Chapter Thirty-Seven
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
The absolute worst part of coming home is the empty house. The silence reverberating through every room. The deserted backyard with no one weeding or playing with the dog. The vacant couch with no one stretched out snoring. Even with Heartthrob here, following me around with unusual attentiveness, everything still seems too quiet. Like I’ve stepped into a vacuum.
I take out my phone when I get home Friday night and pull up Anton’s number. Maybe he’d answer if I actually dialed. But what would I say?
I swipe away instead, selecting the number I’ve called every evening for the past five days.
“Hey. This is your daily check-in. Have you been abducted or murdered?” I ask, scooping food into Heartthrob’s dish.
“I am alive and well at this moment, thanks,” Caprice says with a dry laugh. “Not even any new threats. I actually haven’t had one in...three whole days.”
“Good,” I breathe. “Maybe this has blown over enough you can finally relax?”
“The Bustle follow-up drops Sunday, so . . . I kind of think not.”
I open the fridge in an effort to feed myself. “Have you considered other areas of journalism? Sports and fitness?”
“Maybe if I hadn’t already been fronted payment for the next two articles. Marital happiness is on the decline, and people are eating up the married-dating thing.”
I close the fridge and sink to a kitchen chair, thinking of the lists of faces on Unmatched. Anton hasn’t been back on the app. At least, not that I can tell. I can’t really see him scrolling for girls at his mother’s bedside. But I suppose I’ve been wrong about him before.
“Hey,” Caprice says gently. “How are you doing?”
I let out a slow breath. “Oh, you know...”
“Any word on your mother-in-law?”
I swallow. “Seth says nothing’s changed and she could be that way a while. Says Anton hardly speaks to him. I—I just wish I was there. For both of them. For her.”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “I know this is hard.”
I shrug to myself, straightening the napkins in front of me. “You want to hang out tonight? I upgraded my streaming subscription.”
“Actually, my brother’s on his way here from the airport,” she says, sounding distracted.
“Oh.” I furrow my brow. “I thought Theo was still overseas.”
“Apparently he’s on leave, and he just has to see me about...Um, well, it’s complicated. Maybe we can meet up for lunch next week and I’ll be able to fill you in.”
Something in her voice sounds off, but I pull the phone away from my ear and swipe over to my calendar, figuring she’ll tell me more when I see her. “I think I can do that.” I grimace. “Though maybe not till Thursday.”
She chuckles. “Sure you don’t want to reconsider the Pooches offer?”
A pang shoots through my chest. I filled Caprice in about everything—Anton, Sharon, the offer from Henry—right after he left Sunday. The amount of money also blew her mind, but after I explained my business goals, she supported my decision.
“Hey, I was just joking,” she says when I struggle to respond. “You made the right choice. Anton’s a douche for not seeing that, but you don’t need him. I’m excited to watch you blow the top off the Denver pet industry.”
“Thanks,” I say quietly. Heartthrob finishes licking his empty dish across the floor, and I stand to let him out in the yard to chase a squirrel. “I’m going to go walk my dog. Then maybe binge-watch that new mystery series.”
“Uh, not to sound like a broken record, but a trip to the gym might make you feel better...”
“Yeah, I think you have said that before,” I quip, staring at an old pair of running shoes Anton left by the back door. Caprice has been trying to convince me to drown my sorrows in endorphins, but I much prefer Ben he’s probably not even coming back. And I’m here. Just me.
After crossing the room to close the door, despite telling myself no one’s going to walk in, I slide open the drawer of my nightstand and remove the toy tucked inside. The salesgirl suggested I “practice” anyway, so I guess that’s what I’m going to do. I pull the drawstring of the black velvet storage bag it came with and pull out the silky pink phallus, examining it in my palm. It isn’t as heavy as I remember, but when my thumb locates the on switch and it buzzes to life, I let out an audible gasp.
Heartthrob raises his head from where he’s snoozing in his dog bed, and I click it off quickly, then laugh at my own mortification over my dog seeing my sex toy.
I try the power button a few more times, cycling through different patterns and levels of vibration—all of them somehow too loud—turning it over in my hands. I’m not sure why, but the little rabbit ears appendage intimidates me more than the big hot-pink shaft.
Once I’ve got a handle on the vibrator’s basic functions, I skim the lengthy section on masturbation in the “Classic Guide.” It actually suggests starting with just fingers before introducing a toy, which is a tiny relief. I set the rabbit aside, pausing to put on some music so all my overthinking doesn’t echo through my brain quite so loudly. Then I lean back into the pillows and take a deep breath.
