by T L Swan
“Ok,” she smiles, as she sits up in her chair, feeling a little empowered.
“I want you to go to the adult warehouse and buy yourself a vibrator.”
Her mouth drops open. “What?” she whispers.
I nod and smile. “It’s time for you to take your sexuality back into your hands. Literally.”
She swallows a large lump in her throat. “I’ve never, I don’t think. Anthony will freak,” she adds.
“Anthony is not to know about this.” She looks at me wide–eyed. “What I want you to do is every day fire up the vibrator and give yourself foreplay without the expected orgasm at the end.” I wait for her to speak. She doesn’t. I smile. God I love their faces when I start talking sex toys. I walk over to my desk, open my bottom drawer and pull out my large demo vibrator. I turn it on and her eyes widen.
“Don’t worry, it’s not like that,” I smile.
“Oh god,” she laughs and puts her hand on her chest in relief.
“See how this feels?” I rub the side of the shaft over the palm of her hand. She smiles and nods. “If you rub the side of the shaft over your outer lips and clitoris it feels like the best oral sex you’ve ever had.”
“Oh,” she whispers, eyes wide.
“Have you ever watched any porn Beth?”
She shakes her head. “Only in high school,” she whispers. “And I didn’t really see the appeal.”
I smile and nod. “I want you to watch a few things for me.” She frowns, not understanding. “I want you to go onto a website called YouPorn. It’s the same as YouTube, but it’s people posting videos of sex.”
“Um, ok.” She looks worried.
“On the left–hand side of the page there is a category list.” She nods. “Click on love.”
She frowns, “Love?”
“Yes, there are some really tasteful lovely videos of couples in love having sex and trust me it’s nothing like the wham bam come in the woman’s face porn most woman are exposed to. Watch it with no sound, a lot of women are very audile and the sound of porn is what turns them off.”
“Oh,” she nods.
“And also click on the massage tab.”
“Massage tab?” she repeats.
“Yes, a lot of my patients find it really erotic watching someone get a slow massage finished by an orgasm.” I smile. “It’s very tasteful and kind of hot.” We both laugh. “And I want you to try something else.”
“Um, ok,” she nods.
“I want you to go and buy yourself some lube and begin to explore your body with your fingers again.”
“Oh god.” She looks down and twirls her hair between her fingers.
I smile. “Beth don’t be embarrassed, I talk sex all day. It’s my job.”
“Ok,” she mutters and smiles.
“Most woman have not brought themselves to orgasm with their fingers since they became sexually active and it really is a good way to reconnect with what you like and what you don’t like. Women’s bodies change when we have children and what used to arouse us doesn’t necessarily do it for us anymore. Remember Beth, you need to take responsibility for your own sexual health. Trust me, your husband will thank you later.” She smiles as she stands up to leave my office and shakes my hand.
“Those two boyfriends were idiots,” she winks.
“I know, “I smile and I wink back, “their loss.” I laugh and scrunch up my nose. “Remember I want thirty minutes a day private time.”
She smiles. “Ok, ok, I will. I’ll tell you how it goes next week.”
“Good, I look forward to it.” As she exits my office, I smile to myself. I should open a sex shop—I would be a fucking millionaire.
Monday mornings, definitely my hump day. Hard to get out of bed, harder to go to the gym before work, a healthy breakfast tastes more like cat food than All Bran and its damn near impossible to get motivated for the week at work. It’s freezing cold too to add salt to my wounds. It’s windy as hell. God I’m whinging today. Normally I have the excuse of too big a weekend, still silently suffering a hangover, carb overload, no exercise. Not today. I know the reason. It’s like the frigging day before Armageddon, like I’m walking to the gallows. I’m so nervous I feel sick to my stomach. I thought I would be excited. Though I’m looking forward to seeing him this weekend, I know that after Saturday night the beautiful man in my memories will be dead to me. He has long been dead. It’s just that damn movie screen inside my head keeping him alive, hero worshipping him. I know this is probably going to be the last week I can dream about him from afar, but reality is a bitch. A bitch that’s going to bite me hard on the ass on Sunday morning. I’m dreading it. It’s like I’ve already started to mourn the loss of him, even though he’s not even mine to lose. I am on the train, it’s an hour trip to work as I purposely looked for a job well out of my zip code. Don’t want to bump into any of my sexual psychotics at the coffee shop or grocery store. It’s a hassle getting to and from work but I feel safer having that bit of anonymity away from my patients. In the line of work I do my patients don’t want to bump into me either so it’s a win, win both ways. I shuffle up the aisle and take a window seat. I lean my head on the window, close my eyes and start to doze. I just need to get through the week. My mind wanders back to the man who haunts me, even in my sleep.
