Those few who have followed this narrative will know of my present condition: in a word, fat as a hippo. But that’s four words. Hey, ho!
Pregnancy is meant to be such a wonderful thing. Pregnant women are regularly described as blooming. Well, at present I feel less like a blossom and more like a moose. My reflection, when I can bear to look at it, shows the face of a woman who hasn’t slept much in days, because she can’t find a comfortable position to lie in. And anyway, she has to get up every bloody five minutes to go pee.
I know I’m singing a song that countless women have sung before. And I know that there are some ladies out there who insist that they’ve enjoyed every moment of every pregnancy they’ve had. And that includes my sister. Well, lucky for them.
But in reality I have no right to complain, I did this to myself. Or more accurately, I let him do it to me.
Speaking of he, who I have mentioned seldom in this narrative, the prospect of fatherhood seems to suit him well. If anyone is blooming, he is. He is, and always has been a natural romantic, who only reverts to savagery when someone hands him an odd shaped ball and tells him to run the length of the field, knocking aside and generally mauling anybody who tries to stop him. It’s a game - really it is.
It's my personal opinion that although the game was invented by gentlemen, it is more suited to hairy neanderthals with a penchant for brutality and legalized violence. I love him dearly, but I've seen the blood-lust growing in his eyes at the prospect of another brutal, bone-crunching face-off with his teams arch-enemies.
His favourite thing at the moment is to pat my expanding belly, smile proudly at his handiwork and ask, “Is the bun baked yet?”
“There are a number of luxury cabins,” said the pretty stewardess, her springy blonde hair bobbing around her shoulders, as she descended the winding stairs into the belly of the boat. She turned to look me up and down, her hazel eyes judging me, and finding me guilty of future crimes. “We’ve made up the blue room for your use,” she said finally, turning the nearest handle and standing aside for me to precede her.
I nearly whistled at the opulence - the over-the-top, over-sized bed - gigantic smoke tinted mirrors on three of the walls and on the ceiling. I knew what she was thinking, I was thinking exactly the same thing.
“I don’t understand,” I said. “This is only a day drip. I don’t actually need a bedroom. I-”
“Oh. I…we thought….” She left the sentence unfinished, but I could see clearly in her blue eyes exactly what they’d thought was going on. The boss had brought his newest lover on board, and was intending to wine, dine and fuck her on the high seas.
What other reason would a well known seducer have for taking a woman out for a ride on his mega-yacht.
I was certain that the gold ring on my wedding finger had been noted. So not only did they think that I’d come along so that their millionaire boss could strip off by clothes and have me thrashing about beneath him; they also thought that I was an adulterous.
“I just need somewhere to change,” I said, deciding against any long explanation or rebuttal of her unspoken words. The small twitch of her eyebrows told me that she wasn’t likely to believe any sort of denial of the hot erotic image she had playing behind her eyes.
I was tempted to ask how many other women, married or otherwise, had been taken out for a day trip, but decided against it.