Page 22 of POX

Thomas jutted his hips backwards and forward and did a circular thrusting motion underneath the cover. ‘Something like that. Gets them going.’

I snorted. ‘How romantic.’

‘We could try it if you like.’

I swallowed. ‘Maybe not.’

‘We don’t have to have penetrative sex anyway. There are always other things we can do if you need some practise.’

‘Like?’

‘Kissing, earlobe sucking, nipple tweaking, genital stimulation ...’ Thomas counted them off on his fingers.

‘OK, OK, I get the idea,’ I said hastily.

‘I’ve got a toy you might like actually.’

I shook my head. ‘No, I don’t think so.’

‘How do you know if you’ve never tried it?’

‘I just know I wouldn’t,’ I stated.

Maybe it was my narrow-minded attitude or he really wanted me to try his toy, but Thomas flipped open the bedside drawer and brought out a large pink penis-shaped vibrator.

‘Oh my god! That’s huge!’

He grinned. ‘It’s comparable.’

‘Why on earth do you have that thing in your drawer?’

‘A girl I was seeing left it behind. I found it in the bathroom cupboard a few weeks after we’d broken up. It didn’t end well, so I felt justified in keeping it.’

‘Maybe your moves weren’t satisfying her.’

‘No, but her yoga instructor’s were.’

I winced. ‘Oh, sorry.’

Thomas flipped the switch on the thing, and it started juddering. He stuck it under the bedcover and touched my leg with it, and I let out a yelp at the weird sensation.

‘Relax, it won’t hurt you. Look, I’ll run it up and down your thigh so you get used to it.’

‘Is it clean?’

‘Of course. Now close your eyes and pretend it’s Jeremy’s.’

I let out a sigh, thinking of the lovely clay penis I’d flattened last night. ‘Well, OK. But keep it on my thigh,’ I cautioned.

Really, this impromptu date was getting stranger by the minute.

Chapter 10

I didn’t see Jasper that evening or the day after that, so I was able to regain some sense of myself. The dream had shaken me badly but it was just a dream after all. If I ever, by some miracle, found myself in his bed I couldn’t imagine not wanting him, so I thrust it from my thoughts.

On the third afternoon, I was sitting with Sebastian in the library room while he explained the meaning of one of Shakespeare’s sonnets to me. I wasn’t sure what Mother would think of me learning Shakespeare, but I considered that Mother didn’t need to know.

The day of my nineteenth birthday had come and gone some weeks ago, and she had sent me a present of a hooded cloak. It was neither fashionable nor new, but it was warm, and for that, I was grateful. I had not seen either her or my sister since I had left, and Mother had not invited me home to visit. Father’s death lay heavy and painful between us, and I didn’t know how to resolve it.

---