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Committed relationships, one night stands, friends-with-benefits, men, women, both at the same time – I’ve tried just about every combination possible and not a single one has resulted in the kind of happy little moans I can hear coming from Sasha’s bedroom every time her boyfriend, Wes, stays the night.
It’s borderline sickening in a ridiculously sweet kind of way.
I put the finishing touches on my make-up and step back from the mirror. Sasha has already downed her glass of Prosecco and has swiped mine off the bedside table to sip on. I ignore the thievery and turn to face her.
“How do I look?”
She grins. “Fucking stunning.”
Sasha would stay that if I stumbled out of bed at 5am wearing last night’s make-up and a bin bag, but that doesn’t mean it’s not true right now. Leather pants, corset top, my favourite walkable yet sexy heels – this is a tried and tested outfit. Make no mistake about it – someone is coming home with me tonight.
“So, what’s the plan?” Sasha asks, swinging her long legs over to the side so I can drop down onto the bed with her. I snatch my glass away from her and she gives me a pretend pout before reaching for the bottle to refill her own glass.
“No plan,” I say in between sips. “Unless ‘Find someone hot. Bring them back home. Have an orgasm’ counts as a plan?”
Sasha rolls her eyes. “Yes, that’s a given, obviously. But beyond that, what’re we looking for? Just because they’re hot doesn’t mean they know how to fuck, and since we can’t just ask them—”
I snort into my drink. “Oh yeah, that’ll go down well. Excuse me hot person, how would you rate your sexual prowess on a scale of one to ten. One being ‘couldn’t find the clit if I beat you over the head with it’ and ten being—”
“Your sex game is so good; you’ll ruin me for everyone else for the rest of my life.” She sighs happily and a playful grin tugs at her brown lips. “I miss Wes.”
“It’s been a week,” I tell her dryly. “And you’re seeing him tonight.”
Wes is a DJ and has been on tour with an artist around the country for the last week. As much as I like him, it’s been nice not having to hear Sasha’s bed-frame rhythmically rocking against our shared wall every other night.
Don’t get me wrong. Wes is a great guy and I’m happy that Sasha’s found someone who can apparently pinpoint every single one of her many pleasure points in ninety seconds or less, but all it does is remind me that I’ve never had someone who knows and loves my body like that.
It’s not like I’ve never had an orgasm before. My very well loved vibrator can always be counted on to get me where I need to go, but it always feels flat. Like I’m on the edge of something amazing but can’t quite reach it.
“It’s been alongweek,” Sasha giggles. “Shirley has been working overtime.”
Shirley being the vibrator I bought her as a joke last year when Wes was overseas for two months.
“But back to you and Mission:Get Eliott Laid.”
“Getting laid isn’t the problem,” I say, andGod, do I wish it was. If that’s all it took, I wouldn’t be in this position right now – desperately trying to find someone to, as Sasha so helpfully put it,ruin me for everyone else.
I’m starting to think that I’m broken, and that’s just not the kind of thingpositive vibescan fix. At this point, I need a divine intervention.
“You’re right,” Sasha says, nodding seriously. “I’m changing the name to Mission:Big O.” She gives me a mock salute and some more of her Prosecco spills onto my bedsheets. A jolt of irritation pulses through me, but I shove it away. “I’ll be the best wing woman you’ve ever had.”
Being the only person I’ve ever felt comfortable sharing my struggles in the bedroom with, Sasha’s theonlywing woman I’ve ever had. We met at university nearly ten years ago now – two lone black girls in the middle of England desperately trying to find a shop that sold products that worked with our hair types – and we’ve been pretty much inseparable ever since.
When I worked up the courage, about four years into our friendship, to tell her that I’d never had an orgasm with a partner before, Sasha didn’t laugh at me or judge me or run and whisper behind my back like I’d feared. She immediately jumped into ‘well, let’s fix that’ mode and she’s been stuck like that ever since.
I think the day I do finally have an orgasm; Sasha might be happier than me.
My phone buzzes, and I glance at it. In the space of about five seconds, my screen lights up with a quick stream of notifications.
Leanne
ELIOTT!!!!!
PLEASE HELP
EMERGENCY. 999.
ELZZZZZZZZZ
