Blue. That's how every looks right now. How everything feels. I suppose it's not fair of me. I suppose I should be a bit more supportive, but it's hard to. Tears sting my cheeks and I wrap my hand around my coffee mug, pressing my fingers into the scalding ceramic. I bite my lower lip to keep it from trembling. I'm a mess.
She rushes into the kitchen, her work shirt half buttoned. Her world seems like chaos to my sluggish wave hello. My eyes follow her with the hope of my heart and my mind scolds me harshly. A tooth brush dangles from her mouth, papers materialize into her hands. She's going to be late for a business meeting, no doubt my fault since we were up all night arguing.
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
"Don't take it so personally, Zoey." She said to me, pulling on her pajama pants.
"I understand the concept. I really do, but what is it that you expect me to do for this length of time that you are doing your "soul searching?"
"We can still hang out and do things that couple's do."
"Right, everything but sex." I threw the covers off of me, needing to move.
"How can you be so selfish?" She took a step back and turned away from me.
"Selfish? Really? You want an entire year of celibacy. Because you want to soul search. You're not giving up meat or drinking or time with friends or anything else that normal people give up for soul searching. Alex. You're giving up intimacy with me."
A spark of triumph lit up inside me as she considered my comment. When she didn't say anything, I felt my stomach turn to stone and drop to my feet.
"Alex." I said desperately.
"Zoey." She responded calmly, her resolve built back up. "I wanted you to understand, but apparently you won't."
"No I do. I do understand." I frantically waded around in a pool of rationality searching for some ideal to grasp onto. "Just. What do you expect me to do. What should I do for an entire year. While we lay next to each other at night. How do I diffuse passionate moments. How do I not act on my desire. I am always going to want you." My mouth remained open but words stopped pouring out. The sentences, the things I wanted to say were still there, but they just stopped becoming audible.
"You could masturbate."
I felt nauseous. "What?"
"You could-"
"No. I heard you." Slowly I sank to the edge of the bed. "Really? We've been together for three years. In that time I haven't touched myself, except for during sex. I've saved all of me for you. I can't do that."
"Yes you can. And maybe this will be good for you."
"How is this good for either of us. It won't be the same. I know you need to soul search. I know we will still be together. Can't you..."
"I want a year." She spoke, answering my silent question.
"Is it something I did? Am I bad in bed now, has it gotten stale?"
"No, Zoey. We are not all sex you know. It has nothing to do with you. I've made up my mind. I really want your support but I can't force it out of you. I truly think this will be good for us."
"Will you still at least kiss me?"
"Yes." She crossed the room and placed her hands on my cheeks. Her lips pressed firm against mine. I felt like a computer booting up, slowly all of me started to come alive. I knew she felt the sparks too. 'So it starts tonight.'
≈≈≈≈≈≈≈
My mind decides I no longer am allowed to focus on last night. "Hey babe." My words come out as a question.
"Hey hon," she answers, she hugs me to her.
"You smell good," I say pushing my face into her shoulder, "did you shower?" Water drips from her hair onto her shirt I already know the answer.
"Yes." She responds in a isn't-that-obvious tone.
"How come you didn't take me with you."
"You were sleeping. I didn't want to wake you." My eyes narrow and she adds, "I also didn't want to tempt you."
"See! See, this is what I mean! You're already pulling away."
She removes herself from my lap. "No. Eventually we might be able to shower together again, but right now I want to make my intentions clear."
I withdraw into my coffee and let her finish getting ready for work. She gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before she leaves. I try hard not to resent it.
It's a Saturday, and work shouldn't even be a thing, but she had to go into the office to check in on a couple projects. That left me with several hours before I had to get ready for a dinner event with her.
'It's just sex.' I continuously repeat internally as I make my way back to the bedroom. 'There are other ways that we can be intimate and show love. "An entire year!" I breathe out, standing before the mirror.
I remove my robe and observe my naked body. My fingers run over the soft skin that smoothes over lightly toned abs. My eyes take in slender arms, curved hips, long shapely thighs and calves. I turn to the side and gaze at my breasts, perky but still too large to fit into most of the lingerie at adult stores. Lastly, I trail my fingers over the dip in the small of my back and continue along the curve of my ass.
