Sarah closed down her Kindle and put it down on the table beside the sofa. She removed her hand from inside her jeans and knickers and looked at her fingers with mild interest. The translucence of her vaginal juice captured the light from the large lounge window. She wondered what her milky vaginal fluid tasted like, but had never had the courage to try it? She was not alone there though, no-one else had tasted her vaginal fluid either. She also wondered what she would do if a passer-by actually stopped and peered into her window, as she sat there playing with herself? They would without doubt, be able to see what she was doing. Would they watch as she dipped her fingers, or seeing what she looked like, would they just walk on? She guessed the latter, but felt that she would never know.
She zipped her jeans back up, securing the button and walked to the bathroom to wash her hands. Then she went into the kitchen and made herself a coffee; collecting a couple of biscuits before she went and sat back down. Raising her coffee mug in salutation, she said, "Happy birthday Sarah. And may you have many more. Huh!" She laughed, but could equally have cried. At 34 Sarah was still single. She had never been in a serious relationship. Hell, she didn't even know whether she preferred men or women! She was a confirmed virgin and believed she would die that way. And here she was on the morning of her 34th birthday playing with herself, all alone, whilst reading a smutty novel.
That morning, as she stepped from the shower, she had stood in front of the full-length mirror, looking at herself with disdain. Her legs were long, but far too skinny. Her hips looked like a teenage boy's, her waist just seemed to continue straight up and straight down, no real curve to accentuate where it was. Her breasts, if you could call them that were almost inverted. Her boyish face, had all of the right things, in all of the right places, but she knew she had fallen as far from the 'pretty tree' as a girl could get. Of course, her short hair didn't help matters, and being called a sir by the shop assistant in town the other day, had made her decide to grown it longer. The thick rimmed glasses probably didn't help either, and then her teeth! They looked like white tomb-stones, overly large for her too small mouth and thin lips. Looking at herself, there was not a single redeeming facet of her body that she could give the 'thumbs up' to. "What happened to maturity?" She questioned herself. "Why did these not develop then?" She cupped her small breasts. "Where are my womanly hips. Christ the only thing maturity gave me was hair where I don't want it, periods and period pain. Fucking great!"
She got dressed into her usual baggy tee-shirt and jeans. Completely hiding her gender, not that it was very easy to spot even when she was wearing a dress or skirt, which was pretty much never as she hated her bony legs.
And so, Sarah was prepared to spend another birthday on her own. Her mum had died when Sarah was twenty-five. And her dad, bless him, was a man. He tried. He was a good man. But didn't really think of things like her mother would. Men can be so unfeeling, so thought-less.
Sarah's phone rang. She looked at the screen. "Fuck me! Did he hear me?"
"Hello darling! Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you." Her father sang to her. He had a great voice and was playing the piano to accompany himself.
When he had finished a tear ran unhindered down Sarah's face. "Oh daddy, that was lovely. Thank you so much. I had thought you had forgotten?"
"Hey, I wouldn't do that! I'm fifty, not seventy."
"Daddy, you're fifty-six actually!" She admonished him.
"Hey, don't tell all the girls that. They think I'm half that age."
She laughed at him and had to admit that he looked really good for his age. He could easily pass for forty. He still had very few grey hairs, and always kept himself trim, and would attend the gym a couple of times a week to keep himself fit. "Yes, well it's about time you settled down with a good woman, rather than playing the field daddy, you are not getting any younger you know."
"Ow, don't say that! Besides I have a good woman already."
"You do? Do I know her?"
"You should do," he said, "I'm talking with her now."
Sarah was quiet, what had she just been thinking about her father? And here he was calling her on her birthday, singing to her, and telling her that she was his one and only woman. God she would never think of him as a typical man again.
"You still there darling?"
