Chapter 8

eight

DEE

“Oh, fuck,” I moan, trying to make it seem like I’m really enjoying myself. Robbie, the guy I’ve brought home with me from the bar, is naked and sweating underneath me, propped up against my headboard. He plays with my tits while I rise up again on his cock, then slide back down.

It’s just not the same. Not at all.

And that isn’t only because of the condom. He doesn’t fill me up the way Bill did, with that strangely-shaped dick of his. Unfortunately, that was perfect.

Robbie is fine, for a human guy. He’s moderately attentive to my pleasure, and when he gets close to coming, he reaches down between my legs to play with my clit.

It’s still incredible that Bill could make me come with just his cock.

I rock back and forth in Robbie’s lap, but my legs are starting to get tired. This isn’t doing it for me.

“Hey, hey,” I say, falling all the way down on his cock so he groans. “Doggy style me? ”

Robbie blinks a few times, then nods. “Okay, sure.” I awkwardly climb off him and get on my hands and knees. I imagine I’m strapped down to the bench again, my legs spread, my feet in the stirrups. I can almost hear a growl behind me as Bill walks up to position himself.

Robbie slides in, and I hate the feel of the condom between us. Here, at least, I can touch my own clit, and I do so as he fucks me faster and harder.

“Oh, damn,” he moans. I want him to say something else, to say something dirty like Bill did, but he just grunts as I get closer and closer to my very distant climax.

Finally, I’m there, and Robbie lets go. At least he waited for me. That’s somewhat impressive.

Maybe, if I can just open my mind to it, this dating thing could work out. It’s a matter of when I tell him the truth.

Robbie stays the night, but we don’t really cuddle. It didn’t feel intimate, what we did—it was more like a necessary bodily function. I don’t sleep that well, either, with someone else in my bed.

The next morning, though, the stranger I picked up at the bar is affectionate, even as he puts on his clothes quickly to get to work on time. He comes up to me as he buttons his jeans and kisses me on the lips.

“Do I get your number?” he asks in a purr. “That sex last night was incredible.”

At least it was incredible for one of us. But maybe dating this guy could be fun, and get my mind off of Bill.

“Sure. Only if you actually call, though.” I pull out my phone, and he pulls out his .

“Of course I’ll call.” He squeezes my ass. “Not every day some hot woman in a bar takes you home with her.”

I can’t tell if I like him, or if I like that he likes me. We exchange numbers anyway, and then with another kiss, he’s gone.

But I still feel empty inside, like I found a band-aid to cover a wound that will never heal.

RUSS

I sit on my couch, my head in my hands, listening to the television blare.

I lost the trail.

The scent of her arousal still hangs in my nose, but it’s fading slowly. I hope I don’t forget it.

No. I’ll never forget it. Not as long as I live.

I haven’t even caught a whiff of Dee since I went to that empty apartment. Maybe she moved away. What if she left the state completely? How would I find her then?

Damn. I need a drink.

All it takes is a text message to my friend Caleb to get me out of the house. He’s barbecuing, he says. He has some cold ones and hot dogs if I come over now.

A few of our friends have gathered in Caleb’s backyard, and they all raise their beers when I arrive. I wonder if any of them had planned to invite me.

Marlene trots over with her drink clasped in her claws. She extends her huge, feathery wings, then parks them again against her back .

“Good to see you up and about,” she says, welcoming me into the grassy backyard.

“Up and about?” I ask. “I’m always up and about. I work in a hospital.”

“Yeah,” chimes in Caleb, “but besides that, you just mope around.”

Is that why they’re all meeting up without me? Because I’m a bummer?

“Wow, guys,” I say, tossing back some beer. “Good to know I have my friends’ support.”

Caleb blinks his huge, single eye at me. “Of course you have our support. But you didn’t really want it, friend. Every time we asked you to come out with us, you said no.”

I guess that’s true. I just didn’t... feel like it.

Maybe it was better to sit around and mope, wondering what Dee was doing out in the world. How is our cub growing? Early pregnancy can be unpleasant and uncomfortable—as can the rest of the process of creating another person—and I want more than anything to be there with her.

“Just hand me a beer,” I say instead, holding out one paw. Caleb rolls his eye and heads for the cooler, grabbing a bottle and tossing it to me. I snap the lid off with my claw, then throw it back.

Ah, that’s good. Just what I needed: a beer and some sunshine. Now, if only it were a raw deer instead of a hot dog...

I haven’t gone hunting in a long time. Maybe I should rectify that. Some blood on my face and a still-beating heart in my mouth might just be exactly what the doctor ordered.

A different doctor. I just do babies.

“I guess you didn’t have any luck tracking her down?” asks Marlene, pushing back some of the feathers on her head .

“Dead end,” I say. “Now I have no idea where to look.”

“Well, you know her name. Just scope her out on social media.”

“I did that.” She didn’t have much of a presence, all be told. Some old photos from college, and a professional profile that was wildly out of date. I get the sense she tried to find a good job after graduating, but didn’t have any luck and ended up at McFlips. “Not enough to go on. No friends in common.”

Marlene hmms . “You could do it the old-fashioned way and hire a PI.”

I stare at her. “A private investigator? Really?”

She shrugs. “Why not? That’s why they exist.”