Finally this week is over—it’s been a marathon just getting through it. I am sitting on the plane waiting to exit at Melbourne airport.
“Why do they take so long to open the doors?” Bridget yawns as she stretches in her seat.
“Hmm, I know,” I answer as I stretch my legs. Brock our brother is sitting across the aisle with our parents and gives me a wink. I love Brock, he is in the navy, a seal. He is home in Sydney for three months which is unusual for him. He’s hardly ever home. You know, off saving the world and all that. He is six two and pure hard ass, he dotes on Bridge and me. Way over the top protective but I kind of like it. Bridge hates it. Brock punched her last boyfriend in the nose at Christmas lunch a couple of years ago. It was hilarious, although Bridge didn’t find the humour. What I didn’t tell her was that if Brock hadn’t done it I might have. Mark was his name, of course a total wanker. Boy, she sure does attract losers. I smile at the memory.
“What’s so funny?” Bridge asks me. I shake my head. If she only knew what I was thinking about. I finally enter the aisle and Brock grabs me from behind in a headlock and gives me a rough hug
“Your snoring kept me awake,” he whispers.
I nudge him with my elbow. “Shut up, I don’t snore.”
“Yeah you do,” he laughs and he pushes me forward so I bump into the guy in front of me who turns around and glares at me.
“Sorry. I tripped,” I whisper. He glares at me and continues up the aisle.
I turn around and punch Brock. “Cut it out, how old are you?”
“Let’s go out for dinner on the way to the hotel.” He gestures to Dad to go into the aisle.
“Good idea,” Mum answers. I roll my eyes at Bridge. I want to go straight to bed. I’m exhausted. I’ve had a shit of a day. My most hated patient, Roger the sex addict, had a two–hour block appointment. Why does the receptionist make those appointments anyway? I will have to put a stop to it. I had to listen to every last detail of his latest orgy. Seriously gross. Why he feels I have to know everything is beyond me. Imagine a 1980s bad porn movie and that is the exact vision of Roger: bad moustache, comb–over, tinted hair, rates himself big time, overdose on the aftershave that smells more like fly spray. Seriously, he is beyond help. Gives me a cold shiver just thinking of him. God, I feel sorry for his wife. Imagine having him for a husband and he’s a sex addict who wants it all the time. Shit, it doesn’t get much worse, poor bitch. I wince.
“What’s wrong? Why are you pulling that face?”
I smile and shake my head. “Nothing, I’m tired. Can’t we just get room service?”
“Tash, just lighten the fuck up,” Brock chimes in. “We are on holiday
, chillax will you.”
Five hours later I lay in bed in my hotel room, the night before the wedding, and my mind wanders. Tomorrow is the day. I’m going to see him. Thank god Bridget and I have a room each or else she would be onto me. I have been tossing and turning for two hours now. I am punching the pillow and changing positions, trying to get comfortable. Trying to calm myself into a slumber. How am I supposed to look tempting with no sleep?
The movie screen plays a particularly painful memory, one that I hate and desperately wish to remove from the memory bank. It has the same effect every time, bringing me to my knees. Reactivating my guilt that usually ends up with me on my knees in the bottom of the shower, throwing up and in tears.
Two weeks after Josh and my beautiful lovemaking holiday I was missing him like crazy, crying by night, depressed by day. I lost five kilograms in two weeks and had bags under my eyes. I didn’t leave my room except to go to school. This pain was self–inflicted. Both Josh and I knew he was going to America for four years shortly after our holiday. We knew we had no future together. That didn’t make it any easier, and we had had no contact. My tender teenage heart was utterly devastated.
