"A man's a man for a' that."
He looked at her. Him. Whatever. And shrugged. He wanted the experience just as badly. There was no doubting it. But things were not, unfortunately, as simple as Janice seemed determined to have him believe. He tried to explain why.
"We don't know if it's all okay", he said. "It might not be as simple as we think it is. I mean - yours might not do what mine used to do and mine - well, it might not work like yours did".
She - yes, for simplicity's sake he would call her she - grinned back at him. "Sometimes", she said, "you make do with what you've got".
Garvey could sympathise with that. But he had some problems. "There's too much we don't know", he pointed out. "I mean, do I have a womb? Ovaries? All that sort of stuff? Can I get pregnant? And what happens if I do? We haven't been told to keep control for a day or two just because the government wants to kill our fun, you know".
Janice cocked her head to one side, looking for all the world like a quizzical parrot. "As recently as last Friday", she reminded, "you fucked me over that desk. And I don't recall objecting. Nor do I recall you worrying overmuch about whether you left me up the duff. You just dumped. Like you always do. Always, Jack. Am I wrong?"
He flushed a little. "No", he admitted. "Although I don't remember you being too anxious for me to pull out either. But anyway, that's not the point. It isn't that I'm worried about getting pregnant, as a concept. In fact, pregnancy would be an experience".
"An experience", Janice mused. "Well, yes. I suppose you could call it that. If you were particularly insensitive".
Garvey cringed. He remembered that Janice was the mother of a two year old little boy, and had suffered a particularly difficult delivery. Even though the child hadn't been his, he'd still had to live through the story at least fifty times since. "Bad choice of words", he allowed, but he wasn't going to be diverted and he ploughed on, "Nevertheless, like I said, pregnancy's a side issue here. I'm talking about injury. We don't know if it's safe. And the scientists aren't going to take that long. We should wait".
"If it hurts, we'll stop", Louise said, then chuckled, adding, "I was told that once. It was a lie, of course, because it did hurt. I was a virgin. And he didn't stop. The bastard."
"I'm a virgin", Garvey pointed out. "Well, I suppose I am".
Janice considered this, then allowed it. "Yes, I suppose you are. So fine. I'll be gentle".
Garvey studied her and couldn't help but laugh. She was grinning, and he loved it when she did that. Her teeth were even and white, the tip of her pink tongue poking experimentally between them. He'd come in that mouth, many times. Once whilst running a sales meeting, with Janice on her knees, working on him urgently beneath the desk. Her hot, wet tongue circling him down there, caressing him, fattening against the length of him.
When he'd come, it had been with such power that she'd almost choked. He'd felt his body strain upward, had been forced to close his eyes as the orgasm swirled through his hips. Perhaps he'd even moaned. When he'd been able to concentrate again, he'd found two of his local agents on their feet, questioning his health.
Oh, yes. He loved that mouth. And watching it now, he knew that he should under normal circumstances have been struggling with an erection. That was what ordinarily happened when he paid such close attention to her. Unfortunately, he realised with a great sadness, such pleasure would never be his again.
In that morbid state, he let his gaze wander more freely over Janice's body, recalling that it wasn't only her mouth that sent him into a frenzy of excitement. Everything about her was gorgeous. Which was exactly why he had fallen in love with her.
She was a tall girl, dark haired and willowy with a smooth, full figure, a flat, fit stomach and long, slim legs. Her eyes were big and brown, her eyebrows trim and arched beneath bobbed brown hair. An expressive, oval face with a broad mouth, making her seem continually amused.
She'd been his secretary for two years and his lover for eighteen months. The second had simply - well, happened. And the strength of his feeling was such that he had expected he would one day leave his wife for her. Now, though, the relationship, like all sexual relationships of any nature throughout the entire world, was open to question.
"I really would rather wait", he stressed. Then, seeing the disappointed flicker in her eyes, he added hastily, "Jan, if I'm going to explore this, and I want to, then it'll be with you. But this is too big for games, you know. Can't you see that?"
