Page 59 of Unmatched

“Perfect.” She smiles. “Some women can’t at all. Or don’t know how to.”

“It just—” I add before I can think too clearly. “It just takes a while sometimes.”

Daphne thinks a moment, then selects a box from the display. “This is a basic rabbit. It should be a good place to start.”

I take it from her reluctantly, studying the thing like a science specimen through the clear plastic window. I always imagined vibrators being flesh-colored and veiny, like disembodied plastic penises. This “rabbit” is hot pink and silky smooth. Long enough to fit...wherever you need to put it, I guess. But not freakishly large at all when I compare it to Anton in my mind.

“Here, this is a sample.” She grabs an identical unboxed item off the table and places it in my other hand. With a flick of her manicured fingers, it starts to buzz in my palm. I hold it away from myself like it’s going to shock me, and though she has been entirely professional this whole time, I swear Daphne stifles a laugh.

“It . . . um . . . it really vibrates,” I say, in a stunningly original observation.

“That’s the idea, yes.”

I want nothing more than to set it back down on the table, but it seems like she’s waiting for me to ask questions or make some judgment about it. I turn it over a couple times until I find the off switch, and at last I exhale. I couldn’t form coherent sentences with that bright pink rod buzzing away in my hand.

“What is this for?” I ask, pointing to a small extension shaped—unsurprisingly?—like rabbit ears sticking out on the side. “Does it go—” I stop midsentence, thinking about the possibilities and wishing I hadn’t asked.

“That’s for clitoral stimulation,” she says, easing my fears, though we are standing in a room full of objects meant to go all manner of places. “Most women find it very effective.”

I turn it over awkwardly, still gripping the new-in-box version in my other hand. It seems so bizarre that a vibrating piece of rubber would feel good inside my vagina. But now that I think about it...even Anton doesn’t always feel great in there. The first several times we had sex in college, it just hurt. I think every girl expects losing the big V to be painful, but I hadn’t been prepared for it to be that way the first three or four times. When I finally did orgasm, maybe five or six weeks later, it was only when I assisted with my own fingers—and it’s never happened with him inside me. He has gotten me to climax with his tongue, but I’ve always felt weird about that, and all of these different approaches require a lot of time and concentration on my part. Last time I think he was down between my legs for close to an hour. I actually considered just yelling a bunch so we could both finally go to sleep.

Besides, getting me off isn’t what I came in here for.

“This seems nice,” I say, handing the “sample” back to her and looking around for some hand sanitizer. “But what I really want is something more for my husband.”

“Oh, the rabbit should work for both of you.”

I blanch, suddenly forced to consider whether his interest in “butt play” is not about my butt at all. “Wait, is he supposed to?—”

“He can use it on you,” she says. “Or he can just enjoy you using it.”

My still-warm face ignites again. I bite my lip. That’s something I hadn’t really considered. On the whole, I’ve always felt Anton and I were pretty traditional. I spread my legs, he does his thing, then with some effort, I can sometimes come after he’s done. But even though we do it together, it’s always felt pretty individual. His turn, my turn. We’ve never climaxed in tandem like people do in movies—I doubt anyone does. And it’s hard to imagine my orgasm doing anything for him. Why would it? It’s just a lot of work to get me off. On the flip side, I have to admit, I’ve never really been excited to help him climax either, except to hurry up and get the whole thing over with.

I turn the box for the hot-pink rabbit over, wondering how he’d react if I walked into the house and handed it to him. Would he be excited? Or sneer at me the way he did the other morning? Even if he is willing to try, it’s not like batteries and pink silicone are going to fix everything.

“Okay, I’ll take it. But what else have you got?”

The salesgirl laughs. “How about a blindfold to go with it...and definitely some lube.”

“Do you think that’s enough?” I ask, following her back down the stairs.

She takes a black silk eye mask from the Fifty Shades display and grabs a large bottle of clear liquid from behind the counter, then turns to me with narrowed eyes. “Did you have something more specific in mind?”

“I don’t know, I just think we might need something more...maybe for him?” I grimace, eyeing a male mannequin with a chain dangling from its nipples, holding some elaborate whip-looking thing.

“A vibrator, some lube, and a blindfold should give you both plenty to start with.” She follows my gaze, then gently adds, “It’s generally best to work your way up to the harder stuff.”

I clasp my hands in front of me, face glowing like a fire truck. Honestly, I’m a little relieved she said that, but my marriage feels so tenuous right now. I’m afraid to screw up again.

“I just...I don’t want him to be bored,” I say in a low voice.

“Most guys are pretty easy to please. We’re the difficult ones. In fact, it might not be a bad idea to practice a little on your own before you try this together.”

She gives me a friendly wink, but I bite my lip in horror as I follow her to the register. I haven’t touched myself alone since the day my mother walked in on me when I was thirteen. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying hard not to remember the appalled look on her face. How she’d made me shower immediately and told me to never do it again. The experience was so mortifying that I didn’t let my fingers drift between my legs again until Anton and I were together. But it still feels too illicit to do without him.

Obviously, this woman was raised differently. She’s casual about all of this in a way I can’t imagine ever being. But should I feel differently? If this whole shopping trip turns out to be a failure and I wind up divorced in a few more weeks, maybe I’ll want to join the vibrator club after all.

Daphne places her hand on my arm and holds up my purchases. “If you two have never used any of these things, I promise, there’s no way he’s going to get bored.”

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