Madden

Madden

“Can you tell King Madden what talents you possess?” My best friend, Mallard, asks the surrogate candidate sitting across from us. This has been a standard question throughout the entire process, and none of the answers have stood out, to say the least.

“Talents?” She giggles. “You mean like with my tongue?” she says before licking her lips. My eyes widen, but Mallard grins, his hand reaching across the table, but before he can speak, I stand up.

“I’m sorry, but this interview is over,” I say as I begin to walk toward the door to show her out.

“I-I-I’m sorry,” She stammers before she stands in shock for a moment. I can tell by the look of sheer surprise on her face that she didn’t know I meant a non-sexual talent, but seriously?  I don’t need a whore to carry my child; I need a respectable woman—one that doesn’t put her blow job skills on display at an interview.

She walks to the door and pauses, turning to face Mallard, “Call me,” She mouths, and he grins as he nods, bursting into laughter before I close the door on the slut.

“Really, Mallard?” I ask, turning to face him.

He chuckles, grabbing his beer off the table and looking at me, “What? She’s hot. Plus,” he pauses before he takes a drink, “She has a talented tongue!”

I roll my eyes but can’t help but chuckle; this day has been exhausting. Not one woman has stood out from the rest to carry my heir.  All of these women are supposed to be noble and of excellent lineage, but the higher the breed line, the higher the stupidity level, it seems.

“Why is this so hard?” I sigh, walking back toward the table, and I watch Mallard pull out a handle of whiskey from his bag with two shot glasses. I eye him, but this isn’t unusual for him. Whiskey is his favorite, and today has been stressful.

“Because,” he pauses as he pours me a shot, “You are looking for the perfect woman, and that doesn’t exist,” He says, pouring his own. “You can’t even find a woman you want to marry,” He smirks, handing me my shot glass, “How do you expect to pick someone who your child will share half their DNA with? It’s an impossible task.”

Everything he is saying makes sense, but I need an heir. There has to be at least ONE perfect woman to breed with.

This is just a business arrangement.

“I think you need to choose a virgin,” Mallard says, making me choke on my whiskey. It burns my throat as I sputter, shaking my head.

“You heard what Doctor Bally said,” I say, trying to catch my breath and stop the burning in my throat. “It’s better if she is experienced and has even had a child before.”

Mallard rolls his eyes, “Madden, only one woman you have chosen to interview has had a child, and her husband passed away. She could never show any emotion, and she may get attached to the baby… You don’t want that.”

“The no emotion part is fine,” I sigh, sitting back down. “Like you said, there isn’t a perfect woman for me. There is no reason to pretend this is a relationship. It’s a business arrangement and nothing more,” I say, grabbing the whiskey bottle and pouring myself one more—it burns so good.

“No, you said there isn’t a perfect woman for you,” he chuckles, “I didn’t. You want to have sex multiple times with a corpse?” He asks, pouring himself another shot.

His question surprises me, and I quickly shake my head, “NO! What the hell does that mean?!”

“Mechanical sex is like no sex at all,” He smiles, “And that’s what no emotion will get you.”

“Well, an experienced woman wouldn’t be mechanical,” I smirk, and he shakes his head.

“No, but is that really what you want? Do you want some whore to have your baby? The next heir to this kingdom?” His eyebrows raise. “Lineage or not, that is not the type of maternal bloodline you want for your child,” He says, tapping his finger on the table. “We both heard what Doctor Bally said: You may have to have sex with this woman multiple times to even get her pregnant. Don’t you want someone you can mold and teach? Someone pure?”

I stare at him momentarily, realizing he is right, “You’re right, but where do we find a woman like that?” I ask, taking my second shot.

He grins, reaches back into his bag, and pulls out a green folder, “From this pile,” He says, passing it to me.

I take the green folder from his hand and open it, looking at the stack of papers inside. I immediately recognize some of these women and quickly shake my head, “These are all the women I said I wouldn’t even meet,” I say, my eyes meeting his. “I told you to call them all and tell them I wasn’t interested.”

Mallard laughs, shaking his head, “Well, I didn’t. They are all waiting for a call to come in. I figured the ones you picked, you wouldn’t like,” He laughs with a knowing smile.

“Oh really?” And you know what I like?” I smirk. “Well, what I need?” I question.

Mallard nods, leaning back into his chair, “You are a great King, Madden, but when it comes to women, you have no idea what you truly want. We have been best friends since we were five years old. Your conquests have been my second sloppies, and let me tell you, none of them are good wife material or surrogate material.” He grins, “Just look at our last interview.”

My eyebrows raise, but I can’t argue—Ms. Talented tongue proves his point.

“Fine, call them, but if you think you know what’s best for me, you pick the interviews.”

Mallard’s lips curl in a giant smile, “I pick?” he asks.

“You pick,” I repeat myself. “I am done trying to find the perfect woman,” I say as I shrug. Mallard nods in agreement, and I shake my head before standing, “Just don’t let me regret this,” I tease, and he chuckles before I stand. “Well, I better get going,” I say, looking at my watch. “I have a meeting with my father, but I can’t wait to see your picks tomorrow.”

He grins sheepishly, “Oh, trust me, Madden, these girls will be anything but your usual.”

I laugh as I walk out of the room, “I know, that’s what scares me.” I say as I reach the door’s threshold.  I can hear Mallard laugh behind me as I head for my father’s study, but maybe he is right-- maybe I am just bad at picking women.

Maybe he can find the perfect woman for me after all…. Or maybe… he’s full of shit.

 I guess we will find out tomorrow.