Tales of the City 04 - Babycakes

suit of armor next to the window.
Hearing the noise, Teddy came running. “Good Lord,” he murmured. “Are you all right?”
She glared at the pile of metal on the floor. “I hate that fucking militarist drag.”
He nodded. “I didn’t much fancy it myself.”
She slumped into a chair.
“Is it … jitters?” he asked.
“We have to talk,” she replied.
    Undoing the Damage
    I T WAS ROUGHLY SEVEN-THIRTY WHEN MARY ANN CLIMBED out of the camera truck at the foot of the Barbary Lane stairway. Without stopping to admire the daffodils sprouting between the garbage cans, she went directly to Simon’s apartment and knocked on the door. When he opened it, he was wearing Michael’s green robe.
“Yes?”
“I want to start over,” she said.
“Meaning?”
“I want your forgiveness.”
He gave her a thin smile. “Wail a bit, won’t you? I haven’t forgiven myself yet.”
“For what?”
“Oh … damning the torpedoes.”
“What?”
“I knew what you were doing,” he said. “I suspected. I could have said no … and I didn’t.”
“That wasn’t all I was doing. Simon.”
“Don’t,” he said. “It isn’t necessary. There’s no point in getting muddled over motives.”
“No … I want you to be clear on this.” She glanced nervously over her shoulder, wondering about Mrs. Madrigal. “Do you mind if I come in?”
He hesitated.
“Please,” she whispered. “Just for a little while?”
He nodded and stepped out of her way. She went in and took a seat on the end of the sofa. Simon remained standing, pacing solemnly with his arms folded. The damage she had done was evident in his eyes.
“I was going to tell you,” she said.
He made a little muttering noise.
“I would never have done this with someone who didn’t matter to me.”
He stopped pacing and looked at her.
“Can’t you take it as a compliment?” she asked.
“I could,” he replied, “but I haven’t yet.”
“Well … think about it. It’s not like this was a one-night stand or something. I put some thought into it, you know.”
He seemed amused by that. “Does Brian know?”
“No, of course not!”
“Well, this is laid-back California. It seemed perfectly reasonable to assume …”
“Is that what you think of me, Simon?”
He shrugged.
“Well … O.K., forget about me. But Brian would never do that.”
“Comforting,” said Simon.
“He doesn’t know anything.” She decided to throw herself on his mercy. “He doesn’t even know he’s sterile. The hell of it is … he’s the one who wants the baby. It’s no big deal with me. He doesn’t have a job now, and he thinks the baby would be something he could …”
“Wait. Stop.”
“Yeah?”
“How do you know he’s sterile, if he doesn’t know it?”
“I just do,” she said.
He nodded. “Very well. Proceed.”
“Well … that’s it. I wanted to give him a baby … so I came up with this dumb idea.”
“And artificial insemination didn’t occur to you?”
She nodded. “Connie suggested it. I hated the idea. It isn’t … personal enough.” It sounded so stupid that she smiled apologetically. “I thought I could do it without hurting anybody. I didn’t. I fucked up.”
He looked directly at her. “Then last night …?” He waved away the thought.
“What? Last night what?”
“Were you really …?”
“Into it?” she asked, finishing his question.
“Yes.”
“Simon … couldn’t you tell?” She caught his hand. “Don’t go back to England thinking I’m a monster. I’ve had such a wonderful time with you.”
He stood there, keeping his distance, looking down on her.
“I think you’re a gentle, intelligent … incredibly sexy man.”
“Thank you,” he said softly.
“I mean it.”
He nodded.
“I’ll always remember you. I don’t need a baby for that.”
“Thank you.”
“Stop saying thank you,” she said. “Come here. Don’t be so insecure.”
“I’ve had a vasectomy,” he said.
“What?”
“I’ve had a vasectomy.”
She tried to read his face. “Are you serious?”
“Yes,” he replied. “Are you?”
She looked at him a moment longer, then leaned down and took his cock in her mouth.
“Thank you,” he said.
This time she didn’t bother to reply.

Sack Time
T HE SKYLIGHT ABOVE THERESA’S LIVING ROOM HAD taken on a creepy, milky translucence—like a giant eyeball with a cataract. Brian stared at it in disbelief. Had they really been up all night?
“You’re a lotta fun,” said Theresa.
“Oh … sorry.” Had she asked