Читать книгу Sex & Samosas - Jasmine Aziz - Страница 8

“I’m going to present a lot of product in a short period of time,” Clarissa said. “Before I do, let’s look at some lingerie.” She reached behind her and brought out a straw basket covered in a gold cloth that in my slightly inebriated state looked like a giant samosa. She even folded the fabric back like my grandmother taught me when she first showed me how to make them. “Remember ladies, your lingerie says a lot about you.”

She pulled out a brown teddy with ruffles. It would make me look like a misshapen chappati. If your lingerie says something about you, what was mine saying about me? My bra was over eight years old and had three holes in the lace at the back which only marginally exceeded the number in my thick cotton underpants. I cancelled out the section marked lingerie on my menu. A blazing red pen would have made me feel better, but I only had the little penis pencil to work with.

Clarissa smiled politely at everyone’s reactions to the pretty lace outfits and then widened her grin when she brought out a few costumes. Police Officer, French Maid and the School Girl all got rousing applause. The runaway hit was the Nurse’s costume.

“I’m a nurse!” a pig-tailed buxom blonde said twirling her hair in her hands. “I love that costume!”

“And the last thing I want to show you ladies is my best seller. Crotchless panties!” She held up a pair of underwear with white lace at the sides and two strings hanging down from either end of the front joining into one small bow at the back. It looked like a parachute cut in half at the top with its strings suspending down towards an invisible jumper.

“These are a wonderful addition to every woman’s wardrobe. Let me show you why.” To the roar of a delighted crowd Clarissa reached down, slid the white panties up over her black pants and snapped the strings into place creating the striking visual of a large black triangle in the centre of two white stripes. Thank God she put them on because there was no way I would ever have figured it out by myself.

“There are four reasons these panties will go home with you tonight. One, women always complain they can spend $80 on an outfit and it ends up on the floor in two minutes, so what’s the point? Well, with these you spend under twenty dollars and they stay on.” Someone clapped. It might have been Mahjong.

“Let me give you reason two. If you’re having sex with a man, he’s visual. Never underestimate that. It’s not the same as wearing nothing at all. Just the thought of you wearing them will make him crazy. And when he sees them on you it will make him even crazier.”

She held up three fingers. “And if you are having sex with a man, let’s face it, he might not get it. With these panties you make it really simple for him and tell him to stay inside the lines,” she said as she pointed to the black space between the two white strings over her pubic area. Every woman in the room, myself included, howled with laughter in response.

“And lastly ladies, what I most recommend these panties for are those bad days when you just feel really low. You know what I’m talking about? We all have them. Put on these crotchless panties, wear a skirt, and go grocery shopping.” I saw looks of intrigue, shock and delight. “Trust me ladies, you wear these panties and if you were depressed before you left the house, you won’t be by the time you come home. It has nothing to do with sex, and everything about making you feel good.”

I tried to think of the last time I felt good, really good. In the confusion of rum and mushroom nipples exploding in my stomach, it saddened me that no single event stood out in recent memory.

Then, with a sudden impulse of pure drunken determination, I boldly wrote Parachute Chuddy on my paper menu in the top right corner.

Clarissa refolded the golden fabric and slid the basket under the table. While she began to explain the bubble bath line, Mahjong slipped into the kitchen, got herself another juice bottle and a cold cooler for me. Years of friendship and a deep desire to get drunk eliminated the need for me to properly thank her. I popped the top off and swallowed half the frosty drink.

The consultant extolled the virtues of bubble baths with our partners and how sexy it was to play with edible products. I almost choked on my cooler at the image of Manny and I both trying to fit into our small bathtub at home. I could see him sloshing around, his long six foot frame struggling to stay inside the tub. I envisioned his feet on either side of my head with mine in his groin just trying to get both of us in at the same time. Comical yes, sexy no.

“This product is also edible so you can use it as a mouthwash, toothpaste, deodorant, shampoo or for washing your pets, your car and your dishes.

