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From: MdmVirago@aol.com
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Subject: {ASSM} RP:For The Love of Becca (1 of 8) (ViragoBlue)(MF, Rom, Preg)
Date: Sat, 13 Nov 1999 00:10:01 -0500
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part 1
Virago Blue
http://members.aol.com/mdmvirago/mdmvirago001.htm
<1st attachment, "ForTheLoveOfBecca(1of8).txt" begin>
The following is a work of erotic fiction to be read by persons over the
age of eighteen or twenty- one, whichever your state allows. All
characters are fictionalized. Any representation to real persons are
purely coincidental. This story is not available for reproduction without
the header and without the written permission of the author, Virago Blue.
Thanks.
This story is dedicated to all the mothers and mothers-to-be out there.
Not to be excluded in the least, all the men who have become wonderful,
loving fathers. Your worth is beyond estimation.
***
For the Love of Becca (c) 1999 by Virago Blue
More than a year had passed since I sat in this waiting room. The same
outdated magazines littered the tables. Shiny-faced toddlers and
poetically beautiful mothers-to-be smiled up at me from the crinkled glossy
covers. Hah! Where were the fathers of those beautiful babies? Probably
out building junior a decent college fund and planning family outings, I
thought cynically.
I wasn't the first woman to become a single mother. I wasn't going to
be the last. Michael had made himself perfectly clear: He didn't want to
be a father, never planned to be a father and would be glad to pay for an
abortion. He said all this after accusing me of trapping him and his
money, buying defective condoms and seducing him into unsafe sex. I
laughed, an odd little habit of mine when I was angry. I laughed and told
him not to worry. I never wanted to make a man resent being a father. My
attorney will draw up the paperwork to terminate his rights. Have a nice
life.
I grew up the only child of a vengeful woman and resentful man. We were
the cliche dysfunctional family. During one of many arguments between my
parents, I overheard my father yelling that she should have had that
abortion or at least put 'her' up for adoption. Yes, I was the 'her' of
whom they spoke.
Mom and Dad eventually divorced. I buried myself in my schoolwork. I
only wanted to get lost in the woodwork of my unhappy home. I enjoyed
being alone most of the time. If not for a few good friends I had in high
school, my social life would have sucked.
After earning the scholarship to Vanderbilt, I gratefully left the arms
of my family. I threw myself into the whole college life: musty dorm
rooms, all-night cramming for exams, lousy food and even the occasional one
night stand to release pent up frustrations. Oh yeah, and a heavy class
load. I intended to make a good life for myself. After graduating from
Vanderbilt with my masters in Psychology, I was on my way.
I met Michael while being courted by a counseling center based in a busy
medical center in Dallas. The attraction was instant. Our relationship
grew quickly from flirtatious smiles and risque' conversation to an
earth-trembling bout of afternoon sex amid site proposals and treatment
plans for current patients. Michael was very good. We were very good
together. Our affair remained quiet during my first year at the clinic.
When Michael transferred to another facility with a substantial promotion,
our affair became common knowledge.
Michael and I started drifting apart not long after he transferred. I
know he was experiencing a new stress in his life and I did all that I
could to ease his tension. It was during one of my special
tension-reducing sessions that the condom broke. Michael panicked. I
assured him as best that I could that the time of the month was wrong
anyway.
Michael took the news harder than I thought. In fact, his reaction
completely shocked me. The bliss I felt in my newfound condition was
doused with his hurtful suggestions. I thought Michael might have wanted a
child. I was so wrong.
And now, here I was, studying a waiting room full of women in various
stages of pregnancy, some with other children, some without. I was never
going to be alone again. The thought made my stomach tighten and my cheeks
tingle. "Oh shit."
I barely made it to the conveniently stationed restroom before losing my
balanced breakfast. I stood. My knee hurt from banging it against the
linoleum. The putrid shade of mustard yellow wallpaper on the walls made
my stomach somersault again. I clutched at my belly.
A knock sounded on the restroom door as I was sipping a plastic cup of
water. "Ma'am? Are you all right in there? Do you need the doctor?"
Jeez, I thought, aren't they used to women vomiting in this place by now?
