Two Months After Damien’s and Katie’s Wedding

It’s seven o’clock and I’m still at work. I lower myself— including my very large belly— into my office chair. Asher is still at a meeting with clients who are in the middle of a big trial.

I’m holding down the fort here at the office, doing all the legal research and brief writing that Asher presents at the trial. At least that’s what I’m supposed to be doing. I can’t say I’ve been doing that great of a job at it.

And I don’t think Asher even expects me to do much. He hasn’t told me much about the case he’s working on because he says it will be too stressful and isn’t worth worrying about. A lot of the assignments seem like complete busy work— generic jury instructions or voir dire questions that don’t even tell me much about the content of the trial.

I could ask questions; I could find out more about the case if I wanted to. But to be honest, during what I sense is my final days of my pregnancy, I’m glad that not too much is expected of me.

I’ve been doing the behind the scenes work so I don’t get stressed with being in trial this late in my pregnancy— the twins are expected to make their appearance any moment now. Everything has been fine with the pregnancy and I haven’t even needed the curtilage. I was even able to fly to Madrid and Ibiza for Ruby’s wedding and then Katie’s.

Just because everything has gone well in my pregnancy, however, certainly doesn’t mean it’s been easy. I guess it’s never easy to carry one baby, let alone two, for nearly nine months. 

My ankles are swollen— now the Barbies could accurately call them cankles. It’s hard to breathe. My boobs hurt.

I lean back in my chair and put my feet on a special footrest Asher bought me. It’s to help support my back and give my feet a soft landing. I feel guilty lounging around here in the office but I guess I should cut myself some slack.

No one ever said that being pregnant, let alone working while being pregnant, would be easy. In fact, Dr. Morris specifically said it wouldn’t be.

But I hadn’t thought that practicing law would be that hard of a job—physically anyway. It’s not like I have to work in a factory or do hard manual labor. But just walking around the office and doing simple legal tasks are activities take their toll on me.

I remember how nervous yet excited I was when I first rode the elevator up to the Fifteenth Floor and embarked on my journey as a new associate at the law firm of Marks, Sanchez and Reed. I never knew I would accept a “mentorship”—in all forms of the word— with the founding partner, lose my virginity to him, marry him, and let him— no, want him—to get me pregnant.

These days it’s a feat just to walk to the elevator and to my office. But I wouldn’t trade my job for the world. I’m so glad I didn’t leave when I found out what a player Asher was. Emphasis on was. And I’m so glad that Asher and I got married. I’m so glad I became friends with Ruby and Katie and that they got married too. And I’m so glad I’m having Asher’s babies.

Suddenly, I receive an intra- office instant message. Asher Marks’ name is blinking at me, waiting for me to click it. Just like in the good old days.

Asher Marks: Is someone putting their feet up and thinking about how lucky they are to be having my babies?

Madilyn Marks: You know it.

Asher Marks: Of course I know it. I’ve been stalking you since before you even started working here. I own you. You’re mine.

Madilyn Marks: Yes, Boss.

Asher Marks: Did you miss me?

Madilyn Marks: Yes, how is trial going?

Asher Marks: It went okay today. I need some love though.

Madilyn Marks: Oh, poor baby. What kind of love do you have in mind?

Suddenly, my stomach tightens up and moves at the same time, as if a little earthquake is rumbling around inside me, and I place a hand on it.

Damn Braxton Hicks. They’ve been happening more frequently lately. I’ve read online it’s just my body preparing for labor. Dr. Morris says not to worry—it’s normal, and doesn’t mean the babies are going to come yet. But in my case, since I’m having twins, they will probably arrive earlier than normal and I should be on the lookout for increased Braxton Hicks that could be turning into contractions.

I make a mental note to call him in the morning. They’ve been happening more frequently. But they still don’t feel like actual labor yet— not that I know what that feels like.

Asher Marks: Look in your top desk drawer.

My husband is still up to his old tricks. I slide open the door and find a lacy bra, garter belt, straps and stockings. All of it is in black, and the there are openings for my nipples and vagina, just like the very first outfit he ever had me wear.

Oh, Asher. At first he was so ginger, afraid to hurt me or the babies. He’s still not actually rough but he’s realized that some frisky sex won’t hurt anything, and sometimes he becomes particularly daring. I guess that today is one of those times.

Madilyn Marks: This is how you want your pregnant wife to dress?

Asher Marks: We need to have our fun before the babies get here. Put that outfit on and come to my office.

Madilyn Marks: Yes, Boss.

My heart pounds as I change out of my skirt suit and into the lingerie.

The whole time, my Braxton Hicks get stronger, increasing in intensity.

This is it.

I can feel it in my body, in my heart.

I’m going to have one sex one more time with my husband while we are still childless. Then I’m going to have our babies. And I will be his wife, his employees, the mother of his babies, and the happiest woman alive.

All because I said “Yes, boss,” and meant it. Then, now and always.