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Notes: All characters are over the age of 18.

This chapter contains more highly unprofessional psychiatry for the purposes of erotic entertainment. It is not the way a real analyst should behave with patients.

Thank you, readers.

* * * * *

(Springtime)

Jenni is four months pregnant now. She shows a bit more than some women; it seems she produces copious fluid in more ways than one and the small baby has a swimming pool of sorts in which to float. Yes, she no longer thinks of it as “the prawn.” She’s given in to Daddy’s enthusiasm about being parents. More immediately than that, Mark and Freddy are both fascinated by her body and her unquenchable desire for theirs, too. There is something about being pregnant that is more primally erotic than anything to do with the new person who will arrive in the fall. Yes, they conceived almost as soon as they met, possibly their first time making love.”It was meant to happen,” Mark says with his odd metaphysical certainty. He’s still slightly mad, though Jenni has confidence by now that he’ll be a good father.

They continue to perform for their online audience. The response to her pregnancy has been overwhelmingly positive, with only a handful of their viewers expressing disappointment at the loss of Jenni’s svelte figure. The rest of the comments have ranged from surprisingly normal congratulations to the perverted ones of the fetishists after Freddy’s own heart. They might lose a few customers and gain others as her belly grows bigger. Mark reads her some of the sweeter comments about the shape of her body to give her confidence. “See? We ain’t the only ones who can see how beautiful ya look. Lots of guys and women, too, think it looks hot.”

“I’m not sure that’s the belly bump. I think maybe it’s the animal I’m becoming.”

Mark agrees; his girl’s intense hunger is a sight to behold. He gets shivers just thinking about it when they’re apart. Their connection makes it hard to be at work knowing what she’ s suffering in her body, how she anticipates his return… He’s witnessed her orgasm spontaneously from the pressure in her womb, watched her grip the edge of her work table in a kind of sexual vertigo. She says it’s like the floor moves under her feet as heat whooshes up from the base of her spine to her racing heart. She even feels the strange vibration in her wisdom teeth. To Mark, that sounds like morphine and he can’t help feel a pang of envy. Stupidly, he told her this.

“I can start goin’ to meetings again. So you’ll be sure about me,” he offered when he saw the concerned look in her eyes. “I ain’t gonna slip up.”

“Only if you think you need it. If you think it’s best for our family, then I won’t discourage that. I can’t say I like the idea, though.”

“Why?”

“It’s not that I don’t trust you. I do! It’s just I know how those rooms are. It’s against their rules, but people hook up all the time. I don’t like the thought of some little junky waif deciding you’re her savior and clinging onto you… Daddy.”

Mark gives her that strong embrace others would seek from him. “You really are jealous,” he purrs, in awe of that directed at him.

“I know. I’m sorry, Daddy. I don’t mean to tell you what to do.”

“I like it, baby girl. But you don’t have anything to worry about, understand me?”

* * * * *

Today Mark doesn’t have to be away from her. He’s taken a personal day from the museum to take her to the women’s clinic. This ultrasound should be able to show them the sex of their baby.

They started going to this clinic because it’s low-cost and not too far from home. They continue to use it because they like the staff and it was easier than changing doctors. It’s not too shabby inside. The only downside is the fluctuating group of protesters outside because it’s one of the few places that still offer abortions. This is the real reason Mark’s with her: Sure he wants to be there when she finds out if they’re having a boy or a girl, but it’s mostly to protect her. He’d do it for someone who wasn’t his partner.

They approach holding hands and laughing in an intimate conversation. Like the first cold winter night he’d taken her home, Jenni tunes out her surroundings when she’s by his side, like everything but Daddy is just shadows. It seems one of these shadows has something to say.

A man holding a sign with a picture of a bloody mass asks if they think this is funny. The fact they were all smiles ticked him off more than the sad, frightened people they normally harass. Of course, any sane person would see a happy couple on their way for a prenatal checkup. This guy seems to think they’re going to murder a child then go on a picnic. “God sees what you do, you know!”

“Yeah? He sees you, too, upsettin’ my pregnant wife. We’re here for our baby’s health, or don’t you care about that, shithead?”

Jenni slips her hand into Mark’s back pocket as they walk by: He’s sexy when he’s angry. The smile doesn’t leave her face.

“Wife?” she teases him.

Mark shrugs his squared shoulders. “Guess it yalova escort sounded better than ‘submissive’ when I was bein’ self-righteous. Honestly, though, don’t they even realize not everyone comes here for that?”