She shrugged. "I can see where you're coming from. But I don't feel I can wait. Because of this thing, mainly". She nodded briefly downwards. "Between my legs. Sometimes I think it controls my every move".
Garvey grinned. "I know exactly what you mean", he assured. And suddenly, now that she'd drawn his attention to her new body part, he found that he was looking at her in a different way.
Beneath her cream silk blouse, as usual, her lovely breasts were ready for him to weigh and fondle and caress, the big brown nipples waiting to be teased into hard, swollen buds. But now those breasts were all that allowed her to proclaim without contest her femininity. Her succulent, tight vagina, a luscious furrow which he had ploughed and erupted within more times than he could remember, was no longer there to be claimed. Instead, hanging between her firm thighs, flattened against her knickers by the tight span of her black pleated skirt, was a penis. A big one, maybe, or a small one. Perhaps, judging by what she'd said, a semi-erect one. But a penis nonetheless.
It was the oddest of thoughts, both obscene and erotic. Garvey was enticed by her. Even though he had never had a homosexual fantasy in his life, he wanted to suck that erection, feel it spurt in his mouth. He wanted to hear her feminine groans of pleasure as her hips jerked against him in the most masculine way.
And there, he realised, lay the answer.
He could do that. He could risk that.
As he considered the thought, he felt a wave of pleasure in the muscles of his stomach, a fluttering sensation that he had never previously experienced. Added to this, there was a strange, sticky wetness between his legs, so noticeable that he wondered whether that wetness would soak through the material of his pants.
He touched the area gently. The pressure felt good, made him slightly weak at the knees. "I think I'm on heat", he suggested.
Janice looked a little jealous, reminding him that she would doubtless be suffering a sense of loss. Nonetheless, she was eager to help. "What are you feeling?"
"Itchy", he disclosed. "And a little bit light headed."
"You are, as you say, on heat", she confirmed with a smile.
"What about you?", he wondered, letting his eyes stray once again to the front of her skirt. There did seem to be a slight bulge there, but he couldn't be sure. "How do you feel?"
"Uncomfortable", she said. "And very, very needy. I wish you'd reconsider, Mr. Garvey. Otherwise, I might have to look after the problem myself."
Garvey smirked, as he always did when she played the employee and employer game. "I have a compromise", he told her, "which might remove the need for that. Come here."
Garvey, as usual, was by his desk, and Louise was standing by the door, shorthand notepad in hand. It was, the real world being as it had been, a standard male/female business setup, and Garvey wondered idly, as he watched her secure the lock to prevent interruption, whether that too would soon change.
She sashayed over towards him, still every inch a woman in her movements. He offered her his chair. She sat obediently, letting her legs drift open as she settled. It was a common posture for her when sex was even a remote possibility, but he decided not to tell her that there was no longer any need for it.
He stood before her. Through the office window, he could see the city of Liverpool yawning at the start of a long day, a carpet woven of greys and browns, with the dark Mersey River curling a distinct thread across it.
The view from the eighth floor of the Thompson Building was always spectacular. Every day, his clients would have their conveyances and divorces delayed whilst he took time to study it. But today, it looked a little different than usual. Today, the streets were all but deserted. More deserted even than on a winter Sunday afternoon.
Everyone, of course, had known that this day was coming, and most had decided to deal with the change in the privacy of their own homes. Some, like Garvey, viewed that change as disturbing but interesting. Others were looking forward to it. Many were horrified, and extreme reactions, even suicides, were expected.
Garvey had agreed with his staff, including Louise, and also with his wife Emily, that the day would as far as possible be treated like a normal one. He sincerely believed that this was the best way, the safest way, to handle things. Busy people had less time for thought and more time for adjustment.
He didn't understand what was happening, of course. Only scientists and he suspected precious few of them had any inkling.
But he'd read the newspapers like everyone else, and he had a grasp of the basic idea.
.... There is more of this story ...