Lola had planned on one more meeting with Terence at the sperm bank, but the clinic had a strict rule about donors not being able to sign up for a wank more than once a fortnight.  In the intervening time, Lo’s little meeting with the director required that she attend to some other business.  You see, the director of the clinic – the owner actually – was none other than Lili’s Uncle Collin.  That’s right!  The same Uncle Collin who had hosted us at the fateful Mount Bliss.

“Hello Lola,” he said, looking up from the wooden desk behind which he sat.

“Collin?!”

“Who else?”

Lola could only look dumbfounded.  He was the last person she had expected to find at this suburban office park and running a nondescript sperm collection clinic.  What the hell was he doing here?  But then, when she thought about the décor of the place – the David Hamilton prints, the Roy Stuart posters, the Sabrina Dacos book – well, then it all began to make a bit more sense.

Lola asked all the questions that had swarmed in her mind.  What are you doing here?  How did you know it was me?  Isn’t this place supposed to be anonymous?  I never even signed in!

Suffice it to say, Collin has his ways.  A man with the unlimited means at his disposal that he has can find out a lot of things that the rest of us mere monetary mortals would find impossible.  It so turned out that his latest scheme, with his nephew David, is to develop and sell feminine moisturizing and beauty products made from the sperm of voluntary cumtributors.

“You see,” he said, “after I saw Fight Club, I thought to myself, ‘That’s ingenious!  Making soap from the fat siphoned off through liposuction.  I gave it some further consideration and struck on this even more ingenious idea.”  Collin is rarely modest.  “Collect the semen of millions of men and manufacture it, bottle it, and market it as conditioner, moisturizer, and other skin-care products for women.  Turns out – and I only learned this from the boy wonder, David – that semen contains a powerful antioxidant called spermine.  Spermine is the central component of seminal fluid and gives it its unique aroma.  It also has many health benefits that are only beginning to be discovered.”

“So, this place is just a front?” asked Lo.

“Oh no,” said Collin, “this is an actual sperm bank for the usual purposes – licensed, regulated, on the up-and-up, legit.”

“Then, what are you doing here?”

“I had to start somewhere.”

“I suppose so.”

“You’re looking good.”

“Oh, shucks,” said Lo, “I always look good after I jerk a man off.”

“I bet you do.”

“I don’t suppose this place will produce enough sperm for your worldwide distribution of beauty products.”

“Oh, no.  Not at all.  This is just a trial run.  What I’m thinking about doing is on a grand scale.  That’s why I’ve asked you into my office.”

“How so?”

“You see, I want to build a state-of-the-art facility that is a cross between museum and a maisons de tolerance.”

“I’m sorry,” said Lo, “but you lost me with that last one.  My French is a bit rusty.”

“A maisons closes,” said Collin unhelpfully.  Lola looked perplexed.  “Fancy French brothels like Aux Belles Poules or Le Chabanais.”

“So there would be prostitutes there?”

“No, no.  Not at all.  That would be. . . illegal.  We can’t have that,” said Collin with a smile.  “But there would be the option of the donors hiring a nurse or clinical assistant.”

“You mean. . .”

“Someone like you to give the boys a hand.”

“I see.  Is that why you summoned me here?”

“I would like your assistance in the planning.  I need some help choosing, well, that is – mostly the interior decorating.”

“Oh,” said Lo, a little surprised.

“I liked your choice of posters for room number three,” he said.

“So did I,” replied Lo.

“However, for my new facility, I’d like you to help with the overall design.  You have a certain skill at making men feel. . .”

“Generous?” inserted Lo.

“Inspired.”

“Well, I certainly like the direction you’re going.”

Collin wasn’t sure how to take that.  “The David Hamilton?”

“And Roy Stuart, Sabrina Dacos, and, who knows, maybe all the staff, like Ellie and Courtney, could provide boudoir photos as well to give the place a more personal touch.”

“I love the way you think, Ms. Down.”

“Tell me more about this scheme of yours.”

Collin went on to tell Lo that, unlike an actual sperm bank, a collection center such as he envisioned wouldn’t be under any oversight by regulators since the collections were not to be used to make babies.  And the product he hoped to produce wouldn’t be under the auspices of the F.D.A. either because it would be a cosmetic product, not a drug.  Best of all, cosmetics in the U.S. have almost no oversight – not like in Europe.  Lo inquired about the logistics of it.  Collin said that the men would be paid better than the going rate at the fertility clinics and, “they’ll be glad to hear this, they can come as often as they wish since the centrifugal process – or however David plans on deriving the essence of men’s essence – doesn’t need the same sort of sperm count that a fertility clinic does!”

“That’s it!” said Lo, excited.

“What’s it?”

“Your catch phrase – Cum as often as you want!”

“That’s good.  That’s very good,” said Collin, stroking his bearded chin.  “Yes,” he continued, “men can cum twice, even three times a day if they’re up for it.”

“And I’ll see to it that they are up for it!” said Lo.