Be Mine: Valentine Novellas to Warm The Heart

by Nicole Flockton

  Or was it?

  "Right," was Soli's reply. She sipped her own drink. "Normally I'd recommend you go scratch that itch, but I know you don't work like that." Her gaze slid sideways.

  And that was all she had to say on the subject.

  Soli might have a point. If Ros was developing pants-feelings for Everett, maybe she should attempt to scratch that itch.

  Privately, of course. To suggest something as personal and intimate as sex when they hadn't even been out on their first date yet was both fast and too heavy with disaster potential. Ros never saw the point of casual sex. Also, she didn't want to risk the possibility of ruining what could very well be a good relationship with Everett. Friendship would be a wonderful thing. He was artistic and thoughtful. But what if it could be something else?

  Is that what she was feeling?

  It wasn't exactly an 'itch', per se, but rather more like a nagging, like when you know you've forgotten something, but can't remember what. Or maybe you do remember but can't bring yourself around to actually taking care of necessary business, like paying a bill or tackling the assigned textbook reading before a class.

  Ros sighed. When it came to things sexual, Soli did know more than Ros, not just in the scratching, but in the having of pants-feelings.

  She thought of the shoebox sitting in the top of her closet, a box she'd done her best to forget ever since it was gifted to her. Soli had given it to her for a reason. She never thought she'd need it until now.

  Best to get this over and done with.

  Last Solstice, two weeks after Ros had come out to her housemate as demisexual, Soli had gifted her with a wide variety of sex toys. "Ace is ace and that's the end of that," she had explained, "But demi has potential. You might have a libido after all, and just don't know it."

  Ros was pretty sure one knew if one had a libido. If you were in the mood for sex, you had a libido. If not, then no libido. It was that simple.

  At least, that's how she used to feel. Now there was all this going on in her head and her loins and was it her libido finally waking up or was it that she was actually falling in love? Why did it have to be so difficult?

  She had only just met him, once in a sweaty T-shirt and then in that fine-looking business suit.

  Libido. That's it. She wasn't falling in love. She, for the first time in her life, had fallen in lust.

  Did this mean she wasn't a demisexual anymore?

  Ros pushed that idea aside. One way to find out. She hauled the sex toys out of the closet.

  Soli's solstice gift had consisted of a wide variety, many of which Ros didn't even know existed. Of course, there was the usual dildo, a rather non-descript length of hot pink plastic, vaguely representing a phallus. Optimistic, thought Ros, as it was twelve inches long. Essentially, it was a stick. This thrilled people?

  The next toy was an actual, proper vibrator, rather over-engineered, Ros thought. Unlike the dildo, this looked like a penis, or at least, cast from a real one, head, veins and all. It was almost like a work of art, with an anatomically-correct transparent silicone sheath and the interesting little beads inside that went around and around when you turned it on. Unlike a real penis, it had this funny little set of ears near the base. (Is that why it was called a rabbit?) Ros wasn't sure what that was for. Maybe she'd have to look up some instructions or something. It certainly didn't come with a user's manual. At least she knew how the double-A batteries went in, for some time back, she'd removed them when the TV remote had gone dead, and she was too lazy to go out and buy more.

  Next in the Hornocopia of Pleasure was an Easter egg. The thing twisted. Twist in one direction and it vibrated. The more you twisted, the faster it vibrated. Twist it the other direction, it slowed down. Twist it too far, and the thing popped open, spilling out the triple-A batteries inside. When that happened, Ros had to chase one escapee from under the bed.

  Ros gave up on the Easter egg. It looked a little too big to fit inside her, and once it was in, how was she to get it out again? Pass.

  The next buzzy toy was more like a giant novelty costume jewellery ring. It was square, albeit with rounded edges, and a ring for wearing it on a finger. This probably didn't go inside one's body. For outside application? Unlike the other toys, which ran on batteries, this one had a very long cord which plugged directly into the wall. Maybe it was a good thing this one didn't go inside. Ros wasn't sure she wanted to connect her lady bits up to the mains.

