Chapter Six #2
The rest of the meeting goes by in a blur. I can only pay attention to my heart pounding too loud in my chest.
On our way to my car later, and safely out of earshot, L’Wren starts in on me. “What were you thinking? As if it’s not all hard enough. As if we don’t already feel like we’re never doing enough and nothing will ever be good enough, and then you go and make enemies with Tracy Flick?”
“It’s ridiculous. That whole meeting was insane.”
“Diana, you’ve been at this school long enough, don’t act so surprised.
” Safely in my car with the doors shut, she continues, “Last year the Parents League tried to ban Judy Blume from the school library. Not even a mildly racy one. Superfudge. They lost that battle, remember? And they’ll lose this one, too, in the end.
But don’t pick a fight in public with that bully.
Promise me. Not with everything you have… going on.”
“You’re not okay with what I’m doing, are you?”
“I don’t know what it is! It’s all been so hush-hush, remember? You barely even told me about it.”
At the red light where I should be turning right toward L’Wren’s house I say, “Come to the Dirty Diana office.”
“Why?”
“Just come with me. For a visit.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
“Do you?”
“A little.”
—
As we enter the office space, L’Wren covers her eyes and calls, “Is everyone dressed?”
But it’s only Lou up front, who looks up from the reception desk with a baffled expression.
“She’s with me,” I apologize. I take L’Wren by the hand and we nearly smack into Petra as she’s leaving.
“Perfect timing!” I say. As I introduce them they size each other up in a quick swallow.
“Love your Birkin,” Petra coos.
“Love yours! I didn’t know it came in such a beautiful blue.”
“It doesn’t.”
I’m not used to seeing L’Wren outshopped, which only seems to turn her on.
“You don’t need one, darling. You’re perfect,” Petra tells her. She gives L’Wren’s shoulder a gentle squeeze and disappears, leaving L’Wren rattled.
“Was she flirting with me?”
“Kinda? But it’s also how she talks. Do you want to see Liam’s office?”
“He has an office?”
Liam’s space is orderly as usual; today the only clutter is pinned to his bulletin board, an array of the prosthetic scars he makes alongside a severed finger.
He looks up at us in the doorway and grins. “As I live and breathe…”
“It’s so tidy.”
Liam catches my eye. “That’s code for ‘small.’?”
“No. Tidy is tidy. It’s nice.”
“Thank you.”
“You, however, desperately need a haircut.”
“There she is!”
“I can get you with Stephan this Saturday if you’re up before noon.”
Liam’s jaw tightens, and I loop my arm through L’Wren’s.
“Let me show you the rest of the place…” I give her a tour of the soundproof room where I record the interviews, then onto the common room where I like to paint near the big windows.
I introduce her to Lynnie and Max, and then Lou takes her coffee order.
“Can I show you my favorite part?” I lead her to my office, a small sunny space near the back.
“What are these?” L’Wren stops in front of the many notecards taped to my wall.
“Abbreviated fantasies. Fans of the site have been sending in fantasies and we post clips of them on our social.”
“These are all from different women?”
“A few months ago, there were only a handful…”
She studies the wall, reading each one, her eyes occasionally going big, but always smiling.
“Oh, this woman likes feathers…And yarn? Huh. This gal is fantasizing about her daughter’s boyfriend.
That won’t end well. Jesus, Diana, there are hundreds here.
They’re all so honest. It’s amazing how they trust you with all this. ”
L’Wren takes in all the marketing materials scattered around and the photos of me for Vogue. After a slow lap, she takes a seat in a club chair by the open window with her decaf latte.
“I didn’t expect it to be so…welcoming? Or maybe bright?
And the women in your office are so put together.
I’m impressed. If it weren’t for Liam’s scruffy haircut, I’d think you were working at a regular office—” She tries again.
“You know what I mean. It’s real. It’s a whole operation.
Honestly, since I’ve known you, you’ve had a boring finance job, which never seemed like it made sense for you.
And the few times you talked about how you used to paint, your whole face would light up.
And then you’d change the subject. So I get it.
” She looks up at me as if in apology before her eyes come to rest on the photos of me.
“But I guess I wonder, do you have to be the face of it?”
“I do the interviews and the paintings. It’s my voice. Don’t you think it would be strange if it weren’t me out there?”
“Maybe it would add to the mystery? Like Dear Abby? I don’t think any of us believe that teeny picture in the paper is really her.
It’s probably a hundred different people giving us advice—” L’Wren looks down at her lap, then back at me.
“Diana. Think of all the moms at our school who read Vogue. And really, it only takes one before everyone is gossiping. I just want you to think about it.”
“I am. I will. I promise.”
“Okay. And I’ve changed my mind. About you telling Oliver. Not because of any gossip. But because, look at all this. This is a real part of your life. He needs to know about it.”
“Thank you.”
She takes the last sip of her coffee. “Can we go now?”
“You’re still uncomfortable?”
“There are seven different-colored vibrators on your desk.”
I follow her gaze to the vibrator prototypes, neatly lined up next to my laptop.
“Would you like to try one?”
“No, thank you.” For the first time today, her cheeks go pink.
“L’Wren?”
“Hmmmm?”
“You have used a vibrator before, haven’t you?”
She crinkles her nose. “I was always too terrified someone would find it. Like in the movies.”
“You could keep it somewhere safe.”
“Those stores intimidate me.”
“Buy one online.”
“With weird names that show up on your credit card bills?”
“Like ‘Amazon’?”
“Okay, but then what happens to my algorithm?” She sighs. “It’s just not for me.”
“But you have given yourself an orgasm?”
“Diana! Just because you’ve become a sex guru doesn’t mean everything is on the table. I grew up in a house where it was unladyliketo discuss these things.”
“But you always told me about you and Kevin.”
“That was nothing. All the details were what we all know. Calendar sex.”
“Did he make you come?”
She doesn’t answer, just purses her lips.
“Take the blue one. Please. Promise me you will try it.”
“I’m not taking a vibrator.”
“As a favor. Valuable research for a new product.”
“I haven’t. Okay?” Then, dropping into a stage whisper with her eyes glued to the door. “I haven’t had an orgasm. I don’t think I can. They just don’t happen for me. It’s not how I’m built.”
“L’Wren—”
“Don’t. I know, I grew up reading Cosmo too. Maybe I just need to try this, maybe your partner doesn’t know how to blah blah blah.”
“What about with Arthur?”
“I fake it. Just to take the pressure off.”
Kirby knocks on my door with a question, and L’Wren relaxes back into her chair. I excuse myself and promise to drive her home in five minutes. When I come back to collect her, we scoop up our purses and head for the door. I glance back at my desk, delighted to see the blue vibrator is gone.
I want sex to be fun again. I want to be on a roller coaster about to fly down the steepest drop and have my boyfriend inside me.
I want to stay up all night dancing and collapse into bed with just enough energy to fuck.
I want my boyfriend to take me aside at a party for a quickie in the host’s bedroom. I just want sex to be fun again.