Glencross Manor - Richard's Story

"Well, that it's like all the really technical, skilled jobs are all women, whilst all the men have to do the donkey work around here?" I answered. "And what about this andrologist woman? I take it that means you have to let her examine your, er, man-parts from time to time."

"In all honesty it doesn't bother me at all," Karl responded flatly. "There's no 'battle of the sexes' here or anything, as you'll find out in good time. Everyone here respects everyone else - it's one of Mrs. McEill's most fundamental rules. The women that run the cryogenic storage facility and run the laboratories don't look down on the men that run the canteen here or the guys that keep the grass mown and the buildings clean, for example. And the reason for that is very simple - without us men, the women wouldn't have jobs here. Like I said, all the men here are donors, so in a way we're more important than they are. Without us, there would be no Glencross Manor Clinic for Fertility and Human Reproductive Sciences!"

"I suppose, since you put it like that," I replied, although I wasn't entirely convinced.

"Look, I've been here seven years now, and I can honestly say that in all that time I've never been looked down on by any of the women here, and I've never felt emasculated by the fact that they far outqualify me," Karl went on. "For one thing, we men outnumber the women here ten to one, so you could argue that it should be they who feel uncomfortable here, living amongst so many burly, muscular men. But the truth is, this is a pretty harmonious place once you get used to it. I know it seems a bit odd at first, but you'll soon see that it really is no big deal at all. Assuming you decide to join us here, that is."

Our conversation continued as we sat and ate. To be honest I had no problem at all with there being women in the scientific and medical jobs here, but the fact that all of those positions were filled by women, and that all the more menial jobs were done by the men, still sat uneasily with me. I decided though, not to take issue with it too much - Karl assured me that it wasn't an 'us and them' environment, so I had to just take his word for it.

Once we'd finished, Karl showed me the rest of the place. Aside from the building that housed the laboratories, the cryogenic storage facilities and the medical consulting rooms, he showed me around the sports and leisure facilities, which included a well equipped gym, a large sports hall, outdoor football pitches and tennis courts, a 25 metre swimming pool, as well as a small cinema, a well stocked library, a snooker hall and, according to Karl, there was even a 'pub' of sorts located on the ground floor of the men's accommodation building.

"All strictly non-alcoholic drinks though!" he chuckled.

The tour continued around the gardens and the large expanse of lawn that extended out in front of the old Manor House. It was early evening and it was starting to get dark - of course I later realised that since I was several hundred miles further north than where I lived, sunset was a little earlier. It was only by about ten minutes, but it was definitely noticeable.

Eventually, Karl returned me to the guests accommodation building, informing me that he would pick me up at nine the next morning for breakfast and after that, to take me to meet the mysterious Mrs. McEill. It was to prove to be one of the most eye-opening experiences I'd ever had.

* * * * * *

The next morning dawned bright and clear, it was a beautiful autumnal day without a cloud in the sky. Karl, after having taken me back to the canteen for breakfast, took me across to the Manor House for my meeting with the founder of the place, the enigmatic Mrs. McEill.

"Richard Selworth to see you, Mrs. McEill," Karl said as we entered what looked to be a drawing room of some kind, located just off the main hall of the expansive country pile.

"Ah! So good of ye tae come, my dear! Please, take a seat," Mrs. McEill beamed. "Allow me tae introduce myself, I'm Elspeth McEill, founder of this rather exclusive clinic and chieftain of the clan McEill."

"Pleased to meet you, Mrs. McEill," I replied as I shook her hand.

She looked like the stereotypical Scottish old lady, with a tartan shawl draped over her shoulders and with a pair of half-moon spectacles perched on her nose. I half expected her to be knitting something like my Nan constantly did, so I was surprised to see her place a very expensive looking smartphone on the table beside her armchair instead of a ball of wool and some knitting needles.

"Please take a seat, my dear," she said as she gestured towards a couple of armchairs opposite her.

The gentle Caledonian lilt to her voice had an almost lyrical quality to it. It was one of those soft voices that instantly puts you at ease - she could be breaking the most dreadful news and it'd still sound as though everything will be alright. "I'm sorry tae say ye'll have tae have yerr right arm amputated, but it'll be alright, my dear, you'll soon get used tae it." In many ways her voice reminded me of Maggie Smith in The Prime Of Miss Jean Brodie, a film I'd watched at school as part of my GCSE in English.