“Even if they did, everyone should have someone like you to walk them inside. I love you, Mark.”

“I love you, too.”

They check in and sit down in the corner of the waiting room. Here, they do keep their happiness in check: It would be insensitive to do otherwise. Unlike more upscale OB-GYN offices, there aren’t any other happy couples. It’s wan teenagers sitting in silence with their guardians, fried single mothers, solitary guys awaiting HIV test results. No one wants to watch them canoodle. The people outside could go fuck themselves, but Mark and Jenni are not completely wrapped up in themselves.

“What do we bet?” Mark asks in a private voice.

“What do you mean?” Jenni knows he’s up to something to entertain her because even though it’s a painless procedure, it’s still medical and she’s probably scared.

“I know it’s a boy. You think it’s a girl. So… what do I win when I’m right?”

“A son, silly,” she jokes. Mark cracks up.

“Before that. Tell me what nice thing you’re gonna do to me tonight.”

Jenni whispers into his ear and he keeps his face neutral as a poker player.

“I can hardly wait,” he says coolly.

Jenni’s name is called and the look of practiced sympathy fades from the nurse’s face when she sees the two of them stand up. It’s a nice change from the usual to see two people together who clearly aren’t expecting horrible news.

In the exam room, Jenni climbs up on the table while the nurse looks over her chart. “16 weeks?” she asks, doing a double take.

“I know, I’m huge.”

“You aren’t huge! Just a little rounder than some women. I can tell you’re not overweight.”

“I been tellin’ her,” Mark says.

“Well, you’re right. We’ll weigh you after your ultrasound, just standard procedure, and you’ll see you’re fine.”

“Yay,” Jenni says without enthusiasm.

“Are you ready to see your baby?”

“Yes!” they both say.

“Good! This is the fun part of my job,” the nurse says. Jenni lifts her T-shirt and Mark holds her hand as the cold goop is spread on her belly. The nurse smiles: It’s obvious how excited they are. “Do you want to know the sex of the baby?”

Neither answer. That part is less important, suddenly. “Yes, but mostly just that he’s all right,” Mark says.

The nurse slides the probe around on Jenni’s belly. A few seconds pass, but it feels like longer because the couple holds their breath.

“Well, he’s beautiful. Want to see him now?” she beams.

The nurse turns the screen and they are confronted with a little face.

“Oh… my… god. It looks human!” Mark exclaims.

“Mark, is there something you haven’t told me about you?” Jenni laughs tearfully.

“What? No! I just wasn’t expecting…” he looks to the nurse for help.

“The technology has come a long way. The image is much clearer than what most people are expecting. Pretty cool, right?”

“So cool,” Jenni says. “And he’s okay?”

“So far as I can see, he’s just right. Want to listen?”

It’s the outer space ‘wow wow wow’ sound of the heartbeat that makes Mark lose it. He bursts into tears.

“Sorry… I’m just… this is just, like…”

“It is!” the nurse laughs. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“Is he smiling? Can that be?” Jenni asks.

“Sometimes they seem to be. And why not? He can hear your voice and he has nice parents.”

Now Jenni’s fighting to compose herself. “Um, can I go to the bathroom now, please?”

The nurse hands her a cup for the urine sample they need and she is grateful to be able to pee. She’s been holding it for the sake of the scan. As she runs away, she can hear her partner’s voice asking the patient woman many questions about what he still can’t believe he’s seeing. ‘I hope he doesn’t think he’s imagining it.’

When Jenni returns, there are prints of the image for them to take with them.

Mark’s no longer crying but can’t stop grinning. Jenni hands over the warm specimen cup, nose wrinkled. Men don’t have to do all the embarrassing parts of a pregnancy.

“See you in a month,” the nurse tells them.

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for takin’ care of us. We’re grateful for all ya do.” At one time, Jenni would have called that “southern charm.” At this point, she just thinks of it as his personality and he happens to have a strong accent.

Outside, there are more people lined up to yell at them. Mark walks beside her with his arm loosely around her so she can stand to her meager height on her own and hold her head high. No one personally addresses them and they make it down the walk to the city sidewalk.

Rounding the corner of a building, they see a rough-looking girl sucking down a cigarette like it’s to settle her nerves. They take two more steps. Mark stops. Jenni knows what this is all about.

“Hey,” Mark zonguldak escort says. it sounds more like “hi” in his voice. “Do ya need any help, miss?”

“What? You’re gonna raise my baby? Tell me about Jesus?” she sneers.

