The Sperm Donor

The Sperm Donor

Richard Hatfield, or "Dickey" as his family and friends called him, looked in his bathroom mirror and smiled. What he saw reflected back at him was a young man of thirty-two, with jet-black wavy hair, deep-set eyes of cerulean blue, and a smile that could melt ice. He was the proverbial matinee idol; the physical embodiment of every red-blooded woman's lustful desires; the veritable "god's gift to women" kind of man.

But that was not his only reason to be proud. He had also been blessed with a muscular, 6-foot, 2-inch frame. And the best part of it was, he barely had to touch a set of barbells to maintain it. When his male friends at the gym asked him how he managed to keep himself looking so physically fit with such a minimum amount of effort, he merely replied that it was a combination of favorable genetics along with a penchant for chasing women around town--although it would have been more accurate for him to have said that it was they who chased him.

If these formidable physical attributes were not enough, he also possessed a great deal of sexual charisma and charm. At a very young age he learned how to use his astonishing good looks to manipulate people--especially women. His two younger stepsisters, his adoring aunts, and a slew of cousins all paid him deference in one way or another. Even his own mother treated him like her prize possession, catering to him to the point that bordered on the obsessive. Any female with whom he came in contact, be it family or the neighbors on his street or his female classmates, universally fell in love with him at first sight. It was almost as if he had become the incarnation of all that was beautiful in human physiognomy; molded into one singular and beatific representation for all lesser mortals to worship.

And there was one other quality that he possessed in abundance: a fertile and brilliant mind. Like his father, who was an eminent research scientist at NASA, he had a great passion for mathematics and astronomy. The study of exobiology, in particular, fascinated him, and he stayed up late most evenings envisioning life on other worlds and what forms they might take. This led him to pursue the Master of Science program at MIT where he graduated summa cum laude with degrees in biology and exobiology. But despite his academic pursuits and the demands it had made upon his time, there was never a shortage of women to fill his life.

It was no wonder that he had more girlfriends than he knew what to do with. Ever since he was old enough to start dating, girls would call him incessantly asking to go out with him; some were even bold enough to show up unannounced at his front door, hopeful just to get a glimpse of him. All this fussing over him proved very dismaying to his parents and sisters, but it was not without its comical overtones.

On one particular evening on his way from the bathroom to his bedroom, he discovered an unsightly lump in his bed. Thinking it was his sister playing a joke on him, he jumped on the bed and playfully grabbed her by the throat only to find himself staring into the horrified eyes of Cindy Wells, the pretty teenage daughter of Jason and Sarah Wells, his next-door neighbors. When questioned as to how she managed to find access to his room, the girl told him that she had snuck into the house during the day and had waited in his closet until bedtime. To his credit, he did not tell either her parents or his parents what had happened, safely escorting her out the back door without anyone noticing. He laughed about it afterward, but it proved to him what lengths the female of the species would go to just to get near him.

All through his twenties he was never found without at least one woman hanging on his arm. For him to be seen unescorted by some beautiful female was almost unheard of, and while many men envied him for his good fortune, many despised him too. To them he was the man who had everything: good looks, splendid physique, brains, charm, and a winning personality that never failed to win people over. The only thing that he did not possess in abundance was money. Although his father earned a good living from his job, his previous marriage, and three children from that marriage, placed a heavy drain on his personal finances in the form of alimony and child support. So, while it looked to the rest of the world as if his family was safely ensconced in the upper-middle-class lifestyle, the truth was that great sacrifices had to be made to maintain that illusion. It was not that they were poor as such, but that they had to struggle to keep up appearances. And it was the constant threat of imminent financial doom that hovered over the family for years, and which remained unresolved long after Dickey had left at the age of twenty-two to live in Boston.

Upon completing his formal education, he found employment at Brigham and Women's, a research hospital conducive to fostering the study and implementation of novel and advanced medical techniques, and which possessed one of the world's most innovative biological research facilities. Dickey's exemplary academic record, along with his father's formidable influence, helped secure him a position as junior research scientist in the hospital. His pay was modest, and although he knew his financial situation would improve over time, he was always seeking ways to supplement his present income, such as doing online editorial work for various science publications or teaching science courses at a local community college.

