He did not have to shut off the flow. When he opened his eyes and saw the glistening, steaming puddle before him on the asphalt, saw the drivers and passengers and passersby staring, the stream dried up on its own.
I hope that is enough, he thought. Please let that be enough.
But he was not dealing with a sane man, and he had to please him. Please him or else…
He looked up and saw a young blond woman staring down at him from a third-floor window in a building across the street. Her repulsed expression mirrored his own feelings. Averting his eyes, he zipped up and fled down the sidewalk, all but tripping over his own feet as he ran.
2
"Gross," Dawn said, turning away from the window to pace the consultation room. "What is it with people?"
"Pardon?" Dr. Landsman looked up from where he sat behind his desk, scribbling in her chart. "Did you say something?"
Dawn Pickering didn't want to talk about some creep peeing in the street, she wanted to talk about herself and her baby. She ran her hands over her swollen belly, bulging like a watermelon beneath her maternity top.
"Can't you… like… induce me or something?"
She'd been reading up on labor and delivery lately, and was so not looking forward to it. A cesarean would be totally better-knock her out and cut her open. She wouldn't feel a thing, but then she'd have a scar. Well, a scar was a small price to pay for simply waking up and having it all over.
Dr. Landsman shook his head. "The baby's not ready yet."
A balding, fiftyish guy, he'd just done a pelvic exam, followed by her umpteenth ultrasound. Then he'd left her and waited here in his office for her to dress and join him.
"Isn't the ultrasound supposed to give you a clue?"