"But Alison, don't you ever feel like giving into the heat of the moment? Feeling the friction of his bare skin against yours? Just saying to yourself, 'Fuck it, I don't care what happens, I just want to have sex with this guy?'" he asked me, looking me straight in the eye with just the hint of a twinkle around the corner of his firm upturned mouth, so that I would know that he was kind-of, sort-of joking around with me, but not totally.

So I decide to play along with him, to see how far he is willing to push the envelope. "Jason, are you serious!? Whenever I have sex I wear a diaphragm and make sure the guy has two condoms on, plus I'm always on the pill," I smiled back at him, wrinkling my forehead and looking at him with my big innocent baby blue eyes wide open in mock shock. I wanted him to know that I was kind-of, sort-of joking back with him, although to be honest, and just between you and me, some of the stuff I told him was absolutely true, the stuff about the diaphragm and condoms and the pill that is, although not all of them at the same time.

I also knew right then and there that I was going to let him bareback me, to see if this guy really had what it takes to seed me, to get me knocked up and pregnant, to satisfy my curiosity if nothing else, consequences be damned.

Ever since I had known Jason I'd been intentionally sending him mixed signals, so that by now he knew that I was the kind of girl that he would have to take things nice and slow with and that he was going to have to play all of his cards right if he really wanted to get into my pants, and he understood that there would not be a second chance if he fucked things up. When he made the remark about 'bare skin on skin' I purposely made my pale face flush a hot crimson pink, a trick that Bonnie, one of my girl friends, had taught me to do a few years ago, to make him think that he had actually planted the seed - no pun intended - and that he was off to a good start with me. I discretely glanced down at his tennis shorts, at his crotch, and saw that my toying with him had the 'hardening' effect that I wanted.

I am Jason's mixed doubles tennis partner at the racquet club that we both belong to and to be perfectly honest I am as WASPy as they come. My family has lived in this City for five generations and over time had moved up to the top of the social ladder. Now, my grandfather, my father, myself and my siblings were all involved in banking and finance. I wanted Jason to know that I wasn't your average run-of-the-mill dumb blond WASP, so casually in conversation one evening after a tennis match I had let it drop that I held a junior position at the bank in the suburbs that my father owned, carefully pressing the point just enough that I was being groomed for bigger and better things. I knew from the first time I met him that Jason had a thing for me. I am thirty-something, pretty close to his age, mid-height and have an athletic body that men do a double-take over. And yes, I have the brains as well as the bod. I went to the right schools, am involved in the right charities for a woman of my social position, but also have the street smarts that one would expect a woman like me who has been raised in a protective White Anglo-Saxon Protestant environment to not have. This last part I've always been able to use to my advantage, because given my upbringing people tend to believe that I am naive, and Jason is no exception.

You see, Jason believes that I am the near perfect image of the budding career woman - which by the way I am - but he also believes I am totally innocent and naive, meaning in other words that I am the ideal woman for him to degrade and defile, to bring down to his level of wanton sexual perversity. 'If he only knew,' I think to myself, smiling as I imagine his mind working while he sits across the cafe table from me, him thinking that my protected upbringing and my guarded but obvious curiosity with his sexual comments will allow him to lead me where he wishes me to go, contemplating the myriad ways to seduce me, to get me into his bed and have his way with me. I decide that it is time to break his trance, at least for tonight.

"Thanks for another great win, Jason," I compliment him. I stand and lean toward him, my bust pressing against the light fabric of my tennis top, offering my cheek to kiss. He hands me a fresh towel and I am off to the locker room. Just before I walk out of the cafe I glance over my shoulder and flash him a smile, leaving him thinking what a great girl I am to have as his mixed doubles partner.

When Jason first approached me to be his tennis partner I hired the private investigator my family had on retainer to do a background check on him. After all, a girl with my social standing has to protect herself. The dossier that came back on the guy was a pretty interesting read, both for what it said and for what it did not say. I discovered that he had been working in the communications business for the past ten years and had been steadily climbing the corporate ladder, achieving his current position of vice president of marketing at a very youthful age. Because of his superstar reputation in his industry he was the envy of job recruiters and had the luxury of receiving unsolicited phone calls with tempting job offers at least once a month. Clearly the guy was opportunistic - young, single, unattached and apparently willing to move anywhere at anytime for the right offer and the right amount of money. Joining the right athletic club was part of his MO, his method of operating, and of course taking tennis lessons and playing in tournaments is an excellent way to meet available women.

But this wasn't just my interpretation of him. Over lunch one day I shared Jason's dossier with my BFF Bonnie, a girl that I'd known since high school, and she whole heartedly agreed with my reading of him. Little did I know that Bonnie, a woman who I had known for years and totally trusted, would try to screw me over and get Jason to seed her before he did me!