"No, thank you. I'm fine. Just a little morning sickness." I opened
the door and met the concerned expression of an obstetrics nurse. Her
expression turned from concern to relief and then surprise when she noticed
the tiny cup clutched in my hand. I was still shaking from my recent bout
of morning sickness. Morning sickness was the wrong name, at least in my
experience so far. How about all-day-sickness?
"Oh. You didn't actually drink from that cup, did you?"
"Just a little water. Why?"
"Those cups are for urine specimens. All the moms-to-be have to fill
one up every time they come in."
"I thought it was a little small." I mumbled, grimacing as my stomach
lurched again. I lost the rest of what remained in my stomach.
I felt her cool hand on the back of my neck as I retched. Pregnancy was
going to be a bitch, I could tell. She dabbed at my forehead with a damp
paper towel as I tried to recover some semblance of dignity.
"Thank you, miss. Miss--" I was searching for a name plate on her
bright and cheerful scrubs.
"Call me Nancy. We'll be seeing a lot of each other in the next few
months. And don't worry. After the first trimester you will be feeling a
lot better." Nancy patted my back and brushed the stray brown curls from my
face. I was feeling a little better. "By the way, are you Ms. Rogers?"
"Yes. Becca Rogers." I dabbed at the tears under my eyes and met her
friendly smile. My lips trembled.
"I need to see you in exam room 3. Dr. Trimble had an emergency
C-section to perform this morning and he is still at the hospital. He
probably won't be back in the office for another hour yet. You can either
wait for him or see our new associate, Dr. Dixon."
"No offense, but I would like to get out of here as soon as possible.
I'll take the new guy. If you can recommend him, of course." I smiled
weakly as another wave of nausea passed over me.
"Dr. Dixon is new but he is excellent. I think you will like him.
C'mon now. Let's take your blood pressure and your weight."
"Great. This day is going from bad to worse. I don't want to get
weighed." I whined as I plodded over to the waiting scale.
"You need to get used to it, darling. We'll be monitoring your weight
very closely. And your urine, and your blood pressure and your diet.
You're either going to love us or hate us by the time this baby is born."
I had to smile through the tears and sickness. She was making me feel
more comfortable. That was important. What woman can really feel
comfortable preparing for a pelvic exam? All right, I admit, it wouldn't
be the first time I allowed a vaguely unknown man slide his fingers into my
vagina. Usually, though, it was after dinner and a nice bottle of wine.
This atmosphere just wasn't conducive to relaxation.
"Okay, Miss Becca, one hundred and fifteen pounds. A little underweight
for your height but don't worry. You will make up for it soon enough." She
patted my back and led me to the examination room.
"Underweight? I can't think about food right now. Nothing sounds
appetizing these days. I'll never feel like eating." I whined again.
Nancy only snickered as she handed me a paper gown and a folded sheet.
Of course I knew what to do now. This wasn't my first time to see a
gynecologist, and the first time to see an obstetrician shouldn't be much
different. I stared at the things in dumbfound agony. Nancy patted me on
the back and left the room so I could undress in privacy.
I caught my reflection in the mirror above the sink. Once hazel, my
eyes now appeared dull. Shadows stained the fair skin beneath my eyes. My
complexion even looked gray. Chestnut curls, once springy and lively,
drooped against my back. I wasn't getting enough sleep although I felt
tired all the time.
I slipped into the paper gown and noisily slid onto the examining table.
All that crinkling paper and cold air was making the butterflies in my
stomach leap around crazily. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath,
trying to meditate myself into a calm, relaxed state.
The knock on the door startled me. "Yes?"
"It's Dr. Dixon. Are you decent?"
"As decent as a paper product will allow." came my reply.
I heard his laughter before he opened the door. It was nice, and a
little familiar. When he stepped over the threshold into the exam room, my
heart stopped and my stomach bubbled again. "Greg?"
"Rebecca?" Dr. Greg Dixon stared at me in surprise, a grin beginning to
spread across his very handsome face.
I gawked at the grown version of my high school crush. Greg Dixon was
always a nice- looking kid with his laughing pale blue eyes and silly grin.
Nothing could have prepared me for this vision standing in front of me with
a stethoscope and a lab coat.
"Becca Rogers? What a pleasant surprise! All the way from
Planterstown?"
