Free The Would-Begetter by Maggie Makepeace Page A

him with love.
    ‘You are?’ Hector smiled broadly. ‘You wonderful woman, you! Now are you warm enough, or would this be a good moment for us to move over on to that rug in front of the fire? I don’t know about you, but I’m finding it a bit awkward and cramped here. Yes? Good… Now then, mmmmmm… where were we?’
    *
    When Hector had realised what was afoot at Wendy’s, he had been well and truly taken aback. He had never even contemplated her as a possible conquest. She was – well to put it kindly – not quite up to the mark in the brains department. She would certainly be no good as a prospective mother; her children might be as thick as she was! This had completely debarred her from consideration, since Hector was unwilling (these days) to waste precious time on dalliance. It had to be the real thing. Then he remembered all the time he had expended on that Caroline woman, and it occurred to him that he was owed a bit of fun, especially as it was so obviously on offer. He wondered as he began to touch her, whether Wendy had fancied him for some time? The idea appealed to him. She has a good mouth for a gift-horse, he thought, kissing it; not brood-mare material, but a tasty little filly nevertheless. Then suddenly, shrinkingly, he remembered that he had no means of contraception to hand. He’d almost convinced himself with his own vasectomy story! Now that would be ironic, he thought wryly. So with great reluctance he’d had to make himself stop just as it was getting damply interesting. But then she’d laughed and had reassured him that she was on the pill, and in his relief and enthusiasm (and in spite of knowing he was absolutely knackered) he’d got carried away and had gone right through his entire repertoire, all in the one night. Somehow Hector felt, when one was doing it simply for fun rather than for serious procreative purposes, one could be much more relaxed and inventive…
    Then, just before he had slumped off her, quite exhausted, he had allowed a preliminary verdict –
Bit passive, but OK as a stopgap?
– to wander idly through his head, before falling deeply into a sticky, satiated sleep for the remainder of the night.
    In the morning he felt different altogether. He woke with a start and wondered where the hell he was. Then Wendy turned over sleepily and woke too, with a little gasp of excitement and pleasure. Oh Christ! Hector thought, wishing immediately that he could deflate her and pack her away out of sight in a convenient box, until the next time his sex drive got the better of his critical faculties. He shuddered. God forbid! Then to avoid having to talk to her, he reached overto her bedside radio and switched on the news. Flooding in Somerset was the top story.
    ‘Jesus!’ he cried, and shot out of bed. ‘SHIT!’
    ‘Wha?’
    ‘I’ve only been missing the drama of the decade!’
    ‘But you’re not s’posed to be working… this weekend?’
    Hector had great trouble in convincing Wendy of the urgency of his situation; that at a time like this, no self-respecting journalist could consider himself off duty. And now here he was with no trousers, no notebook, no
car
even, and a great elemental story wasting away out there in his absence. He switched the radio off before the end of the news and said abruptly, ‘Look I’m sorry, Wendy, but I’ve really got to GO. So if you could just slip over to my flat now and get me some clothes; the trousers and shirt and jacket are on the chair, by my bed, shoes of course, and socks in the bottom drawer. Here’s the keys. It’s the ground floor of the house. OK?’
    ‘’Nother cuddle…’ Wendy said sleepily, reaching for him.
    ‘NO!’
    He finally persuaded her to go, and then waited for what seemed an age for her to return with his things. When she did so, he was pleasantly surprised to find that she had got it right, even down to matching socks, a jersey and a tie. He took them from her briskly, and dumped them in a heap on the