Goody Two Shoes

by Cooper, Laura

  Patty’s entry doesn’t surprise me; she’d long ago given up the pretence of knocking or -God forbid- ringing a doorbell. Shamefully, I find myself unable to meet her eyes as she struggles with her weighted purse and pool towels. Taking cue from my avoidance, she steps in the path between me and my coffee maker and glares at me defiantly. She crosses her arms and stands as a guardian between me and my salvational coffee. “Before you even start your miserable virgin pity party, you have not been turned into some kind of biblical whore! If it makes you feel better, I’ll throw some rocks at you and we’ll say you’re absolved of your sins?”

  Laughter forces its way from my throat. Of course she’s right, and she always is. I’ve crossed the imaginary boundaries and there’s nowhere to go but forward. And guilt has no place in the new ‘me’ I’m building. “No rocks please! I’m already feeling a bit tender in areas that probably aren’t supposed to be aching!”

  “Alrighty then, repeat after me. I am not a slut, I am not a whore, and I do not like to be treated as such.”

  With a giggle I repeat her words.

  “Repeat this, I like sex. I got started a little later than most, but I’m more than willing to make up for lost time!”

  I repeat, feeling like I’m taking the oath of office, yet the words sink in. Grief, insecurity and embarrassment dissolve like sugar in coffee and I grin.

  Patty meets my eyes and takes my face in her hands, “Good! Now please pour me a cup of that coffee. Steve had me up half the night! Whew… talk about tender!”

  Pouring her cup, I can’t help but voice a final concern, “Look… instinct tells me to stay in my happy bubble, but the truth of the matter is that I love my husband, despite everything. And I feel like I’m cheating on him.”

  “I had second thoughts too. Don’t think for a minute I didn’t!” Her expression is more serious, “But once it clicked, and I ‘got’ it, I regretted not doing it a long time ago! As far as the cheating issue goes, I’ll tell you that Steve takes all of me now. He takes all of me in a way that leaves nothing for anyone else. If I hadn’t gone through with it, joining the club I mean, then I wouldn’t be standing here wearing a wedding ring, plain and simple.”

  I look down at Patty’s hand; she wears the same simple diamond Steve presented her with so long ago. So the question really is… to what lengths will I go to save my marriage? I get it now. It’s easy to say, I love Simmons so much that I’d take a bullet for him, and I think I would, but will I do this? Can I do this? Can I win the war between my conscience and Vagina? My best friend tells me that it worked for her. If she said she’d found a miracle weight loss cure would I try it? Damn skippy I would. I’m thankful to have a best friend who does double duty as my voice of reason. I reach over and hug her tightly, “You’re right you know. You always catch me just before I run off to become the only married nun.”

  Patty pulls away and rubs her chin thoughtfully, “You may be able to get away with the sexy nun costume, I can’t. Steve’s Baptist; he doesn’t get it.”

  “Oh right, I can see myself serving Simmons’s dinner dressed as a sexy nun!” I laugh at the vision in my head, but Clitoris – oddly - sparks with interest. Patty’s here to remind me of my mission when ‘Goody Two Shoes’ starts voicing her opinions.

  Astounding even to me, ‘Miss Goody Two Shoes’ doesn’t have a prayer against the now constant craving I have for sex. I spent the next several days pleasuring myself at every opportunity and yes, I went to confession. I seriously doubt Father Riley has slept since. Still, at odd times of the day, I find myself surfing the internet for new sexual positions and pose myself on the bed, awkwardly attempting to reenact them by myself. According to the experts, the benefits of releasing inhibition are a hundred fold. You know how Vampire stories tell you that suddenly sights, smells, sounds become so brilliant? That’s me. Everything around me has a new purpose. Everything seems as bright and new as my purple dildo. I feel like going downtown and standing on a street corner and throwing my hat into the air while I spin around in wonder. Yes, I’m ‘That Girl!’ I notice things like birds singing in my back yard, the smell of deep mahogany in Simmons’ study, the fresh smell of clean warm towels just out of the dryer. And I use my new vibrator at every opportunity, reveling in all the fresh sensations and imagining all the happy escapades ahead. For the first time, I’m actually daydreaming about what the future has in store for me. When I imagine those moments, it’s always Simmons face I see at my side. I try not to bring reality into my fantasies, because if I do it saddens me.

