Emma Donoghue Two-Book Bundle Read Free Page B

hear her muted voice. Who was she talking to? She was probably complaining about him, his lack of jizz, so to speak. Padraic stared round him for inspiration. A less sexy room had never been devised. Sanitary, soothing. The only hint of colour was Sarah’s leopard-skin toilet bag.
    Reckless now, he unzipped it and rifled through.
Pervert,
he told himself encouragingly. Looking through his wife’s friend’s private things … her spot concealer, her super-plus tampons. He felt something stirring in his trousers. He sat down again and reached in. He clung to this unlikely image of himself as a lecherous burglar, an invader of female privacies. A man who could carry a crowbar, who might disturb a woman who was having her bath, some independent single businesswoman with sultry lips, a woman like Sarah …
    Oh my god.
If she only knew what he was thinking, barely ten feet away—
    Never mind that.
Hold on to the fantasy. The crowbar.
No, chuck the crowbar, he couldn’t stoop to that. He would simply surprise … some beautiful, fearful woman and seize her in his bare hands and—
    If Carmel knew he had rape fantasies she’d give him hell.
    Never mind. Do what you have to do. Keep at it. Nearly there now. Evil, smutty, wicked thoughts. The gorgeous luscious open-mouthed businesswoman
…
bent over the sink
…
her eyes in the mirror
…
    By now he had forgotten all about the jar. His eye fell on it at the last possible minute.
    Now wouldn’t that have been ironic,
Padraic told himself as he screwed the lid back on with shaking hands.
    It didn’t look like very much, it occurred to him. He should have brought a smaller jar. A test tube, even.
    He gave himself a devilish grin in the mirror. Endorphins rushed through his veins. Now what he’d love was a little snooze, but no, he had a delivery to make.
    Sarah was reading some spiral-bound document, but she leapt up when he opened the door, and the pages slid to the floor. ‘Wonderful!’ she said, all fluttery, as he handed over the warm jar. Her cheeks were pink. She really was quite a good-looking woman.
    ‘Hope it’s enough,’ he joked.
    ‘It’s grand, loads!’
    It struck him for the first time that she might need some help with getting it in.
Oh god, please let her not upend herself and expect me to
… But he was too much of a gentleman to run away. He hovered. Sarah, acting like she did this every day, produced a syringe.
    ‘Wow,’ said Padraic. ‘I hope they didn’t search your bag at customs.’
    ‘No, but it did show up on the X-ray screen.’ She gave a breathless little laugh.
    ‘Wow,’ he said again. Then, ‘It might have been easier to do it the old-fashioned way!’
    It was a very cold look she gave him. Surely she couldn’t think he meant it? A touchy subject, clearly. (Weren’t they all, these days?) Padraic knew he should never make jokes when he was nervous. He felt heat rise up his throat.
    ‘I’ll get out of your way, then, will I? Treat myself to a whiskey. Maybe you’ll come down and join me after?’
    He couldn’t stop talking. Sarah smiled and nodded and opened the door for him.
    She tried lying on the bed with her bare legs in the air, but it was hard to keep them up there.
Hurry, hurry,
she told herself; the jar was cooling fast. How long was it they lived? Was it true that boy sperm moved faster but girl sperm lived longer? Or was it vice versa? Not that she gave a damn. She’d take whatever God sent her, if he was willing to use this form of special delivery.
Please just let this work.
    Finally, she ended up lying on the carpet with her feet up on the bed. She felt almost comfortable. It was crucial to feel happy at the moment of conception, someone at work had told her. Awkwardly, leaning up on one elbow, she unscrewed the lid of the jar and began to fill the syringe. It was certainly easier at the clinic, where all she had to do was shut her eyes, but it felt a lot better to be doing this herself without anyone peering or