No Happy Endings

Начало книги

Arthur Darvish needed extra money so he went to the sperm bank.

He figured it would be simple. They’d give him a cup, a good porn flick, and some time alone to pop one—or two—off in a cup. Maybe they’d spot him a little extra cash for the lie about pursuing his doctorate at Columbia University. Embellishing his credentials wouldn’t be a big deal. It wasn’t like this was a job interview. Besides, better to do something for the betterment of mankind instead of leaving all that genetic material in a sock or a napkin.

They took him as he was queuing up a scene on the DVD they gave him, “SUPER BIKER SLUTS FROM MARS XXX.” Strong arms grabbed him. A hand with a rag on it covered his mouth and nose.

Arthur woke up strapped into a cheap dentist’s chair, a gag in his mouth, a plastic and metal tube around his raw cock—no—this was not what he considered “easy.” He made note of the bandage on the crook of his right arm. There’d been a needle in him. They’d injected him with something that made everything feel dream-like. The edges of the world were fan-brushed into oblivion and the lights above were so very warm. There was a thick, lemony scent in the air. It was pleasant. More than pleasant. He couldn’t lie to himself, this felt pretty damn spectacular. If he were in a right state of mind, he’d be afraid. The miracle of modern chemistry kept all that anxiety at bay.

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