I’d be expressly going against DreamTogether’s policies if I hired someone to help me find her. But I’m not above it at this point, either.

“What could a PI do that I can’t?” I ask.

“Maybe get her forwarding address?” She shrugs. “They’re the professionals, not me.”

I spend the rest of the barbecue chewing over her suggestion. It might be exactly the thing I need. Because the instinct to find Dee, to watch over her, is all-consuming.

The first chance I get, I start searching for private investigators. Though most look like spam sites, a few locals pop up. I call each one, but two of the three say they aren’t taking new work.

The third one, a young-sounding woman, hums on the other end of the line when I ask her rates.

“Tell me what you’re after, and then I tell you how much it costs,” she says, and I can hear her tapping a pen on a desk.

“I’m trying to find a woman,” I say.

“I knew that already.”

I huff. “A woman who’s carrying my child. A human woman.”

There’s a momentary silence, and then: “And you don’t know her?”

“I do know her. I just... don’t know where she lives, or how to get in touch with her.”

The PI hums thoughtfully on the other end of the line. “Interesting conundrum. Okay. I don’t ask details because I don’t care. I generally try to keep out the axe murderers, but I think you’re just after your kid. That will cost you four grand.”

I pull the phone away from my ear and stare down at it.

“Four grand ?”

“What did you expect to pay? This is my living. Now cough it up, or this call can be done.”

She’s a real ball-buster, and it reminds me of Dee.

“Fine.”

“Fax over the information,” she says, “and I’ll see if I can help you.”

A fax machine? I must be living in the wrong decade.

She rattles off the number and promptly hangs up. I write down what I can about Deanna, including her old address and place of work. Then I trudge down to the local print shop to see if they can get me to a fax machine.

A few minutes later I get another call.

“Cash only,” the PI says without introduction. “And I’ll find your baby momma.”

“Done. ”

I hope I’m not throwing my money away, but it’s worth it if it gets me even a little closer to finding Dee.

DEE

The morning after picking up Robbie at the bar, I go after my knitting more vigorously. I thought he would be the perfect distraction, but now I have a gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach. Whatever hunger was sated by last night, it was surface level, and now the need is back even worse than before.

To distract myself, I put on nature documentaries that might be somewhat educational, and that way I don’t feel like I’m simply wasting my day away watching soaps.

Though I do love soaps.

I work my way up some complicated patterns, but then my eyes and my hands get tired, so I go on a long walk around the neighborhood to fill the time. I’m even more restless now, like something is missing.

Maybe I should get a dog. Then at least I’d look like I have a reason to be out walking all the time.

Then the dog makes me think of Bill, and I just want to kick a trash can. Why didn’t I offer him my number at the end of our second session? I could have whispered it in his ear, so no one could overhear.

Okay. The dog. The dog is a good idea.

I immediately pull up the shelter on my phone, and look through the pictures of available dogs. One face stands out at me, a hound-like animal with floppy ears and big jowls. His bio says that he’s an older dog, but still needs plenty of walks.

He sounds perfect for me.

I call on my way home and make an appointment to go and meet “Boomer.” I’ll need to get my landlord’s permission, but it shouldn’t be too hard.

Yeah. Maybe that’s exactly what I need. A dog and a fuck buddy to keep me company until this baby comes out, and I can try to pretend like Bill never happened.

That’s a lot easier said than done when the morning sickness sets in.

I thought it would come on sooner, and then I could get it over with, but nope. And it’s not just in the morning, either. I’ll suddenly feel nauseated while I’m eating cereal—yes, still eating cereal—and sprint to the bathroom, puking up all my guts. Or it’ll happen at night when I’m getting ready for bed.

I have issues with whoever called it morning sickness. It’s just sickness sickness , and it fucking sucks. Even worse is knowing this is just the beginning.

I have all the books. I’ve already bought special inserts for my shoes for later, when I’m too big and my feet start to hurt. I have the heating pads for my back, and the creams for my stretch marks. I know I won’t escape without a few of those, but I don’t mind. I’ll wear them like a tattoo.

Robbie does call me, like he promised, and I tell him I’m going to meet a dog.

“You really are lonely,” he says. “Want some company? I have the day off. ”

I guess I wouldn’t mind bringing someone with me who maybe knows more about dogs than I do, so I agree.

We meet at the shelter, and to my surprise, Robbie kisses me there in the parking lot. I already have a feeling he’s more into this than I am, but that could be a good thing. When I tell him the news, maybe he won’t go running for the hills.

Inside, the shelter is overrun with loose cats. Good thing I’m not allergic. I check in at the front desk, and the young man behind the counter leads me to a meeting room. “I’ll bring Boomer here,” he says, and leaves us alone.

“Do you have a yard?” Robbie asks as we sit on the couch, a polite distance between us.

“No, just a balcony. But there’s a greenway right outside the building, and it’s not like I have anything else to do all day.”

I probably shouldn’t have said that, but eventually he’ll find out I don’t have a regular job. If we keep doing this.

He squints at me. “Are you independently wealthy or something?”

I laugh and shake my head. “That would be great, but no. I just have a weird job.”

He’s about to ask me more when the door opens, and a big, lumbering giant comes in. The dog is brown all over, with a kind, gentle face. He trots over to greet me right away, and his huge tongue swipes down the side of my face.

He’ll be perfect for me.