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appetite stronger during those weeks?”
    Ops.
    You blabbermouth.
    “Uhm, because it’s time to change wardrobe and I know I’d never fit in most of the clothes designed for slender women,” I improvise.
    He makes a snorting sound. “If it were up to me, you’d have no clothes most of the day.”
    I must be blushing like a sixteen-year old. “Uhh, where are the people?” I change the topic.
    “Maybe they’re all going to The Cove. There’s an impressive list of artists lined up for tonight.”
    “The Cove? Where’s that?”
    He gives me an odd look. “You haven’t toured the island yet, have you?”
    “No.” I’ve been busy looking for Baby Dada.
    “The Cove is an amphitheater somewhere along the strip where all the shows and concerts are held. There’s a festival going on at the moment and it lasts for a month. You came right in the middle of it. Have you heard of Coachella in California?”
    “Of course, but I’ve never attended one.” Not for lack of opportunity though. I’ve been surrounded by bohemians in the industry but I deliberately veered away from the decadence of the celebrity party scene. I only dress celebrities. I don’t need to embody their lifestyle, as well.
    “The Fiamma Festival is part Coachella, part Mardi Gras, but for the VVIP’s only.”
    “Then I can’t wait to experience that!”
    “You definitely will.”
    A waiter comes over to deliver our drinks. We both opted for white wine. I’m impressed at the label served. Certainly, this place makes one feel like royalty. Only the best and the finest.
    “You seem to know a lot about this island. You come here often?”
    He takes a sip first before answering. “Interested to know more about me now?”
    “If we’re going to be doing inappropriate things to each other, I might as well know the basics about you.”
    He spreads his arms over the back rest of the lounger he’s sitting on. “Alright. Ask away.”
    Okay...How does one ask a stranger about his sexual history without offending him?
    “To answer your first question, I come to this island a lot. It’s my favorite place in the world.”
    Okay. Very loaded. I wonder who he is and I don’t mean just his full name.
    No, you don’t wanna know. Don’t get too curious about Baby Dada.
    I inwardly sigh. Yup, that’s imperative if I’m to get out of this baby-making mission unscathed. It’s the reason I went this far from the United States to look for sperm source. I don’t want any association with him beyond the fertilization of my egg.
    The plan is: Get him to have sex. Get his sperm. Get out.
    Nothing more. Nothing less.
    I just hope he doesn’t live in New York or anywhere near there.
    “Your basic is too basic,” he remarks. “I can answer your question without you asking.”
    Oh really now? I smirk. “So, you’re a psychic, too?”
    He smirks back. “You’re easy to read.”
    Whaaat?! “Excuse me?”
    “Your eyes. Too transparent. Both your strength and your weakness.”
    Now, I’m not liking this. “So, what’s your answer to my silent question?” I challenge, slightly irked at his keen intuition.
    “Yeah, I’ve had sex with more than a dozen women. Yeah, I’m clean. Healthy as a bull.” He flexes his biceps.
    Wow.
    I’m speechless.
    He grins. “Impressed?”
    Can we skip dinner? my ovaries chime in.
    I shush them. Shameless hussies.
    “That doesn’t prove anything,” I retort, peeved at his cocksure demeanor.
    “Yeah, and that would be the risk you’ll have to take because I’m not showing you any health card like a prostitute. I get hit on by too many women to beg you to fuck me.”
    Whoa! Where did that come from? And here I thought he was a perfect gentleman.
    The arrogance in his tone gets a rise at me, but I can believe him. There were five women hitting on him at the bar all at the same time, excluding me, and he chose me.
    Not a total gentleman, after all, but I appreciate brutal honesty, especially under the circumstances.