“And it has vitamin E in it so it is exceptionally good for shaving.” She ran the bottle along her legs. “And shaving.” She waved the bottle under her armpit. “And shaving.” She held the bottle over her pubic area.

Thankfully I had no cooler in my mouth or it would have ended up spewed across the room. “The afro went out in the seventies ladies,” Clarissa said. “Clean it up. It’s your best chance it will get found!” I pulled my legs closer to my chest.

“This next product is a body lotion that you can put anywhere on your body. Anywhere you put it you’ll be perfectly edible from head to foot.” She winked. “This lotion is peppermint flavored and really good for giving foot rubs so I suggest since your feet are clean and edible, well, why don’t you get your toes sucked?”

Toe sucking? Did she actually just say toe sucking? What a hideous thought! My big toes had three very stubborn hairs on each of them that made them look like beetles lying on their sides doing Pilates leg stretches. Though I plucked them on a regular basis, they still seemed to grow faster than any other follicles on my body. I could just picture my toe in Manny’s mouth, the hair protruding from the edges of his lips as though they were trying to make their escape from his teeth.

“That’s so gross!” Jenny slurred.

“I love it!” screamed one of Jenny’s bridesmaids, someone so conservative she made me look like a pole dancer.

My eyes instantly turned to Mahjong.

“Oh yes my little brown friend,” she said pointing to her feet. “Toe sucking is good.” She leaned back against the end of the sofa tucking her arms behind her head and closing her eyes.

“Toe sucking,” Clarissa said, “is actually pretty cool. Try it. I’m just trying to get you to think outside the box.” She smiled at her own joke and waved the round black container in the air.

“Now this stuff is not only good for toe play, it has many other uses. Are you ready?” She waited until everyone stopped talking. “This body lotion is also exceptionally good for analingus.” Clarissa paused. I felt tension rise all around me. “What’s analingus? Well we all know what cunnilingus is right?” She looked around the room. No one moved or spoke.

I stopped breathing in case the slightest shift in position caused the pillow beneath me to roar another loud farting sound in the dead silence.

“Okay, so imagine you’re freshly showered and covered in this lotion and someone is performing cunnilingus on you and then whoops their tongue slips and hello there it is! Analingus!”

She looked every woman in the eye as though she wanted to make sure her advice registered with each one. My brain had completely abandoned ship, setting sail in a sea of malted liquid.

My first introduction to the word anus was quite memorable. I heard the word for the first time in science class. I rushed home to tell my mother about the other planets in the universe and when I got to Uranus she slapped me across the face and shouted, “Dat place only for besharam!”

A few months later at a dinner party my mother was hosting for someone’s arranged marriage, one of the Aunties commented about how badly Westerners behaved. “Ve know how to act na? Ghoras are tooo liberal. Vhere oh vhere do all dese besharam come from?” To which I loudly and proudly replied, “They come from Uranus!” I was slapped and sent to my room. Needless to say after our sex education class when the word came up for real, I knew better than to bring it up to my mother. If a planet got me a hard slap to the head, I didn’t want to think what a rectal discussion would get.

“The next product is something that heats up!” Clarissa held up a tube shaped bottle. “Now I’m supposed to tell you it’s good for muscular aches, pains and cold feet but what it’s really good for is… oral sex!” Mahjong’s eyes shot open. She sat upright and grabbed her penis pencil in hand. “When you blow on this product it makes your skin hot! And speaking of hot ladies, what is the key to performing oral sex on a man?”

No one answered for a brief moment. The long-nosed lady behind me snidely said: “Get someone else to do it.”

Clarissa ignored her.

The pretty brunette next to Jenny said: “Lots of lubrication.”

“No teeth?” the buxom blonde offered, twirling one of her pigtails.

“Good one,” Clarissa said and smiled. “But let me get straight to my point. The key to performing good oral sex on a man is enthusiasm.”

I can’t lie. Oral sex had never interested me. Manny made no secret of his desire for fellatio but I was never that comfortable doing it. It felt awkward and embarrassing. Eventually he stopped asking for it. For the last few years, we both seemed content to treat his penis like a melting ice cream scoop. I gave it just enough licks to form it into a peak and then straight to penetration.