Over the years had fostered many relationships, both personal and professional. And when he heard from one of his female co-workers that a new adjunct facility, headed by a famous woman biologist from Canada, was shortly going to open its doors, he was one of the first to apply for a job on the staff.

"So, tell me more about this woman, Dr. Fallon LeClair," he asked his co-worker, a pretty, twenty-eight-year-old blonde woman named Melody Shine. "Who is she?"

"She's a geneticist who once worked for Dr. Christiana Swensen at the Swensen Research Clinic in Stockholm," Melody replied. "She helped develop the EJAX-472 serum."

"Holy shit," he exclaimed. "And she's going to head the fertility center here?"

"In two weeks. That's what I heard through the grapevine."

"I put in an application to work for her. I couldn't pass it up."

"I did too!"

"You did?"

"Yes! This morning in fact. You're not the only one who recognizes a great opportunity when they see one."

He clapped his hands together and smiled. "Oh, man! To actually work with someone who helped to develop the world's greatest male fertility drug. Now that's a privilege."

"I think so. I hear that the clinic is going to be staffed exclusively by women, and that all the patients will be women as well."

"That's unusual."

"It's strictly going to operate as a female fertility clinic. From what I've heard, Dr. Fallon is not too enamored of male doctors."

"Why is that?"

"It seems she was indoctrinated into the Swensen mindset: male doctors are jealous; they tend to humiliate and downplay your achievements...and so on. I don't think it's particularly healthy to maintain that doctrine, but I can certainly understand the reason for her antipathy."

He frowned. "Well, I guess that doesn't say much for my chances."

"I wouldn't get my hopes up if I were you. But you never know. With that handsome face of yours she just might make an exception."

A week later Dickey got a call from one of Dr. LeClair's associates, a woman named Sheila Ford, who had formerly been a doctor of internal medicine at Stockholm University and who had worked for Dr. Swensen in a supervisory capacity. She told him that Dr. LeClair had reviewed his resume and credentials and wanted to set up an interview with him.

"We're flying down from Montreal in three days," she told him. "Can you meet with us on Thursday afternoon...say at 3:00 p.m.?"

"No problem," he replied, trying hard to hide his excitement. "Where?"

"Dr. LeClair and I will meet you in her office on the second floor of the clinic. Room 222."

"I'll be there."

She and I look forward to meeting you, Dr. Hatfield."

"As do I."

He hung up the phone and shouted for joy. When he told Melody the news, she congratulated him and then explained that she, too, had been called and that she would be meeting with Dr. LeClair at the conclusion of his interview.

"That's great, Melody!" he said, patting her on the back. Maybe we'll be working together."

She felt his hand slide down until it just touched the top of her ass cheek. "Yes, work together," she replied, moving quickly away. "Not play together."

"What's wrong with playing together? I can take you places you've never been."

"I have a boyfriend, Dickey. You know that."

He looked into her lovely blue eyes and thought how nice it would be to see them aligned with his crotch. "He doesn't have to know anything."

"Oh no," she said, moving off. "That's not going to happen."

"Come on, Melody. You know you like me."

"I like you, Dickey. But I don't care much for your sense of morality."

It was a cutting blow. He had always considered himself to be quite a moral man. It was his sense of morality, after all, that had motivated him to want to help people. But as with most men, his penis had a mind of its own, and when a pretty girl was nearby his penis did funny things like grow hard until it was bulging underneath his pants, just as it was doing now.

"I'm not used to being turned down," he told her flatly.

"I know you're not. I know you could have almost any woman you want. But I love my boyfriend and I intend to remain faithful to him."

He shook his head and laughed. "You don't know what you're missing, Melody."

"I'm not going to become another one of your many conquests. You've already got half of the staff here eating out of your hands and I'm not going be one of them."

"Has it been that many? Well! Ask any one of them if they had a good time. I'll bet you ten to one you won't get a negative answer."

