I came, minutes later on my stomach, my pillow between my teeth. Part of my underwear—a sly little instrument of pleasure—in my fist, the rest of it buried between my legs.
Huffing for breath, I pulled the blue cotton with the white flowers off my body. It was wet. Totally wet. My hand, too.
I laughed, delighted and embarrassed. Horrified and pleased. Exhausted and exhilarated.
As I rolled sideways on the bed, stray sparks shot up from my *, from where I’d crossed my legs, giving my clit a sort of thick pressure.
Oh God. Again?
I put my head down, my fingers eased between my legs.
Again.
An hour later I had gathered up all of my dirty clothes, my generic laundry soap, and another one of my books—Pride and Prejudice. The cover was new and featured a Hollywood actress. The one that was all chin and cheekbones.
My dog-eared and beloved copy from high school English class had been burned in the burn pile.
The laundry was on the other side of the rhododendron with the families, where the trailers were packed in a little tighter. But most of the trailers were in really good shape and a few families had worked hard to make them look homey with scrappy flower gardens, and a few of the little wooden decks were hung with twinkle lights.
Or maybe those were just Christmas decorations that never came down.
The trailer right next to the laundry was one of the few double-wides. And there were balloons tied to the door. Birthday streamers across the back of the trailer.
A line of kids screamed around the corner of the trailer, five in all; a few of them I recognized from that day at the grocery store. Danny was there. The others were strangers. But they all had face paint on. There were two pirates. A tiger and a Spider-Man.
I sidestepped the kids and flattened myself against the aluminum siding of the laundry.
“Boys!” The mom, the woman from the grocery store, came out of the trailer, carrying a little tray of paint and a paintbrush in her hand. Two little girls clung to the long, colorful dress she wore. One daughter had a rainbow across her forehead. The other, in diapers, had half a sun. “Boys, take it over to the playground. We’re going to have cake in a half hour!”
The boys switched direction on a dime and raced over to the swing set and slide that were set up across the dirt road.
The mom turned to go back inside and I wished I could somehow vanish before she saw me, but no such luck.
“Hey,” she said, looking as awkward as I felt. “You do live here.”
“Over there,” I answered, jerking my thumb over toward the rhododendron. “It’s your son’s birthday?”
The woman reached down a hand and cupped it over Rainbow-face’s blond hair. “Yes. Danny. He’s five.”
“That’s great.”
“It’s loud is what it is,” she laughed. “I’m Tiffany, by the way.”
“Annie.” The second I said my real name, I wished I could suck it back.
“Mommy!” cried the girl with half a sun. “Finish me.”
“I’d better go,” Tiffany said.
“Have fun,” I said.
“Thank you.”
I ducked into the laundry as fast as I could. For some reason my heart was pounding hard. That woman stressed me out.
All my clothes together made only one load. Tee shirts, bras. Cutoff shorts. My nightgown. A few of the towels. Underwear.
I shoved the blue ones with the white flowers in first, as if someone might come in and see them. Smell them, even, and guess my secret. Know what I was doing.
I was smiling as I dumped in the half-cup of soap and a few of my precious quarters.
In the far corner of the small room there was a lawn chair with frayed plastic ribbing and I grabbed it, took it outside to the other side of the building, away from the birthday party and Tiffany with the bruises and dark eyes who somehow managed to still give her son a birthday party with pirate face paint.
A gesture so full of love and hope it made my heart hurt.