by Carian Cole
Storm: How many times per week do you guys have sex?
Me: So rude!! There’s no set number! It’s just whenever he wants to.
Silence.
Me: And just so you know, it’s just like you and that girl. He just sticks it in. There’s no foreplay or anything. It’s like five minutes.
Silence.
Me: I don’t enjoy it at all. I fake orgasm every time.
Storm: I’m going to fuckin punch something.
Me: Storm, no. Come on, we were having such a nice day :(
Storm: I know. But fuck.
Me: Is she there, too?
Storm: Who?
Me: You know who.
Storm: Yes, but I’m not going anywhere near her. I made it clear to her this morning that I’m off-limits.
Me: Really? You did?
Storm: Yes.
Me: Thank you.
Storm: I expect the same, Evie.
Me: You know this is harder for me! I live with him!
Storm: Then you better start getting headaches every day. I’ll lose my shit if I know you’re sleeping with him every night.
Me: I promise I’ll do the best I can to avoid him, but I need some time to get away from him. I can’t just move out tomorrow.
Storm: Why not?
Me: Hello? I have nowhere to live. I need to find an apartment.
Storm: Fuck that. I have two houses.
Me: I’m not moving into your house. I can’t do that. And I need to be close to the office.
Storm: Can I call you?
Me: No. He’s in the next room. He’ll hear me talking.
Storm: Then answer it and just listen to me. I can’t do all this fucking typing. You don’t have to talk.
Ugh!!!
Me: Fine, give me a sec to turn the sound off.
A minute later, my phone vibrates and I answer it.
“You don’t have to talk. I just can’t do all this typing. My fingers hurt from playing so much the past few days.” He pauses. “I know you’re tryin’, Evie. I am, too. This ain’t gonna be easy for either of us. These are just speedbumps, though. We’ll figure it out. I was so fuckin’ happy today, just knowing you were finally letting me in. Knowing you were seriously thinking about us. But you gotta understand one thing about me—when I want something, I don’t stop until I get it. And I don’t share well. Somehow, you got under my skin and I’m crazy wanting you. I’m a very sexual person, Evie. I’m not gonna lie. But this isn’t just about sex with you. I have real feelings for you. That on top of wanting to devour you is a dangerous combo for me. This is something I’ve never had before. You following me?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“Good. If you want to be with me, I can’t share you. I can’t be halfway across the country driving myself crazy wanting you, knowing you could be in bed with him and he might be touching you. I will lose my effing mind. I know this is gonna be hard for you and he’s gonna get pissed. If you want to move out tomorrow, you can move into my place. Or I’ll send you money for your own place. I don’t care.”
“I can’t do that, Storm. I need to stand on my own two feet for a while. I moved in with Michael right after high school. I’ve never lived on my own or taken care of myself, so it’s important for me to do it now. Give me some time to work this out, please,” I whisper, praying Michael can’t hear me. “He’s leaving tomorrow for three or four days.”
“Thank fuck.”
There’s a loud knock on the door. “Evelyn, what the hell are you doing in there? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine! I feel sick to my stomach. Just go to bed.”
“You’re not pregnant, are you? You’ve been sick a lot lately.”
“No, Michael! Go to bed.”
I hear him walk away. Jesus!
“Holy shit. Did that motherfucker really just say that to you?”
“It’s just how he is. He’s petrified of an unplanned baby,” I whisper.
“Please tell me you’re on the pill.”
“Yes!”
“But you didn’t take it when we were trapped in the truck. I’m gonna lose my mind over this shit.”
“Storm,” I whisper. “I am definitely not pregnant. Please, just give me time to get out of here the right way. I promise you I will not let anything happen between him and me. I want you, okay?"
“Damn, I love how that sounds on your lips. Say it again.”
“I want you.”
I hear him take a deep breath. “You better go. Try to get on the couch.”
“I definitely will. I’ll call you tomorrow when he’s gone.”
“If I don’t answer, leave me a message. It’s gonna be busy tomorrow.”
“I will. Goodnight.”
I end the call.
This is not going to be easy.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
MONDAY MORNINGS ARE THE WORK OF the devil. I am practically falling asleep at my desk, grateful for the cubicle walls hiding me from my co-workers, who are also probably half-dozing. I sip my latte and read all my emails, jotting down a list of everything I need to do today.
My cell phone beeps and I discretely check it. I don’t want Jack to catch me texting during work time.
Storm: We’re just heading out. Wanted to say good morning. :-)
Me: Good morning, you :) Try to call me tonight.
I managed to feign a stomach bug for the past two days and slept on the couch. Being deceitful to Michael is making me feel awful. This is not the kind of person I want to be. I keep telling myself it will all be okay, but I am honestly afraid I am going to rot in Hell for this.
Thankfully, Michael will be gone for the rest of the week, so I won’t have to make up excuses to avoid him. Eventually, he’s going to start wondering why I’m sick all the time, though.
The mail guy shows up at my desk and hands me a pink package. It has no return address. It must be a marketing promo of some sort. I’m intrigued by the shiny pink box, though, so I open it right away. Beneath the outer pink shipping paper is a glossy pink box. I pull off the lid and peel back the white tissue paper.