For the most part I work hard to look nice for Alex. I was used to laying naked in bed and when she'd walk in, she'd see me and run her hands over my body. I'd remove her clothes, kiss her softly, tell her I wanted her and she'd lay me back and we would spend an entire afternoon ravishing each other.
Now she expected me to touch myself.
At the foot of our bed lay a chest. We'd spent the years accumulating different toys and such. What did all of this mean now. Just a box full of vibrators and strap ons? I lift a piece we bought a couple weeks ago. Velvety, intriguing, but once on moves like a power tool. I put it back with a sigh. The majority of lubes we have are flavored. Several massage candles are left unburned. Handcuffs, blindfolds, things for tickling, things for pinching. We were going to search each other's bodies for the things that made our soul.
Various magazines and books tucked away in the corners of the box peek up at me. We looked at those together too. Disappointed and slightly turned on, I shut the box. I grab my comb off the nightstand on my side of the bed and drag it through my tangle of strawberry blonde hair. I try really hard not to think of her, and of the things that we've done together. But they keep popping up. Images of Alex naked, a vibrator between her legs, her back arched, my head buried in her chest, begging her to come. Or the time we were at a baseball game way up in the nosebleeds, and she fingered me. I came loudly just as our team scored a home run.
My hand rests above my inner thigh. My breath is heavy and fast. I'm so conflicted, and so wet. Alex's suggestion echoes in my head and I fight the urge to comply. My body's already decided for me though. I'm too turned on. I inch myself up further on the bed and part my thighs. My clit throbs, but I'm hesitant to just rub one off. I prop myself up on one elbow and slide two fingers over my lips. I've grown so wet that it's begun to coat the outside of me.
After exploring my lower half, rubbing my inner thighs, tugging at my lips, tracing the opening of my womanhood, I slip my finger over my clit. My whole body shakes. I savor the feeling as each stroke shoots fire through my being. Every nerve is alert. I try to relax my muscles against the building tension. I lay back against the pillows and continue sliding my finger over my clit. Slowly I bring my other hand up to play with my breasts, squeezing hard and flicking at my nipples. My heavy breathing gives way to moaning and I work myself harder.
My hips roll and my legs start to tremble. Firm, steady strokes feel wonderfully sharp as I start to orgasm. I come hard, spasming. It feels so good and I lay there letting myself drift down.
I shower, dress, and sprawl myself out on the bed with my laptop in front of me. I check the usual: emails, social sites, news. Lastly I check job listings. Three months ago the surveying company I worked for went under, so now I'm looking for anything with a steady paycheck.
I scroll through various job listings, rejecting and considering different positions. I scan through the bullets of necessary skills and qualifications. 'Waitressing. I could do that.' Still I hit next button and continue to look around.
Just as I'm about to give up, the page refreshes and twelve new job listings appear. Five down from the top the words "new lesbian sex shop" catch my eye. Apprehensive, but giddy, I click the link. A little giggle escapes. I feel bad for the minuscule amount of consideration I'm giving to this opening.
[Violet Lace is a new adult store, specifically catering to the lesbian community. We are looking hire several part time staff. Our basic skills require that you have: exceptional customer service; able to work register, the ability to lift thirty-five pounds, reliable transportation. Other preferred skills and needs may develop throughout employment. Overtime may be required. Pay is 12/hr. If interested please print application from our site, attach a resume, and call to set up an interview appointment.]
I grab my cell phone, debating whether or not to make the call. A job is a job right? Several other job postings flash through my mind, bartending, bookkeeping, waitressing again. All of those much more innocent. Much more forgiving. Alex would never approve of this. It's not like she didn't enjoy occasionally hitting up a well reviewed sex shop for things to add to the bedroom, but me working in one might be pushing it. Especially after last night.
The phone rings in my hand, causing me to jump. I check the caller id, and any desire to screen disappears. "Hey Rach!"
