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“You can’t have your vibrator be the only thing getting you off. Tell me I missed one and you’ve had at least one good fuck since your divorce.”
I studied my margarita.
“Look, your vagina is like an ear piercing. If you don’t put something in it every once in a while, it might just close up on you.”
She was teasing me, but she was right. My vibrator and my fingers had been my only release since Matt.
The guys I had dated were not all bad, but I couldn’t bring myself to take the final leap into getting hot and naked. Some, like Jasper, were complete losers, but with the others, as soon as the question had turned to his place or my place, I’d broken it off and powered up my computer to select another name from the list.
I hadn’t been this picky in college. But now none of them seemed special enough to sleep with.
“It’s tough. I’m just not ready,” I told her, stirring my drink with the straw.
“Stop making excuses. Stop thinking and start acting,” she said. “It’s like riding a bicycle——once you’ve done it, you don’t forget. It’s only two people exercising together. You don’t even have to do much of the work.”
“But I haven’t found the right guy yet.”
“You’re not marrying the guy, for Christ’s sake. Any guy with more than a three-inch penis should be good enough to get it done. You need to pop that post-divorce cherry of yours and move past Matt.”
My rational brain agreed with Vivienne——sex shouldn’t be such a big deal. But these days, emotionally I was terrified.
“We agreed you would get past this,” she continued. “Get over the hurdle with one guy, and the rest will be easy. Have a one-night stand. I know it’s not your thing, but it’s the easiest way to get over this phobia of yours and rejoin the human race. Trust me, everybody else is doing it, and not just once a month either.”
I stirred my drink, contemplating her words. It seemed a big step to sleep with somebody other than Matt and accept that I had screwed up that phase of my life, accept that it was over. It made the mistake more real. Plus, I didn’t want to make the same blunder again and become a pro at failed relationships.
“I guess,” I said.
“He doesn’t even need to speak English. Once his head is between your legs, it won’t matter.”
I clamped my thighs together at that visual.
“With your looks and that rockin’ bod, you could land any one of the guys in this place tonight and get it done.”
“You think so?” I didn’t believe it for a moment. I wasn’t homely, but I’d never put myself high up on the sexpot scale.
“Sure. If they’ve got red blood in their veins, they’ll definitely go for you. Just let him do what comes naturally to a man. It’s easy, and if you’re too nervous about the whole thing, do the starfish.”
“Starfish?” I asked.
Viv was always teaching me things I hadn’t heard before. She was my younger sister, but in middle school she’d had to explain what Mickie had meant the first time he said he wanted me toblow him.He had laughed when I puckered my lips and made like his face was a birthday candle. I was too ashamed to talk to him again all year.
“Starfish. Just lay on your back, go spread eagle, and let him do all the work. It’s better if you participate, but it’ll get the job done. He gets his rocks off, and you get past this hang-up.”
I took another sip of my now-thawed drink.
“Amy, I’m not going to stop bugging you about this. You have to get on with your life. I know you don’t want to become a nun, so stop acting like one. So what if your marriage failed? A lot of them do. You don’t have to be mental about it. You know Matt’s been banging every chick in Brockton he can get his hands on.”
Vivienne had warned me about Matt before I dated him, but had been polite enough to not remind me of that more than once after the divorce.
“But I’m not ready for that kind of relationship yet,” I told her.
“That’s the most fucked-up thing you’ve said yet. We’re talking sex, fucking, boinking, not marriage. You don’t have to be in a relationship with a guy to have sex with him. This is the twenty-first fucking century. Go have a random hookup, a good time with a stranger. You’ll never see the guy again. You can let yourself go.”
I shook my head and played with my glass.
“Didn’t you have a one-night stand in college with that Arnie dude?”
“No,” I admitted.