“The more energetic and enthusiastic you are,” Clarissa said, “the happier the penis. With this product, it does some of the work for you warming your mouth and heating him up at the same time. I blow on it and it gets hot and the penis says… wow!” A few women giggled. She had everyone’s attention.

“So now let’s say I want to change it up the next time, you know, practice my enthusiasm. This time I might have a piece of ice tucked into my mouth and now it’s hot and cold. Try it!” Mahjong was smiling at me. I looked down at my order form. I hadn’t taken any decent notes and I was suddenly angry with myself for not paying more attention.

“If you want to liven it up even more, you can buy popping candy from the corner store and put them in your mouth and then lick the penis for special effects!”

When I was eight years old at my cousin’s wedding, my other cousin Vargoo slipped me a handful of popping candy. We laughed riotously as it exploded in our mouths. That is until we got caught by one of his uncles who exclaimed wildly that we were eating crack in the back alley. I wasn’t allowed to hang out with Vargoo again. My mother made a point of telling me that candy would only rot out my teeth and no one wanted a toothless bride.

Mahjong smiled widely. “I love popping candy. It’s a poppy good time!”

“When do you sleep?” I asked Mahjong sarcastically. She smiled and flicked me in the knee with her penis pencil.

“Yes or no, things can get lost inside the vagina?” Clarissa said. She waited for an answer and when no one put one forth she offered it on her own. “No. Nothing gets lost in the vagina. What that means is that it’s closed. So if you put anything in there, it will come out. Just relax. It’s not lost. It’s in there.”

The long-nosed lady behind me put her hand up to tell the story of a friend who lost a ring in her vagina. Her boyfriend at the time, thinking it was a clever way to propose shoved the diamond inside her but when it came time to ask her the question he couldn’t find it. They went to the hospital and once it was retrieved, he got down on bended knee and proposed.

“But it wasn’t lost was it? On to the next question then, true of false, things can get lost inside the anus.” She waited a bit longer for an answer.

Like a voice in the fog, I heard, true from someone near me.

“You are correct.” Clarissa smiled at Mahjong. “Now ladies, this is important, the anus is not like the vagina. The first few inches of the rectum are empty and then after that there is a natural vacuum which means whatever I put in there had better have a loop on the end of it, something I can hold on to or it should flare out at the bottom. Like the lamp, but not the lamp.” I felt my sphincter involuntary spasm against the cushion.

“So always remember this about the rectum, ladies, because if you don’t, and you lose something in there, well that’s a trip to the hospital and you better hope the doctor is cute!” She winked. Two women laughed. I felt my dinner coming up.

She put down the canister of liquid that got hot and while she reached over to get another product, I took my first real notes: Hot stuff = oral. Anus = no lamps.

“Now the next product is lubricant. This one is especially good because it is water-based.” Clarissa held three oval bottles in her hand. “It comes in three flavors. Strawberry is the best seller. Lubricant is important because at different times of the month, you may feel dryer than normal. After giving birth, your body’s lubrication changes too. As you get older, vaginal dryness becomes an issue. Lubricant tricks the brain into thinking you are more aroused than you actually are so it helps you feel more excited.”

Clarissa went on to present a numbing cream, two kinds of body chocolate and several products for enhancing internal tightness and one for promoting multiple orgasms.

Like a student cheating on an exam, I tried to spy the menu of the woman lying on the floor next to me to see which items she was checking off. She caught me looking at it and moved her paper away. I looked over at Mahjong’s paper but couldn’t see any check marks in the mess of erotic doodles on her sheet. I faked a sneeze to take a quick glance at the paper in the lap of the lady who had handed me the cushion and noticed she had ticked more than five items. I took my penis pencil and made five random checks of my own as Clarissa brought out a game box.

“Now this is a great way to increase communication and have fun while playing,” she said, holding the box up to her chest. “The aim is to win favour coupons which are good for thirty days after the game is played. Remember the most important part of the word foreplay is play!”

