She's been angry at me for nearly a week now, and I can barely stand it anymore. I've been dealing with her sullen silence over dinner, in front of the bathroom and in bed for too long. I miss the chirpy, bubbly woman who used to actually enjoy getting on her knees for me - the girl who I happily rewarded for her efforts on said knees with my own, always striving to find her special spot or to work her until she squealed and squirmed at my fingertips like I'm her fucking wizard conjuring up an orgasmic spell inside her.
It had been something trivial, I'm not even sure what - the washing, the car, the heater. I can't remember - all the annoyed faces and dark silences and slightly too-firmly-banged doors and objects onto countertops and tables has removed anything but this from our lives. I don't even remember if I'm supposed to be angry at her as well - but I am. And she is at me. It's a miserable existence.
Thankfully, the internet has provided me with many special solutions to her woes - primarily her body's bedtime woes, but I'm splitting hairs - and it has done so again, because today a certain parcel arrived in the post that I know she'll love. All the reviews - the identical reviews from accounts with nearly identical profile pictures all of different women from all over the world - claim as much, and I know that they're not just fake accounts, because one of the things this item is supposed to do is ensure that it keeps itself profitable. And fuck, is it.
I make my way home for the first time all week with an excitement in my chest, and when I enter the house, it's not with a frown on my face already, but with a grin. I smile at her as she passes ahead of me down the hallway, but she only glowers and turns quickly away towards the kitchen. If I'd had my way, I'd have liked to show it to her right then, but dinner is a bigger priority for me after a long day at work, just as it is for her. Unfortunately, our arranged setup of swapped cooking and cleaning nights has me on meal-prep duties, so I'm forced to shelf the box in our bedroom and wait. But again, this is okay in my mind - it's in the bedroom that my new purchase will perform it's magic on her anyway.
It hadn't been cheap, but then, nothing quality ever is, and just as the description had ordered, I made sure to keep it well boxed up and safe for the trip home, both so that it wouldn't break and so that my eyes didn't stray onto it. I knew from the reviews that if I looked at it, I may fall under its affects, and I don't want that to happen. Not yet, at least - if it happens later, so be it. I don't mind taking a blank selfie and posting a hand-typed copy of all the other reviews onto the seller's site. But it has to wait until
she's
seen it first.
It feels like days before we finally tuck into bed, and even when I do, I have to wait for her to come out of the shower. But it gives me time to undress and tuck the item, hard and firm in beside me, and when she finally does emerge in her night-wear to join me, her face still blank with the remembered rage of a bygone argument, I'm nothing but smiles. She gets in and turns over, away from me, but I reach over and gently caress her shape over the fabric of the covers. She studiously ignores me, but I already know that that changes tonight.
'Dana, baby,' I whisper to her, facing her in the bed, the feeling of the item firm against my back as I stroke her. She doesn't reply. 'Honey, I know I fucked up, but I bought you something as a token of apology that I want you to see. Please.' It's a meek ploy to get her engage with me, but it isn't a lie - I am sorry and do feel like I fucked up, I just don't really know for what. Maybe she fucked up too, for all I remember - the pain of being wedged away from her has made me forget everything but the wedge itself.
Eventually, Dana turns over and glares at me, saying nothing. I reach behind me in the bed for the item and draw it out, and by the time I do, she's already turning back over - but I have her now. Leaning in close, I hold the item in sweaty fingertips out before her, twisting it by the perfectly round bulbous base so that the curving, glittering shaft twirls right before her eyes. I know she's watching, and so am I - but I have to tell her to really look before I let myself get caught.