"I know it's an awful long journey tae get here - I hope it was'nae too tiring for ye," she continued.

"Well, it was a long day, I guess," I replied, my West Yorkshire accent contrasting with Mrs. McEill's highland burr. "Stuck on several trains for most of the day - but the views on the way up here were beautiful."

"Aye, It's a beautiful part of the world," Mrs. McEill agreed. "Karl, dear, would you be kind enough tae fetch us some tea?"

"No problem, Mrs. McEill," Karl replied. "Any particular blend?"

"Hmm, Scottish Breakfast I think," Mrs. McEill replied after a few brief moments of consideration.

"Righty-ho!" Karl answered jovially, and left the room, closing the door behind him on his way out.

"Tea is a bit of a passion of mine," Mrs. McEill said with a smile. "I've been teetotal for years, and tea sort of fills the void left behind by wine. I have literally dozens of varieties down in the cellar."

She leaned back in her chair and looked me over.

"So, tae business," she said after a few moments. "The reason ye're here, as ye'll no doubt know, is because of the semen sample you produced a couple of weeks ago."

"Yeah, it came as quite a shock when I was told how fertile I appear to be!" I replied with a little nervous laugh.

"Indeed - Mrs. Dutta was most enthusiastic when I spoke with her," Mrs. McEill answered. "One of the finest samples she'd seen in years, or so she told me. Whilst ye're here we shall conduct a sperm count of our own, tae make sure the quality of the sample you gave was'nae a one-off."

"Another sperm count? You mean, I have to go through all that again?" I asked.

"I'm afraid so, my dear," Mrs. McEill said in her matronly tone. "We are an exclusive centre for fertility treatment, with an exclusive clientele of professional single ladies and couples, and we must ensure that the quality of yerr semen is a constant, rather than an isolated occurrence. After all, taking you on as a donor represents a significant investment for us, so we must be assured that ye are as fertile as your initial sample suggests, and that ye'll be able give us a decent return on it. A second sample will confirm it, and we will make an offer for you tae join us here based upon that."

"Join you here? You mean, I'd have to live here?"

"This is a fully residential facility," Mrs. McEill explained. "In order tae ensure that the quality of our donors is of a sufficient quality, it is necessary tae closely monitor your health and wellbeing at all times. I expect Karl has already shown you the sports and leisure facilities here - they are there to help you stay fit and healthy. A healthy man makes healthy sperm."

"Well, of course I get that," I replied.

"And the same goes for a man's mental health too," Mrs. McEill went on. "Every aspect of a man's health is important, and we take good measures tae make sure that all the men here are as healthy in mind as well as body as it's possible tae be. So you'll be seeing our resident counsellor here on a regular basis too."

God, I just adored her accent!

"Now, before we go much further, I ought tae explain exactly how this place works," Mrs McEill said as she leaned forward and rested her elbows on the arms of her chair. "As ye know, this is a private fertility clinic that employs sperm donors to impregnate our female clients, be they single ladies or married couples. Most of our clientele are single career women who, for whatever reason, wish tae have a child but without necessarily wanting a man in their lives."

"Isn't that a bit sexist of them though?" I asked. "It's as though they want what we can give them, but they don't want us! As in, men in general."

"Not at all!" Mrs. McEill tried to assure me. "Not everyone wants tae have the traditional relationship - marriage, two point four kids, a nice semi-detached house in the suburbs - people have more freedom nowadays not tae have tae conform to what society expects of them. Don't ye worry, my dear, I can assure ye that we don't take on clients who express any kind of anti-male sentiments if that's what worries ye."

"Well, that's good to know, I guess," I answered.

"Let me ask ye this - do you want tae have a relationship with a woman? Or would you rather 'go your own way' instead?" Mrs. McEill asked.

"Well, I've never really thought about it," I replied.

"Of course ye have'nae, ye're young! Ye're a man! Ye've got all the time in the world tae decide - that's one of the benefits of being a healthy young man," Mrs. McEill said as she smiled broadly at me. "Yer biological clock is different tae a woman's - men don't have the spectre of the menopause hovering over them. So, most of our single clients want tae have a child before it's too late for them - many of them meet a man and settle down later in life, some of them don't, but at least what we offer them here is the freedom tae choose before they can'nae have a child at all."