“No. Not like that. I thought maybe I can walk you inside… past the assholes. There are good people inside. They don’t make you do anything you don’t wanna do.” Jenni nods that he’s telling the truth.

She stubs out her cigarette. “For real?”

“I don’t have much time, but I’ll walk you in. Up to you.”

He pushes Jenni into the hiding place the girl just vacated. “Stay. Stay right here.”

Jenni peeks to see her fear come to life, and it’s not so bad at all. A little waif under Mark’s protective arm, walking away from her. She’s never been more proud. He looks good walking away, too.

The first barrage of comments, Mark ignores; he’s focused on getting the girl inside. Whatever happens next will be up to her, but at least she has people in there who’ll care about her. Coming back, the comments are ruder.

“So, I guess that’s your wife, too? How many babies are you going to kill today?!”

Mark does not look his way but flashes him devil horns. It would be a friendly gesture in another context or just something to do with your hand when posing for a pic.

Jenni, not hiding, sees it before Mark does and feels her heart stop. Mark has good instincts when it comes to violent people and senses the guy’s intention. Before she can scream, Mark skips like a boxer to avoid the punch. He twists and lands a solid hook. The guy stumbles and falls. Then Mark runs.

He grabs Jenni’s hand and they run together fast as they can go until they spot a rare cab with the light on. They fall into the back on top of each other. “Can you take us to…” Mark gives Dr. Zavodny’s address, where they are expected anyway.

“Sure.”

They disentangle. “Mark? I think you are my hero.”

“Yeah. A hero doesn’t run away and drag his pregnant wife down the street.”

Jenni has many questions, including when she became his “wife.” She looks up at him through overgrown bangs… “Mark, do you have a criminal record?”

“A little.”

“I love you so much!” Jenni doesn’t have to ask what he did. She knows him. She slips her tongue into his mouth and puts her hands on his chest.

“Ya finally got to see me beat someone up,” he whispers.

“It was one punch! You didn’t beat anybody up! It’s not really a turn-on for me anyway,” she lies, knowing he can tell. He chuckles.

“That was self-defense. I’m more of a lover than a fighter.”

“He had it coming, Daddy. I’m glad he didn’t hurt you.”

“I’m indestructible, baby.”

Statements like that feel unlucky to Jenni. She changes the subject. “Want to look at him again?”

“Uh-huh. Let’s see.”

Jenni has the prints of the scan pressed in the pages of a book in her shoulder bag. They snuggle close and admire their growing baby. Jenni hopes he’s just like Mark in every way. Well, except for the depressive psychosis. He could do without that part.

They arrive at the office tower where Dr. Z. practices. They’re about 20 minutes early because they hadn’t planned on running from the cops today.

On the way up, Mark hears Jenni’s low moan.

“Oh, honey. Again?”

“Afraid so, Daddy.” She’s having one of her libidinal attacks, which means she needs sex quite urgently.

“Fuck. Where can we take care of ya?”

“We can’t,” she whimpers. “I think we just have to wait. Dr. Z. made me promise.”

“Maybe he’ll let us use his office, if we explain the situation…”

“Ha! You’re joking, right?”

“Actually, no. But I won’t ask if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Well, we’ll see. If this gets any worse, I might not have a choice.”

“You poor thing. I hate when I can’t be inside you,” he says and kisses her with all the emotion ignited by the day, not least of which is lust: Pure, primal, possessive lust. Jenni can tell by his lips and tongue alone how aroused he is by her helpless state.

Alone in the waiting room, they kiss and can’t stop or even slow down. Their faces grow damp from the humidity of each other’s breath. Jenni inhales the arousing scent of Mark’s sweat; she knows they’re in trouble if he’s broken a sweat from kissing her. Her hand wanders over his body. At first, he captures it protectively against his waist, then relents and lets her explore him lower. She runs her other hand through his hair to find he’s sweaty there, too.

“I want to so much,” he whispers.

“Me, too. It’s going to be so good when we can…”

“I can smell how wet you are, baby girl. I could eat you up.”

Jenni can feel she’s soaked through her panties and possibly clear through to the seat cushion. Their tongues are frantic and rhythmic in and out of each other’s mouths like a substitute for oral sex. Maybe it is oral sex; Jenni’s whole body is erogenous. In just a few months she’s gone from only partly alive to experiencing a lifetime zonguldak escort of sexual arousal in concentrated tidal waves.

Mark breaks the kiss to rest his sweaty head on her shoulder, breathing hard, then sucks and nips at her neck.