  It’s the sound of my doorbell that jolts me as I’m having coffee with Patty the following morning. I look at the clock over the refrigerator with confusion. It’s early for the Christian Scientists and the Postal Service, so I have no clue. When I open the front door I see a brown UPS truck pulling out of my driveway. On the welcome mat is a small brown box. Even after studying it carefully, I find no return address.

  “Oh snap! I bet I know what that is!” Patty laughs.

  “What?”

  “Open it and find out!”

  “I think it’s a bit dangerous to open mysterious packages left at your door these days.”

  “So you think you’re being targeted by terrorists?”

  And she’s right. There isn’t much here to be targeted. Unless you don’t like endangered species, church bake sales and rescued puppies, we don’t have anything worth getting in a tizzy about. “If we blow up, I’m blaming you.”

  “Just open it!”

  Inside is a gold foil box wrapped with a red ribbon. I pull a note from the fluffy tissue and read, “You will wear these every time you leave your house.” There’s no signature but we can all guess who it’s from, the only man who’s looked at me in a year.

  But Patty isn’t curious; she already knows what’s in the box. She sits at my kitchen table and folds her arms in front of her. She’s taken the stance of spectator, like a parent watching their children open birthday presents. She’s only interested in my reaction.

  I pull the ribbon and open it. Inside is a tiny leather thong. Lifting it to show her, I wear a quizzical expression.

  “Vibrating panties. Only problem is that he’s probably given the remotes to twenty people! He gave me fits with that damned thing!”

  Hang on just a flipping minute. Jonathon sent me vibrating panties? How does that work? Remotes? “Explain, please,” I wave them around in the air.

  “Look at them, there’s a small vibrator in the crotch. You put those on and wear them whenever you leave the house. They’re only turned on by little remote controls. They look like key fobs, and Jonathon has given a bunch of them to Club members. I was at the Mall with Regina (her eldest) and all of a sudden I started buzzing. Shit, they buzzed me at Church for God’s sake.”

  And I chuckle at the reference while studying the miniscule silver egg in the crotch.

  “I’m not kidding girl, they’ll torture your ass with that thing.”

  “It doesn’t look all that scary.”

  Patty laughs, “Yeah well, he has them made by the same company that makes Sybians.”

  “Sybians?”

  She stares at me blankly, “Oh hell girl! You need to read some smut! Never mind, just be careful, if they catch you while you’re driving it can get super distracting. I found it easier just to pull over in a parking lot and let it go.”

  “You pulled over in a parking lot in the middle of the day and had an orgasm?” Even as I say it the word makes me feel brash and bold. But I don’t acknowledge that I’m already reading somewhat of a smut novel.

  “Better than trying to drive.”

  “Is it really that powerful?” I’m staring at this tiny silver device skeptically.

  “Put them on and go run some errands, you’ll see.”

  “How will I know who has the remote?”

  “Geez Tara, do I have to explain every single thing to you? That’s the whole lesson; you won’t know who has the remote. It shows you
that you have no idea how many people you pass by every day are members.”

  “Meaning I have no idea how many perverts there are in this world?”

  “How do you know I don’t have a remote?” She giggles devilishly from my rattan kitchen chair.

  “You wouldn’t?”

  “Oh yes I would!”

  Suddenly a small shiver of fear runs through me, “I have an appointment with Stephan Kellar this afternoon. Oh no.”

  “Stephan definitely has a remote then. That man’s got more gadgets than Tony Stark.” I stare at her, watching the movements of her dark eyes as she remembers some event with fondness.