"Greg. Oh my." I suddenly felt naked. I clutched the front of my paper
gown and smiled at him, hoping he didn't notice the severe red blush that
was creeping up my neck. "I had no idea you were--here. Or, a doctor
even, much less a gynecologist. Wow. Um, yes, a surprise is what I would
say. Definitely a surprise. A nice surprise, don't get me wrong. But . .
. wow. I mean, all the way from Planterstown. No, I didn't come all the
way from Planterstown. Well, I mean, I did but it was many years ago. I
live here now. And...I'm .... really surprised to see you." Ugh, inwardly
I cringed at my nervous babbling.
"I haven't seen you since that five-year reunion at my parent's house.
You were working on your masters at Vanderbilt, right?"
"Yeah, and you were on your way to Tulane." Wow, he remembered, I
thought. I realized I had pulled the sheet up under my chin.
He laughed again, obviously amused at my predicament. Greg was one of
the gang in high school. I considered myself a little homely and shy. He
was a friendly guy, always joking, always happy and always with a cute
girlfriend. I adored Greg. He won a special place in my heart for being
so kind to me back then. "Hey, Becca, if this is uncomfortable for you I
can get Dr. Trimble to see you when he gets back. That's perfectly
understandable."
"Don't be silly. We're adults now. I'm sure you've seen plenty of--"
If it were possible to blush any deeper, I was now.
Greg laughed again. "It's good to see you still have your sense of
humor. Seriously, what do you want to do?"
"I'm okay with this. Really. In fact, I actually trust you." Coming
from me, that was big.
"Thanks Becca. That means a lot to me." His expression changed a little
from the jovial man to a concerned professional. He began flipping through
my file. I was able to study him a little more while he was reading over
my records. He had filled out. Nicely. Gone was the long, shaggy hair
and adolescent complexion. In its place was short dark hair, a little wet
and spikey, as if he had just stepped from the shower. His face was much
more rugged and planed. His smile hadn't changed a bit, though. "What
brings you here today?"
I took a deep breath and steadied my nerves. "Well, Doc, it's like
this. I started feeling really sick a few weeks ago. Then I realized I had
completely skipped a period. Stella at the pharmacy convinced me I needed
to check out one of those EPT things and it turned blue and here I am."
There.
Greg flipped through my file, marking a few things in his fast script.
"Your weight is good. Blood pressure is fine. How far along do you think
you are?"
"Maybe six weeks. I'm not sure."
"Your husband doesn't remember?"
I sat there in silence. I cursed myself for allowing a tear to cloud my
eye. My throat tightened. I looked up and met his blue eyes. He
understood in that instance.
"I'm sorry."
"Don't be sorry. I'm fine. Really. I'm a big girl with a real job and
real money. I have my own house and my debts are minimal. I can do this
by myself. I don't need the help of some pompous asshole." I swiped at the
tear.
"I take it the father doesn't want anything to do with this?" Greg began
to rub soothing circles on my back. It felt so comforting. Nancy came in
with a real glass of water and heard the last thing Greg said.
"He doesn't want children. Ever. He is treating this as a momentary
lapse in judgment. He will resume our relationship if I get rid of the
offending organism." I said this very sarcastically, making it clear how I
felt.
"I feel that I have a duty to inform you of your options. It's early
enough."
"No. That is not an option for me. When I saw the little blue line,
this baby became real to me. I want this baby. I will raise this baby to
be a good human being, even if I have to do it without a father figure."
"That's good enough for me. We'll do all we can to bring this baby into
the world as healthy as possible. If you ever need anything or have any
concerns, give Nancy or I a call and we'll help you out. Not only with
medical concerns, but also with resources for every aspect of the pregnancy
and birth. "
I was feeling better already. I had someone on my side for once,
supporting my decision and offering some guidance. "Thanks Greg...I mean
Dr. Dixon."
"Greg to you, Becca, always. Now, why don't we get on with the
examination?"
"Right. The examination." I settled back on the white paper and scooted
down until my rear was perched near the edge of the table. Greg looked at
me quizzically. "What?" I asked.
"Eager for a pelvic, are you? Let's do the breasts first." He smirked.
I noticed the tiny scar by his left eye and remembered when he got that
scar. We were playing with fireworks on the fourth of July when one
misfired and scraped the side of his face.
