by Meghan Quinn
“How sweet,” Sally replied. “Did you bring some pages for us to read?”
“I did,” I nodded, pulling out my folder from my purse, making sure my penis pictures didn’t pop out for everyone to see. Although, I was pretty sure these ladies wouldn’t even blink twice if a giant sparkly dildo fell out of my purse. I handed each of them a copy of the pages I’d printed out and waited as they took their time to read them. “Um, I think I’m going to get a drink while you read.”
No one acknowledged me. They just read, so I got out of my seat and headed to the self-serve coffee in the corner. While my cup filled, I looked over my shoulder to see what their reactions were but couldn’t get an accurate read, so I finished filling my cup, added cream and sugar, and headed back to the table.
By the time I was back, they were all done. They sat in silence and watched me while I took my seat. No one had actually read my written word before besides me, so I was truly terrified to hear what they had to say.
I set my coffee cup on the table and waited for their assessment.
“Is this your first book?” Sally asked.
“It is,” I replied, trying to calm my shaking legs.
They nodded their heads before Myrtle said, “I could tell.”
My heart dropped to the floor.
“It seemed very childish in nature. The main character, from what I could gather, sounded very naïve not knowing simple sexual terms. She’s a virgin?”
I nodded, not able to speak from the lump forming in my throat.
“A twenty-something-year-old virgin who went through college with two sexually active roommates is referring to her vagina as a lady garden? It’s not realistic. No one talks like that in their twenties. I’m afraid readers are going to be upset over Meghan naming her vagina, as well as the main character not even knowing about things like masturbation or the basic act of sex. It’s almost too comical, but in a bad way. There’s humor, Rosie, and then there is forced humor.”
“I agree,” Sue said. “In order to grab a reader’s attention, you have to make the character relatable, not some clown wandering around her apartment unaware of anything sexual. This girl is young, living in New York City with her two roommates, trying to write a novel when she’s never had sex before? It’s not feasible.” Shit.
I wanted to cry, a large lump forming in my throat. Tears started to form, my lip began to shake, and I thought I was going to throw up from humiliation. This was not how I envisioned this meeting going.
“Is this supposed to be a comedy?” Wendy asked. I nodded again, still not able to talk. She thought about my answer for a second and then said, “I liked it. I thought the character, Meghan, was very relatable. I think sometimes, as readers, we get caught up in a stereotype of what we think heroines have to be made of, of who we expect them to be. When in fact, there are thousands upon thousands of different characteristics we, as authors, get to choose from. I think the heroine is unique, different, naïve—but in a good, refreshing kind of way. I think there are a lot of readers that could relate to her inner dialogue and struggles. Not everyone out there in the dating pool is sexually active, or automatically given God’s gift to sex. As authors, it’s our job to explore every different idiosyncrasy of the human form, even if that character might not relate to every reader. Nine out of ten times, the reader might not be able to relate, but there is that one reader, that shy, quirky book nerd who could appreciate a character like Meghan—someone who has a passion for reading, who’s lost themselves in the written word, and who’s inexperienced. I think you did a great job, Rosie. Don’t follow the trends. Be your own person and reach out to those fellow book nerds like me, because you will touch hearts with this character, I promise.”
Wolf Fleece Wendy just became my new favorite person.
For the rest of the meeting, we talked about upcoming releases, works in progress, and our next gathering. After we adjourned, Wolf-shirt Wendy pulled me to the side and told me to hold my head up high. She said I was doing a great job and to email her if I needed any help. She slipped me her business card and said she would love to read the rest of my manuscript when I was ready.
I wasn’t sure if I would be attending another meeting, but what I did know was I’d found a soulmate. She had given me that little boost of encouragement I’d needed to finish my book. After all this time, the possibility of becoming an author wasn’t so out of reach—untouchable. Maybe, just maybe, my dreams may come true.
“There’s the most beautiful girl in the world,” Henry said, as I approached him. He straightened up from leaning against a brick building and held out his arm to capture me in a hug. “Mmm, I missed you, love. How was the meeting?” If only he knew just how much I needed to see his face, hear those words, and be held by those arms. I love this man so much.
“Devastating at first, but then it all evened out in the end.” I stood on my tiptoes and kissed Henry on the lips.
“What do you mean devastating? Were they mean to you?”
“Yeah, four out of five of them didn’t like my book.”
“Seriously?” Henry was genuinely shocked; it was adorable. “Whose tits do I have to cut off? Give me addresses. No one tells my girl her book isn’t good.”
He shook his head, he was so mad. I calmed him down by pressing another kiss against his lips. “Calm down. It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not okay. Who do these ladies think they are, picking apart your book? They don’t know you. They don’t know where your words are coming from. They have no right to make you feel bad about your work.”
I laughed and kissed him again. “Henry, if I’m going to be an author, there will be readers who don’t like my books. You’re going to have to be okay with that.”
“Yeah, that’s not going to happen. I will never be okay with people making you feel bad.”
I sighed at his inability to settle down. “I love you.”
