“Douglas,” Sibyl said to me, pausing over her food, her fork frozen. “I – I am...surprised.”
“Why?” I asked innocently. “A relationship such as ours shouldn’t preclude ordinary domesticity. I would love to have a son or a daughter to dote on. Besides, if my business is as successful as I think it will, it is definitely something that I would like to keep within the family.”
“But I am past the age of childbearing,” Sibyl protested, and then halted, afraid that she had tipped her hand as to her age; great concern to any woman.
I waved a hand. “Then perhaps a surrogate mother could be found. Anyway, that is a concern for much later. Although,” I added slyly, “conception doesn’t just happen. It requires practice.”
My women giggled, and the tension dissolved.
The meal went on, and I notic
