Chapter Nine- Appetites
Five years on
Aggie looked at the blank face of James the Strong. He was staring at the ceiling like he always did after a decent night’s shagging.?James the Strong’s appetite, like his father’s, was huge, but it was so different, a much more robust form of thrusting. The sort that had Aggie yelling like a banshee taming a wild horse, which for some reason spurred James the Strong on, like a wild horse with a whip.
In fact, she often used one.
Five years bouncing from father to son like a ping-pong ball in a tornado was not how Aggie had planned her life. Remembering the names, their little ways, could tax even the finest memory, and father and son were as different as soya and hemp, but she had managed it, giving her a life she for the most part enjoyed, apart from James the Strong and his “I want a son” rants.
He turned to her. “What I wouldn’t give for a son.”
She sighed.
“I’m pushing forty with nothing to prove,” said James the Strong.
“I’ve even shagged an Alien.”
“Must we?” muttered Aggie.
She sighed, pulled back the covers, and headed for the bathroom as James the Strong regaled her with his story yet again.?“I, dressed as a woman.” He smiled to himself. “Took the swaps to the point, a nice cozy armchair and hammers from what I remember—no one had a clue it was me.”
James the Strong almost laughed.
Aggie sat on the john and pulled the toilet paper with disgust.
For five years they had been together, and she had heard the Alien story so many times she could repeat it word for word—backwards.
“Was your one-handed swinging of the armchair not a giveaway?” she said with a tired expression.
“You would think,” said James the Strong. He looked at his nails. “But no”—he smiled to himself—“there I was by the field as instructed, and there she was, a sunburnt Alien waiting with a bag of soya and some apples. She didn’t know what hit her.”
“I can imagine.” Aggie flushed the john.
“She laughed,” said James the Strong.
“Imagine laughing at you,” said Aggie.
James the Strong watched Aggie emerge from the bathroom.
“Loved the licking,” he said.
“Did she?” Aggie sighed.
“I told her it was my trademark.”
“Probably not something to brag about,” Aggie muttered.
“No baby, though,” he sighed, “and I heard those Aliens breed like rabbits.”
“I wouldn’t believe all you hear,” said Aggie.
He watched her slide on her dressing gown and sit beside him.
Aggie traced a line around his nipple and looked at his irresistible eyes. If only he didn’t speak.
“Why can’t you be happy like your father?” she said.
“Happy? How can I be happy? I want a son. All the others have a son, why can’t I? They have a son to walk with, talk with—what have I got? More four-legged creatures you can shake a stick at.”
“They do return them to you.” Aggie sighed.
“So what,” mumbled James the Strong. “I want a son to mold.”
She looked at him.
“Or at least show things to.”
Aggie looked at her watch.
“Like how to pull a spaceship, the trick to tying it to one’s back . . .”
“There’s a trick?” said Aggie. “You never said anything about a trick.”
He stopped. “Yes, well, we all have our secrets . . .”
“It’s just tying though, isn’t it?” said Aggie.
“There’s tying and then there’s tying,” he muttered.
Aggie looked at him like he was talking twaddle.
“And then there’s the drying of the rope.”
“Now you’re being silly,” said Aggie.
“A secret I’ll take to my grave.” He stopped and slid his hand onto Aggie’s breast. “If there’s no son to leave it to.”
Aggie pushed the hand away. ?“You’re always banging on about a son. What about a daughter? I’m sure there are plenty of girls who’d love to know about rope . . . drying?”
“Pfff,” he said. “A daughter—for men to fill with their seed?”
She looked at him. “That’s what you do to me.”
“But that’s different,” he said.
“How?” she said.
“Well, you’re one of them,” said James the Strong.
Aggie sighed.
“You know, a woman who pleases,” he said, “who needs man’s seed, and mine is, well . . . good for you . . .”
She threw him a “really?” look.
“It’s like my name.” He laughed.
“Strong?” said Aggie she stared at James the Strong’s blank face. she thought.
At the beginning, she thought about babies, but she had seen the worn-out looks of those at the nurturing shed and figured if they were worn out without James the Strong to interfere—or “mold,” as he put it—
Even though his sperm was as fertile as a scrambled egg, she took action. She saw it as her moral duty to end the James the Strong line before it got started—it was the least she could do for all the benefits she enjoyed with her position. ?Contraception was banned on Planet Hy Man, the formula hidden, and yet it was so simple even James the Strong could follow it . . .
Aggie, having sorted the secret files into her rabbit warren, knew all about the formula: no sex during a full moon and using a sponge type thing “down there”— which, in the end, was Aggie’s downfall.
After five years of illegal family planning, watching, avoiding, and being prepared, Aggie, thanks to a night of way too much hemp, threw caution to the wind. ?It was the end of the arrival of the Aliens’ celebration day—celebrated by all bar the Aliens.? During the yearly celebration, the whole city closed as men and women reenacted the day of running the Aliens out of town by chasing, feasting, and catching, usually in dark corners for ravaging.? Aggie had vague memories of watching from her window with several hemp smokes and a bucket of homebrew; drunk, stoned, and singing, she thought,
It was all a bit of a blur . . .??She couldn’t remember.? A week later, she woke up, raced to the john, and threw up the previous night’s spicy tofu.
“Was it that bad?” yelled James the Strong.
“What?” Aggie gurgled through a gag.
“My cooking.”
She looked up, wiped her mouth, and wondered,
“Did you visit after the celebrations the other night?” she asked as casually as possible.
“Celebration . . . night?” muttered James the Strong.
“Yes . . . for some bed-diving?”
“Hmmm, don’t recall,” he said.
“Shit,” muttered Aggie. She stared into the toilet bowl.
It had never been her plan to sleep with anyone, but when the nurturing shed door closed and Arthur of the North lurched, she saw an opening. Now, all these years later, she had a baby inside her . . . and the father was probably not the right one.?“Shit, shit, shit.”
“What was that, luv?” said James the Strong.
“Shit and bollocks.”
“If you fancy a spot of bed-diving, I’ve got five minutes . . .”
The next day, Aggie picked her moment. After some gentle snogging in the sun, Arthur of the North closed his eyes, and she told him. ?He slid his hand onto her stomach as his old tired face smiled.
“If he looks like my James, you’re laughing,” said Arthur of the North.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.