I look at my friend with tears in my eyes.
“I think I might be pregnant,” is my confession.
Jess shakes her head.
“Did you guys use protection?”
“Yes, of course! But sometimes, being with Mr. Nielsen was just so hot and there was a time when the condom broke. It was one of our first times together, and we figured it out right away and he pulled out and put another one on. But it must have been that one time,” I cry before dropping my head into my hands. “OMG, OMG.”
Jess exhales slowly.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know!” I sob. “I was never even in a relationship with Bo. I was just a girl he slept with, and he’s done with me. Ever since leaving the cabin, he’s never reached out. Not even once.”
Jess takes my hand, her voice firm.
“But you have to tell him, Haley. For financial reasons, even if nothing else because honey, at the moment, you’re unemployed. I know some of your dog walking clients asked you to come back, but I know you said no because of how you’ve been feeling. But even dog-walking’s not going to cut it, not with a baby on the way. You have to tell him.”
I cried harder then, my shoulders almost convulsing with fear and regret. But in my heart of hearts, I knew Jessica was right. I had to tell the father of my child because with our baby growing inside me, Bo was our only hope.
Yet I want to keep the child because despite everything that’s happened, I still love Bo Nielsen. He was an ass, yes, and he cheated on me although we weren’t exactly in a relationship. But I continue to adore him, and a month apart hasn’t been able to quell those feelings. A small hand slides over my tummy, and I look down at the pooch that pushes at my waistband. The question is if Bo will want his child, given the mess that constitutes my life.
A week later, I stand in front of Club Om with Jess. It’s a chilly night and I stare at the warehouse that has subtle pulses of color emanating from a few windows placed near the roof. There’s a bouncer at the door, and other people in the parking lot making their way to the party, but suddenly queasiness comes over me again. Can I do this?
Reading my mind, Jess pats my shoulder gently, her brown eyes kind.
“You’re a strong woman,” she encourages. “Do this for your baby.”
I swallow heavily and nod, still staring at the warehouse.
“Right,” I say in a slightly wavering tone. “Let’s go then.”
We minced forward and I tried not to wobble too much in my six inch heels. Jess and I were clothed in tiny pleather dresses that barely covered our assets. Hers was in a dark brown, while mine was black, and our stilettos were so high that I felt like a stilt-walker. Yet, Club Om was very clear about its dress code, and besides, I didn’t want to stick out. I just wanted to find Bo and get this over with.
After all, I had no other way of reaching him. I tried to get his number from People Assist, but the agency refused. They said they’d pass along a message to him, but my fingers faltered over the keyboard. What would I say? It seemed the wrong medium to tell a man you were expecting his child.
Plus, Bo and I never exchanged phone numbers or any other contact information. There was no need, seeing that we were living together 24/7, and by the end, I was moaning in his bedroom every night. So instead, this is my only way to find my ex-lover: through Club Om, which fortunately, was listed on the back page of a fetish magazine Jess and I found at a sex toy shop.
“I’m so excited!” Jess confessed in a hushed whisper as we approached the bouncer. I merely shot her a pained smile. While this was exciting for my friend, it was hell for me. I was uncomfortable so exposed, and the physical discomfort was adding to my already jangly nerves.
Fortunately, the bouncer took one look at our skimpy outfits and waved us in. Then, we had to pass by a woman with clipboard in hand, but fortunately, it was a special night at the club. It was something called Swinger Saturday, so evidently there were a lot of non-members in attendance. I have no idea how Jess and I managed to fake it, but we tagged along behind a set of three couples, and the woman merely glanced at us before waving us in.
But I wasn’t prepared for the pure hedonism that was Club Om. The space was dimly lit with red sconces, lending a sexy glow to everything it touched. Comfortable couches and tables were scattered about, with a long oak bar running along one side of the room. A long hallway branched out in back, but I couldn’t see what was going on, given the dim light. Meanwhile, people chatted and strolled about in various stages of undress, smiling and flirting with one another. I watched as a woman leaned forward over a nearby couch as a man slid a small dildo into her pussy, making her gasp as her hands clutched the sofa’s arms. Then, he pulled it out, chuckling, before sliding a bigger, thicker dildo into her pussy, prompting the woman to throw her head back and let out an ecstatic wail. Holy shit. Was this really happening?