Friday 3rd September 2010
One year ago.
We sit down in the waiting area, the same waiting area as before. The same place as for Suse’s shoulder operation. The same as for her laparoscopy.
And now this.
I stare at my watch.
I jiggle my knee up and down.
“What’s wrong, love?”
“I’ve got to give them my sample, love,” I say, edgily.
“You’ll be fine.”
“Well, they told me I’ve got to get it to them by nine. You know how I don’t like to be rushed.”
“You’re going home to do it?”
“Bloody oath. I’m not doing it here again. No more ‘MILFs in Heat’ for me.”
“Did you line anything up last night?”
“What do you mean?”
“Did you find some material on the internet to help you out?”
I feel something crawl up my back. “I guess I didn’t plan that far ahead,” I say.
“You’ll be fine,” she repeats.
“Yeah, sure. You know how much I love a dry wank.” The man two seats down shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
Either he’s got piles, or he just heard me. “I just love the pressure of all of this. With $2500 riding on my performance. I just love it.”
“Just, pretend it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Come on, Suse. How about you do the same.”
She looks at me, in a look of truce. “Just go up to the desk and ask them about it. Find out the deal.”
I sigh dramatically, like a teenager whose just been told sense. I stand, and approach the counter. The man with the piles watches me warily as I go.
“Hi there,” I say in a low voice, “my wife is here for egg collection today, and I have a question about my sample…”
“…Oh,” the plain looking lady interrupts, “I don’t know anything about that. I’ll call someone down from Andrology.” She refuses to meet my eyes. “Just have a seat,” she says, shooing me and my dirty hands away from the desk.
I sit back down.
“What’s the go?”
“They’re sending someone down to give me a lecture on technique. Probably Cheryl and her purple gloves.”
I pull out my phone and begin to play with it. The plain looking lady and the man with the piles both eye me as I do.
“Anyone would think you were the one having the operation today,” Suse smirks.
“If it goes like last time, I might just need one.”
“Honey, if I had the choice between dry wanking into a cup and having a large needle stuck up through my vagina and into my guts, I’d happily swap.”
Yeah, yeah. You got me on that one.
* * * * *
Two minutes later, an attractive young woman wearing surgical scrubs walks through the door. She spots me instantly – like I’m exuding nervous adolescent pheromones or something. She beckons me with a finger. I follow her halfway down the hall.
“Hi, she says, “I’m Cynthia. I believe you had a questions regarding your sample?”
“Yeah,” I begin, shifting edgily from one foot to the other. “My wife is having harvest at nine a.m. And it’s…” I look at my watch. “…8.19am already. I’ve got to produce my sample. And I’m running out of time.”
“Running out of time?”
“Well, there’s only forty minutes to go.”
“Oh. No, there’s no rush,” she says, smiling kindly. “The sample just has to make it to us by eleven.”
“Really? I’d been told to drop off Suse, go home, produce the sample and be back by nine.”
“Wow. That’s some schedule.”
“Tell me about it.”
“That’s enough to put anyone off.”
“I know!” I laugh with relief.
“We don’t even start preparing the sperm until early afternoon. So, stay here with your wife, get her in for the procedure, and then produce the sample at your leisure.”
At my leisure?
“Okay. I don’t know that I’ll do it at my leisure. I’ll still get right onto it.”
“Whatever works for you.”
At my leisure.
Whatever works for me.
This is so much better than last time.
* * * * *
To be continued…