2. Rune
Chapter Two
Rune
I woke to the insistent burbling of my cell phone, which, as I swam up to consciousness, I realized had been ringing for a while. I fumbled for it blindly, my eyes still refusing to open all the way.
" 'Lo?" I slurred.
"It's a FaceTime call, dork," I heard Lindsey's voice say. "Pull the phone away from your ear and look at it."
"No." I ended the call and flopped back to the bed, but I kept the phone on my chest.
A second or two later, it burbled again. I answered and held it at arm's length. "What?" I demanded, peering at the screen. "And why are you FaceTiming me at…six in the fucking morning?"
"Be cause ," she drawled, dragging out the last syllable into a sing-song, "we have a major, major emergency. As in code red, all hands on deck."
"You forgot your vibrator at home?" I guessed.
"This is no time for jokes!" she yelled. "And no, I would never. Lady Clitoria goes everywhere I go."
I stared at her. "No."
"No, what?"
"You did not name your vibrator Lady Clitoria."
“It's not a vibrator, first of all, sinner . Vibrators are so Gen X. It’s a clitoral stimulator. There's a difference."
I rolled my eyes at her, wiggling my middle and ring fingers at her. "Well, whore , my clitoral stimulators go with me everywhere, too, but I don't have a stupid name for them. They're just called fingers .”
"You're missing out on seriously next-level orgasms, Rune. For real. I bought you one for your birthday—are you telling me you haven’t even tried it?" She shook her head with a sad, disappointed sigh. "Rune, Rune, Rune. Try it, girl. For real. It'll change your sex life. You’ll thank me.”
"I don't have a sex life, at the moment, Linz. I haven't had sex since I broke up with Hayes Motherfucking Willoughby."
Cue the horrified reaction.
"You what ? Not even a hookup?"
"Linz…that's what no sex means. It's on purpose, also."
"You've gone more than two months without fucking anyone… on purpose ?” She shook her head again. "Girl. Girl . The Old Ones did get one thing right: the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else."
"The Old Ones?" I echoed. "Why do you hate on the older generations so much?"
"Because my parents are the worst, and so are all their friends. They ruined the Earth, the government, and everything else with it. They—"
"Save the political bullshit, Linz," I snapped. "You can miss me with that shit. It's not just them. It's a fucking group effort."
She rolled her eyes at me. "Fine. Keep your head in the sand. But for real, you need to get laid."
“Nevermind my sex life,” I said. “What's the emergency that required a FaceTime at fuck-o-clock in the morning?"
She rubbed her face with both hands, groaning. "The hotel here in Ketchikan, where Hamish and Raquel were going to have the wedding, reception, and stay for their first night together, had a really bad electrical fire last night. The whole place is fucked. It all but burned to the ground.”
"Oh…shit. That's not good at all. The wedding is in three days."
"Not good?" Lindsey repeated. "It's a fucking catastrophe!
It was pure dumb luck they had a last-minute cancellation in the first place—they're normally booked at least a year out.
And so is everywhere else! There is literally not a single hotel or event center in all of Ketchikan with any openings before next fucking July!
And we have our entire friend group flying in tomorrow for a wedding…
but we have no location and nowhere for anyone to stay. "
"Fuck.” I winced. "What am I supposed to do about it, though? I forgot my magic wand back in LA.”
Lindsey sighed. "You know, Rune, you don't have to be sarcastic all the time .”
"Yes, I do. It's a feature, not a bug.”
“I…you…” she groaned. “Whatever. Anyway. I was calling because your fake date, Duncan? He’s a local. I was thinking maybe he'd have an idea, or something."
I groaned. "Linz, come on. Really? I’ve already roped him into going to the wedding for the sole intention of pissing off Hayes Motherfucking Willoughby.”
"Rune…it's Hamish and Raquel. Their wedding is ruined if we don't find a solution. Not to mention the fifty people who all bought flights and booked rooms. Can't you just talk to him? I know you've been texting him."
I've been at the Kitty every night, flirting with him, that's what I’ve been doing.
We texted once, yesterday, and that was Duncan asking if he should have his tux dry cleaned or just wear a regular suit.
I may have told him to wear his tux, even though no one else is going to be in black-tie; I'm funny that way.
"Fine. I'll get a hold of him later this morning."
"Rune—"
"Linz, he's a bartender. The bar closes at two, and he's the manager. He probably didn't get to bed until three. I'm not waking the poor man up at six in the morning."
"Ugh, fine. Be all nice and logical and shit."
"I'll let you know what he says the moment I talk to him, okay? I promise. I'll do what I can."
"You're the best, Rune."
"I know."
