“With her fingers running back up my arms, and all this sperm talk, things are getting a little too intense down below. I lean slightly forward, conveniently placing my forearms across my lap.”

“I thought about how I'd held her in my arms and run my hand through her hair, along her cheeks, and down her neck, how her lower lip opened just slightly when I brushed my fingers against her breast...”

“I reach over and stroke her hair. When I do, a few of the strands fall off in my fingers. I pull my hand back and slowly wrap them around my finger as I walk to my room and pick my purple hair clip up off the floor. I open the clip and place the strands of hair inside and snap it shut. I place the clip under my bedroom pillow and I go back to my mother’s room. I slide into the bed beside her and wrap my arms around her. She finds my hand and we interlock fingers as we talk without saying a single word.”

“What makes you think it was your sperm? My sperm is obviously the dominant sperm. My sperm told your sperm to get to the back of line. The boy will have black hair and green eyes.”Sam shook his head. “I bet my sperm listens to your sperm just about as good as I listen to you. My sperm is also very impatient. It ran to that egg. Little Sam is gonna be a handful.”

“Touching his hair, she leaned hesitantly forward, and he folded his arms around her, sinking into sensation again as they kissed--the slight weight of her on his lap, the smell of her. He glided his hands up the warm dip of her spine, felt her shiver and press closer. He could never get enough of this. Never.”

“He tells me its going to be okay until all the words blur together into a hum that makes me close my eyes and I start to go away and five, ten, fifteen minutes later, I'm aware of my hand sliding down his lap and then nothingness and then the gentle sensation of his index finger pressing into my open palm and then his hand is at my face, running his fingers across my skin and I'm so awake.”