  One item, still in its box, was a pair of Ben Wa balls. They looked like the stress balls one fit in one's hand and rolled around and around. They even tinkled like little bells when one moved them about. Apparently, these were for insertion, and to be worn around all day, according to the instructions. (Finally! Something had instructions.) Ros put them back into their box. Maybe another time. She didn't feel like walking around with those things inside her for hours until they did their job. What if she was out in public when they finally kicked in?

  The final toy in the collection was a rather large wand with a humongous cylinder on the business end. Reminded her vaguely of the Sydney Tower. It had to be a good half-meter in length. Surely one did not insert something like this inside!? Like the square ring, this one also ran on mains power. For these two reasons alone, she put it back into the box and swore to forget about it.

  The only items left in the box were two bottles of lubrication, one a black pump pack, rather plain, and the other brightly coloured, boasting to be "strawberry flavoured". Oh-kay...

  Ros stared at the box. Nothing was doing anything for her. Nothing beckoned, nothing sang (except for the Ben Wa balls, but they sounded more like wind chimes).

  Best to start with something simple. She picked up the pink dildo. On the end was printed the brand name: Lushious Lover. Thumbing open her phone, she googled "Lushious Lover Dildo how-to" and waited for the results. She immediately dismissed anything with the words "Porn" and "Hub" in the name and finally came across some kind of "sexual awakening" forum that looked to have educational potential. She scrolled through the threads until she found a how-to for dildo use, including an instructional video.

  Instructions were pretty simple: unroll a fresh condom onto the dildo. However, if it was your own personal dildo and not to be shared, you could do without the condom.

  People shared dildoes? Ick.

  Next, lube up the dildo and yourself. Then, gently insert dildo and stroke as preferred.

  And how was that?

  This post had a video. Ros's finger hesitated over the link. Pornography make her squicky. It was strange, it was alien, and did nothing for her except make her want to close her eyes.

  After taking a deep breath, she hit 'play'.

  The video came to life, with a gentle intro and title card: How to Use a Dildo.

  It had been shot on a hand-held smartphone in an echoey room. The woman in the video wasn't exactly what Ros--or anyone, really--would call sexy. "Hello," she said. "Today I am going to demonstrate the best way of using a dildo for sexual pleasure..."

  And so she did, but not on herself. In a rather monotone voice, she held up a green dildo, not dissimilar to Ros's own, and explained which end was the business end. She then pumped up a handful of what Ros presumed was lubrication and proceeded to lotion up the full length of the dildo. Next, she formed a circle with her left fist. It was into this she inserted the dildo, demonstrating stroke methods.

  Ros's eyes glazed over until the end of the video.

  That had to be the unsexiest sex video she'd ever watched. Even the badly-written dino porn ebook she once read as part of a dare was sexier than that. She'd had more thrills changing the oil on Soli's car.

  Then again, maybe she deserved that. Who is so out of touch with their sexuality that they had to watch an instructional video on how to use a dildo?

  Well, her, maybe? Not that the video had taught her anything new. She knew about a clitoris and she knew about the G-spot. It's not like she's never seen a copy of Cosmo before
.

  She had been hoping that the video would have been more about subtle technique, rather than Tab A and Slot B. Obviously, you stick the dildo inside you. But then what? Was there some kind of angle, or was there a particular stroke, or what?

  She looked at the dildo, then looked at the vibrator.

  Ah, right. Batteries.

  Ros slipped out and snuck into the lounge room. She stole the batteries out of the remote and slunk back to her bedroom. After ensuring her bedroom door was locked and the blinds pulled, Ros dropped her dacks and sat on her bed, legs spread.

  She put the batteries inside the vibrator and turned it on to test them.

  It buzzed to life, a little too loud for her comfort. She turned it off, then turned it on again. It buzzed up once more. There were some buttons on the side, so one could buzz slow or fast, and another button to set the little beads inside rotating. Once she had the thing going all out, she wondered if it was going to take off into the wild blue yonder. The fancy rabbit-like vibrator seemed to do all the hard work for you. Men didn't do that, at least in her experience, they didn't. With both experiences, it was in and out, in and out, or rather, up and down, with no technical variations at all.