  After lunch, I head towards my errands, the last of which will be my new plastic surgeon. He’s staying late to see me today, and already I’m feeling the perks that come with Jonathon. But first I have to make a cursory stop at the Funeral Home. Mrs. Edward Lambert, of the Church Red Hat Ladies, has passed and it won’t do for me not to voice my condolences to her family. As soon as I pull into the parking lot Mrs. Lambert’s popularity is evident, I park my van on the far side of the brick building and walk towards the front door. Suddenly a flash of vibration awakens Vagina and her sister with a start.

  It’s fast and powerful and shakes them from their slumber like a lightning bolt. As soon as it’s over I wonder if it’d happened at all. I’m probably just imagining it because Patty has me so freaked out. I dismiss it as paranoia and head inside.

  Mrs. Lambert is pink and pretty in her sleep. Her children and grandchildren are groomed and standing at her side. I idle forward and wrap my arm around her daughter, Molly.

  “So sorry for your loss Mol,” I whisper adding a hug.

  Her face turns to me as if I’d popped in from outer space, “Tara. Thank you for coming. I’m sorry, it’s just…” and a tear rolls down her face, “well you know.”

  I nod; it’d only been five years since I stood beside my mother for the last time in this same funeral home.

  “They’re getting ready to show a video in a few minutes. You should stay.”

  I’m flattered by her gratitude at my attendance, “I think I will. Your Mom was a great asset to the Church, Mol.”

  “Thanks, oh look they’re starting it now. Find a seat somewhere. This is going to be beautiful.” And she turns to point me towards an empty seat but seeing none she seems distressed.

  “Don’t worry Molly, enjoy the video. I’ll find a seat.”

  As I wander towards the back of the room I see they’ve set up folding metal chairs for the overflow of mourners. I take an empty one and dig into my purse for a cough drop. It’s a habit well taught to me by my Mother. Always take a cough drop before Church; you never want to be that person who’s hacking in the back. Popping it into my mouth I settle back with my purse in my lap to watch the video of Mrs. Lambert’s full life. And we’re all the way to the part of her marriage to Edward when my underwear starts buzzing.

  BUUUUUUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

  The silver egg reverberates against the metal folding chair and sounds a lot like someone just turned on an air conditioning unit. Vagina’s in shock and Clitoris is still vibrating as if she’s made of metal herself. I grab my purse and pretend to be frantically searching for some misplaced cell phone in it. Of course I’d left my cell in the car, like always, but my face is reddening and the sheer power of the buzzing egg has no respect for dear Mrs. Lambert. As I race from the room trembling, I catch nasty stares from the entire group of Red Hat Ladies sitting across the aisle.

  “She should have left that thing in the car!” I hear whispered as I throw open the door and exit into the solitude of the hallway.

  I’m so frenzied that I run smack into Bernie McMaster.

  “Hey Tara. You’re looking good today.”

  Bernie’s the creepy guy from high school biology who actually liked dissecting frogs. He now owns the funeral home; no great surprise to anyone that he still smells like formaldehyde. But the buzzing resumes and I’m beside myself looking for a way out of conversation. “Where’s the ladies room Bernie?”

  He points to a doorway down the hall, “Tara, Bethany really wants that recipe for crab casserole you took to the Happy Hearts Banquet. She made me promise that if I see you I’d remind you.”

  BUUUUUUZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

  Again I pretend to rummage in my purse, “Tell her I’ll email it to her tonight!” And I race off down the hallway. I’m fifteen shades of beet.

  The bathroom is empty; I push open both stall doors to verify before closing myself in the second one. Pulling my dress up, I reach down between my thighs and feel the vibration starting again. Damn it all! I sit down and evaluate the situation, what should I do? Vagina and Clitoris are being shaken to death, but they’re giggling like teenagers on a tilt-o-whirl. There’s really only one thing to do. I press hard against the silver egg, pressing it just into Vagina’s opening. With my thumb I pacify her sister until I orgasm into the panties. I’m shaken beyond my realm now and take a deep breath as the orgasm subsides and leaves me heaving. The buzzing stops as if whoever was in control knew that I’d finished. The spine-chilling sensation of being watched passes over me.