She vanished from the screen in a swirl of blonde hair, reappearing with a pink object in her hands. "Behold, Lady Clitoria, my second-best friend, giver of epic orgasms."
"When you say she goes everywhere with you…?” I said, as a leading question.
"Well, not everywhere . Like, I don’t just carry her around in my purse." She tapped her lips, thinking. "Although…a nice little lunchtime O might not be a bad thing."
"Linz."
She flapped a hand. "Anyway. The point is…you need to try yours."
"I didn't pack it, Linz."
She grinned. "Check your suitcase. The zipper pocket of the flappy-thing between the halves."
I left the phone on the bed, crawled to the foot end, and leaned over to check where she said. Sure enough, the "clitoral stimulator" was there, still in the box.
"Linz. I don't like sex toys."
“Only because you haven't tried that one."
"Linz—"
"If you're not getting piped, at least treat yourself to a good orgasm."
"Piped? You're so crass, sometimes."
"And you're strangely prudish, sometimes."
"You take that back, Lindsey Noreen Buckley."
“Not the dreaded full name!” she gasped. "Rune No-Middle-Name Rigby, it's true. You're very un-sexually liberated. You still hold to the toxic patriarchal system."
"Ohmygod. LINDSEY! I am not. I just…I don't do hookups. Casual sex is not my thing. I've tried it on multiple occasions, and it just doesn't do it for me."
"And how is monogamy treating you?" she asked.
"Poorly! Thus, the hiatus from dick. Men suck. They're all cheaters and liars. Unfortunately, I know for a fact I'm not bi or lesbian—I've experimented enough to know that, too."
"Thus…" she held up Lady Clitoria. "This. Doesn’t gaslight, cheat, or lie, never forgets to put down the toilet seat, always comes through with a solid release, and, bonus prizes, it doesn't leave you all drippy afterward."
I gagged. " Drippy ? Gross, Linz.”
She laughed. "Raw-dogging it feels great in the moment, but good lord is it messy."
"I'm hanging up now. I haven’t had enough coffee to deal with your shenanigans."
"Fine, but answer one question, first."
"Maybe."
"Are you or are you not going to let Duncan Badd explore your cave of wonders?"
"Bye- eeeeee !" I sang, drawing out the last syllable, and then ending the call.
Curiosity is a nasty thing. It's subtle, but insistent. Once it gets its hooks into you, it's nearly impossible to resist.
"Lady Clitoria," I mumbled, ripping open the packaging. "Ridiculous. How good can it really be?"
Within the box is a purple device made of some sort of soft, rubbery material with a white oval opening.
"Fine," I say, talking to the thing. "Let's see what you can do. But I'm not giving you some stupid name."
I am talking to it, though.
I wiggled out of my underwear and kicked the sheets away, tucked my heels up against my butt, and held the button until the purple device started vibrating.
Which means it is a vibrator… Lindsey . Whatever.
I closed my eyes and summoned the usual mental fantasy or scenario or whatever you want to call it: A faceless sexy guy who wants nothing but to eat me out until my legs are Jell-O.
Boring, sure, but it's what gets me off.
Only, instead of a faceless dude with big arms and a long tongue, my imagination supplied something more…concrete.
He has messy reddish-brown hair and liquid chocolate eyes that sparkled with wit, intelligence, cocky confidence, and wry humor. He has thick arms and a six-pack—because if there is a god, then Duncan Badd has a six-pack.
In my imagination, Duncan is at the foot of my bed, shirtless in nothing but a pair of tiny shorts, all golden skin and brawn. He prowls toward me, buries his face between my thighs, and…
I centered the vibe over my clit, unsure what to expect.
"FUCK!" I screamed, yanking the thing away. I nearly came, literally instantly.
I cycled through the settings until it was at a lower intensity and tried again. This time, it was merely like being struck by lightning rather than a nuclear apocalypse in my vagina.
Jesus, Linz, warn a girl.
Imaginary Duncan went to work, then, and I could almost feel his big hands on my thighs as he licked and suckled, and I found myself on the cusp of a megalithic orgasm.
I'm not exactly sure what megalithic means, but that's what I’m going with, since this purple device was, as advertised, doing something miraculous to my lady bits.
Usually, it takes me at least five minutes of start-stop bean-flicking to get to this point, and it's been literally less than thirty seconds.
I let go with a shrieked gasp—and accidentally hit the button again, cycling to a higher intensity. My orgasm splintered into something new and titanic, my thighs shaking and my channel spasming as waves of heat smashed through me.
Fuck it—I cycled to the highest setting as a wave of release crested within me, and now I couldn’t breathe to even scream as the orgasm utterly incinerated me.
Holy shit.