The game seemed like a good deal all around. It had a blindfold I could use to sleep in with on the weekends, the timer would replace the one my mother broke in Yahtzee when she caught me cheating on my score card and the pretty pink note pad was perfect for grocery lists.

Clarissa then presented a few other stimulating liquid products, some edible body paint and five kinds of massage oil. When she was done, she asked if anyone wanted to take a break before the toys. Almost everyone shot up from their seats without hesitation and lunged at the island of food in Isabelle’s kitchen.

I headed straight for the coolers in a bucket near the fridge.

“I’m so glad you came out tonight!” Jenny said to me. Her eyes were completely glazed making them appear like two shiny blue marbles. “I didn’t think you would come. Cum! Ha! Leena did you hear what I said?”

Everyone, including Isabelle’s neighbours, probably heard her.

“I’m so happy for you,” I mumbled looking instinctively for Mahjong. “I guess I’ll see you at the wedding next week.”

“Are you going to wear a len-goo?”

“Sorry?” Despite the fact that she was still shouting, I had no idea what she meant.

“A len-goo. You know, a len-goo. Your traditional clothes. The clothes of your people.” My people? My people were the same people as her people. I saw Jenny picking out a blouse in the mall two weekends ago in the exact same shop as me.

“You mean a lengha?” I asked.

“Yes! A len-goo! Oh please wear it! Johnny will just love it! Oh my God Lee, did you make these samosas?” She stuffed the entire triangle into her mouth. “So good!”

“I bought them. But I did make the chutney.”

She dipped another triangular pastry in the green liquid and then stuffed it in with the half-masticated heap already in her mouth. “That chutney is so good! I’ll have to barf tonight or I’ll never fit into my dress!” She darted off to talk to the other girls in the kitchen.

Isabelle topped up everyone’s drinks, served some warm brie from the oven with a crusty French bread and then loudly insisted that people resume their seats.

“Jenny wants me to wear a lengha,” I said to Mahjong as we sat back down on the floor.

“Are you going to?”

“You must be high! All my lenghas are heavily embroidered. She showed me a picture of her dress last month. Even my cheapest one makes her dress look like she bought it at the dollar store.”

“So what are you going to wear?”

“Whatever fits my fat ass.”

Clarissa clapped her hands. “It’s toy time!”

She began the second half of her presentation by showing us a laminated picture of two vaginas. One showed the clitoris directly over the vaginal cavity, a phenomenon she said approximately 15% of the female population enjoyed. The other picture showed the clitoris higher up, with a greater space between it and the opening. This she said was the case for about 85% of the female population.

“Men are born with their genitals on the outside of their bodies,” Clarissa said. “Lucky them! Women, on the other hand, need to go and get a mirror and physically look at themselves and we don’t often do that. And if no one has told you before, then I’m telling you, you’re beautiful. You’re unique.” I felt like everyone was staring at me. I shifted on my pillow. I was just drunk enough to start to enjoy the sounds it made.

Clarissa’s first toy was a cyber-skin penis that had a suction cup on the end. She called it Hank. Mahjong dated a guy named Hank once. She called him Stanky Hanky after he dropped his drawers on their second date and the smell from his penis almost made her faint. They never went out again.

“Now this little bullet vibrates.” Clarissa held up an egg shaped toy with a cord attached to a control. “I’m going to put it in your hand so you can feel what vibration feels like.” She walked around the room, placing the toy in each lady’s hand. The buxom blonde squealed with joy and proclaimed to everyone in the room that she already owned one just like it. Jenny in her drunken state needed her friend’s help to steady her hand. The long-nosed lady refused to hold the toy. Mahjong curled both her hands around it and smiled.

I was next.

I held out my hand like I was waiting for my teacher to hand me back an assignment I knew I had failed. The first wave of vibration coursed straight through my veins on a highway of alcohol fast-tracked to my brain. It felt at once invigorating and frightening. I closed my hand over it as Mahjong did, feeling the pulsations dance like little sparks inside my fingertips. Before I could fully begin to enjoy the sensation, Clarissa pulled the toy away and continued her presentation. I was surprised that I instinctively wanted to hold the bullet longer to see what other reactions it would elicit.

