Chapter 37

It was still the middle of the night. I could feel Darla’s body pressed up against me, or rather I pressed up against her. Her naked body was in my arms. My right hand cradled her breast and my flaccid cock pressed into the crack of her perfect ass. I should feel Emily’s body behind me. Her absence was what had woken me.

“Fuck!” I heard from behind me.

I felt Darla stir in my arms and we turned.

“Computer, Lights” I heard my wife command and the lights in the bedroom slowly came up.

When I turned I saw that Emily was lying on her back. Like Darla and I, she was naked. Her legs were spread and her extended stomach was a mound. Her hands were twisted into fists and I could see the pain on her face.

“I’m having spasms,” the pixie girl said. “I think I’m in labor.”

“Shit,” I eloquently said.

Darla whupped my shoulder.

I let Darla roll over me and then rolled out of bed. The clock said 02:14.

“How long honey?” Darla asked.

“About an hour. This is the third set.”

“So twenty minutes apart. It’s time Danny.”

“Shit,” I repeated eloquently. Darla gave me a look.

I headed for the closet. Grabbing a pair of trousers and a pull over, I dressed. It took me all of a minute. Returning to the bedroom I scooped all of the pocket junk out of the dresser caddy.

“Stay with her, hon,” Darla said.

I slid on the opposite side of Emily and took her hand.

“It will be alright,” I said.

“Easy for you to say. You don’t have a bowling ball trying to escape through your cunt.”

In less than ten minutes Darla came back into the bedroom fully dressed with an outfit for Emily.

“Go get the car started,” she ordered me.

I slipped down to the garage on the first floor. Checking to make sure Emily’s Go Bag was still in the back I opened the roll up door and waited.

Somehow Darla got Emily down the stairs and they were climbing into the Wagoneer’s back seat.

The Robert Sherwin Medical Center Hospital was forty-five minutes by car from downtown Lesserton. Well it was forty-five minutes by car if you actually drove the speed limit. It was 03:07 when I pulled into the ramp in front of the Emergency room door.

In the intervening time between when I pulled onto Main Street and turned off of Finn Drive into the medical complex I could hear Darla talking to Emily, as my wife tried to keep our girl calm.

“Shit,” I heard Emily say. “Oh no!”

I looked into the mirror trying to see what was going on in the back seat.

“I everything alright back there?” I asked.

“No!” Emily cried.

“Yes!” Darla said.

“What happened?” I asked trying to keep my eyes on the road.

“My water broke,” Emily whimpered.

“It’s okay,” I said. “I’ve been meaning to get new seats anyway.”

“You might have to do the carpet too,” Emily said before crying out in pain.

“Still twenty minutes apart,” Darla said when she finished.

When we got to the doors they slid open and a couple of people in scrubs ran out to the car.

“We’ve got a woman in labor here,” Darla had opened the door and called out.

They helped Emily into a wheelchair and Darla turned back to look at me.

“I’ll be with her. Hurry and get parked.”

I pulled away from the emergency room entrance. It took me only a few minutes to find a parking space because it was the middle of the night. Unfortunately I had to use the regular emergency entrance which required I empty my pockets and go through a metal detector. Crappy world where hospitals have to scan for weapons.

Then I had to get passed the information desk.

“I’m here for Emily Knox. She’s probably in a birthing room. I’m the father.”

“Can I see some ID Mr. Knox?”

“It’s Danny Becket,” said pulling out my ID.

“Of course, Mr. Becket.”

The woman slid my card into a scanner and in a few seconds a sticker with my picture and name came out. It also had Emily’s name and OBT12 printed on it.

“Mike can you take Mr. Becket up to Birthing 12 please,” she said to one of the guards.

The guard was wearing a polo with an embroidered badge on it.

“First time?” he asked as we stood in the elevator.

“Yeah.”

“These guys are really good,” he said.

He led me down the hall. Large glass doors with curtains on the inside were arrayed on one side of the hall with regular doors on the other side. The birthing rooms were number sequentially. When we got to number twelve he reached out and slid the glass door open. I pushed the curtain out of the way and saw Emily laying on a contraption that looked like a cross between an adjustable bed and a rack. Darla was standing next to her head and a couple of people were hovering around the bed, looking at screens mounted on stands.

“Danny!” Emily said upon seeing me.

Darla turned to me and said, “Good. Stay with her while I get all of the paperwork done.”

My wife slipped out of the room and I took her place holding Emily’s hand.

“How you doing pixie girl?”

“They say I’m halfway there.”

“That’s right,” one of the women in blue scrubs said. “She’s at five centimeters.”

Suddenly Emily started huffing and I knew she was having another contraction. We had gone through natural childbirth classes, the three of us. That had been less of a problem than I thought it would be. Dr. Bright, our General Practitioner had brought in someone to teach us at home, a not unusual practice in Lesserton. The midwife teaching the class had talked to Emily’s Obstetrician in Bruton and we were all set.

By the time Emily was at eight centimeters Darla was back. Dr. Everette, who was not Emily’s OB, but was the on-call from her OB’s practice, arrive just after she reached ten centimeters.

I don’t know if the staff thought it odd that both Darla and I were present to support Emily. Darla had notified the hospital that I was the father, and it said so on the birth certificate.

All told it was 11:10 am before Oliver Anthony Becket was born. Emily wanted to name him for her father and insisted that he take my father’s name for his middle name. I insisted he take my last name and Emily agreed. We had discussed this ahead of time.

The birth was without problems, even though Oliver was a little early. The eight pound baby had fully functioning lungs and require no special treatment. That meant that Emily was out of the hospital by the early afternoon of the next day.

The whirlwind that was Miranda Sparks appeared at our door a day later.

“Mother’s here,” I heard Darla say from the bedroom door.

I was watching Emily feed Oliver. The pixie girl was sitting up against the headboard of the Alaskan King with my son nursing at her larger than usual breasts. That still left them much smaller than Darla’s, but Emily had already given both of us a taste.

Miranda entered the room behind Darla and made a beeline for Emily. The kiss she gave her was not a typical pseudo daughter-in-law kind of kiss. After allowing their tongues to spar for a minute Miranda bent down and gave Oliver a peck on his almost bald head.