I lay with Steven still inside me. From down the hall came the sounds of my son and his girlfriend—Steven’s two closest friends. Their laughter had already turned to stifled moans.

“Steven,” I whispered, troubled, “Do they use protection?”

“You mean, like we do. Mrs Jamason?” He pushed deeper, so the warmth of his release enveloped my womb.

My voice caught. “I mean, when they fuck. Yes.”

“We don’t talk about them anymore. Not since…us. This.”

He slid his mouth down between my legs to taste the seed he had planted there.