Least Said (36 page)

‘Oooh,’
I
said,
nuzzling
my
face
into
his
neck,
‘I
really
love
it
when
you
talk
dirty.’

‘Talking
isn’t
all
I
do,’
he
grinned,
running
his
hands
over
me
while
I
wriggled
with
enjoyment.

‘Mu-u-um,’
a
plaintive
little
voice
called
from
upstairs,
‘can
I
have
a
drink
of
water?’

I
stood
up,
and
smiling
I
said,
‘A
drink
of
water
is
easy
to
produce,
but
unless
we
really
do
want
a
dog
in
the
family
we’d
better
do
everything
we
can
to
create
this
baby.’

When
I
came
out
of
Will’s
bedroom,
switching
off
the
light
and
closing
the
door,
I
found
Jon
waiting
on
the
landing.

‘What?’
I
said.

‘Just
obeying
instructions,’
he
grinned,
reaching
for
my
hand
and
yanking
me
into
our
bedroom.
‘You
know,
doing
everything
I
can,
and
practice
makes
perfect
babies,
so
they
say.’

‘Let’s
keep
it
fun
–
like
this,’
I
told
Jon,
when
we
lay
sated
in
each
other’s
arms.
‘Let’s
not
get
bogged
down
with
baby-making
for
its
own
sake.’
I
wasn’t
sure
why
I
was
saying
it,
given
my
desperation
for
another
child,
but
I
guess
the
saner
part
of
me
knew
that
Jon
wouldn’t
react
well
if
he
felt
himself
under
pressure
from
me
to
perform.

‘Mmmm,’
he
murmured
in
my
ear,
‘by
fun
what
–
exactly
–
did
you
have
in
mind?’

Feeling
his
body
stir
and
stiffen
against
mine,
I
sat
up
and
stared
at
him.
‘You’re
not...
again?’

But
he
was
and
we
did.
I
felt
that
if
virility
made
babies
we
were
in
with
a
good
chance
of
success.

The
next
day,
leaving
Jon
to
investigate
the
best
supplements
to
provide
his
body
with
the
correct
sperm
nutrients,
I
found
myself
picking
up
the
printed
pages
again
and
reading
a
few
pages
further
on.
As
a
result
of
the
information
I
ingested
I
immediately
threw
out
all
of
Jon’s
underpants
of
the
stretchy
trunk
variety,
and
invested
in
much
looser
boxer
shorts.

‘Those
jeans
you
love
so
much
will
also
have
to
go,’
I
said
bossily
when
he
protested,
‘they’re
much
too
tight
and
you
can
see
for
yourself
that
it
says
here
that
your
scrotum
has
to
be
well
aired.’

‘I
think
you
can
get
arrested
for
that,
love,’
he
said
ruefully,
pulling
a
worried
face.

‘No
heated
car
seats,
no
laptop
on
your
lap,
get
plenty
of
sleep
and
you’d
better
start
making
use
of
that
gym
membership
you
paid
so
much
for,’
I
told
him
sternly.

‘Go
on,’
he
said,
trying
to
snatch
the
sheets
out
of
my
hand,
‘it
doesn’t
say
that,’
but,
of
course,
as
he
quickly
discovered,
it
did
say
exactly
that,
because
exercise
was
something
else
that
was
strongly
recommended
in
those,
oh,
so,
informative
sheets.

We
threw
ourselves
whole-heartedly
into
improving
Jon’s
fertility
by
following
each
and
every
suggestion
provided.
So
did
William,
though
he
had
no
idea
about
the
importance
of
the
healthier
diet
and
lifestyle
we
were
all
enjoying,
or
the
results
we
were
hoping
for
as
a
consequence.
I
think
we
all
benefitted
from
the
freshly
sourced,
home-cooked
food
–
not
that
I
had
ever
gone
in
for
ready
meals
but
anything
can
be
improved
upon
–
and
from
the
fact
that
we
spent
far
more
time
out
in
the
fresh
air
that
we
did
in
front
of
the
TV.

I
honestly
hadn’t
been
expecting
miracles
but,
while
I
wasn’t
as
devastated
as
I
had
been
before,
the
next
time
I
menstruated
I
couldn’t
help
being
disappointed
all
over
again.

Jon,
coming
in
from
work,
correctly
interpreted
my
glum
expression.
‘Look,’
he
pointed
out
patiently,
‘it
says
right
here
on
the
front
page
of
this
information
that
it
will
take
at
least
ten
weeks
before
the
first
higher
quality
sperm
will
be
found
in
the
seminal
fluid.’

‘I
know,
I
really
do
know,’
I
admitted,
and
I
did,
too,
because
I
could
quote
almost
word
for
word
the
information
offered
in
those
now
far
too
familiar
sheets,
‘but
still...’