"Forget it, Dickey," she said, emphatically. "Let's just remain friends. Okay?"

"If that's what you want."

"Just consider me the one that got away. Now, I have to get back to work. See you later."

Although disappointed that he was not going to get anywhere with Melody, the prospect of possibly working for Dr. LeClair in an all-female environment made him giddy with delight. If she succumbed to his charm and good looks and hired him, he might conceivably be the only man under her employ. The only man as part of a staff of over a hundred women hovering around the halls of the clinic; an army of medical professionals for him to prey on. It was almost too much to hope for.

************

When Thursday rolled around Dickey was ready and raring to go. He had made sure to wear his best suit and tie and had rehearsed his presentation until he had it down pat. There was no way he was going to ruin this interview; not by word or deed, and certainly not by his appearance. When he left his apartment, he felt so confident that he could envision himself already shaking the hand of Dr. LeClair as she welcomed him as a member of her staff.

He got to the hospital a little before 8:00 a.m. and worked until 2:00 p.m. He hadn't seen Melody all day but ran into her just as he was walking down the corridor to Dr. LeClair's office.

"Good luck, Dickey!" she said as they crossed paths. "I'm praying for you."

"It's in the bag!" he replied, pointing his thumb up in the air.

As he walked down the hall, he couldn't help but notice that the rooms he passed contained only the most modern equipment and décor. Other than a few nurses mulling around the nurses' station, nobody else was there. And then he remembered that the clinic would not officially be open until the following Monday. He imagined what the place would look like with dozens of female patients and staff walking up and down the halls and he smiled to himself.

When he entered Dr. LeClair's office, he found her sitting at her desk in her business attire talking excitedly with Dr. Ford, who was similarly attired and sitting opposite her. They both rose as he entered the room and he greeted both women with a firm handshake and his trademark resplendent smile. They both responded to him like most women did, with a certain nervous excitement and broad smiles.

"It's such a pleasure to meet you, Dr. Hatfield," Dr. LeClair said, motioning for him to sit down next to Dr. Ford. "I hope I didn't cause you any inconvenience by setting up this rather impromptu interview. I know I didn't give you much time."

"I was not inconvenienced at all," he replied in a calm and steady voice as he took his seat next to Dr. Ford.

She gazed at him for a moment before speaking. "I must say that your picture in the hospital staff directory does you absolutely no justice. Don't you agree, Sheila?"

"Oh, without a doubt!" Dr. Ford replied, smiling at him.

"You're a very handsome man, Dr. Hatfield," Dr. LeClair said. "I'm surprised you didn't a find a career in modeling, or in the movies."

"Helping people has always been my prime motivation," he replied, choosing his words carefully.

She smiled. "The mark of a true healer. Tell me, doctor. Why did you apply for this position?"

"Well, as I said, I want to help people."

"But you could do that working at your present job, could you not?"

He gave her a feeble shrug and started to reply before she interrupted him.

"I only ask because you would be working in an all-female environment," she continued. "And I don't anticipate hiring any other male employees beyond yourself. Would that present a problem to you?"

"Not at all, doctor."

"So, I ask again. Why did you apply?"

"I applied because I know of your reputation as a preeminent doctor in the field of fertility science and I wanted to learn from the best."

"So, you came here to help as well as to learn."

"Yes."

She nodded approvingly. "You may have heard that I'm not very fond of male doctors."

"I've heard that."

"Well, it's true. However, I am not a misandrist. I do not hate men."

"I'm glad to hear it doctor."

"If I did live up to the rumors you would not be sitting here right now."

He shook his head. "I understand."

"My colleagues don't share my feelings, but having spent two years in Dr. Swensen's clinic I know whereof I speak."

He continued to shake his head. "Of course."

"You see, Dr. Hatfield, women in the medical sciences have traditionally been patronized, condescended to, and humiliated by the males of their profession. I'm not saying all males, but the greater percentage of them have acted in this way. I've looked at your resume and your work history. I've seen all your letters of recommendation. What they tell me is that you are a dedicated physician who is bright, full of energy, and willing to learn. And the best part is that you have never treated any woman doctor in the way I've just described. That is precisely the kind of person I'm looking for."

