"I doubt it. He is assuming that you will tell her."
I confessed.
"I don't really like her. She has always looked down her nose at me. Tell him that his secret is safe for now. For now, mind you."
We got a cab home. Gordon paid the outrageous fare. The house was deafeningly quiet. Spot, our tabby was out, no doubt doing her bit for endangered species. By keeping them endangered. She had a cat flap and would return in her own sweet time. Thomas expected her to be waiting for him and made his displeasure known.
We had a typically enjoyable bath. The relief of being able to laugh was immense.
Thomas was tired and it only took a single reading of "the Hungry Caterpillar" to ease him into that serene dream world, which only the very young inhabit. Spot helped by arriving half way through, sniffing Thomas carefully, then curling next to him and applying her most soporific purr. Spot always treated Gorgeous and I with complete contempt, but viewed Thomas as her surrogate kitten. If Thomas ever cried, Spot would come to alert me. This usually involved sinking her needle like teeth into my ankle.
Leaving Thomas in safe paws, I went to the spare room which was our little gym. I stripped and did half an hour of free weights and sit ups. My bump would soon make those impossible. The endorphin rush was soothing. I had increased my exercise considerably, after Thomas' birth and lost all my pregnancy weight. I did it for Georgia; it was clearly not enough. I choked back a sob, determined not to wallow in self-pity. I went into our bedroom and sat naked in front of the mirror, in full Lotus. I have always been flexible, thanks to all those years doing gymnastics and then diving. Georgia had cured me of my fear of being seen naked. I was actually quite content with my image in the glass. As always I turned my head slightly to hide the scars on the right side of my neck and face.
I needed to think and now was the time to use a technique that I had copied from a book. I had put a tiny dot of red nail varnish at the bottom left hand corner of the mirror. I consciously slowed my breathing and focussed on the dot and I was drawn into it. An hour later I emerged from my trance and went and had my bath, a plan formed in my mind.
I shaved my legs slowly and carefully. Accelerated hair growth was one of the many joys of pregnancy. I needed to get to the hairdresser as I was turning into a blonde Donna Summer. A few years back, Georgia had obtained a slightly dodgy discounted deal, whereby we had our armpits and pubes lasered, so they were spared the blade.
I got out and Spot joined me in the bathroom. What woman doesn't enjoy the sinuous, sensual pleasure of a cat wrapping around freshly shaved legs? At that point Spot was definitely my favourite pussy. Next she threw herself onto my feet and I had to tickle her ears with my toes. The final part of the game was for her to roll on her back and turn up the purr volume. Many a visitor had fallen for this apparent invitation to rub Spot's belly. They never did it twice as the capricious cat would, in a flash sink all her sharp bits into their arm. Thomas excluded of course.
Once dried and fairly relaxed I took Georgia's toy drawer out and rested it on the bed. I had honestly never explored its contents before. It was another symbol of our trust. Well we were beyond that. I was of course surprised at the collection of dildoes, vibrators and a few mystery objects. Yes, I was sexually naive still and I had been stung by Mike's recounting of Georgia's frustration at my apparent frigidity. I quite liked sex and I thought that we had a good love life and I did not love Georgia for her sexual prowess, but for her sheer loveliness. I did not quite blame myself for driving her into Mike's arms, but still felt a strong pang of guilt. I have only ever had one lover and one true friend and she was lying in a hospital bed. I sniffed a couple of the devices. Nothing. Clean girl, my Gorgeous. I actually did not know the difference between a vibrator and a dildo.
There were straight devices of different sizes and shapes; some powered and others (presumably) manual. I lined them up in descending order of size. There was a little pink cone shaped thing and a plastic egg, with a little lead attached to it. I put these side by side in a mental category of "miscellaneous".