“Mmm… Daddy.” She circles his nipple through his T-shirt that’s tight across his chest.

“I feel outta control,” he whispers in her ear.

“I can’t stop. I think you’re going to have to control me.”

“This is awful,” he groans. He tries to pull away, but his lips are on hers again like he’s desperately thirsty and trying to drink her.

“AHEM!”

It’s Dr. Z. standing in the doorway of his consulting room with a scandalized-looking patient. He shakes his head, apologizes for their behavior, and walks the young man to the door.

Returning, he says, “Jenni, could you kindly refrain from rubbing his penis in the waiting room?”

“I’m sorry, doctor. We were just talking about that and I think the answer might be no.”

“Come in,” he sighs. “I feel a bit like Dr. Frankenstein at the moment.”

Mark grins. Jenni’s suffering too much to appreciate the humor in the situation.

* * * * *

Before they sit down, the doctor stops them. “Let me get a look at you two. Are you… on something?”

“What?! Hell, no! You think I’d give her drugs?”

“No, no. You didn’t… eat a funny brownie by accident maybe? I ask because you do appear to be under the influence of a powerful aphrodisiac… I haven’t seen behavior like this since I was a resident where we had some nymphomaniac patients.”

The doctor scrutinizes their faces: Pale, clammy skin except for the patches of dark pink on their cheeks, pupils blown out to the maximum… and then there’s the redolence of male and female. The doctor sniffs. “Huh.” Pussy’s less unpleasant than he’d imagined.

“It’s the hormones. I get these attacks.”

“Well, that’s possible. What’s his excuse?”

“Sympathy?” Mark suggests. “We do have a connection, as ya said.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how severe is this attack?”

“Nine,” says Jenni. “Ten,” Mark answers at the same time.

“If it were ten, they’d have seen a lot more. Sorry about that, doctor. We know the whole world isn’t the ‘Mark and Jenni’ show.”

“That’s okay. That was just one of my more innocent patients. He’ll live. Um, I don’t think we can talk about anything seriously – and we have serious matters to discuss – while you’re in this state. Would you like to use the office to take care of this and then we can talk?”

The couple looks at each other. Mark’s smug grin says, ‘Told you so.’ It only makes him more desirable.

“All right, we’ve taken enough time already. Is it cruel to ask you to make it fast?”

“No!” they both reply without hesitation.

Dr. Z. takes a book from his desk and moves to make himself scarce.

“Ya don’t have to leave,” Mark drawls. It sends a chill down the back of the doctor’s neck. Something in his tone reminds him of one of his many dreams about his patient in which he toys with his desire for him.

“Are you requesting that I stay?”

“No. It’s just, this is your house and it’s not like you haven’t seen us before.”

Dr. Z. isn’t sure if he’s referring to the first time Mark and Jenni met each other and couldn’t control themselves or if he means that he knows the doctor watches them online.

He hesitates: Is this right or wrong? If it’s what they want… Then again, most of his patients want many things that are unhealthy. These two are exhibitionists who do this all the time and he is fascinated by the prospect of observing two people in this unusual, naturally aphrodisiac state. It was more than just wanting to see Mark naked again. Perhaps the pheromones they’re producing are clouding his judgment. He takes a seat behind his desk. Somehow that seems more appropriate than his regular chair opposite the couch.

“Um, do you have a towel or somethin’? She gets really, really wet. This is gonna make a mess.”

“Females… You can use that blanket. Just put it by the door afterward so I remember to launder it.”

Mark smiles at him. “Thanks.” He spreads the woven blanket over the couch.

Jenni looks conflicted: She wants and needs Mark in the worst way, but still evinces the last shreds of inhibitions about undressing in this office. The doctor wonders if it’s her gravid shape that makes her feel shy. Maybe she thinks a sight that feminine will disgust him. Maybe she’s just the only sane person in the room who realizes this is wrong. Dr. Z. redoubles his efforts to feel pangs of conscience, however faint they may be. He can’t.

Mark sits to take off his shoes and socks, then stands to strip down to nothing, quick and casual as any guy in the locker room of his gym. His confidence is as beautiful as his form.

“Now, you, baby girl. Let me help you.”

Jenni raises her arms and Mark pulls her shirt up over her head. Actually, it’s his shirt. She’s not quite ready for maternity wear and has taken to wearing his worn-thin old rock T-shirts because they feel good on her sensitive skin and they make her feel close to him, too. He unhooks her new bra and her perky pregnancy breasts barely change shape when they’re free. So far it was most useful when evading arrest.

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