse, darling, Amy."

Darling... too far... too much.

Oh, shut the fuck up and enjoy the man, Amy.

When his cock slid deep inside my soaking wet pussy, I ached from the multiple times Victor had fucked me a day prior. My pussy stretched wide open, I gasped, and my heart thumped like an artillery barrage. I felt lifted with excess oxytocin flooding me, frowning lewdly for his delight.

"I love it when you pull at your bottom lip, Amy."

"I'm not doing it deliberately. I want you so badly right now, baby's daddy."

My internal organs shifted gently, making room inside a desperately throbbing pink cathedral in which my orgasm already trembled like a storm out at sea, gathering its strength for a landfall onslaught.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, slamming both heels into his firm ass cheeks, spurring Victor on to fill me up.

"That's it, my lover, fuck me harder."

My, what now?

I shook my head, lay back, and enjoyed Victor pinning my shoulders with both palms planted firmly above them on the mattress.

"You're making sure I get all of your cock."

"Does it hurt inside?"

"Not as much as I love it, so please go ahead and fuck me harder."

When I pressed back with all my might, wrapping a velvet sheath around his cock, I felt every vein on his rigid shaft. Love was emblazoned on Victor's face, but it was a moment of lust that had painted it fleetingly in a rippling expression toiling with emotions while I orgasmed, and he filled my love tunnel with baby-making seed.

He rolled off, panting, grinning, then chuckling with me, closing my legs tight to retain his seed for a few minutes more.

"Fuck that felt good."

"Do you know something, Amy? I feel so calm and grounded right now."

"That's just sexual chemistry."

"No, my dear, it is you."

I rolled out of bed and ran for the toilet, needing to drain his cum or suffer its discomfort coating the gusset in my panties while I wriggled on hard chairs in my lecture hall.

I'm going too far.

Maybe I should use the break clause if I get my next period.

Run for it, Amy.

I grinned at my chimp brain for telling me to run. My primal being was morally and pleasurably split, simultaneously wanting me to run away and stay to get pregnant, fulfilling my contract and deepest desires.

"I'm staying, regardless of the consequences."

"What was that, my dear?"

"Sorry, Victor, I was talking to myself. I hadn't realized you were in the bathroom."

"Just brushing my teeth."

"Sorry."

I slipped past him, embarrassed, hoping he might brush off my comment.

"I'm glad you are staying."

No such luck.

I spun around, noticing chagrin painted on my expression in a mirror reflection.

"Oh, you heard me. Sorry, the internal monologue can be distracting."

"I feel the same dilemma about what we are doing, Amy."

"How so?"

"Because in two short days, the idea of what surrogacy might be has been utterly dispelled in my thoughts."

"It's becoming very different from what I imagined it to be as well."

"You feel like a companion, Amy."

"I was thinking the same thing. Do you think that does any harm?"

"Not at all, but we must not cross the boundary of friendship into romance."

We may already have done that.