Sex life for Lou Rye was cruising along. He was thirty-four, still far enough from his 40th birthday not to be thinking of being middle aged.
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His wife Svetlana was pregnant. Oh boy that was such a relief. She’d stopped her constant moans at being unable to become pregnant and looking at him accusingly with almost a big question mark on her forehead.
The cow; he’d known every shot Lou Rye got away was crammed with sperm. Still there had been occasions he’d worried perhaps he had been firing blanks. But now the swagger was back in his walk and he could once again touch his erection with pride.
Svetlana the daughter of illegal immigrants had married him when they graduated. She’d been the one in a hurry. But despite banging away most nights and often in the morning it had taken eleven years to produce a fertilized egg. Huh perhaps her eggs had been duds?
The marriage had been okay. In that time they’d had three cats and two dogs to substitute for children. He’d run over one cat in the driveway, Svetlana had squashed one of the dogs against the garage wall when driving in too far, a half-blind neighbour who couldn’t even identify the make and colour of the get-away car actually saw the replacement dog being kidnapped. The other two cats just disappeared and were probably living with little old ladies along the street somewhere or even over the back fence.
Two years after marriage Lou was promoted to sales manager and only recently became director at sales and marketing as the three women appointed ahead of him had all successively bombed out, proving incapable at even organizing duty rosters. In the three months he’d had the sales and marketing tiller, sales had lifted 5.6% in the first 30 days, 11.2% after 60 days and 90 days under his command sales had risen 15.9%. The CEO had patted him on the back, straightened Lou’s tie and said he could expect a fat bonus.
That senior manager appointment two years ago almost ended disastrously, Lou recalled, grinning and rubbing his groin and wondering if he could find employment as a private contractor servicing women desperate to become pregnant.
Oh fuck, they wouldn’t wish to wait eleven years for a result.
* * *
He recalled the pretty blonde in his new office had purred, “Good morning Mr Rye. How are we this fine morning?”
Lou looked behind him in response to that use of ‘we’ but no one was behind him.
“Hi, what are you doing in my office?”
“I’m your PA Robyn Mitchell. Mrs Salter applied for a transfer instead of moving up with you.”
“Why?”
“Because you leer.”
Lou thought that was inoffensive and smiled and said, “But never have I leered at that old bitch.”
Robyn giggled. “Exactly. She hated you for not leering at her.”
“God who said women had brains?”
Robyn giggled again and said brightly, “They don’t.”
Lou thought he really liked Robyn with her intelligent wit. He said boldly, “What do you have worth me leering at Robyn.”
She cupped her breasts. “Well these for starters.”
Lou leered hugely as they lifted right in front of his eyes.
“A-a-anything thing else?”
Robyn hitched up her skirt. “These. Even my mother says I have lovely thighs. Would you like to touch me?”
“Pu-put a notice on the office d-door stating ‘Staff Meeting in Progress’ and lock the d-door.”
“Omigod. Are you going to seduce me at 8:50?”
“Is that too early?”
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