He studied me for a second and then wrapped his arms around me, kissing the top of my head. “I love you too, Rosie, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to chop some tits off.”
“You’re impossible.” We started walking toward the adult book store, hand in hand. “There was one lady who was super nice, though. Her name is Wendy, and she wore a fleece sweater with wolves on it.”
“I like her already.” Henry laughed.
“She stuck up for me in front of everyone, told them my character was unique and refreshing. She gave me her business card to email her if I have any questions.”
“That was nice of her. You should email her a thank you.”
“Already thought about doing that. So, how was your day?”
Henry just shrugged his shoulders, not expanding into detail about his day. Again. What isn’t he telling me? I tried to not let it bother me, but we’d always told each other everything, so his refusal to disclose what had been going on at work was starting to eat me alive.
“That good, huh?” I asked, trying to get him to talk a little bit more.
“Yeah, pretty much. I have to work late tomorrow.” And that was that. “So, how about we go to the sex shop first and then grab a slice of pizza to eat on the way home? That work for my girl?”
“Sounds good to me.” As I smiled at him, I tried not to show my disappointment in his evasiveness. But this was Henry, who knew how to read me better than anyone else in my life. He knew what this was doing to me, which was why it hurt so much. It’s not like him to intentionally hurt me, so why was he?
On the way to the sex shop, we held hands and talked about what Henry had planned for Derk’s bachelor party. Derk wanted to keep it low-key, nothing fancy, just his guys, some pizza, and poker. I asked Henry if he planned on getting a stripper, and he said Derk didn’t care for one, but he was adamant about having some nice cigars.
“Clearly, Derk isn’t as high maintenance as Delaney.” I laughed.
“Not so much. I’m a little upset about it.”
“Why? Do you want a strippe
r at the party? Do you want boobies in your face?”
Henry laughed and shook his head then drew my hand to his lips and gently kissed me. “Why would I need boobies in my face when yours practically live there?”
“They don’t live there,” I scoffed.
“Okay,” he replied sarcastically. “I’m upset about the bachelor party because I was hoping to make some boobie cupcakes. You know how I love baking and all.”
“You’re such a liar.”
“I am.” He laughed. “But, seriously, I wouldn’t mind taking him to our old stomping grounds, reminisce a bit. In all honesty, I think he’s keeping it low-key so Delaney can go out. That way, when she gets home, he’ll be ready to take care of her.”
“Makes sense. They could do their parties on different nights.”
“They could, but Derk doesn’t seem interested. I would do the same thing for you, you know.”
A tiny little flutter burned up my spine. Henry was talking about our bachelor/bachelorette parties, which only meant he’d considered marrying me. The mere thought of marrying Henry almost seemed impossible.
“You’ve thought about that?” I asked.
A small piece of regret flashed through his face before he put on a giant smile. “Don’t you?”
His question sounded slightly insecure, as if he was nervous about my answer.
“I mean, I guess so.” I didn’t want to throw all my crazy-girl feelings at him in one shot. Have I ever thought about marrying Henry? Well, not really, since I’d always considered him my friend, and ever since we’d become a couple, I hadn’t really thought about anything other than sex with him. Did that make me a bad person?
I’d only had minor notions of what it might be like to settle down with Henry—not that I was a giant hussy walking the streets, looking for a pimp to hook me up. I’d been too nervous to even consider marriage with Henry, because I was still very confused by the fact that he was mine.
I was insecure, very, very insecure. Ever since I’d known Henry, he’d been a ladies’ man. He’d always had any girl he’d wanted. During college, when I was in the library studying, he was out partying. He would bring home a new girl almost every night, while I was still trying to figure out how to use my vagina to the best of my abilities. I never really thought my handsome, sexy, and preppy best friend would end up with the likes of me, the nerdy, inexperienced bookworm.
Was I waiting for something to happen? Did I fear Henry would wake up and realize he was too good for me?
“What are you thinking about over there?” Henry asked.
“Nothing,” I lied.
Knowing me too well, he stopped and made me face him. “There is a crinkle between your eyes; you’re worrying about something. What is it? And don’t lie to me, or else I will make you go in one of the jiz booths at the adult store.”
“Jiz booths?” I asked. “What are those?”
“Don’t try to change the subject. What’s going on, love?”
I shrugged my shoulders. “Sometimes it just seems too good to be true. You’re too good to be true. I’m waiting for something to happen. For someone to come along and steal you away from me.” How will he be content with me when for years he’s had so much . . . variety at above-mentioned stomping grounds?
Henry lifted my chin so I had to look directly into his sweet and caring eyes. “Are you insane?” He laughed and then pulled me into a hug. “Rosie, you’re everything to me, fucking everything. We are meant to be together. I promise you that. Now stop having crazy thoughts. You’re stuck with me, love. Whether you like it or not. Got it?”
“Yeah,” I answered, feeling all gooey on the inside.
“Let’s get going. I’m starving, and we still have to go shopping for penis paraphernalia. Do you even know what you’re getting?”
We continued walking, passing honking taxis, people on their cell phones, and cute shops that I made mental notes to look at later. “Not really. I have my checklist. I guess I’m just supposed to get anything with a penis on it. Should be a good time.”
