"You should really grow up, Rachel! You are too old for playing with dolls."
Mother is standing by the piano, her outline framed by unnaturally bright light from the window, contrasting the black piano surfaces.
"I am not playing with dolls!"
"Then what is that you are sitting with?"
I look down, and realize that I actually have a doll in my lap. It is big, with broad arms and legs, and dressed in a police uniform.
"I am not playing! It is real!"
"Dolls are playthings. Grow up, Rachel! You are making a fool of yourself."
"Go away, mother!"
"My pleasure! Let me know when you have grown up."
She somehow vanishes, and I angrily turn my attention to the doll. This is not a kids game! I begin to undress it, aggressively. To my surprise, it is clad in some tight leather outfit beneath the police uniform. I look down, and see that I am wearing a similar outfit myself. And my arms are plastic, too. Around me, our old living room has been replaced by all kinds of plastic stuff in bright colors. I am a doll, in a doll's house.
Right next to me, a yellow rocking horse is standing. I climb onto it, feel a burning sensation in my thighs and buttocks as I touch it, but I begin to ride it anyway. The doll begins to move, it tries to bite me. I bite it back, it tastes sweet but also spicy. The sweet-spicy taste, or feeling, goes down my throat, through my body. The horse is riding me, rocking wilder and wilder. As the taste of the doll reaches the bottom of me, it sets off a sudden jolt in my body. The doll's house disappears around me, and I awake, drowsy and confused in the dusky light of the bedroom.
My thoughts are a mess, still in the no-man's land between dream and reality. Although the room is pretty dark, I can see bright light seeping in at the curtain edges. And the big red numbers on the alarm clock say 11:14. That can't be right? I could never have slept for so long. Besides, I don't have an alarm clock with big red numbers. Who uses those nowadays? Certainly not someone who grew up on smartphones. Am I not in my own bedroom? I guess that would also explain the naked woman sleeping right next to me.
My consciousness is gaining ground. Memories of last night begin to come back. Jennie. The party. The arrest. Handcuffs. The horse. Spanking. Sex. The pieces fit together, but somehow the situation doesn't get any less surreal. I look down over my naked body, lying on its back. Who am I now? What is this body to be? My thoughts are going around in all directions, I try to force them into some kind of systematic order.
-Am I still a college girl majoring in math and computer science? Yes, why not?
-Am I still a frustrated virgin? Not exactly.
-Am I still hetero? No!
-Was I ever hetero? Well, guess not.
-Am I still single? Hmm, difficult, that one. Need more information.
-Can I still be friends with Meg and Claire? Guess so.
-Will I have to explain them about this? Well, maybe..
-Is it going to be awkward? Very likely.
-Should I feel ashamed of myself? Maybe. No. Hell, no!
-Is this whole thing ridiculous? Shut the fuck UP, mother!
I mumble the last bit out loud. Jennie stirs beside me. I reach one hand over her neck, caressing it gently. She awakes, looks at me with a little smile.
"Sleep well, sweetie?"
"Like a stone! And you?"
"Pretty well, I think." She is silent for a moment.
"So, how about it?"
"How about what?"
"About.. us. Last night. The stuff we did. What do you make of it? How.. was it for you?"
"It was.. I guess it was like a sort of homecoming. But kinda weird because.. coming home to a place you never been before."
"You know, this is what I can't get my head around. You are by far the most ready and receptive first-timer I have ever tried. I can't believe you didn't know this thing about yourself before?"
"Well, I guess I just didn't.. think so much about it. I mean, I assumed I would be like everyone else."
"You didn't have any fantasies about girls?"
"Maybe.. or, maybe I would have. But I tended to push erotic fantasies aside. It is difficult to explain.. a part of my upbringing, I guess."
"You from a religious family?"
"No, quite the contrary. My mother is very intelligent, and rational, and serious. She thinks religion is just ridiculous. Actually, a lot of things are ridiculous to her."
"Like what?"
"Like for instance, if she knew about what we did last night, I don't think she would be horrified, or outraged, or anything. She would just be laughing her ass off. Grown-up adults playing games of arrest and spanking!"
"Well, I guess a lot of sexual practices appear silly when you look at them from the outside. But still, they work. Your mother must also have had some kind of.. practices. I mean, what about your father?"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean.. wouldn't they have.. done something? You have a father, right?"
"I guess. But not anyone I know of."
"I see. Sorry!"
"It's OK. I won't say I had an unhappy childhood. My mother is cool, and she taught me a lot of things. Like being independent. Believing in myself. My brains. Trusting I could do math and computer science even if all the girls went for other things."
"But?"
"But what?"