Derby Line Marriage Ch. 08

Patrick walked down Broadway along the Columbia University campus. The physical at Columbia Presbyterian was relatively painless. The hospital staff was very professional considering that they were examining his genitalia. When he handed over his sperm sample, the nurse took it casually like it was just a glass of milk. Patrick certainly would not be so nonchalant about bodily functions. He preferred plants. They were much cleaner. Hopefully, the exam would be worth it, and doctors would find out what was wrong with him. His wife, Francis, had already gotten a clean bill of health from her exams, so Patrick must be the reason they hadn't conceived yet.

Patrick was making the most of his trip to New York City. After the exam, he headed down to Columbia University Environmental Health Sciences department to discuss vertical farming with one of the professors. Now he was off to see the High Line downtown. Patrick stopped in front of the university book store to check his subway map. It looked as if the 9 train would take him directly to the park. Unfortunately, he couldn't figure out where the entrance to the 9 line was. Frustrated, Patrick lowered the map.

A tall, muscular, black man approached Patrick. "Excuse me, Sir. I saw you looking at the map. Do you need directions?" the man offered.

"Thanks. I'm looking for the 9 train. I'm not from around here. Tuesday night I head back to Montreal." Patrick replied.

The other man's face lit up. "The subway station for the 9 is right there. Hey, let me show you around tonight. I've lived in Manhattan my whole life. It's been 34 years now. I can take you to this great Jazz club I know."

Patrick was pleasantly surprised by the man's friendliness. "Wow. Yeah. That would be great. My name's Patrick, by the way."

"Benjamin here." They shook hands. "Let me have your number. I've got a meeting this afternoon, but I'll call you as soon as it's done."

Patrick gave Benjamin his mobile phone number. As the two parted, Patrick's phone rang. He answered it. "Hello? Oh, hey honey. How are you holding up without me? I miss you too. OK. Love you. Bye."

Benjamin seemed annoyed by the interruption. "Was that your girlfriend?" he asked.

"Actually, that was my wife. Why?"

"Forget about tonight," Benjamin told Patrick. "I don't fuck married guys."

Patrick stood there in stunned silence as Benjamin walked away. Who said anything about fucking? I'm straight. A bit unnerved from the encounter, Patrick descended into the subway station. The subway trip passed quickly. Soon he was at the 14th Street entrance to the High Line. Patrick walked through the elevated park and admired the greenery. The city had done a great job turning those abandoned tracks into a lush landscape. The trees and shrubs calmed his nerves.

Patrick climbed down the stairs at 20th Street to the side walk and meandered his way northward. His wandering brought him to Chelsea Park where he sat down on a bench. A pair of women pushing a baby stroller passed Patrick. One woman had long blond hair, blue eyes and pale skin. The other had short cropped black hair, green eyes and an olive, Middle Eastern completion. The pair stopped several feet from Patrick to hug each other. The blond nuzzled her face in the crook of her companion's neck. The olive skinned beauty stroked her partner's long hair. She kissed the light strands, and then made a trail of loving pecks to her ear. She whispered something that made the fair skinned belle shudder. Their lips met for a tender kiss. In short order, tender gave way to lusty. Their bodies pressed hard against each other. Their mouths opened for a passionate tongue duel.

Patrick's own mouth opened, but in surprise rather than lust. The black haired woman noticed his gawking. "Hey bud," she called, "you have a problem with lesbians?"

"Um, no," Patrick tried to assured then. "In fact, I like lesbians very much."

"Yeah," giggled the blond. "I can tell how much you like us by the tent you're sporting."

Patrick blushed as his hand unconsciously tried to cover the bulge in his pants. He attempted to change the subject. "Is that your niece or nephew?"

The black haired lady answered, "He's my son. We had him through artificial insemination." Then she patted her partner's stomach. "She's in her first trimester."

"Congratulations," Patrick said.

"Thanks," the blond responded. "A word of advice, try not to stare. You're in Chelsea. The LGBT community is large here. We're friendly, but we don't like voyeurs."

"Actually," her partner corrected with a laugh, "A few of us do like voyeurs, but they have their own clubs for that." She kissed her girlfriend on the cheek. "Common honey, we're going to be late." Then she turned to Patrick with a wink. "Take care now. Hope you enjoyed the show."

"You too. Bye."

After that display, Patrick's mouth was dry. He looked for a bar so he could order a pint. The establishment he settled on had a formal mood. Cedar panels lined the walls and tan leather covered the furniture. Patrick sat in a large chair in the corner of the bar. The server took his order for ale without making pleasantries. Patrick was alone in his thoughts. Artificial insemination, I hadn't thought about that. It's an option. We could find a donor who looks like me so the neighbors don't wonder. I'll have to research it some when I get back to Montreal. Patrick's gaze glided over to a young man who was sitting at the bar. He wondered if the average sperm donor was like that man. Patrick considered the gentleman's broad shoulders and brawny arms. He compared them to his own fit, but slim frame. Running keeps me is shape, but maybe I should lift some too. I wonder how much he can bench press. Patrick admired how the man's shirt stretched over his solid pectoral muscles. Surely the man had ample testosterone. He probably had plenty of sperm to spare. Patrick's penis began to stir as he thought of the stranger's sperm swimming to his wife's womb.

The hunk left his seat to approach Patrick. "Hey there. I'm Mike. How about I buy you a drink? Maybe we could go to my place for a little man on man fun," he offered Patrick.

Patrick became a bit flustered. "Sorry. I'm not gay."

"Oh. My bad. I guess my gaydar is off today. I could have sworn you were checking me out." The man leaned over to whisper into Patrick's ear. His breath was hot and moist. "Stop lying to yourself. Embrace it. You will be so much happier once you do." The man walked out of the bar, leaving Patrick alone with his thoughts.