"As in, choosing to have a child, but not necessarily having to be in a relationship?" I enquired for clarity.

"Exactly!" Mrs. McEill beamed in reply. "It's all about the freedom tae have control over your own destiny."

"I see - I get it now," I said, a little more enlightened about the mission statement of the place.

To be honest I'd never really given consideration to settling down - I was too involved in my studies to have any thoughts of getting married and having kids. But of course I'd heard many a horror story from friends and family about men who had been royally taken to the cleaners by vindictive ex-wives, forced to pay extortionate alimony and ruinous child custody arrangements. I had one uncle who once discovered his wife in bed with another man - he tried to save their marriage for the sake of their two children but the damage was too great. He divorced her, citing adultery as the cause for the breakdown in their marriage. The resulting child custody case went in favour of his wife, as it so often usually does, and he was reduced from being a full-time dad to only being allowed to see his kids for a few hours a month. That was until she moved away, without telling him, or even letting him know where she'd moved to. He hasn't seen his children in five years, even though he still has to pay for child maintenance - and I knew his story was far from unusual. If there was one thing I was certain of, it was that I didn't want to get married - ever.

"Good," Mrs. McEill said as she leaned back in her chair once more. "Now that's out of the way, I can tell ye exactly how we work here. Like I said, we're a private fertility clinic with a number of sperm donors on hand, on site, and ready tae go at a moment's notice."

"Yeah, but why?" I asked. "I'll admit I'm no expert, but why do I need to be here instead of back home in Leeds? Can't I, y'know, 'deliver the goods' down there and have it sent up by courier or something?"

"Well, that's possible for artificial insemination of course," Mrs. McEill responded. "But we don't operate that way here. Yes, we are equipped to carry out artificial insemination and in vitro fertilisation, but they aren't our core activities here."

Mrs. McEill looked me in the eye before continuing. Presumably to gauge my reaction to what she said next.

"Here we believe that nature knows best," she began. "By far the most effective way tae achieve successful fertilisation is the way nature intended. And by that of course, I mean having sex."

A brief moment of silence intervened, and the Scottish lady's words just hung there in mid air for a while.

"I'm sorry, for a second there I thought you said 'having sex,'" I said in disbelief.

"Yes, that's what I said," Mrs. McEill responded levelly. "Our main method of fertilisation here is natural insemination, so yes, it does mean having sex. Lots of sex, in fact. More sex than ye'll ever have anywhere else, and all of it completely unprotected - nae condoms! They have their uses for sure, but not here!"

"Is this for real?" I gasped in shock. "Are you just some kind of pimp? Are you wanting me to be some kind of male whore or something?"

Mrs. McEill sighed, I guess because she was used to my reaction from those who had gone before me.

"Let me show you something, before you condemn what we do here," she replied calmly.

She got up from her chair and urged me to follow her. She took me into an adjoining room - a study, I presumed, given the presence of a large wooden desk in the middle of the room.

"Take a look at that, and tell me what ye see," she said as she pointed to what looked like some kind of large photo mosaic above the fireplace.

From afar it looked like some kind of collage of photos, but upon closer inspection the photos were all of newborn babies. Beside each picture was a handwritten letter, giving thanks to the clinic and to the donor responsible. I looked at one letter in particular:

Dear Graham, Mrs. McEill and everyone at Glencross Manor,

Thank you! From the bottom of my heart, thank you for making my dream of becoming a mum come true! Thanks to you, Graham, I am now the proud mum of a little girl, Abigail, and I couldn't be happier! Thank you, Mrs. McEill for all you and your team have done to help me get to where I am today - I'll definitely be recommending Glencross Manor to my friends!

"There are over three thousand of them, tae save you the trouble of counting them all," Mrs. McEill said as she leaned against the desk. "All of them sired by our donors here since we first began back in the early 80's."

"Three thousand? That's like..." I did a quick mental calculation. "About 90 babies a year!"