I pull at the belt of my robe, shyly parting the fabric and taking in the landscape. I’ve never waxed or anything, but I try to keep pretty well-trimmed below deck. Reclining the way I am, my waist seems small and attractively flat. My breasts are pale and full, falling slightly to the sides. One of my nipples is slightly inverted, which my doctor has assured me is normal. Sometimes it peeks out, especially if I’m cold, but I guess it’s feeling like the rest of me right now because there’s no sign it’s coming out. I squeeze gently the way my gynecologist showed me, and it pops up for a second. Tentatively, I touch both nipples, but it just seems kind of clinical, like I’m doing a breast exam or something.
Loads of fun.
Just to be thorough, I reach down, checking for any signs of arousal. My vagina, like most I’m sure, isn’t a total desert. But there’s clearly not a whole lot of fluid action going on. It seems about as welcoming to my touch as a naked nun. I check the guide again, which encourages using a moist finger to stroke over and around the clitoris. Saliva is suggested as a lubricant, but that kind of wigs me out, so I open up the little bottle from Playful Pleasures. The clear lube is silky and light, and thankfully doesn’t seem to smell like anything. I pour a few drops on my fingers, hesitate, then reach between my legs, searching for the sensitive little nub tucked in the folds just above my vagina.
Per the guide, I start making circles on and around it, spreading my legs open a little for better range of motion. This actually kind of does something. It’s not overpowering or anything, but the sensation is pleasant. Almost like some little bit of me is waking up. I open my legs a little wider and change direction a few times, sliding up and down lengthwise, which is also quite nice. Still not intense, but it feels like things are building, and will continue to build if I keep this up.
The article emphasized paying attention to other erogenous zones like breasts and nipples too, so without removing my right hand, I reach to explore there. Surprisingly, my one shy nipple has decided to come out to play. I give it a light squeeze, and I’m surprised when this time the sensation seems to shoot down between my legs. Almost like the areas are connected. After another minute or two, I realize there’s been a shift in my lower regions. Things feel different—my skin flushed and hot instead of tight and clammy. When I run my fingers over the delicate tissues, they’re moist and swollen—not a lot, not painfully—just enough to make everything feel...well, turned on .
Oh wow. Is that what that means?
I glance over at the pink rabbit lying next to me on the bed, and though my whole body is already warm, my cheeks burn a little hotter. I look again toward the closed door, to my dog sleeping peacefully in his bed, then I roll my eyes at myself and pick up the toy.
It hums to life in my hand, and my memory flashes to last weekend when Anton was the one wielding it between my legs. Are you ready? he whispered, bare-chested, looking up at me. And then he plunged it into my slick, waiting flesh. I imagine him there again as I lower the toy to my center, urging it gently between my folds. I flinch at the sudden contact but start sliding the vibrator up and down, letting it grow slick with my body’s arousal. I find a rhythm the way I’d done with my fingers, and my legs part a little more. My eyes fall closed as I move the toy lower, imagining it in Anton’s hands as the tip hums against my flesh, finding its way to my entrance. My center throbs with anticipation as I pause outside, just the way he did.
Something seems to curl within me then, and I thrust my hips, pushing the tip inside, gasping at both the intrusion and what a relief it is. The strange, unyielding shape fills me again, much like my husband, except also completely different. Slowly, I begin guiding the rabbit in and out of my vagina, its slick, wet sounds making me groan as I explore deeper with each thrust. My muscles tighten around the toy, welcoming it like this is everything I’ve been waiting for, this fullness and friction.
I close my eyes, letting my head fall back on my pillow. My hips buck, and I realize I’m imagining Anton inside me, mimicking his thrusts and attentions. I ache, thinking of his body, hot and strong, joined with mine. And then, with the next rock of my hips, without really preparing myself at all, the rabbit sinks deeper, and its little ears touch down on my wet, throbbing clit.
Suddenly, in my mind, Anton is everywhere. Thrusting inside me, pinching my nipples, sucking my clit all at once. My core tightens and I let out a cry, bucking and thrusting the toy between my legs as my muscles spasm and euphoria rolls through me. I ride the wave, my body’s pulses, urging it on and on and on until finally, regretfully, it slowly fades away.
I find the off switch on the toy and go completely still, letting my hand fall to my side in the silence. I open my eyes, and my gaze lands on the bed beside me. The big, empty space where Anton ought to be. I reach out, tracing my fingers over his pillow, until suddenly I grab it, pulling it to my chest. I crush it against my body, breathing in his scent, desperate for his warmth. My body curls around it, still humming from the fantasy of him as I cry into the fabric.