Page 91 of Sleep

“And?” They released themselves and stepped back so they could look at me.

“I put them in and my world explodes. Everything becomes too loud and distorted. I walk across the room and I can hear everything. The carpet under my feet crunches like it’s in my head. If I ride in a car, the blinkers feel like hammers to my bones. In a room full of people, I can hear the conversation behind me but can’t hear what the person in front of me is saying. Restaurants become a nightmare. It’s like living in a box where everything is twisted and loud. My world becomes disorientated because I can’t figure out which direction sounds are coming from. These things are supposed to settle down if you use your aids all the time, but I can’t. It stresses me out to the point that I can’t breathe.”

“Okay,” they said softly, “I can understand that.”

“They’re good for some people, just not for me. I need a certain degree of quiet in my life.”

“Don’t we all?”

“The aids are good if I’m on the phone, but I still mishear things. Some voices are really difficult to understand. Too many people talking at once? I lose the thread in the conversation trying to figure out who’s saying what and to whom. I’m not good in a large room, terrible in social situations.”

“And perfect one-on-one. We all have to play to our strengths.”

“Which is why I work up here in my glass tower, on my own.”

Admitting it felt good, like I wasn’t that terrible at life, though I was aware I sometimes was and it was nothing to do with my hearing.

“I like your glass tower. It’s very calming up here, always peaceful and quiet. We can’t even hear the traffic up here. It’s an oasis in the middle of all the noise below.”

“Exactly. Not that I can hear it anyway. The first thing I lost was birdsong. I haven’t heard a bird sing since I was a teenager. They tried to incorporate that frequency into the hearing aids, but where would I go to hear birdsong? Get my driver to drive me out into the countryside somewhere and hope a seagull turns up to screech in my ear?”

“You’re funny.” They smiled. “I’m going to take you out to my mum and dad’s, sit in the garden in bloody Newbury and listen to the crows. No seagulls there, but we do get songbirds in summer. Remind me. I’ll find you some birds.”

“Birds.”

“Yup. Fancy a canary? We can get you a pet.”

I grimaced. “God, no. I’m allergic to feathers, remember? But I’m not really a pets kind of person.”

“Good. I’m not great with pets either. Too many rats and mice and cockroaches in that hotel next door—I think I’m scarred for life.”

“My mother had a poodle once.”

“Did she now?”

“Yes. She hated it. It hated her. She gave it to one of her cleaners to take home. It was one of those episodes never to be mentioned again.”

They laughed, and I loved that I could make them do that, but then they became quiet again and lifted my face up, placing a small kiss on my lips.

“Do you ever wear…like…” I ran my finger down their chest, circled their nipple, distracted for a second by the sensation of the soft bumps against my fingertip.

“Bra?” They smiled. “Yes. I have quite a selection. Should I…?”

“Yes.” I loved how we communicated, the things I didn’t have to say out loud for them to know what I wanted.

“Okay,” they said softly, brushing their hand across my stomach and sending a shiver through me.

I sat on the edge of the bed and picked up a heavy metal plug, the weight in my hand making me clench.

Did I want this? Honestly?

God, yes, I did. I swallowed down saliva that had pooled in my mouth at the anticipation of what I hoped was to come.

I picked up a larger one. Oh. Oh, yes. My groin tingled with the excitement in my growing member.

“We’re going to start with the smallest one,” they said, returning to the room. I hadn’t even registered them leaving. “Lots of lube. I think…”

“Yes,” I breathed out, suddenly unable to actually speak. I’d seen the lace trunks before. The bra… I had to swallow again, heat creeping up my cheeks. Mabel was right. I had kinks. Good God, did I have them.

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