“That’s just a sample of what it’s like.” She pulled a small silver bullet similar to the one she had in her hand from one of the black satin bags on the table. “Here’s a great toy that I recommend. It has six speeds and it fits into this piece.” She pulled a small pink gel-like rabbit out of the bag.

Clarissa demonstrated how to slide the bullet into the back of the bunny causing its nose to vigorously vibrate. She slipped two fingers into the round strap under the base of the bunny so it appeared as though it were perched on a ledge. She recommended it as one of the best beginner toys. Beginner, now that sounded like me. I put a star next to the number for the bunny.

She demonstrated two waterproof toys, a crooked one for the G-spot and a ring for use around the testicles to increase sensitivity and prolong an erection.

“Now while we’re on the subject of him.” With a smile she pulled a rubbery pink sleeve from a golden box behind her. “This is for him ladies. You pour warm water through it and slide some of our water-based lubricant down the centre and when the penis goes in here, it feels like a vagina. He can use this for self-stimulation, or you can use it with him. If you give it to him, you can have the whole night off to read a book! Imagine that! And if you want to play together, here’s how.” She grabbed Hank from the table and inserted him inside the sleeve. “Hold it at the base. Then I pull on the sleeve… gently! And as I tug on it up and down, I am caressing the penis with my hands on the outside but it feels like a vagina on the inside.”

Jenny clapped and laughed awkwardly.

I thought about buying the sleeve for Manny. My mother had been telling me to buy him a leather briefcase for work with his initials on it for his upcoming birthday. Somehow in my drunken state, I reasoned they were pretty much the same idea: a thing he held in his hand at his job or a hand job for his thing. Either way his birthday present was taken care of.

“Okay ladies,” Clarissa said after everyone was quiet again, “are you ready for the King?” She turned to the table and picked up the last black bag behind her, slowly revealing its contents. From the black satin emerged a white see-through toy with a dolphin attached at the base. The dolphin looked like its mouth was open, split into two angular pieces. The shaft of the toy was topped with the face of a knight which formed the crown of the penis.

“This is the King!” Clarissa’s dark eyes flashed like green electricity. “Now ladies, let me show you something about this toy. Not only will he light you up, but he lights up himself!” She flicked a switch at the base and the white shaft came to life flashing bright green, then pink then blue. She went on to extol the virtues of how the toy was made but more specifically how it was designed to please the female form. “Ladies as women we can often justify getting something for someone else before we treat ourselves to anything special. Too often we don’t assume responsibility for our own sexuality. We rely on someone else to figure us out. Bring home a toy and you bring home personal satisfaction. Because it’s like I said earlier. If you can’t enjoy sex with yourself, how can you expect anyone else to enjoy it with you?”

There it was again.

So simple and true and for some reason resounding even more clearly to me than it had when I first heard it.

“Hallelujah!” Mahjong said saluting Clarissa.

“Johnny who?” Jenny slurred to the delight of the women around her.

I looked up at Clarissa and was surprised to see her looking back at me. Was it the alcohol that made me think she could see right through my soul? Like somewhere deep in those dark green eyes she could see past my facades and fears. Everything she had said resonated like crystal chimes above the growing murky fog of liquor sloshing around my brain. Could she know what a deeply profound impact her presentation was having on me?

“And with that dazzling light show ladies, I end my presentation for the night. I’ll be in the bedroom down the hall to take your orders.” Clarissa bowed gently then turned her back to the clapping mass of drunken women. Within minutes she had loaded up her display bag and slipped off to Isabelle’s bedroom.

Isabelle handed out pieces of paper with a number on it to everyone. I held on to my piece of paper flipping it from 6 to 9 and giggling at my own idiocy until the buxom blonde friend of Jenny’s came up to me and tapped me on the shoulder.

“Are you an Indian? Jenny said there was an Indian coming to her wedding.”

I didn’t know whether to correct her and tell her the term was South Asian or to tell her I was as North American as she was.