"Our success rate is the envy of many a fertility clinic!" Mrs. McEill chuckled. "But they are too conventional tae use our methods, which makes us somewhat unique. Our clients come here from all over the world, ye know."

She stood up and urged me to return to the drawing room.

"Like I said, nature knows best," she said as I followed her. "All we do here is give nature a helping hand by putting clients in touch with the healthiest men with the best quality sperm we can find. And we help our clients tae be as healthy as possible and tae forecast the right moment during their cycle when they are at their most receptive and most likely tae conceive."

Karl had returned by the time we sat down once again, and he placed a silver tray with an ornate china teapot, milk jug, sugar bowl and three bone china teacups and saucers, on the table between us.

"Thank you, Karl," she said as he picked up a small silver tea strainer and began to pour the tea.

"Has she shown you her wall yet?" Karl asked me as he poured.

"Er, yeah, she has," I replied.

"Amazing isn't it? All those babies sired here!" Karl chuckled. "It sort of blows my mind a bit to think that some of those 'wee bairns' have been fathered by yours truly here!"

"Karl is one of our most prolific donors," Mrs. McEill said proudly. "Twenty five babies and counting, with another two on the way. And I've no doubt in my mind, Richard, that as long as yerr sperm is as fertile as yerr initial sample suggests, you could be every bit as successful as Karl. Who knows, ye may even outdo him!"

"Hey! Don't put ideas of usurping me into his head, Mrs. McEill!" Karl said, but in a jovial manner. "I'm number one stud around here, and don't you forget it!"

"Tsk! Boys and their competitiveness!" Mrs. McEill chuckled as she picked up her cup and saucer, and deftly added a splash of milk and a single sugar cube. "It's no a competition here, remember, Karl?"

"Don't worry, Mrs. McEill, I was just joshing with him!" Karl said as he handed me a cup and then poured one for himself. "So, I guess you've been told the secret of Mrs. McEill's success then, Richard."

Karl sat beside me and sipped his tea, which he took without milk or sugar.

"It's not a 'knocking shop' or anything like that," he continued. "But it is a 'knocking-up shop' if you'll forgive the pun!"

I couldn't help but groan - it was a terrible pun.

"Seriously though, it takes a bit of getting used to - being a sort of 'professional surrogate father' - and yes, the concept of basically having loads of unprotected sex with a succession of women, sometimes even doing it as their husband looks on, can take a lot of getting used to, but it's definitely the most rewarding thing I've ever done!" Karl went on. "And I'm not just talking about morally rewarding here, I'm talking financially rewarding too."

"A client is charged a fee of five thousand pounds for the service we provide here, of which ye, the donor, receives sixty percent, seeing as how the greatest contribution is from yeself," Mrs. McEill explained.

"That's three grand a time, in case you haven't already worked that out," Karl added with a smile. "Serve say, six women women a year and that's eighteen grand, just for having sex!"

"And don't forget that while ye're here, all yerr living expenses are taken care of," Mrs. McEill took over. "Ye pay nae accommodation costs, all food and drink is provided for, and ye pay nae taxes either - the money you receive whilst ye're here can be set aside for when you eventually retire from being a donor."

"Donors can stay here up until the age of forty," Karl said as he sipped his unsweetened tea. "After that you can do whatever you want with all those years of savings in your back pocket."

"Whilst ye're here ye can continue your education via the Open University if ye wish," Mrs. McEill took over once more. "And ye won't have tae worry about fees - we shall cover those too. Many of our former donors have gone on tae have good careers after leaving us - some have even qualified as embryologists themselves, inspired by the work we do here. It's not in our interest for ye to be left on the scrapheap once your sperm donating days are done."

"Some of us even stay on here for a few years, to act as mentors to some of the new guys," Karl added. "That's what I'd like to do once I'm past forty."

"So, Richard, now that ye know how this place works, what will be expected of ye, and how much ye could earn from it, are ye still interested in joining us?" Mrs. McEill asked me as she set her cup and saucer down on the table.

I took a moment to consider the pros and cons, of which there were many, but for whatever reason that escapes me now, I just said:

"Yes."

And that was it.

"Excellent!" Mrs. McEill beamed. "But of course, before we can accept ye as a donor, we need tae conduct some tests. Let's begin by taking a good look at ye - please, stand up for me."