Holy shit.
I push the lid back over it and look around me really quick to make sure no one is looking at me. No one is.
I peer back into the box. Inside is a pink dildo. Or vibrator. Whatever it’s called. It’s made out of some soft pink rubber and looks just like a real penis, and it has like little rabbit ears at the base of it. What the heck?
I push it aside a bit and find a tiny card inside.
BRING THIS HOME AND CALL ME TONIGHT. ~ S
Oh, my. Storm sent me this? Why? I put the lid on tight and hide the box under my desk by my purse. I’m completely confused. Why on earth would he send me such a thing? I’ve never had a sex toy before and have no idea what to do with it. Maybe it’s supposed to be some kind of joke that I’m forgetting. A bunny?
I send him a text.
Me: Did you send me this thing?
Storm: What thing?
Me: This rabbit thing?
Storm: I did.
Me: Um? WTF is it?
Storm: Bring it home and call me tonight around midnight. Be naked.
What?
“Evelyn how are those reports going?” Jack is at the entrance of my cube, watching me stare at my phone.
“I’m so sorry. What did you say?” I know I’m blushing and looking guilty, trying to put my phone away and fumbling with my purse.
“Evelyn, I really need you to focus. You’ve been very distracted lately. I’ve tried to be patient after your accident, but it’s becoming very non-productive.”
I nod in agreement. “You’re right, Jack. I’ve just been tired lately. I’m sorry. I’ll be more focused.”
“I hope so. Otherwise, I will need to write up a formal performance review,” he replies and walks away.
Great. Just what I need to hear on a Monday morning. If I lose my job, it will throw a monkey wrench in my plans of getting my own place. I don’t fe
el comfortable moving into Storm’s house, or letting him foot the bill for me. I do not want to be some kind of kept woman. And I don’t want to be dependent on him or owe him anything if things don’t work out between us.
Ironically, the words ‘if things don’t work out between us’ never even crossed my mind once during my relationship with Michael. I just always felt sure we would be together. I didn’t question it or doubt it. How stupid was I, lulled into some false sense of security and happiness?
I clock-watch the entire day, my focus on the contents of the pink box hidden under my desk and not on marketing reports. Two months ago, I was completely engulfed in my job, working nights and weekends to try to impress Jack. Now, I can’t wait to leave.
I pick up a take-out salad on my way home and eat in silence at the kitchen table, the pink box looming like an elephant in the room. My skin is sweaty, wondering what Storm’s intentions with this thing are. Maybe I should throw it away, call him a perv, and just end this now before I walk down some dark and twisted path I’m not ready for or even aware of.
And never see him again.
I know I can’t do that, anymore than I can saw off my own arm. I can barely go five minutes without thinking of him. He’s become the nucleus of my world somehow. All thoughts, dreams, and actions end up going back to him.
The ringing of the phone drags me out of my thoughts. I look at the ID and see Michael’s cell number.
“Hi,” I say.
“What’s up? How was your day?”
“Okay. Jack’s being an ass, as usual. How ‘bout you?”
“The usual. I have a dinner meeting with the client, so I thought I’d call you now since I might get in late.”
A dinner meeting. I wonder if that’s true or if it’s really a date with someone.
“All right. I just finished dinner, so I’m just going to watch some television.”
“Sounds good.” He pauses. “I love you. You know that, right?”
So much power there in those words. Yes, those words are true. But the weight behind them has crumbled to dust beneath us. These words are admission. Omission.
I do the same in return. “Yes,” I say. “And I love you, too.”
I probably always will. Just not the way I did.
Four hours ‘til midnight, when I can call Storm and learn about this bunny device. I can’t understand the significance of the bunny ears. What does it mean? Quick like a bunny? Energizer Bunny? Maybe it’s just there to be cute.
I debate calling Amy to ask her what this thing is. Maybe taking a picture of it and texting it over to her. I decide not to, as this might be some kind of cute personal thing that Storm is attempting to do, and I don’t want to bring Amy into it if it is. I will just have to wait and see.
At eleven-thirty, I crawl into bed naked and prop a pillow up behind me so I can sit up, the glow of the television the only light. I open the pink box and pull out the dildo. There is a tiny tube in there with it that I didn’t see before. I squint at it and try to read the label. Silky Slidey lube.
Silky Slidey lube? I’ve never seen or used lubricant before. I pull the cap off and sniff it. It has no smell. I put a dab on my finger and rub my thumb and forefinger together. It is slippery and silky. I kind of want to rub it all over my hands like lotion, but that’s probably not a great idea or its purpose.
I check the box to make sure nothing else is hiding in there. I want to keep the note that came with it. I wonder if Storm wrote this himself, or if whoever packed this thing up did. The writing is artistic, like an architect or artist would write. I raise the note to my nose to see if it smells of Storm’s cologne. It doesn’t.
I stare at the long, thick vibrator, ignoring the unfortunate little rabbit head and ears stuck to it. This thing is huge, way bigger than Michael is. There is no way I am getting this in me, if that’s what Storm is thinking of.
