I rang the bell.The door opened.The man who answered the door was the one she had been with on the previous Friday at the restaurant. So much for ‘h... is not my boyfriend’! The man was wearing a frilly pinafore and was obviously involved in cooking their evening meal. Very domestic. He took one look at me and scowled.“What do you want?” he asked aggressively, though his accent was cultured. Public school boy, I thought. (In Britain, Public Schools are in fact private fee-paying schools. Don’t. " I shrugged my shoulders and laughed a little."Don't be," she said earnestly. "Don't be sorry. I'm making a kid with you after all. I wouldn't have chosen you if I didn't like you in some way. Hell, it's a personal thing, Mark. I'm not just some kind of slut." I almost opened my mouth to tell her reassuringly: 'oh no, of course she wasn't'. But she was speaking quickly and decisively now, which was kind of hot and sending waves of excitement through me."He, or she, might as well be created out. More

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