  Did men have technical variations?

  Best to start simple. Out of curiosity, Ros lubed up the plain dildo and inserted it inside herself. Nothing strange or thrilling. She gave a few preliminary ins and outs, nice and steady. Still, nothing. Slow speed? Nope. Fast speed? Potential for road rash.

  She abandoned that and repeated the experiment with the rabbity one. No power, just plain.

  Technique did nothing for her. She switched on the vibration, low speed.

  It startled her as it kicked in. She let go and it slid out of her. She caught it before it fell to the floor and switched it off. Lint from her doona had stuck to the lube. She wiped it clean with a tissue and debated whether or not she should lube it up and try again.

  Maybe later.

  Ros sighed. Dildos: neg-two. Ros: zero.

  Feeling disappointed in her sexual experimentation, Ros went for broke. She lifted up the Sydney Tower style combination of vibrator and bludgeoning weapon. Might as well see what this sucker could do.

  She plugged it into the powerpoint next to her bed and switched it on.

  To her surprise, the hum was much quieter than the rabbity vibrator, almost like the purr of a fine motor vehicle. The head definitely vibrated, but in a rather pleasant way.

  The Sydney Tower had three different settings: low, medium and high. Ros switched it up to high and listened while the pitch went up. It was still quieter than the other and made her whole arm shake.

  She experimented by placing her hand over the cylinder. It buzzed both arms along. It tickled, almost.

  She stuck it on her head, and watched the room shake about her. That made her smile.

  On impulse, she ran it over her back.

  Whoa! The vibration felt like a massage. She stroked her back with the Sydney Tower, feeling the tension of her muscles ease up.

  Forget the lady bits. This was the best way to use a vibrator.

  Ros spent the next half-hour giving her back, and then the bottoms of her feet a rather nice massage. She'd have to remember to thank Soli later.

  5

  As Ros worked in Perth, it made sense for Everett to meet her after work. According to Soli, drinks after work at a jazz club were apparently A Thing.

  So here she was on a corner of St George's Terrace in her black pencil skirt, her silk blouse and her joggers, her good work pumps in a shoulder bag, waiting for Everett.

  And there he was, walking towards her on William Street, his charcoal-gray three-piece business suit sitting ever-so-well on his slim form. Dang, he looked good! She hoped he could give better shoulder massages than the Sydney Tower.

  Immediately she shook that thought out of her head. This was just a date, not a promise of forever and the possibility of a Big O. Especially the Big O. It was too early in the evening to complicate things.

  "Hello," he said, his bass voice rumbling through her belly.

  "Hi," Ros replied, clutching at the straps of her shoulder bag. "Ready to go into the unknown?"

  He took a deep breath and held out his hand. "Sure."

  His hand. He was offering his hand. He hadn't offered his elbow, as she was half-expecting, but he offered his hand. She let her fingers slide into his warm grip. It wasn't a tingle of electricity, but rather a flood of warm water to buoy her soul and bring her comfort.

  It felt good to be connected to him in this way. It was intimate, but not demanding or pushy. It gave her just enough freedom but left her still attached.

  He asked her about her day, and she inquired about his. They shared this small talk without the least awkwardness. Was this because she knew him better? Or because this was how dating was supposed to be? Talking about work wasn't a difficult thing. She talked about work with all sorts of people, from her co-workers to her parents and Soli.

  However, there is only so much work one can talk about before the subject grows tedious. They'd almost reached that point by the time they had reached the jazz club.

  They stood before a pair of red doors tucked between two buildings. Ros had known the address; Soli had texted it to her earlier, but she'd not taken the time to actually look it up on Google Maps. She'd been expecting a pub, or something else, not this rather clandestine pair of red doors not unlike the TARDIS having an identity crisis.