You. Are. So. Stupid.
At times like this, I am honestly shocked by my own stupidity and naivety. If I were friends with myself, I would be sitting here laughing and shaking my head, asking me what the hell I thought he wanted me to do with it. Of course he wants me to use this thing. Why else would it come with lube? And directions from him for me to be in bed, naked? Which I am.
I bite my lip as unease sparks and then ignites inside me. It’s two minutes after midnight. I don’t know if I can do this.
I can turn my phone off and just tell him tomorrow I fell asleep. It’s a valid excuse. He’s probably tired from being on the road all day, too, and most likely would like to just go to bed himself, rather than be messing around with me on the phone.
My ringtone goes off.
Well, crap.
I slide my finger across the screen and hold the phone up to my ear.
“It’s twelve ‘o four.”
“I know,” I say like a guilty child.
“You were thinking about not calling, weren’t you?” His voice is accusing yet playful.
I don’t answer.
“Wow, Evie. You’d really do that to me? Just blow me off when you know I’ve been waiting all day to talk to you?”
“No . . . I’ve been dying to talk to you, too. I just . . .” I give the vibrator the side-eye.
“The toy made you nervous?”
“Yeah, kind of.”
He lets out a little laugh. “Trust me, Evie. You’re going to love that thing so much that I’m going to have to hide it from you.”
“I really doubt that.”
“Before we get into all that, tell me how your day was.”
“Boring. I hate Mondays, and Jack accused me of being unfocused.”
“Are you? Your mind does tend to wander.”
“Yes. How can I focus on work when you’re sending sex toys to my desk?”
“Well, I didn’t want to send it to your house. I figured your office was safer.”
“Good call,” I admit. “Where are you right now?”
“In a hotel room somewhere in Colorado.”
“Alone?”
“Yes, alone. I told you I wouldn’t be with any women, didn’t I?”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “Yes . . . I thought maybe one of your brothers shared a room with you.”
“We’re not twelve, Evelyn. We all get our own rooms like big people. Some of the guys have girlfriends or women they bring with them sometimes. Or groupies. That sort of shit.”
I don’t want to think about that. I hope Juggsy has her own room on the other side of the hotel. Or the other side of the continent would be even better.
“Maybe next time you’ll come with me?”
Go on tour with him? With Ashes and Embers? Is he high?
“Storm, I don’t think I could ever do that. I have a job and . . . I’m just not the groupie type.”
He coughs. “A groupie? You’re not a fuckin’ groupie, Evie. You’d be my girlfriend.”
I play the word over in my head. Again and again and again. Girlfriend.
“We’ll talk about that another time,” he says. “Tonight, we have fun. Are you in bed?”
“Yes.”
“Describe your surroundings for me.”
“Um. It’s a room with a bed basically.”
I hear the tell-tale sound of him puffing on his e-cig and blowing the vapor out.
“Baby, let your mind go. Seduce me with words. Like this, I’ll go first. I’m lying in bed with the comforter thrown off to the side.” His voice is low, and he talks slowly, deliberately—bringing me into his world. “I’m warm thinking about you, and I don’t want anything on top of me. The lights are off, but I have several candles lit—one next to the bed, one on the dresser in front of the mirror, one in the hallway. The room is glowing a soft amber. Right before I called you, I undressed, so I’m naked on the bed. My cock is already hard just thinking about you. I was turned on all fucking day thinking about you with that toy, imagining it in your hands. So much, I wanted to jerk off, but I wanted to save it for you so
I could hear your voice and your breathing in my ear when I come.”
Whoa. My core quivers and contracts just hearing those words and his sexy voice luring me in.
“I wish I was there.” My own voice is soft with lust, my breathing slightly faster and deeper.
“I do, too, baby. You have no idea. But for now, while we’re apart, I’m going to fuck you with my mind and my words, and you’re going to help me. Okay?”
“Okay . . . yes.”
I will say yes to anything you want. Just keep making me feel this way. Don’t stop the tingling butterflies.
“Have you ever played with sex toys before?”
“No. Never. I don’t understand the bunny.”
His laugh is sweet. “You are so damn adorable, Evie. I swear you fucking wreck me with your cute weirdness.”
Cute weirdness? No, please, not the cute . . .
“I’m glad you’ve never done this stuff before. I want to be as many firsts for you as possible.”
I take a deep breath. “That’s going to be pretty easy, Storm. Considering I’ve only slept with one guy, and we basically did nothing. I’ve never even given a blow job.”
I immediately regret saying that. Dammit! He’s going to think I’m a freak and run straight back to Juggsy.
“Wait, what?” He sounds shocked and confused.
“Let’s just forget I said that, okay?”
“No. No fucking way are you backpedaling from this one. Are you serious, baby?”
I feel myself shrinking. I am a loser freak.
“Yes, okay? I’m a sexual loser, I know. And we all laughed. Thanks.”
“Evie, I ain’t laughing.” His voice has turned dark, sensually serious. “Do you know how much that turns me on? You’re practically a virgin.”