I sigh. She’s half Rick, but she’s half me, too. And that makes her awesome. She’s a good kid. And she’s mine. Rick can go to fucking hell.
I sigh proudly. Sara would be proud of me. I might not have said the F word, but I definitely thought it without flinching.
That’s fucking progress.
I grin.
********
I’m unpacking my briefcase from work the next day, looking for a file, when I come across the plastic bag holding the enormous dildo Sara bought for me.
Holy freaking hell.
I feel my cheeks get hot just thinking about it, much less looking at it.
I pull it out and set it to the side, far away from me. I continue digging around for the file but I find myself glancing again and again at the package. Then a sexy grin flits through my head.
Shade. What the hell kind of gigolo name is Shade?
Even as the thought runs through my head, I’m thinking it’s a damn good one. It’s a dark and sexy name for a dark and sexy guy. I had practically licked the computer screen when I saw him smiling at me. He’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. Even if he is close to half my age.
You’re not forty yet, Allison, I remind myself.
At thirty-five, though, some days I feel like I might as well be. And it’s for just that reason I’m considering Sara’s proposition. I don’t want this to be the sum total of my life. A single mother, divorcee and marketing executive with nothing left but my job and bitterness. I don’t want the fun part to be over. That would be like admitting defeat, like letting Rick steal all the best years of my life. And I refuse to let that happen.
Surely the best is yet to come. Surely.
Spontaneously, I push everything off the bed. I try not to cringe at the mess of papers I’ll have to clean up later and focus on tearing open the box containing the vibrator instead.
It looks like a ten inch totem pole and my fingers are shaking. I’m such a chicken shit.
I grit my teeth and return my attention to the penis in my hand. It has carvings along its pink-colored length, with a squirrel and a beaver on either side of the base. But they aren’t carved. They’re like tiny animals protruding from the bottom.
All of Bambi’s friends, I think obtusely.
I can only imagine that the beaver goes in the front to stimulate one side while the squirrel’s tail goes in…the back.
In the freaking back??
Even in the privacy of my bedroom, I blush.
Holy hell, Sara! What are you trying to do to me? A freaking squirrel tail? Could this be considered beastiality in any way, shape or form? Oh my god.
I dig out five AAA batteries from the bottom of the bag and insert them into the vibrator then switch it on. I giggle when the head of the plastic penis starts to rotate in a tight circle, and the beaver and squirrel start to pulsate.
Good lord.
Shaking my head at my friend’s sex toy of choice, I turn it off and take it to the bathroom to wash it.
I let the water warm up and lather my hands with antibacterial soap before I grab it. I run my fingers along the soft yet firm plastic and let my mind wander. I find myself thinking about Shade again, which is exactly what my friend, the freaking devil herself, had in mind.
What is a guy who does gigolo-ry in his spare time hung like?
I remind myself that I have no intention of finding out. I’m just curious.
Really curious.
Would he be smaller than the vibrator? The same size? Bigger??
Just the thought of that makes a little gush of warmth rocket through me, which really surprises me. I thought I’d lost this particular type of adrenaline long ago. Suddenly, I’m very excited by my new toy and the image of my soon-to-be escort. I’ve got visions of his sugar plums dancing through my head.
Oh god, you’re so twisted! That’s a Christmas reference!
But maybe something new, something naughty and forbidden, is just what I need to shake nearly two decades with a traitor. Fifteen wasted Christmases with a pathetic, lying husband. It’s time for a new and shiny Christmas, so maybe it’s just what the doctor (or Santa) ordered. The doctor, in this case, being Sara of course.
I rinse the new vibrator in hot water, deciding to name it Geronimo since I’m jumping into all sorts of new things. As it warms in my hands, I picture the super-hot Shade again. I think of having my own personal boy-toy, a sex slave with no other goal than to please me, to make all my fantasies come true.
To my complete surprise, within seconds of this wanton fantasy, my panties are damp. Holy crap. But this shouldn’t surprise me. I’ve spent almost two decades with someone who came in two minutes flat and then rolled over snoring within the next two minutes following. Obviously the thought of someone who is paid to dote on every sexual desire that I might have is…stimulating. Impulsively, I strip my panties off and walk half naked to the bed. In broad daylight.
I’m nervous.