“I guess that’s me,” I said, hiding my numbered piece of paper in my palm.

“She said you were going to wear some kind of traditional Indian clothes at the wedding. I think that’s so cool!”

Where the hell was Mahjong?

“I’m not planning on it. I have a nice blue dress I can wear.”

It was the only one that fit.

She leaned her massive chest toward me and twirled her pig tails. “So I guess that you know all about the Kama Sutra right?”

“Oh no,” I said tipping against her in my own drunken numbness, “my people may have written the Kama Sutra but we forgot to read it.” I saw the momentary pause for comprehension in her eyes and then marveled at how large her mouth was when she threw it open to laugh out loud.

“So you must know about tantra too. Do you do tantra sex?” Her eyes were wide, her anticipation as big as her heaving breasts.

“Tantra? It’s my mantra!” I lied. “But I can’t-ra tell you or I’ll have to kill you.” She laughed so hard I thought I saw her teeth rattling in her head.

“There you are!” Mahjong said pulling me away from the blonde. “Do you want to go home?”

“But I’m number 9. Which is also number 6. Look! Which could also be 69.” I laughed so hard I snorted through my nose.

“So you’re ready to go home then.” Mahjong smirked at me.

“No!” I said with more urgent insistence than I intended. “My people wrote the Kama Sutra dammit! I should go in there and reclaim my place in the sexual history of my ancestors.”

“What the fuck are you talking about Lee? Your people are suburbanites that drive SUV’s. You can’t twist like those people in the Kama Sutra. You’re not some bendy brownie. You don’t have to prove anything.”

Then why did I feel like I did have something to prove? There was a hint of a challenge in Mahjong’s eyes that made me instinctively want to rise up to it. It wasn’t just the liquor talking. It was years of suppression and personal angst bursting out. In under two hours, I felt the seams of my entire existence begin to unravel.

Your people wrote the Kama Sutra.

You’re not some bendy brownie.

If I wasn’t those things then what was I?

I heard number 9 called out.

I removed Mahjong’s hand from my arm and grabbed my purse. As I crossed the threshold into Isabelle’s bedroom, the sight of the consultant’s bag spilling open with product was almost enough to send me screaming back to my safety blanket. It looked like the carnage of a sex store being beaten to death; vibrators and bottles of lubricant strewn everywhere where blood and guts would be.

“I’m sorry,” I apologized as I closed the door behind me. “I’m very nervous. It’s my first time.”

“I won’t bite,” Clarissa said with a smile flipping a fresh bill of sale open.

“I think the last brave thing I did before tonight was pick the bold coffee in the cafeteria instead of the light blend.”

“You have a good sense of humor,” Clarissa said and smiled.

“You haven’t met my mother. You need one to survive living with her.”

“What’s your name?”

I hesitated. I could just imagine that somehow word of my presence at this party would get back to my mother. Quick! Think of another name! Polly – no I don’t look perky enough to be a Polly. Maria – I don’t look Italian enough. Sushmita – I wasn’t even sure how to spell it.

“My name is Leena,” I said.

“That’s a very pretty name. Do you know what you want to buy Leena?”

“Everything!” I blurted out. I dropped my gaze. “I’m embarrassed to say I think I have never had an orgasm before.” The sentence tumbled from my mouth with surprising ease. When the words were finally out of me, I felt an overwhelming feeling of release.

“Then today’s your birthday!” Clarissa wrote down my name in the bill book in front of her.

“It’s in December actually.” The edge of my drunken buzz had worn off and I realized what she meant. “Oh, I get it. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, Leena. Take your time. When you’re ready, you can buy a toy and have another kind of birthday. For now, take baby steps.”

I looked down at the check marks and tiny notes I had scribbled on my paper menu. I had made them small enough so that no one else could read them but in the dim light of the room the joke was on me. I couldn’t make out any of the markings either. Just as I tried to decipher my own handwriting I noticed the words battery operated boyfriend that Mahjong had written on the back page, the first letters of each word suddenly making it clear to me why vibrators were referred to as B.O.B. I laughed out loud in a delayed reaction to the joke that had taken place nearly two hours ago. I squirmed when I saw Clarissa patiently smiling at me.