I rolled my eyes and grumbled my embarrassment, situating myself farther
up on the table. Greg pulled apart the paper gown and laid his warm hands
on my right breast. I looked up into his eyes, very afraid. He continued
to talk to me, easing my nerves as his fingers pushed gently into my giving
flesh. He looked down briefly at my nipple before moving onto my left
breast. Again, his eyes found mine. "How does that feel?" He asked.
That was a loaded question, I thought. Greg, your hands are massaging
my breasts, what do you want me to say? Do it some more? Yes . . . well,
no. Anyway . . . "Sore. Very sore."
Greg nodded. Obviously he couldn't read minds.
"Now, scoot down to the edge." Nancy guided my feet into the stirrups
and arranged the sheet over my spread legs. The bright light from the lamp
warmed my inner thighs. I took a deep breath. Then another.
Greg loomed over me, all broad shoulders and authority. He blocked the
light from the lamp as he stood between my legs. He placed one hand gently
on my belly and positioned the other hand between my legs. I wonder if he
knew just how nervous he was making me.
This all seemed so surreal. After all those misspent years in high
school lusting after this guy, here he was about to go where few men have
gone and I was shaking like a schoolgirl. He stirred temptations within
me. I felt the fabric of his lab coat brush against the tender flesh of my
thigh. He slipped his lubricated fingers into my vagina. Oh God, Did my
vagina embrace his fingers? I fought the urge to arch my back. This was a
doctor's office, for Godsakes. There was a nurse standing by the door
watching every move the doctor made. This was not the time to get horny.
Hormones, I rationalized. I had read that hormones while pregnant can make
you do strange things. I was definitely feeling strange.
"Everything feels great." Greg remarked as he removed his fingers from
my vagina and snapped off his gloves. He turned to toss the latex gloves
in the trash while I awkwardly sat up, my feet pushing against the
stirrups. I managed to free my legs and close them before he turned back
around.
"That's good to hear." I said.
"I'm going to give you some prenatal vitamins and some reading material.
Nancy will make another appointment for you in four weeks. Meanwhile, you
get enough rest, exercise and healthy food...no junk. I remember you had a
passion for chocolate-covered cherries. No more than one chocolate-covered
cherry a day." He smiled at me and patted my leg. God, his smile was still
gorgeous. All dimpled and sparkly. I wanted to grab him by the ears and
kiss him silly. Hormones, Becca. Traitorous hormones.
"You remember the chocolate-covered cherries?"
"I remember a lot of things, Becca, like the time you wanted to play
football with the boys only to be squashed under a pile of randy teenagers
who tickled you until you wet your pants." Greg snickered. "God that was
funny!"
"Maybe to you. I was horrified." I couldn't help but giggle. That
seemed so long ago.
"Here's my card. Call me anytime, day or night, if you have any
problems. Okay? I need to move onto the next patient. I look forward to
seeing you in four weeks." Greg squeezed my shoulder before he left the
examining room, leaving me to sigh after his broad back.
Four weeks. I had to wait four weeks to see him again? He must be
married with a couple of kids by now. I didn't think to check to see if he
had on a wedding ring. Do OB/GYN's even wear rings?
"Y'all know each other?" I startled when I heard Nancy speak. I forgot
she was in the room.
"We went to high school together. We were friends." I smiled at Nancy.
"Good. A friend of his. Maybe you can talk some sense into him about
this bimbo he's been seeing lately. Just another airhead in a long line of
airheads." Nancy remarked caustically.
"Excuse me?"
"Honestly, I don't know where he finds them. Jennifer I think her name
is, she is so rude and snippy when she calls for him, which is often. Mind
you, the man has a packed schedule and she just doesn't seem to understand
that. She just acts so bitchy all the time." Nancy quickly covered her
mouth with her hand and stared at me in disbelief. "I can't believe I just
said that. I apologize. I just know her type. Dr. Dixon is too nice to
end up with a woman like that."
I slipped behind the curtain and began to get dressed as Nancy continued
to chat and straighten up the exam room. "I understand perfectly Nancy.
Greg, I mean, Dr. Dixon, is a very nice man. He was always extremely
wonderful to me during my awkward years in school. I will be forever
grateful for him for giving me a place in which I felt comfortable. He did
always have a weakness for dumb blondes, though." I laughed, brushing my
dark curls from my face. "And, he is a cutie." I smiled at Nancy as I left
the room. "See y'all in four weeks."
So, Greg was single after all.
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