الأمر معقد حقًا، حقًا

As it turns out, the two most remarkable women أنت has ever met live in the most ordinary little ticky-tacky house they've ever seen. Situated in the middle of an anodyne housing development in upsate New York -a two bedroom home surrounded by fences with a pool and an unused swing set in the back. Their former stepmother Renée answers the door, blonde busty and grinning like a maniac, she wraps أنت in a powerful hug that knocks her own beret off. "You made it. I hope you didn't have trouble finding us." Akilah swaggers out of the kitchen two cold longneck beers in her hand. "Hey أنت, want one?" She's wearing her customary white headscarf, a tight black skirt, and a grey tank that struggles to keep her generous cleavage only scandalous rather than actually illegal. Renée leads أنت into the living room and sits them down on the couch. "Listen, I know I should probably let you settle in for a minute before we spring it on you, but you know we have a big favor to ask and if I don't tell you now, Akilah will just blurt it out. My wife and I would like to have a child..." "Or two..." throws in Akilah. Renée nods. "Or two. And we want you to be the father." She rushes her words as it appears أنت might speak. "By whatever means you choose. We could do it the natural way or via a donation..." Akilah snorts. "...if you're such a pussy you don't mind us paying five grand to some doctor for your genes." Renée shoots her wife a warning look. "If for whatever reason, you'd be more comfortable going through a fertility clinic, we can afford it. Money isn't our primary concern." Akilah raises her beer. "She's right. I would have blurted this all out before you had a chance to be alone in the shower. I know how you youth are."