I came home from school one afternoon to find the house in uproar. It was one of the few times I heard my father swear. As I opened the door my father yelled at my mother.
“What the fuck does that boy think he’s doing?” I stopped mid step as I was slowly heading down the hall. I heard my mother talking way too fast while pacing. I slowly walked into the kitchen and looked at the two of them, raising my eyebrows.
“What’s going on?” I whispered to my mum.
Dad was on the phone. “Good god, he’s gone fucking mad,” he yelled.
I frowned. “Who?” I mouthed at Mum.
“Joshua,” she replied.
Oh shit, this can’t be good, what happened? Do they know? Am I next? I quietly made myself a cup of tea as I listened to the conversation.
“He said what! And then what did you say?” he listened. “And did you tell him that’s ridiculous? Surely he can’t be serious?”
“What?” I mouthed to Mum again.
“Joshua seems to think he’s fallen in love with a girl from Sydney and he’s not going to America.” My eyes widened. Holy shit. “How do you know this?”
“I’ve been on the phone to Margaret all day on and off. He seems to think he’s transferring to Sydney Uni, apparently to be near this girl.” My father hangs up the phone. My eyes are the size of saucers.
“Who is she?” I whispered.
“Some fucking idiot, no doubt,” my father snapped. Shit, he’s really mad. “He’s known her for two frigging weeks, and he’s throwing away an internship at Apple. This is the opportunity of a lifetime, he will never get this chance again.” I sipped my tea in silence while my parents continued their outrage.
I asked my mum, “Why is America so important?” I was genuinely interested.
“Josh developed an app as a hobby; it was a carb counter for diabetics.”
“What does that mean?” I asked.
“It has ended up being used all over the world. It had to be tweaked a bit but doctors and hospitals are using it to educate diabetics.”
“What’s an app?” I asked.
“It’s the way computers are heading, something to do with Apple computers, new technology stuff.”
“Oh,” I murmured. “I had no idea.”
“No, and Joshua doesn’t get it. He gave this technology away but if it were designed on the market it would be worth millions.”
My mouth dropped open. “Millions,” I repeated.
“Yes,” said my mother. “Steve Jobs, the founder of this organisation, has personally invited Joshua to come and work with him.”
“Who’s Steve Jobs?” I asked.
“He owns Apple, he’s one of the smartest, richest men in the world.”
“And he wants to work with Josh,” I replied. Suddenly, the very serious ramifications if he didn’t go became all too obvious. My dad nodded and I raised my eyebrows. “Shit,” I whispered.
“Exactly,” my father nodded. “Joshua is going to throw his whole future away for a girl he hardly knows and in twelve months down the track will leave anyway.”
“You don’t know that,” I snapped.
“True,” my mother nodded, “but if she did love him surely she wouldn’t let him give up this chance. He can’t be that stupid can he?” she muttered to herself as she rubbed her forehead. I wandered out into the backyard and sat on the back step idly patting Sadie, our cocker spaniel. Shit, this was heavy. I knew I was the girl and part of me wanted to jump off the step and punch the air. He’d missed me, he did love me. I was thoroughly thrilled with myself and trying to stifle the huge grin threatening to cover my face when the phone rang again. I walked to the door to listen to the conversation.
“Well, where is he now? Well find him, go out and find him and then what did you say? What! He’s going to marry this bimbo…for heaven’s sake…he said what!…Good god, he’s lost his fucking mind…yes I know…hang on I will see. Natasha, have you heard from Josh?” I shook my head. ”Yes you’re probably right, they are close. If he rings you, tell him to ring home everyone is frantic.” I nodded in agreement. “Seriously Jack if you have to get in a plane and kick his ass all the way to America you do it, he can’t screw this up. He will thank you in years to come.” My elation was very quickly turning to shit. I went into my room, shut the door and threw myself on the bed. Shit Josh, this is extreme. I jumped up suddenly to check my phone to see if he had rung me. No, nothing. Poor Josh. All that pressure and now he’d taken off. Maybe I should ring him? I checked my phone again, still nothing. I hoped he was ok. This was a total fuck up, shit what was I going to do? I started to pace in my room, shaking my hands as if they were cold. Should I ring him? Maybe, no he doesn’t need my interference. Three hours later I was so worried I had started dry retching. I was really starting to freak out. Still pacing in my room, my parents were waiting up to hear if he had been found. It was 12.50 am when I heard my mum’s phone receive a text message. I bounded down the hall.
