I walked into the kitchen and noticed two things: a cute guy’s fine ass and a dog, sitting patiently in the corner behind him as if he were waiting for something.
Ryan–the man at my back, the one who’d invited me here–chuckled, slightly embarrassed. “Don’t mind Ethan. He waits to wash clothes until nearly everything he owns is dirty.” He slid past me to hug the man at the stove. “Did you forget we were expecting company this evening?” he hissed loudly enough I could hear.
Ethan looked over his shoulder at me and grinned. “I’m frying ham for sandwiches. Hungry?”
I was. “Sounds good.”
Ethan mock glared at Ryan. “She knew we were nudists when she agreed to the interview.” He glanced at me again, eyes twinkling. “I only have a shirt on ’cause it’s chilly in here. Sure you don’t mind?”
“Not a problem.” I pulled out a chair at the battered table and sat. “How about we talk while you cook?”
“Fine with me.” He nudged his partner. “Hey, Ryan? Could you take Boomer out? It’s been a while.”
Giving me an apologetic look, Ryan snapped his fingers at the dog, who trotted instantly to his side. They left through the back door, and a moment later, I heard it slam.
“He’s nervous,” Ethan said, turning, spatula in hand.
I got a look at his genitals for the first time. Scary big. I hadn’t lied to them. I was a virgin–they’d insisted on that–and thinking about doing it with him caused some anxiety. “I’m nervous too,” I admitted. I’d thought long and hard about this and still wasn’t completely sure it was the right thing to do.
“I figure we should be honest. You should know who you’re dealing with.”
“You’re both nudists?” I didn’t care. I was only making conversation, trying to distract myself from the reason why I was here.
“When weather allows.” He smiled. “Who knew a cold front would move in this morning?”
We laughed, and the tension eased. We chatted about how long they’d lived on the farm, the animals they kept and why, and when Ryan returned with Boomer, they segued to their philosophy of life and eventually, their hopes and dreams. No one asked me what mine were.
When the food was cooked, we ate fried ham-and-cheese sandwiches. They snuck pieces to Boomer under the table, and so did I, twice, even though I hadn’t eaten since yesterday.
Small talk faded, and Ethan said, “Let’s just get down to it, okay? We could have gone in vitro, like most couples, but that seemed so cold.” He took Ryan’s hand in his. “We like the idea of doing it naturally. We’d both fuck you during your most fertile time, and we have no plans to do a DNA test to find out whose sperm accomplished the deed. It would be our child. They explained that to you, right? And told you we’d like you to live here until the baby is born?”
“They told me. I’m good with that.” It wasn’t like I had much anyway. Straights were so outnumbered by LGBT people since the Great Upheaval, it was hard to get a job–any job–much less a safe place to live. The hatred and violence against people with my orientation was rampant.
“We’re not prejudiced,” Ryan insisted. “We’ll treat you well.”
Of course they would. Right up until the baby was born, and afterward, well…. I’d face that moment when it came. They were offering me nine months of food, warmth, and safety. These days, for straights, that was a lifetime.
“Do I get my own room?” I asked hopefully.
“You sure do,” Ethan said proudly and stood, holding out a hand. “Let me show you.”
Heart in my throat, I followed him up a dark flight of stairs to the second floor. I’d do it. Of course I’d do it. It was my best option.
Boomer trotted at my heels, already treating me like a member of the family. It must have been because of the ham I’d fed him on the sly.
Word count: 686
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