I needed to know how Bette wanted to handle asking him to be the sperm donor for the baby she wanted.

“Tell me what you want to do,” I told her.

“What do you suggest?”

“You know that none of them know about us.”

“Yes.”

“It means that we would have to go to Milwaukee and sit down and talk to him.”

“Are you willing to do that?”

“If that’s what you want, then yes.”

“Are you sure?”

“It won’t be easy,” I said. “I was just thinking, it would be easier to tell my sisters than my brother but once we tell him, we’ll have to tell them too.”

“Do you mind?”

“No, I know it has to come out, sooner or later, because like you, I’m in it for the long haul. I can’t imagine sharing my future with anyone else.”

We were still laying close together in bed. She gave me a squeeze. “Are you okay with the thought of raising another child?”

“I want what you want.”

“Can you call him and tell him that we would like to visit them?”

“We’ll check our calendars and see what weekend would work.”

“The sooner the better.”

Her tummy reminded us again that we were hungry. We got up, put our robes on and looked for something to eat. We also looked at our calendars for a free weekend. Once we found one in June, I called my brother and he was delighted that we wanted to visit him. He got all enthused without wondering why we would fly to Milwaukee just for a weekend visit.

There was plenty of time to think about the situation. As the days went by we talked about it again and again. There was one night when we stayed in the city and had a nice quiet dinner together. We talked about it through a martini before we ate and then a bottle of cabernet with our meal. In fact, we got rather giddy about being parents together. It drew us closer and closer. We decided to go to a hotel instead of going home and we made love off and on all night.

Our sexual harmony was amazing. What one of us did not think of the other one did. One of the sex toys we had bought in New Haven was the Isis, a bullet that slipped onto a finger for guidance, small and delicate with a pitter patter vibration for the c-spot. We had not tried it yet but saw on the package that it was guaranteed to make one quiver and shiver with ecstasy. We did not have it with us of course, but Bette wanted me to fantasize that she was wearing it on her finger. She even hummed as she simulated its fluttering sensation and talked me into that tingling wave of sensations that I felt through my entire body. It was that kind of a night.

The next day we went to work tired and hung over. We always called each other several times a day and one of my calls to her was to tell her that I was on my way to interview Paul Newman on his retirement at age 82 but I kept thinking about our night together instead of concentrating on what I was going to say to him. I told her I was caught in traffic and did not mind a bit. I just kept smiling.

She said the same thing was happening to her. She was supposed to be writing an article for the college newspaper and instead she kept staring off with a closed-mouth grin, lapsing into thoughts of what we did together during the night.

We agreed that we would both leave work as soon as we could and try to get to bed early because we were so beat. However, once we got under the covers, the thought of that Isis was too tempting. After that preview of it that we had last night, we both wanted to try out the real thing. We did and after having orgasmic bliss once again, we knew we would be smiling the next day too.

It was not long before the month of June came and soon we were in the air, flying to Milwaukee. I do not know who was more nervous, Bette or me.