4. Paige
CHAPTER FOUR
Paige
Humiliation has been haunting my dreams for two days straight. It’s typical of my mind to replay my worst memories over and over again, but it’s not something you can ever get used to.
My phone shows a text from my dad inviting Jordan, Emma, and me to a fancy dinner. Dad is a very dramatic person, so events like this are nothing new. Locking my phone, I stare toward my backyard deck with a cup of coffee in hand, wondering if I have the time to get outside.
There’s a green expanse in my yard, fueled by the lingering summer warmth.
It’s desperate for a trim, and I make a mental note to buy a new mower.
I check the blooming trees in my small orchard.
There’s a cherry, two apples, and, of course, a fig tree.
It’s hard to believe I used to live in a thirty-story skyscraper, but there’s nowhere I felt more at home than here, in Fig Bay.
While Jordan and I grew up in the city, our dad grew up here.
When our grandmother got sick, he bought a massive property in the small town and built a house to be closer when he wasn’t working.
Jordan and I spent so much time here, he ended up buying us each a cottage with a small backyard.
After our grandmother died, he went back to spending most of his time in the city, but Jordan and I relocated fully.
This place was also where I licked my wounds when I got my heart broken.
With a final glance outside, I lower my coffee cup into the undermounted farm sink. Though my heart pulls toward the deck, my brain knows there’s no time to mess around. My deadline is five days away, and I still haven’t written anything.
After my delivery guy mortification, I could barely stand looking at the boxes he brought, let alone try them out. Now, my procrastinating time is over. It’s time to pull on my big girl pants, or better yet, pull them off, and get this thing over with.
The boxes are neatly hidden in the basket intended for extra blankets that sits next to one of my two light gray chairs.
I extract them and quickly drop them onto my matching sofa.
My hand practically shakes as I grab the one closest to me.
It’s silly, I’m a grown ass woman who’s afraid to touch a vibrator.
It’s not that I never masturbate, but using toys just seems so awkward.
Why should I need batteries to do something my body should be able to do on its own?
And it does, on the rare occasion I indulge in some self-love.
I don’t know if my thoughts are my own or something my ex planted into my mind, but they’re definitely in bloom.
Steeling myself with a deep inhale, I glance at the photo on the box, which shows a purple shape close to a candy cane but with a much wider base.
To my relief, the instructions say to leave the wide part outside.
I gently open the box, careful not to destroy it.
The toy weighs more than I expected. It’s almost pretty.
The silicone surface is smooth, and the curved top of the candy cane is less threatening than I expected.
Still, I bite my lip, looking around the room. I can’t do this here, in the living room. Here is where I entertain guests. I’d have that image in my mind every time someone visits me, and my flushing skin would showcase the level of my embarrassment.
Double checking if I locked the front door, I bring the toy back into my bedroom.
The focal point, beside the massive monstera, is the spacious bed with a cushioned gray headboard and gray and pink sheets and pillows.
The room isn’t big, so there’s space for only a couple of nightstands and a dresser.
I pull the heavy peach-colored curtains for extra privacy.
My bedroom looks out my back yard, but you never know when Linda could decide to wander onto my property.
My back hits the covers while I wonder if I should take my clothes off.
I’m dressed in a worn T-shirt and a pair of sleeping shorts, ones I can easily pull to the side, so I decide to skip undressing.
Lying naked in the middle of the day would make me even more uncomfortable.
My fingers wrap around the wide base of the toy as I pull my shorts to the side with my other hand.
I press the curved part of the toy to my entrance, closing my eyes in preparation.
Nothing happens.
Shit, there’s probably a button I should press.
I’m usually the type to study the instructions before using a new appliance, but I was way too nervous to do this today.
Meaning I have no idea what I’m doing. My heart rate picking up, I fumble with my fingers until I find a button and push it. The toy starts up, making me buckle.
It takes me only a second to realize my problem. I’m supposed to place the toy inside of me and my lady parts are as dry as a desert. There was a small foil package that fell out of the box when I opened it. It could be the lubricant.
The loud buzz stops as I turn the toy off and take it with me back into the living room. The packet I’m searching for sits on top of an extra blanket and I release a sigh when I read water-based lubricant on it.
I can do this. I can try these out and write a damn good article. After a short pep talk, I start back for the bedroom. Just as I pass the front door, the doorbell rings, freezing me in place.
My cheeks heat in an instant, realizing that I’m standing in the middle of my hallway with a sex toy in hand.
The doorbell rings again, and I shudder, realizing there’s no way to escape.
My brain finally starting back up, I zero in on the small side table behind the door, one that hosts an aloe vera plant and I hurriedly place the toy and the lubricant packet on it, rushing to open the door.
I don’t realize I’m wearing my sleeping clothes, until my eyes connect to the icy gray ones before me. His thick beard begs to have hands in it and his uniform looks even better than it did the other day.
“Hi,” he says in that deep, husky tone.
“Hi,” I parrot back, praying to God that my nipples haven’t fought their way through this ancient high school t shirt.
“Got another delivery for you.” There’s a smirk on his lips, one that looks too good for me to put two and two together. When he hands me the package, my body flushes all over.
I was sure there was no way to feel more humiliated than I did the last time he rang my doorbell. Oh, how wrong I was.
Because yesterday can’t compare to the mortification I feel right now, holding a box that contains probably a foot long neon blue tentacle dildo.
I wouldn’t even know it’s meant to be a dildo if there weren’t giant letters stating it.
Giant letters right next to the label with my name and address on it.
“Th-these are not mine…” I start. “M-my sister, she ordered it for…” I don’t finish the sentence when a thud sounds out from behind me. A thud followed by a loud, resounding buzz.
My head snaps back, though there’s no need. I know exactly what happened. In another grotesque twist of fate, the toy that I’ve hidden behind the door fell smack down in the middle of my hallway, hitting the on button and started up.
Two things happen at once. I reach my doorknob and the poor man starts talking. “It’s okay, really. Happens to anyone.”
There’s no way I could look at him again after what just transpired so I forget my manners and close the door in his face.
Turning the lock, I drop the package onto the floor and leave the other toy to buzz freely.
I make my way to my fridge where I pull out a half-drunk bottle of wine.
It’s barely after ten am, but desperate times call for desperate measures.
I’ll need to move. There’s no other way around this.
I turn to my open-plan kitchen and living room, my heart squeezing in my chest. My gaze trails the antique kitchen cabinets I painted white and the tall green credenza I found at the side of the road and turned into a beauty.
Plants fill every free inch of floor space, lining the way toward the living room which is exactly what I wanted in my home.
I don’t grab a glass but rather walk to my patio, slumping down onto my lounge sofa. I down a massive sip of wine, the acid burning down my throat. The open bottle probably sat in the fridge too long, but it’ll do the job.
Half a spoiled wine bottle later, my gaze lands on my laptop. If I need to say goodbye to this house I love so much, I can at least try and keep my job. One thing’s for sure, situations like this, while mortifying for the people experiencing them, can be pretty entertaining for others.