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When Alex came, so did I. The stimulation had welled in me until my legs locked around his. I’d never come for a man before, and as I did, I cried out, “Oh god, oh GOD!” and the world shook, before falling to stars, while Alex’s cock pumped inside me, showering me with a heat and light and warmth I’d never known.
When it was over, the world fell to dark for a while. When I lifted my head up and looked at the clock, twenty minutes had passed and Alex was gone.
“Cocky bastard,” I muttered, and began hurriedly to look for my clothes. Thank God, no one had discovered us. But the bar was closing soon.
As I left, I saw a small white card on the table. It read:
“Thank you.
Alex Lowe.”
+1543011311
I couldn’t believe that this mystery man, this traveling bigshot, would have given out his contact information so easily.
And if it weren’t for what happened afterwards, I’d never have called him at all.
***
A month later, I got back to New York. I was exhausted from the trip, but at least my hard work had paid off. I had enough cash for a month’s rent or two. But the months went by quickly.
And it didn’t take long for me to realize I was late for my period.
For the first week, I just assumed I was late. But then another week went by, and I began to worry. I thought fondly about Alex, even if I was mad at him for running off without so much as a goodbye. After all, we’d had a great time. But we weren’t alike at all. Me, happy-go-lucky. Him, a dour, dark, serious man. I knew it could never have been anything more.
But still, after I went to the doctor about my period, I couldn’t help but wonder.
In the white, sterile exam room, I was prodded and poked for a while, until the doctor sat me down and asked me a question that made my blood run cold.
“Have you had any unprotected intercourse recently?”
“Um, no,” I said. But then I remembered Alex Lowe.
“I think you should take a pregnancy test,” said the doctor.
I left the office. My stomach felt like a bag of nails. I wanted to be sick. Then I panicked about morning sickness. I looked it up on my mobile phone on the bus, but I didn’t know what to do.
Then, I remembered the phone number. I’d saved it.
Maybe I could call him. Maybe he’d know what to do.
At the very least, I could talk to him about it. I hadn’t told anyone else about our meeting in Bali. My friends all knew Alan, and I guessed they’d judge me pretty harshly if I mentioned the encounter.
So I called him. Alex might be a grump, and he might have run out on me, but he wasn’t an idiot. He seemed mature and responsible enough for me to trust with my secret.
But the first time I called his phone, there was no answer.
Well, fine, I thought.If that’s the way you want to play it.
When I took the pregnancy test, and it showed up positive, I called him again. Nobody answered.
Finally, in a moment of desperation, I called him again. For the third time, it went straight to voicemail. I still remember what I said, frantic and desperate:
“Alex? It’s Lola. We met in Denpasar. I need your help. I don’t want anything from you, but please, get in touch with me.”
I gave him my phone number, my address, everything. But I didn’t tell him what was wrong. I couldn’t admit it. Not even to myself.
When he still didn’t call back, I even looked him up on the internet. To my surprise, Alex Lowe wasn’t just your everyday traveling businessman.