  Without surprise, Goody Two Shoes and her Guilt Wagon pull up to preach. You just had an orgasm in the bathroom of a funeral home for God’s sake! And all your worried about is if someone saw you?

  But that is what I’m worried about. I stand up quickly and adjust my dress. In front of the mirror I straighten my hair and dot on some lipstick. The bathroom is still empty.

  Dr. Stephan Kellar’s office is adjacent to the hospital across town. As I step from the elevator I realize the enormity of the space. Terrazzo floors glisten in the fading afternoon light and cast a glow of Holy proportions throughout the room. Great, just what I need. A surgeon with a God complex. At this time of the day the office is sparse, only a few remaining patients are waiting in the lobby. I sign in with Barbie at the reception desk, but she’s texting with Ken and doesn’t even seem to be aware of my presence so I take a seat and flip open the latest Better Homes and Gardens. If I had a stopwatch with me I would’ve known that it was exactly three point seven minutes before I started buzzing. Prepared, I’d found the plumpest, most plush chair in the office and it does serve to muffle the sound coming from my panties, somewhat.

  “Jonathon’s messing with you isn’t he?”

  I look up at the petite blond hovering over me. The combination of fading light, glistening floors and her blond halo makes me feel like I’m approaching the Pearly Gates. Until this moment, I haven’t met any other members of the Club, and clearly she is, so I’m taken aback by her upfront comment.

  “It’s uh… not so horrible,” but my teeth are chattering from the now constant vibrations. I grind them to stop the clicking.

  “Mind if I sit?”

  “No, please,” I motion towards the chair next to me.

  “If he gets out of hand you let me know, alright?”

  “I take it you know Jonathon pretty well?”

  The blond laughs and I notice that she’s absolutely one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. Green eyes peer at me through thick lashes. There is no way to judge her age anymore, lines that would normally mark double digit birthdays are missing. I know she’s had ‘work’ done, because well we’re sitting in a plastic surgeon’s office, but I’ll be damned if I can tell what. Breasts? Most likely, they’re as large as mine but perky. As for the rest, there’s just no telling because her skin is rosy and unscathed. I’m fascinated and want to ask.

  “Yes, I know Jonathon. Well.”

  I’m not going to deny that I feel intimidated by her comment. In my mind Jonathon Galloway belongs to me now. It’s not true, of course, anywhere but my fantasies. But the woman is chuckling at the muffled vibrations that are coming from my lap. “Oh dear! That boy is so naughty I just want to take him over my knee and spank the living daylights out of him. I’m Elise Devereux, darling, and you are?”

  “Tara T
ownsend,” I say as she offers a hand laden with a diamond the size of Texas. I take her hand and immediately am struck by its softness, “Oh my! Your hands are so soft! What lotion do you use?”

  “Tell Stephan I said to give you a bottle, magic stuff I tell you. So what are you here for Tara? If you don’t mind my asking.”

  Normally I would mind someone asking why I’m sitting in a plastic surgeons lobby, but Elise has that same enchanting demeanor that Jonathon possesses and already I am past the self conscious stage of our meeting. “I think I should get a face lift, what do you think?” I use my hands to push up the skin in the hollows of my cheeks as a demonstration.

  Leaning forward she inspects me closely, “What I heard is that you are lovely beyond imagination. That’s a pretty fair assessment in my book. Stephan can rearrange some things if you want, but I don’t think I’d go haywire with it. Maybe a smidgen off the eyelids and a little tuck at the ears, I just wouldn’t do much other than that.”

  “I was thinking of lifting the ladies up too,” I say looking into my cleavage.

  She giggles, “I had mine done, but you’ve got plenty of time for that. All you need is a better bra. Where did you buy that one?”

  For the life of me I can’t remember, but you can bet it was a discount store.