“Thank god,” my mum smiled. “He’s home. We can all go to bed now.” She put her arm around me and led me to the hall. “He’s safe,” she smiled. I hauled my sorry ass to bed. That night I didn’t sleep. I knew deep in my gut what I had to do if I truly loved Josh. I needed to set him free so he could carry on with his life’s work, but should I tell him the truth? No, then he would make the decision for me. I knew if I was in his position I could never leave him. I wouldn’t have the strength. What if he did stay? Would we last? This I didn’t know. I needed a crystal ball. My dad was right. He would fuck up the rest of his life. The cold hard reality was we couldn’t have a future together, not in our family’s eyes. Oh what to do, what to do. At 5.00 am I came to the heartbreaking decision. I knew what to do and it turned my stomach just thinking about it.
The next day I faked sickness to get the day off school. My parents went to work and I started to pace again, waiting for his call. At one o–clock my phone rang. It was Josh— he thought I was on lunch break. I braced myself.
“Hi,” I answered.
“Hi baby,” he said happily down the phone. Oh shit. “Have you missed me?” he asked.
“Where are you?” I asked.
“At home. I have news” he announced and my heart sank. “I’m coming to Sydney tonight.”
“Why?” I whispered quietly.
“To see you. You didn’t answer my question, have you missed me?”
“Have you?” I whispered again, my voice too hoarse to speak.
“So fucking much I can’t stand it. I think I’ve come up with a solution though. We will talk about it tonight. Pick me up, what time flight will I book?” I stayed silent and closed my eyes…silence again. “Natasha, what’s wrong?” His voice betrayed his worry. I stayed silent. ”Baby are you ok?” he asked quietly.
“Not really,” I wh
ispered past the golf–ball sized lump in my throat. He didn’t know that I knew about his so called solution… again silence…
”Why aren’t you ok?”
”It’s complicated,” I whispered.
“Tell me tonight. We will work it out. I’ll book the flight and text you the details I’ll be there soon.” This was it. I knew to save his future I had to hurt him and rip my heart out in the process, but again I stayed silent, unable to talk without breaking into full–blown sobs.
“Josh you can’t come to Sydney.”
“Why?” he whispered, “why not?”
“It’s not a good idea.”
He stayed silent. This time I could almost hear his brain ticking. “I need to see you,” he snapped.
“No, Josh, you can’t.”
“Why not?” he was getting annoyed.
“I don’t want to see you,” I covered my mouth with my hand so he couldn’t hear my chest quivering with unshed tears.
“You don’t want to see me?” he whispered.
“No, Josh, I don’t,” I lied again. While I closed my eyes, he stayed silent for a minute.
“I don’t believe you,” he yelled. “Have my fucking parents been in your ear?”
“No,” I lied again.
“You know, don’t you?” he snapped.
“Know what?” I acted innocent.
“I’m coming to get you, whether you like it or not,” he yelled. I started to cry, holding my stomach because the pain was unbearable. I dropped to my knees on the lounge room floor and closed my eyes, trying to catch my breath as I stabbed the final knife into my already broken heart.
“I’ve met somebody else.”
“What!” he yelled, making me jump. “Are you fucking kidding me!” he screamed down the phone. “Two weeks, it’s been two fucking weeks!” he yelled, “and you’ve met someone else.”
“Yes,” I sobbed. He stayed silent. I knew I’d broken his heart as well as mine and I was now on my hands and knees on the floor. Again, silence.
In a deathly voice he asked, “Have you slept with him?” I could hardly answer. How could he even think that? My chest was breaking.