As the post-convention clean up was wrapping, the two lead organizers and their gofer Gary said they were going for a bite to eat, and asked if I wanted to come. If I had half the maturity I should have had I would have realized they had decided I was helpful but harmless, kind of like a basset hound who fetched your slippers. Instead I was sure at least one of them was interested and determined magic would happen that night.

After dinner, Gary the gofer took his leave, and one of the ladies suggested we retire to the lounge. I eagerly accepted, maybe too eagerly. Anyway I was very interested in 'getting on' with one of them. They were both divorcees, both with a kid, and both very attractive. I thought my odds were good, since I had had an affair with a divorced mom before, but I should have comprehended that these were two worldly ladies and were way out of my league.

After about a half-hour it was clear neither was looking for a boy toy, and I was no doubt a little too hormonal (being on my third beer didn't help). I'm sure they were both feeling not a little awkward, and soon both very nicely said they were tired and smoothly departed, each giving me a hand squeeze as they left. I'm sure they had a nice tittering conversation about how embarrassingly obvious I had been. Not the first time I had struck out with an older women by acting immature.

I stayed in the convention lounge after they left. I wasn't in a hurry to get home, and wanted to drown my frustration at not having got on with either of the divorcees. Besides, the lounge had a great view of the city.

So I was a little startled when a voice said, "May I sit down?"

I turned to find a lady bending over a chair. And boy, what a lady. She was about 5' 8", and very shapely. She had on a skirted suit which looked professional but hugged her curves nicely. She had on expensive earrings and a matching broach, and smelled of expensive perfume and money.

"Please," I said, recovering my manners. I pulled out the chair and she sat down. No sooner had she sat than a waiter appeared beside her, obviously staying close to someone with scratch.

"Same," she told him, and turned back to me while the waiter disappeared.

"I`m Laura," she said, offering her hand.

I took it and squeezed, in the time-honored tradition of not quite shaking a woman's hand, and said my name. The attentive waiter brought her a martini, which she took a sip of, and said, "if I'm not being too forward, you look a great deal like my husband."

Now this was a strange opening line, I thought. If the roles were reversed and I said something like that to a woman I had just met she'd most likely take that as a cue to tell me to get lost. But I'm the long-suffering type, especially when beautiful ladies are involved.

"Thanks, I suppose," I said noncommittally.

Laura smiled and replied, "I'm quite serious; same hair color, height, even the facial structure is the same, it's quite remarkable."

I was still trying to form a reply when she asked, "What is your blood type?"

Now this conversation was really taking an odd turn, but I was interested to see where this was going. I glanced quickly around to see if there was a group of her friends watching us with barely contained laughter, then replied, "B positive."

"Perfect," she said, with genuine pleasure. She took another sip and continued, "I have a proposition for you."

I was now genuinely intrigued, so simply said, "Yes?"

She crossed her arms tight to her chest and leaned forward in a very feminine gesture, and said quietly, "First of all, I'd like to have intercourse with you this evening."

This was the most clinical proposition I had ever received from a beautiful woman. It was also the first proposition I had ever received from a beautiful woman. I had no idea how to respond so instead of saying something inane or inappropriate (as is my usual practice) I simply said, "Hmmm."

"You see, the thing is, my husband is sterile," she explained, "although he's too proud to admit it. So he won't even entertain artificial insemination from a sperm bank. He says things will happen in due course. Well, due course has gone on for three years now." She grimaced at the last statement.

Laura drained her martini and went on.

"I'm here on business from my home on the east coast. I was just sitting at a table, brooding over my dilemma when I saw you come in. I sized you up while the other women were here, and saw in you a solution to this impasse with my husband."

"Any child we conceive would be the spitting image of my husband," she continued, warming to her subject, "and with even the proper blood type there's no way he would find out. And doing this on the opposite coast will help with discretion."

I took a long sip of my beer while thinking this over. The implications of this were truly staggering. Much of that was trumped, however, by my interest in sex with a lovely and classy lady.

"Aren't there potential legal ramifications with this? Paternity suits, child support, and all that?" I said finally.

Laura leaned back, apparently a little surprised I didn't suggest we retire to the alley immediately and do the deed on some trash cans. She took on a business-like air, and said, "I have a contract with me. I copied it out of a legal journal, so it's very thorough. It specifies that any child which comes of our copulation will be totally my responsibility."

While I considered this she continued, "Also, by agreeing to the contract you also give up any and all parental rights."