He smiled at her, maintaining his composure although he wanted to shout and jump out of his chair. If she only knew the hidden side of his nature--the part that wanted to fondle, caress, and make love to every lovely woman he could get his hands on--she might think differently about him. But he would do his best to keep his secret self locked away in the deep, dark dungeon of his soul, never to be revealed.

"I'll have you know," Dr. Ford said to him, "that Dr. LeClair doesn't lavish compliments upon anyone unless they're well deserved."

"I'm sure of it," he replied.

"And it's even rarer for her to compliment a male."

"Okay, Sheila," Dr. LeClair said. "Let's not make me out to be a man hater."

"I think you've clarified your position, Dr. LeClair," he replied.

"Good, because there is another thing we need to clarify. Your new job does not include a pay raise. You will still be earning the same salary you are now. However, after a one-year probationary period you can expect a substantial increase. Is that acceptable to you?"

He smiled, trying to hide his disappointment. "I guess so. Yes."

"You see, you are simply transferring from one department to another. You job duties will remain pretty much the same so therefore you can't expect..."

"It's okay, Dr. LeClair," he said in a conciliatory tone. "I understand."

She nodded and then looked down at some papers she had lying on her desk. She turned a few pages and then looked up again. "When can you be ready?"

"For what, doctor?" he replied.

"To start work of course."

"Are you saying I have the job?" he asked, hardly believing his good luck.

"That's exactly what I'm saying," she said, standing up. She extended her hand to him. "Welcome aboard, Dr. Hatfield."

He took her hand and shook it vigorously. "Thank you, doctor! This is wonderful!"

He then shook Dr. Ford's hand in turn and smiled at both women before a look of concern came over his face.

"What's wrong, doctor?" Dr. LeClair asked him.

"I think my excitement has gotten the better of me," he replied. "My job. I just can't leave without formal notice."

"All taken of," she said. "Your transition has already been approved."

"It has?"

"I've had it in mind to hire you for a long time. I put the wheels in motion months ago and hoped for the best. It seems my hopes were not in vain."

"Oh, well...in that case. I guess I can begin Monday."

"Excellent! We'll see you then."

He flashed both women his million-dollar smile before saying goodbye and walking out the door; confident, exuberant, and feeling as if he had just won the lottery.

************

Dickey spent the weekend at the race track, hoping to earn some money betting on horses. The money he was earning from online editing and teaching at the community college had long proven insufficient to meet his needs, and since his new job did not involve an increase in salary, he decided to try his luck at the track. He had done this off and on for years, but now it had turned into a bad habit.

The fact of the matter was; he was reckless with money. In order to impress the women, he was seeing, he had purchased an expensive sports car and had bought several expensive Italian suits and dress shoes. He also had a habit of lavishing expensive trinkets on those women whom he favored most, with the end result being that he was now deep in debt. Up to now he had wisely refrained from getting romantically involved with the women he worked with, and had kept his professional and personal life private. The last thing he needed was to be slapped with a lawsuit for sexual harassment. But some of the recent hires within his department had tested the limits of his capacity for restraint; the desires associated with the head between his legs often superseding those of his brain. Fortunately for him, the few women colleagues he did have sex with chose to keep their trysts secret. And he knew he was wasting his time with Melody. But the constant threat of financial ruin had become almost unbearable. He would either have to severely curtail his expenditures--and this meant giving up his sports car, his suits, and any other extravagance--or find himself another way to make some serious money. Luckily, that way presented itself a few days after he had begun his new job working for Dr. LeClair.

He had been sitting in the hospital cafeteria having lunch with Melody and two of the senior nurses, both of whom had just begun working for Dr. LeClair. Annie, a pretty redhead who lived to gossip, broke the news about there being a shortage of sperm donors for those women seeking artificial insemination. Her associate, Ginny, had told him that she had heard the same thing and that the shortage was now growing quite severe.