  She couldn't hear any jazz. All she heard was the street traffic behind her, and the footsteps of city workers who had better places to be than at their jobs. "Are they open yet?"

  Everett shrugged. He pulled on the door handle.

  It opened to a flight of stairs leading downward. Still no jazz. Maybe they hadn't started the set yet?

  What was she getting herself into? She looked into Everett's eyes but didn't find any concern there. Lucky him to remain so cool.

  She could do this. Drawing a breath, Ros descended the steps, Everett right behind her.

  Okay. Once at the bottom, the jazz club fulfilled her expectations.

  It was reminiscent of how she'd always envisioned a speakeasy to be, only with 21st Century touches. There was a foyer of sorts at the bottom of the stairs. To her left was an old fashioned-looking elevator cage and a hostess station to the right, complete with hostess. It didn't help that the hostess's blouse nearly matched Ros's. Maybe Ros should have dressed up. Piped jazz played at a gentle level, almost too quiet to really make out.

  Ros peeked past her into the club. It appeared dark, the only bright spots were downlights over each table, presumably so people could see what they were drinking. A few lights illuminated the stage, empty but for a double-bass, a piano and a few amps. The entire club looked like it would only fit about twenty people, thirty, tops.

  "Dining in tonight?" the hostess asked them.

  Everett looked to Ros, his demeanour, for once, cracking. Originally the plan had been for drinks. Did they want to stay for dinner? "I don't know." He turned to her. "How hungry are you?"

  Honestly? "Starving," she said, before she could check her words. She clamped her lips shut. Wasn't part of dating supposed to be when you didn't admit to being ravenous?

  Relief spread across his face. "Me too. Lunch was ages ago."

  The hostess took this in stride. "We have an excellent range of tapas to suit our craft beer, and wine to match." She gathered two menus. "The first set doesn't start until six. Did you want a table close to the stage, or somewhere a little more private?"

  Again, Everett gave her a look of indecision. Ros didn't blame him. In her experience, live music could be a bit loud, when Soli had dragged her along to clubs and concerts on the foreshore. "Could we go private?"

  "Sure," she replied. The hostess walked off into the club and they followed. Only now did it occur to Ros that maybe it was a private room, and what if they got charged for it?

  But no, the hostess led
them to the far corner. There was a tiny booth booth that surrounded a small round table, just big enough to fit her and Everett. It was as far from the stage as one could get without leaving the club. It would do nicely. The hostess took initial drink orders--both choosing local craft beers--before leaving them to peruse the tapas menu. A waiter would be along presently, they were informed.

  Ros slid in one side of the booth and Everett the other. She kicked her bag with shoes under the table and hoped she wouldn't forget it.

  Everett eased out of his suit jacket. Underneath he had a vest over his shirt, making him look ever-so-dapper. "I've never had tapas before. How does it work?"

  Ros had had tapas once. "It's like tiny tasting plates of single-bite servings. It's a chance to try a little bit of everything."

  "Like share plates?"

  Unless they were single-serves, "Sure."

  "How romantic."

  At this, she laughed. When the waiter showed up, they proceeded to order five different items, the flavours they could both agree on.

  After the waiter had left, Ros tapped her fingers on the table. "Is this the awkward moment where we don't know what to talk about?"

  Everett nodded. "There's only so much I can say about my job before it gets boring."

  "Yeah, me too." Her finger traced the wood grain on the polished tabletop. "Look, I'm not experienced in dating. I mean, I like the idea. I just haven't had much opportunity."

  He took this in. "I'm not exactly Don Juan. My sister says I should get out more--" He broke off his words. "Sorry. I just realised how much I've been talking too much about my sister." He scrubbed a hand through his hair, which fell nicely back into place after.

  Had he been talking about her? Ros sorted through their street conversation. Work, work, public transport, his sister sometimes drives him to work, his work, her work, oh, those poor Dockers, his sister prefers soccer games, Ros once won free tickets to a women's footy game, which she enjoyed, but otherwise, she wasn't into sport.