“The bunny seemed good,” I said, with a bit of hesitation. “I don’t think I’m ready for the King.”

“Absolutely. That’s a great choice.” Clarissa’s warm green eyes looked even more endearing in the soft lights of Isabelle’s bedroom.

“I want to live!” I suddenly yelped like some second rate actress in a B horror movie. Clarissa smiled and although she was receptive and warm, I felt embarrassed at how I must look to a complete stranger. Something was bubbling up inside me and it wasn’t just the rum.

“What I meant to say was I want to buy all of these things.” I tried to sound calm. I handed her my list hoping she could make more sense of the scribbles than I could. To Clarissa’s credit, she took out each item I had put a mark next to and explained again how to use it while I decided whether or not I really wanted them.

“And the parachute chuddy too!” I said as she put the last item I ordered in a bag.

“Sorry, what is that?”

“The underwear with the hole for those bad days when you want to grocery shop and forget your troubles.”

“Oh, you mean crotchless panties!”

“No more bad days for me.”

In the end, I handed Clarissa my MasterCard and my trust hoping in the sober light of day I wouldn’t regret what I had purchased and would remember the sweet excitement burgeoning in my chest as I said yes to every item she held up to me. I walked out with two large black bags packed with products that filled me with equal amounts of extreme anxiety and extreme anticipation.

Mahjong waited for me at the front door with the most peculiar smile curling her lips.

“Good thing you brought your credit card eh, Lee?” Her eyes twinkled as she handed me my coat.

“I didn’t have any idea, Mahjong. It’s like I’ve been sleeping for thirty-two years.” Mahjong smiled at me and wrapped my coat around my shoulders as Isabelle came over to say goodbye.

“Did you have a good time, Lee?” she asked.

“I sure did. I was just blown away.”

Isabelle looked down at the two big bags in my hands and then to Mahjong. “From the size of those bags, it looks like Manny is going to be the one getting blown away tonight. Now if you’ll excuse me I have to round up some cabs for these horny drunk bitches!”

Once Mahjong and I were in the car, she immediately threw her bag in my lap. “Open it if you want.” A part of me was more than curious to see what she had bought for herself since I didn’t see her go into the sales room. I peered in and found a satin bag with the King inside. She had also bought some lubricant in the grape flavor and then much to my surprise I suddenly found my hands on Hank.

“Holy crap! That does feel like skin!”

“You better believe it!” Mahjong said reaching her hand over to pet the top of the penis. “He reminds me so much of Huge. I mean Hugh. Ah, I miss that loser sometimes.”

I studied the cyber-penis in my hand with unabashed excitement. Mahjong smiled at me but said nothing.

“Do you want to know what I bought?”

“Only if you want to show me Lee.”

“I want to show you what I bought.” I marveled at how much more excited I felt about showing Mahjong what I had bought than I had been making the purchases. “I bought the blue bubble bath for making your muscles relax.” She seemed uninterested. “I bought this hot stuff in a few flavors to begin with.”

“I have that.”

“And I bought some lubricant.”

“Me too.”

“I bought… I bought… the rabbit toy too.” I paused to create dramatic effect. It was after all the first vibrator I had ever purchased.

“What else?” Mahjong asked matter-of-factly.

Her reaction disappointed me. I could feel my buzz completely fizzle.

“The game,” I said flatly refusing to act like it bothered me that she didn’t congratulate me on my monumental purchase.

“That game looks lame. But let me know if it’s any good. I think you’ll get laid the second he sees you come in the house with the big bags alone!” Mahjong howled out loud laughing at her own joke.

“Mahjong?”

“Yup?”

“I have to tell you something.”

I took a deep breath.

“Sure.” Mahjong’s eyes were focused on the highway ahead of us.

“I’ve never…”

“Had an orgasm,” she finished. “I know.”

