Eye Candy

I nod.

“That doesn’t make sense if you had sex last week. How is that possible if you haven’t had an orgasm? And how can you survive that long without having an orgasm?”

Maybe this wasn’t the best place to bring this up.

The server stops by our table with an assortment of appetizers and goes to the trouble of describing each and every one of them.

“Oh my God! These are adorable!” Some of them are adorable, others are a little creepy. They’re all Halloween-themed. There are coffin-shaped tarts, the mushroom caps look a lot like eyeballs, which is a tad unappetizing, and there’s something on the plate that looks unnervingly like a spider. We wait patiently while he talks. I can tell it’s taking Ruby a great deal of restraint not to dig right in and try everything.

I think I’ve managed to get out of our discussion about my lack of orgasms, but as soon the server has disappeared, Ruby leans in and whispers, “Is your clit sucker broken or something?”

That’s Ruby’s affectionate term for my favorite personal pleasure device. In my opinion, there is no better way to get off. Apart from actual sex, obviously. “No. It’s not broken.”

“Is your clit broken, then?”

“It’s not broken either.”

“You need to explain this. Aren’t you the one who said an orgasm a day keeps the mood swings at bay or something?”

This is totally my mantra. I’ve lived by it for years. Since I had my first orgasm, to be quite honest. I learned exactly what it took to get me off by the time I was seventeen. It was a fluke really, and I generally don’t have trouble reaching orgasm. Well, lately with Armstrong it’s been a bit of a problem, but I think it’s psychosomatic on my part.

I can usually manage to get off in under three minutes under the right conditions. I don’t need the typical ten to fifteen or sometimes more that seems to be the general average, at least not when I’m excited, and who isn’t excited when there’s the prospect of an orgasm?

“I’m trying something new,” I mumble.

“Something new? Well it sure can’t be good if you haven’t had an orgasm in thirteen damn days.” Ruby pops a mushroom cap in her mouth and moans. “We definitely need more of these. These go on the list.” She dabs the corners of her mouth with a napkin.

“I think we may want to consider the appearance of some of these. We could save the horrorish themes for the drinks instead,” I suggest. I pick up something that looks much like a stabbed heart. It tastes delicious. I think it’s a stuffed pepper.

“So what’s this new orgasmless torture you’re trying out? This sounds worse than that burpee regime last month.”

I choose one of the normal looking appetizers, an endive and shrimp hors d’oeuvre, and nibble the end. “Well, I’ve been having some difficulty orgasming with Armstrong lately.”

“Like he gets a finger cramp from all the rubbing? Just get out your clit sucker and you’re golden. Better yet, make him be the clit sucker.”

“He doesn’t know about the CS.”

Ruby blinks at me. “Wait a second. You haven’t introduced him to your toy collection?”

I can feel my cheeks going pink. The honest answer to this is no, I haven’t. I did try once, but he was not pleased when he saw the size of my vibrator, which surpasses him in both length and girth. “I stay at his place all the time and my collection is at my place.”

“I can see how carting around your trunk of magic tricks would be a little cumbersome. Oh my God. Remember that time you forgot to take the batteries out of your g-spot lover?”

“Oh, I remember.” The vibrator Ruby’s referring to has a rounded angled head to it that hits the g-spot. It’s rather accurate in its curvature.

“I’m pretty sure that airport security guard fell in love with you that night. He wanted to give you the rubber glove treatment so bad.” She wags her eyebrows.

“He was hot, wasn’t he?”

“So hot. And those tattoos. My lord. Just delicious.” She picks up a tomato tart and takes a small bite. “Almost as delicious as these. They go on the list, too. So back to your orgasm drought. I’m not getting why you haven’t had one just because Armstrong is having difficulty getting you there.”

“I think it’s just the stress. I figured maybe if I wasn’t helping myself out every day it would be easier for him to make it happen.”

“But you haven’t had sex in a week.”

“No.”

“Didn’t you stay at his place on Monday?”

“I don’t stay at his place on Mondays because he has squash on Tuesday morning and if I stay he won’t get enough sleep.”

Ruby sets down her fork and regards me for a few long seconds before she releases a long, slow breath. “Please don’t be offended, but are you sure you really want to marry this guy?”

I know she’s just trying to be a good friend, but when she says things like that, wearing that expression, it makes me wonder if my cold feet are more than just normal wedding jitters. Armstrong is a good choice; he’s stable, solid, intelligent, organized, and goal oriented. He’s everything my other boyfriends haven’t been. And he’s never been arrested, so that’s a serious check mark in the plus category. Also, my parents approve wholeheartedly of my choice, another huge check mark. “We’re just going through a phase. I’m making it sound worse than it is. We’ve both been busy. Planning a wedding is stressful, especially with Gwendolyn involved.”

“If you say so. It’s never too late to back out and find a new penis to sit on for the rest of your life.”

The server returns with a new platter of appetizers, ending the conversation. But now I can’t help but worry: What if it doesn’t get better? What if things don’t go back to the way they were before the engagement? The CS is amazing. It gets the job done every time, but I don’t want it to be my primary source of orgasms for the remainder of my sex-having years.





Chapter 5: Dinner with the Mills Family


Amie

I’ve been to the Millses’ mansion for dinner before. It’s far more relaxed than dinners with Armstrong’s family. Those are all very formal affairs, where we all sit primly and talk about business and the state of the world and what charity organizations will give the best promotional opportunities.

Mimi greets us with hugs and air kisses. She tells me I look beautiful, gushing over what she calls my “stunning figure.” Armstrong pats my ass when he thinks no one is watching and Gwendolyn comments on the amount of time I spend taking yoga.