Rick’s Looney Fantasies

His name was Rick, and he was mentally sick. After meeting him, I temporary lost faith in human beings in general and in guys in particular.
Greg’s Emy introduced me to him during one of those pretentious fishing tournaments where quality, style, and luxury come first, and fishing is just secondary.
Middle-aged, tall, athletic, dark-haired, and dark-eyed. He responded to my polite “what-do-you-do-for-living” that he holds a medical license, and his field of expertise involves mental retardation psychiatry.
          Honey, I also teach economic psychology, and a couple of courses in pharmacology. Tell me about yourself, – there was something demonic about his speech and manners, something scary and at the same time enticing
I briefly introduced myself blushing at his “wow-you-are-tiny”.  
         I bet you have some daddy issues, a naughty little girl and some well-deserved spanking.  
I startled at his gaze. The weird sensation, anger mixed with curiosity made me stay and continue our conversation.
 –          Would you like being my little baby?
          I am in my thirties, not that little
          You are tiny enough to be my little princess
I shifted my eyes to Emy and Greg, they were taking pictures of the freshly caught grouper, and asked myself what would be more repulsive to kill and fillet innocent fish or realize the taboo fantasies of this weirdo.
 –          What excites you about it?
          The idea that I can knock you up, Vixen,  – the tone of his voice was careless as if we were discussing vanilla ice-cream
          We just met, – I was more amazed than angry, I seem to be the magnet for weird guys
          It does not matter. I can feel you, you are perfect for it.
          Why would you want to make me preggers?
          I would be in charge, in power. You would be subservient, but I will treat like a princess. Think about it, I would flood you with my baby batter. It turns me on a lot when I image that your eggs would be cum soaked.
I literary could not believe my ears. He was one of Greg’s best friends, a descent looking guy with a good career and a nice reputation.  
 –          Do you have kids? – I was trying to make our conversation more societally acceptable. Jazz playing, sports fishing boats, and smell of grilled grouper did not match his heavy fantasies.
          I do, and I would like to knock you up, I did it with all my other women
          What happened to them after they got pregnant? – I could not believe talking about this kinky crap with a total stranger.    
          They have my kids. I have always wanted more kids. I would like to get you pregnant.
Our eyes met, I felt dizzy
 –          You know, you cannot make prognoses about it, it may not be a girl
          You can abort very early if it is not a girl, sex reassignment surgery can be an option too.
That crazy physician literary immersed me in the dark Kafkian reality of the gloomy existentialism. I was about to run into the restroom and puke when I felt Greg’s hands on my shoulders and melted at his calming “Are-you-guys-having-fun”.  
          We are, she is very sweet, – Rick’s responses sounded intelligently dull and politely uninterested.
          I know, Emy and I love her. She just needs some direction and support.
I hurriedly apologized and left; the air redolent of dead fish and Rick’s insanity made me nauseous.
 Greg followed me to my vehicle, he had the same dull face and ice-cold pit-bull look.
          You are being rude, Vixen. You can’t just leave. He took the time out of his busy schedule just to finally meet you.
          He is sick, Greg, how can you hook me up with such a sick guy. I have your son my household, and you want him to be around THIS weirdo? Really?  – I was ready to smack him. I hated him so much at that moment.
          Calm down, he is a nice guy, he works a lot, very established, you will live in a nice house, and we will still be able to meet and f*ck when he is not around.
          F*ck you, – I never thought I could be so angry, he was literary pushing my buttons, – Go back to Emy and enjoy your tournament.  
I was crying all the way home. I was mad, I did not want to see Greg any longer.