It took all my courage and bravery to make my confession for the second time that night and instead of a reaction of shock or surprise, she made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal.

“How did you know?” I wailed.

“What the fuck? It’s obvious! I’ve known you like fifteen or sixteen years now, right? You think I never pay attention? Anyway I blame that fucker Nick for messing with your head all those years. He screwed up your self-esteem and he made you feel bad about yourself. Anyway, forget that jackass. I’m not going to waste any more time being careful how I put things to you. What I don’t know is why you felt like you needed to lie to me all these years.”

I was reminded of a few conversations we had in the past. Once when we were in university Mahjong flat out asked me if I had ever had an orgasm and I lied. A second time, a year into my marriage to Manny, she asked again. I lied again. She never pressed the issue after I gave her my answer both times.

“I don’t know why I lied,” I said, fidgeting with my seatbelt. “I can’t believe you knew all along and never said anything.”

“Don’t put this on me, Lee. I wanted to help you but every time I asked, you said, “Yeah sure Mahjong.” What the hell was I supposed to say? Prove it? I knew you were too embarrassed and I wasn’t going to put you on the spot.”

“Thanks,” I muttered under my breath.

“What I don’t get is why you’re telling me now. I’ve asked so many times over the last few years and suddenly we go to this party and you say it just like that.” I could tell instantly that she was hurt that it took a total stranger to bring it out of me.

“I would never have said it if you hadn’t forced me to come to the party tonight.”

Suddenly there was too much tension in the air between us.

“Well, anyway, whatever. I’m glad you got a toy,” Mahjong said, her pride obviously still a bit wounded. “Do you know how to use it?”

“I – uh. I – well…”

“It’s really very instinctual. Don’t be embarrassed to ask me questions. Cause you can ask me anything Lee.”

She sounded so sincere but I found it hard to get past how awkward I suddenly felt. “For sure,” I said as easily as I could. “I will ask you, but I hope to be able to figure it out on my own. I’m not a total sexual loser. The toy goes in my ear right?”

It took her a few seconds before she let a smile curl her lips and then Mahjong quickly reached over and squeezed my knee with her hand.

“Leena,” she said, taking a deep breath, “I’m really proud of you.”

I felt tears sting my eyes.

“Well I don’t know how Manny will react,” I said “I never talked to him about it really. All this time we’ve been married and I’ve never talked about it.”

I was getting more and more anxious as we approached the house. How do you come home from a sex party with a big bag of toys and bring up subjects with your husband that you haven’t ever broached the entire time you have been married? Where do I start?

By the time Mahjong drove me home, it was just past 11:30 p.m. I scurried upstairs and, like a drug dealer trying to hide a stash from the police, I frantically scouted out a suitable hiding place for all my newly acquired loot.

I decided to hide the bags in the spare room behind the plastic totes I had been asking Manny to go through since we first moved in. I reached into one bag, found the golden box with the sleeve toy for him and removed it from its casing. I figured it would be easier for him to accept how much money I had spent if he saw that there was something in it for him.

I lay down on our bed, my mind still racing, as I flicked the pink sleeve back and forth in my hands hearing it flop and crackle with each whack of my palm.

How did a night of a few drinks, some racy underwear and a bunch of vibrating toys suddenly force my eyes wide open?

Why was it that suddenly something didn’t feel right anymore?

I’d only had sex with two other men before Manny. My first boyfriend Jonathan was a cook in the university cafeteria. He was a soft-hearted romantic that doted on me, constantly professing his love. I was so convinced that my mother would die from a heart attack if I brought home the kitchen staff that I ended our brief love affair before it really got a chance to start. I met Nick in my second year of university. I was enamoured with him from the moment I saw his large muscular frame and heard his deep booming voice. Despite all my efforts, I never felt secure enough in his love to justify the wrath I would get from my mother because I had fallen in love with a ghora. When we broke up, I lost all hope I would ever meet anyone, until Manny came along.

I looked over at the alarm clock on the side dresser: 12:09 a.m. Just as I started to panic about whether my husband was dead or alive, I heard a key in the door downstairs.