That sounded fine to me, since I wasn't ready to be a dad. I replied, "So I would essentially be a sperm donor, nothing more."

Laura smiled and said, "Yes, but you'll also have the satisfaction of performing the insemination in person."

I certainly liked the sound of that. "OK," I said, "I'll take the risk that you're not really a serial killer or something." Which was my first attempt at being clever.

My attempt fell flat with Laura. She simply leaned back and said, "Excellent. There's a print shop a block away which appears to stay open late. We'll need to go there and have the contract notarized." She began to get up.

I drained my beer, then put it down and touched her hand, restraining her from getting up. "Now are we talking about the whole thing," I asked, "We're not going to do this with me blindfolded, or wrapped in a sheet or something?"

For the first time she looked at me with some tenderness. "Complete intimacy, I promise," she whispered, leaning forward close enough so I could feel her breath brush my cheek.

With that I stood up, raring to go, but also wanting to exit the lounge before the massive erection that suddenly started became too apparent.

About 20 minutes later we pulled up to the print store. Laura's rent car was a BMW, which confirmed my suspicions of her affluence. Through the windows of the store I could see one bored man behind the counter. The place was empty otherwise.

We entered the small shop. Laura strode up to the counter like she meant business.

"We need this notarized," she said, spreading the agreement on the counter.

"Well, that would be me," said the man behind the counter. As he reached under the counter for his notary log and stamp, he read over the document. Instead of being horrified or even surprised, he simply smiled slightly. After paging through it, he folded it over to the signature page and turned it towards us.

"I need ID," he said. I handed him my license; Laura her passport. He reviewed both documents, then wrote in his log. Looking up at us, he said, "Do you both enter into this agreement of your own free will? I need a verbal yes from both of you."

We both said yes, and he made more log entries. He asked us both to sign, checked the signatures against the IDs, affixed his stamp, and we were done. Laura folded the document, put in her purse, then produced a $100 bill which she handed the man.

"I am asking for your discretion in this matter," she said.

The man took the bill and said, "Don't worry. This isn't the first of these I've seen. Being open late at this location I'm kind of a magnet for them."

Laura nodded and swiftly walked outside. I merely grinned and followed her. She swiftly entered her car, and through the open window handed me a hotel key.

"The Four Seasons, in half an hour," she said with a smile, and drove off.

Half an hour later I gently unlocked her room and strode in. Laura stood up from her laptop. She was wearing a hotel bathrobe.

"Do you need to freshen up or something?" she asked.

"No, I'm fine," I said, suddenly feeling kind of uncertain at the imminence of what we were about to do.

"Well, let's get started," she replied, and with one fluid motion untied her robe and dropped it to the ground. She was wearing nothing underneath.

My mouth dropped open at the sight of her. She was very curvy, with beautifully rounded thighs framing a trim lady nest which revealed the curve of her labia. And her breasts were no doubt enhanced, but it was done very nicely so they had a full shape but still would hang and sway.

"Oh man," I gasped, "you`re incredible."

She backed up and sat on the bed in a recline, up on her elbows, with her legs crossed demurely.

"For a woman of my age?" She asked.

"Any age," I replied while I began ripping my clothes off. As I became naked she nodded approvingly. I knelt down in front of her.

"Can I suck your breasts?" I asked.

She nodded and sat up while I separated her legs. I ran my tongue over her engorged nipples while rubbing my hands around the glorious roundness of her breasts. Soon my sucking changed to full-mouth swallowing of nipple and breast, which her labored breathing indicated she was enjoying. After several minutes she took my head in her hands and lifted it, and looked into my eyes.

"Save some for my baby," she said. She urged me up by lifting under my chin, and I stood up.

She gently took my erect member and began stroking it gently. I moaned with appreciation.

"I bet you have lots of seed in here for me," she said, "now when you ejaculate in me make sure you do it deep inside near my cervix, because that's where babies are made."

I was only kind of half listening, for her stroking was exquisite.

"You'd better stop that, or you'll get that seed all over your hands," I warned.

She smiled and rolled over. "I want to do it from behind. Studies show that gives a higher likelihood of fertilization," she said.

I didn't protest, since I figured she was the expert, and besides I would have fucked her hanging from a trapeze by that time. She got up on her knees and spread them apart. Her labia was engorged and wet.

"Is this high enough?" she asked.

I grunted my agreement, and began rubbing two fingers in her musty labia.

"That's heavenly," she said quietly, "but let's hurry and make a baby."