Then there were the two double ended soft plastic penises. One had a slightly bendy mid section; the other flopped almost in half, when I lifted it. From my limited experience of heterosexual sex, they felt much too big. Finally there was the blue thing with the long bit, the short, squat handle like bit and the strange thin beaded bit at the back. I turned it in my hand and then dropped it, as I figured out what went where. I could feel myself blushing. These three objects were clearly designed to attach one woman to another. Or to be precise, to attach Georgia to another woman, or women. How could she? I of course, knew the answer to that question. Or maybe they were souvenirs from her younger, friskier days. Maybe she was still waiting for me to demand that she take me like a man.
I pondered how little I knew about sex. Being married to a sex goddess, it felt like we were at it all the time. I never really discussed sex with my girlfriends. They considered me a bit of a prude. I had not felt the need to masturbate, after meeting Gorgeous as she provided me with more than enough orgasms. She liked to watch me do it to myself, with my fingers and I had no difficulty coming, under her intoxicating gaze. It had always felt like the height of kinkiness. At least to me.
I put Georgia's erotic tool kit back into its drawer, all except the smallest piece. It was white and smooth; a bit longer and thicker than my middle finger. I was reminded of the white asparagus, which was such a delicacy when I lived in Germany. I twisted the base and the thing sprang into life, jumping and buzzing. There was clearly a rheostat in the base, which controlled the amount of vibration. I set it about half way and then pressed it against my lips (the upper variety). That felt weird. Then my nipples. Mine, compared with the Goddess are fairly modest, but the sensation was pleasant. Not enough to make them stand up. Tentatively I placed the shaking wand against my scarred right cheek. I dropped it, as it felt like I had been electrocuted. The thing could obviously only hold a tiny amount of current. The damaged nerves clearly did not like the vibration.
Even more nervously I placed the tip of the vibrator against my humble clitoris. That felt good. I spread my thighs and started circling my vulva. I was becoming wet. Then I stopped.
Shit. Tarquin. What was I thinking?
I grabbed a long T-shirt out of the drawer and scooted downstairs and put the kettle on, whilst the PC booted up. I sipped at a cup of camomile tea (vile stuff, but supposed to be calming) and typed "vibrator, pregnancy, safety" into Google, expecting the worst. I was pleasantly surprised to find that they were safe. I discovered a few more things about sex during pregnancy. I had not realised that I was likely to be quite dry, in my delicate state and that orgasm could cause contractions. That had certainly not been a problem in my last pregnancy, nor thus far in this one. "Don't mix orifices," I was warned. Curiouser and curiouser. To be on the safe side, I popped the vibe into a beaker of Milton for 20 minutes and then rinsed it five times. Who knew where it had been.
Happy that I was not going to give Tarquin brain damage, I went back to bed and lay on top in the dark, my trusty new weapon in my left hand. I hitched my T-shirt up a bit and set the thing to battle speed (thoughts of Ben Hur in my head. Funny, not sexy).I thought of Gorgeous and became wet again. I pictured her face, the first time we met; that sardonic smile, those golden eyes, feline and knowing. She looked into my soul and I ran the vibrator up and down my labia, and back to my clit. I turned the little knob on the base.
Attack speed.
I remembered our first kiss and how she took my breath away. I remembered the first time I touched her private parts with my tongue.
Ramming speed.
It was the first time that I had made love. She made me come with her tongue, then her fingers. Oh God, yes, here it was again.
"Oh God, Georgia, I love you." I gasped.
I could hear her coming, panting and growling, but in my head I saw Imogen, her busty older sister, riding her; wearing the blue plastic dong from Georgia's toy drawer. I gasped and pushed the vibrator into my fanny. It slipped from my grip and vanished.
Oh, shit. I had visions of an embarrassing trip to hospital and I started to cry. The accursed sex toy was shaking like a cartoon Tasmanian devil and was transmitting most of its energy into my rectum. It would not be long until I messed myself. I jumped off the bed and ran to the toilet. Fortunately this caused the thing to fall out. Phew.
My bowels quietened and I washed the vibrator thoroughly, and then dropped it back into the weak bleach solution.