“Yeah, real good time,” Henry said sarcastically.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Penis Emporium
ROSIE
It smelled weird, like really weird. Like rotten cheese on a recently washed-down sidewalk weird.
When we first walked into the sex shop, I was a little excited to see the stock, given my newfound enjoyment of the male form, but the minute I sniffed in the musty, humid air of the place, I wanted to leave immediately.
“Why does it smell like that?” I asked, burying my face into Henry’s side to soak in his cologne.
“Latex, plastic, and jiz. What did you expect?”
“Ew, that is not what I’m smelling right now.” I looked around and leaned into Henry some more, so the shop owner didn’t hear me. “It does not smell like semen in here.”
Henry pointed to a black curtain off to the side. “Remember the jiz booths I talked about?” I nodded. “Back there, love.”
“How do you know this?” I gasped. “Oh, my God, have you been in one before? Ew, Henry, getting it off in public is so beneath you.”
A full-on belly laugh took over Henry’s body, and I couldn’t resist watching his Adam’s apple fall in rhythm with his laughter. The way his shoulders shook and flexed under his simple white button-down caused a warm sensation to take place within my stomach. I wanted him . . . again . . . in a sex shop.
“Rosie, you think so highly of me.” He shook his head. “I have been in one.”
Check that, I didn’t want him anymore.
“Gross, Henry.”
“Not because I wanted to,” he added quickly. “I was with a couple of friends and they dared me to go in one, sit down, and watch a video.”
“Why would you do that? Did you touch yourself?”
“No.” he chuckled. “I didn’t touch myself. It smelled so much like soured spunk I nearly threw up, but once I got out, I was a cool one hundred dollars richer. Joke was on them because they paid for my beer for a couple of days in college. It all worked out.”
“Except for the fact that you went into a porn booth.”
“Eh. Chalk it up to life experiences. Do you want to see what it looks like?”
“No,” I replied right away, disgusted with the suggestion.
I looked at the curtain. Even though I didn’t want to go near one of the booths, I had to admit, I was mildly curious to see what it looked like.
Henry must have picked up on my curiosity, because after observing me for a few moments, he asked, “You want to see, don’t you?”
I bit my lip as I weighed my options. Research was an important thing when it came to writing a book. As an author, you wanted to be accurate in your descriptions, you wanted to make sure anything you typed would make sense to the readers. Therefore, if I ever wrote about a porn booth, then I had to see one, right?
“I think maybe, for research, it might be beneficial to see what one looked like, but I swear, if you push me near it, I will break up with you so hard, you won’t be able to catch your breath before I snap your penis in half.”
“Whoa, don’t want a broken penis. I’ll keep my distance.”
Henry led me to the velvet curtain that hid the booths. I took a deep breath, and allowed him to take my hand and propel me into the dimly lit space. I didn’t really know what to expect when I crossed the velvet-curtain threshold but was shocked when I took in the surroundings. Music played in the background—cheap elevator music. The walls were black and the doors to the booths were red, all marked off by a number. Sex paraphernalia hung from the ceiling. Surrounding the walls and in the center of the floor were trash cans, lots and lots of trash cans.
“What is with the garbage cans?” I whispered to Henry, hearing a random grunt here and there. They really needed to turn up the elevator music in this joint.
Henry quirked his eyebrow at me. “What do you think they are for?”
“Umm . . . no
food or drinks in the booth?”
Henry shook his head, then made a motion near his crotch, as if he was jacking himself off and then spooged everywhere. “Cum has to go somewhere, love.”
Oh. My. God.
“Ewwww,” I said rather loudly. Henry shushed me, and motioned with his hand.
He was about to say something when one of the booth doors opened. A very attractive middle-aged man poked his head out and stared us down.
“Do you mind? I’m trying to whack off before I have to go home to five kids, four of them being two sets of twins.”
Waving his hand at the man in an apologetic way, Henry said, “Sorry, man. We’ll be quiet, pump away.”
“Thanks, dude.” The man shut the door, and from what I could assume, got back to business.
“I can’t handle this right now.” I snickered and Henry covered my mouth.
“Don’t be rude. People are trying to get off. They have the right to do so. Now, do you want to see a booth or not? Because if you’re not going to look in one, then I’m getting the hell out of here. That dildo over there is dangling pretty low from the ceiling and it looks like it’s waving at me.”
I eyed the dildo and nearly squeaked out a scream. The head was the size of my fist . . . my fist.
“Fine, which one is open?”
Henry pointed to the last booth on the right. “That one says vacant. Stick your head in and let’s get out of here.”
“Will you still love me if I look inside?”
“Yes, but if you don’t hurry up and that dildo falls on me, there’s a slight chance I might not love you after that.”
“Fair enough.” I laughed. “Concussion from elephant dong might not be the way to go.”
“Just get in there.” He gently pushed me in the direction of the empty booth.
“Hey!” I placed my hands on my hips. “What did I tell you about pushing? I’m not afraid to snap your pecker in half.”