I didn't have to be told twice. I took my member and with one movement penetrated her. She gave a small squeal as my manhood entered her. I also moaned, for she was warm and tight. We both began labored breathing as I thrust repeatedly into her. She rocked back and forth to meet my thrusts. It was the most incredible intercourse I had had, or certainly in the top three.

As we had intercourse with increasing vigor I became aware of what was going to happen at the end of this. I don't know if I would have reconsidered, for at just that moment my mouth went dry, and that old familiar feeling went up my spine.

"We're about to make a baby," I gasped, loudly, "are you ready?" It was kind of a last warning before we took the irrevocable step.

"Oh, yes" Laura shouted, dropping her head to the bed "please, give it to me. Make me pregnant!"

No sooner had she yelled her assent than I grunted loudly as I shot a huge stream of semen into her waiting womb. Remembering her instructions, I forced my member deep inside of her while ejaculating a river of man-spunk. She shivered as an orgasm swept through her.

I stood there while emptying my seminal vesicles into her. I moved in and out as the flow slackened. Satisfied that I had done all I could, l pulled out of her. A string of semen stretched between her lips and the tip of my shaft, and some pearly-white dribbles dropped onto the covers.

I leaned heavily against the wall at the head of the bed, panting from the exertion of my orgasm.

"Mission accomplished!" I said.

Laura smiled. She was still on the bed, with her head pressed to the covers and her ass in the air. The air was heavy with the musty smell of her moist vagina and semen.

"What are you doing?" I asked, as she continued holding her `doggy style' pose.

"Making sure as much as possible gets to the cervix," she replied.

"You look like a mother hen on her brood," I said smiling.

Laura simply smiled back but held her pose for a good five minutes. Finally she got up and padded quietly into the bathroom. I watched her shapely ass cross the room.

After dressing I tootled about the room while she was in the bathroom. It was one of the nicest I had ever been in. Finally I located a stash of postcards, and chose one with a nice beach scene. I used a hotel pen to write only my address on it.

When Laura came out she was somewhat surprised. "Oh, you`re still here," she said while she turned and began brushing her hair. For some reason I wasn't ready to leave.

"How will you explain this to your husband?" I asked, turning the postcard over in my hand.

"Easy," she said while touching up her mascara, "I'll have sex with him as soon as I get back. He'll assume that his bullets started firing."

"Seems you thought of everything," I said, and wanting to change the subject asked, "so, how's your first hour of motherhood?"

She looked at me while putting on her earrings. "I haven't actually conceived yet. It takes the swimmers about an hour or two to get up the Fallopian tube. I'll probably conceive while I'm sitting the airport lounge waiting for my flight home."

Laura was now fully put together and gave me the stare of someone wanting to know what I wanted.

Pursing my lips l started.

"There's no guarantees in this sort of thing," I began, "so I'll go crazy not knowing."

I held up the postcard and said, "I only have my address on this. Could you just put a 'yes' or 'no' on it as soon as you're sure, and drop it in the mailbox? I swear I won't bother you again."

Laura starred pensively for a moment, then took the card from me. She tucked it in with the notarized form and placed them in a pocket of her briefcase. She then turned and began silently packing her suitcase.

I'm not sure why she was suddenly so cold. It could have been her way of dealing with being unfaithful to her husband, even though the purpose had been reproduction rather than emotional fulfillment. Or it could have been she really was that cold and could turn her emotions on and off at will. Whatever it was it was clear my involvement in her life was finished. Without another word I left the room. I felt very much like the sperm donor that I was.

About two and a half weeks later the postcard arrived, with the word 'yes' written in small, neat cursive. I sighed and put the card down the garbage chute.

For many years I treasured the memory of our night together but carefully buried any thought of what had resulted. During that time I got married, started a career and had two lovely kids. I’ve often wondered if I would be contacted someday by a person (I don’t even know if it would be a man or woman) wanting to meet their biological father. I think my wife would be very upset, for I have told no one of that liaison with Laura.

But anything could have happened: Laura might have miscarried, the child could have died young, Laura and her husband could have divorced, etc. Laura was right that no one could tell from a blood test that the child wasn’t her husband’s, so unless she told the child he would never know his actual parentage.

I’ve read, however, how today genetic testing can identify parentage to a pretty high degree, but someone would have to do that with the sole purpose of identifying parentage; it wouldn’t occur by happenstance, like with a blood test. Anyway, like I told Laura when I gave her the postcard, I’ll go crazy not knowing, and I pretty much have for about a quarter century now.