Free The Would-Begetter by Maggie Makepeace

worse.
    Hector should be here, Jess thought, screwing up her nose in distaste. He could have written a brilliant piece on all this, and he could have interviewed the more forthcoming victims and really gone to town on it. I’d better get some names and addresses for him, although they won’t be back in their own homes for weeks, I don’t suppose, so finding them again could be tricky. Thank goodness it’s only Saturday (well, actually it’s Sunday by now), so there’s plenty of time to get it together before the Thursday news deadline, and who knows, there may be some dramatic developments between now and then. Goodness, I almost forgot, it’s Christmas next week.
    Wendy registered the exact moment when Hector finally got the message, and felt a surge of triumph. All at once, Hector’s face had become flushed, his eyes seemed somehow darker and more intense, and the hand which had been holding the towel tightly round his middle relaxed a fraction, allowing it to sag round his hips in a casually suggestive manner. He no longer looked like a fool in a farce, caught with his trousers down. All traces of embarrassment seemed to have vanished. He was still dishy in spite of not being exactly young, Wendy decided. He was forty-two, after all, but was wearing it well. His torso was solid and muscular and only moderately hairy, and his demeanour was eminently reassuring. He looked jaunty, in control, appraising. Please, Wendy thought,
please
God make him fancy me. I’ll never get a better chance…
    Hector leant towards her. ‘And what would your fiancé have to say about this then?’ he enquired softly.
    ‘Oh, that’s all off,’ Wendy said at once, displaying ringless fingers with pride. ‘I’m free again. I can do what I like.’
    ‘I see.’ Hector smiled wolfishly. ‘And just what is it that you do like?’
    ‘I like you,’ Wendy said. She kept her eyes demurely downcast, but allowed the edges of the robe to part a fraction more.
    Hector shuffled himself up so that he was sitting right next to her and then, letting go of his towel, he put his left arm along the back of the sofa and smoothly inserted his righthand under her silky gown, cupping her breast and squeezing it gently. ‘Like this?’ he asked. Wendy gasped, and abandoned all pretence at holding her robe. ‘Or like this?’ Hector continued, sliding his hand over her stomach and down between her thighs.
    ‘Ohhh…’ Wendy sank backwards so that her head was resting on the arm of the sofa. Her naked body felt exposed and disconcertingly vulnerable, so she closed her eyes tightly and hoped against hope that she was doing what Hector wanted, and that he wouldn’t be disappointed or find her unattractive or worse still, too easy…
    Then he must have got to his feet, because he was lifting her legs up on to the seat until she was lying full length, and he was kissing her shins and her knees
(her knees?)
with little warm dry nibbles of his lips. She lay still, trying to relax, mystified, but already won over by the unaccustomed sensations and her unbelievable delight in the knowledge that at long last it really was
Hector
who was making love to her… His hands crept up her legs, fondling them, easing them apart. Wendy squirmed and, relinquishing all prudish thoughts, prepared to abandon herself completely to anything and everything that he might expect of her.
    But, just as he was about to lower himself on top of her, he appeared to be having second thoughts. He paused. Wendy, roused prematurely from her rapturous trance, opened both eyes and held her breath in suspense.
    ‘You’re so beautiful, cariad,’ Hector began, ‘but I’m sorry, I haven’t brought… you see, I didn’t expect… I mean, we mustn’t take any chances…
    ‘Oh…’ Wendy almost laughed with relief. ‘Is that all? Don’t worry. Everything’s fine.’ She made her voice sound as casually convincing as she could. ‘You see, I’m still on the pill.’ She looked up at