Page 2 of Puck Prince

Given my profession, it’s a wonder it took me this long to consider a little physical therapy of my own.

I crawl back on the couch, legs open and ready, Ophelia in hand—or O, as I affectionately call her, because she never, ever fails me. In my other hand, I hold my phone, scrolling Instagram pages until I find the one I want.

“As a matter of fact, fuck everyone and everything except Jason Momoa.” I keep his photo on the screen as I let O do her work.

I start on the lowest setting, but even that is enough to make my mind staticky. My thoughts blur into the here and now. I stop caring, start forgetting, and arch my back, turning up the intensity.

“Yes.” I pant. “Just… like… that.”

I bring it back down, teasing myself, not wanting to come too quickly. My seventy-five dollar wand is good enough that, if I’m not careful, it’ll all be over too soon. I mess with the speeds, the rhythm, all while biting my lip as beads of sweat drip down my temples and something else drips onto the couch.

Sorry, Ken. I’ll pay for the steam cleaning.

I smirk through my lip bite at that. Then another shift in the pulsing takes my breath away. My hair is mussed in my face like this is the real thing.

Hell, itisthe real thing.

Most of the best orgasms I’ve ever had, I’ve given myself. Men are too busy navel-gazing, marveling at their own ability to keep it up and keep it going to wonder if the reason it’s lasting so long is because it isn’t the mountaintop experience they seem to think it is. In the end, you make louder noises just to get them off so the whole thing can be over with.

Ophelia? Her only focus is me.

I whimper, dropping the phone and pulling my underwear aside for silicone-to-skin contact, flicking the speed up to a steady whirr.

Closer…

Closer…

I almost shriek as I near the beautiful, white edge of bliss. But just as I am about to go tumbling over the cliff, there is a banging on the other side of the wall right next to my head. I nearly jump out of my skin as Ophelia goes buzzing across the carpeted floor.

“Yo! Do you think no one can hear you over there?!” A man’s voice booms from the apartment next door.

Surely he isn’t talking to me. Surely I’m not being that loud.

“Is he talking to me?” I whisper.

All night long, there’s been no one to talk back to me. But suddenly…

“Yes!” he answers, and I jump again. “You, the woman loudly orgasming while I am trying to watch the game. Think you could tone it down a bit?”

I stand up and turn to the wall, expecting to see a drive-thru style sliding window into the other apartment.Seriously, how thin are these walls?Then I feel a cool breeze across my bare legs and it clicks.

The door to the balcony is open.

The door to thesharedbalcony is open.

The door to the shared balcony—shared with none other than my nonconsenting voyeur next door—is wide fucking open.

I run across the living room in mute, abject horror to shut and lock my door and then maybe, I dunno, commit seppuku in the bathtub. But before I can, I see Delilah sitting primly in the center of the balcony. She couldn’t hang around for my emotional purge, but she shows up for this?

“Come here, kitty,” I grumble, slowly inching towards the cat while trying to hide the fact that I’m Winnie-the-Pooh-ing it on my cousin’s balcony. Excuse me,sharedbalcony. Because the microscopic gap and metal railings between Kennedy’s balcony and her neighbor’s do nothing to change the fact that they areangled towards one another at a forty-five degree angle, and I could reach over the railing and knock on the door.

Kennedy has a catio taking up half of her balcony, because she’s insane like that. I think it’s ridiculous, but I guess anti-feminist feline demons need fresh air, too. But Delilah isn’t in her catio right now. She’s matching each of my steps towards her with a step backward of her own.

“Come here, you little shit,” I sing-song, clicking my tongue like I have any idea what may or may not lure Delilah closer.

Her wide, yellow eyes take one look at me and then she ducks into some kind of tube.

“Damnit, cat, come here!” I drop to my knees and reach into the tube after her. I hear a hiss and then fire shoots up my hand. “Ow, you bitch!”

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