Page 48 of Breaking the Ice

Or maybe that was the vodka.

Whatever it was, the cacti-like features had taken on amazing proportions. The Orgmaster looked just like a giant cactus of black and white Western fame. The kind that could always be seen in the background silhouetted against a weird rock formation.

Okay. Maybe shewasdrunk enough.

But there were still four Oreos left and it seemed such a shame to waste them. Especially given that she’d probably never be able to eat another again without thinking about the night she had intimate relations with a huge, cactus-like latex phallus.

She guessed that was one positive about a mechanical sex aid, they didn’t care about how many calories in an Oreo or the resultant effect on the hips of devouring an entire packet.

Samantha sat up because the Orgmaster really was freaking her out from this angle. It was far less intimidating when she could look down upon it… kind of. The room spun a little and Samantha hung onto the arm of the couch as she poured herself another vodka shot.

Then another. And another.

The Orgmaster grew more and more intimidating until she felt it was actually taunting her with its presence. One lone Oreo sat on the table waiting to be eaten but for the first time in perhapsever, Samantha wasn’t remotely tempted. She leaned forward and flicked the switch on her toy again. It dutifully performed its bag of tricks and a tear roll down her cheek.

She looked away, her watery gaze sweeping the room, desperate for anything to erase the image. The walls loomed around her.

Oh, God, not them.

The velvet uteruses multiplied through the prism of her tears, mocking her further. Samantha shut her eyes tight admitting defeat.

Nick was right. She couldn’t do it. It was like saying, okay, I acknowledge it, I am a total loser who can’t get a man and have to resort to a penis substitute. Not that there was anything wrong with using a vibrator but right now it felt like the ultimate in settling. Which really wasn’t true. She was just having a bad run and her eggsand the wallpaperwere pressuring her.

She opened her eyes, her vision still blurred, and looked at the offending article again. The Orgmaster also multiplied before her eyes.

Jesus.One was scary enough.

Nick had said they were fun. Fun? How could something that looked like it would need a surgical team to retrieve it ever be fun? This was all his fault. If he hadn’t followed her into the damn store and then dared her, she wouldn’t be sitting here now, a lethal mix of vodka and Oreos brewing in her stomach, an enormous phallus staring her down.

Damn him!

If she didn’t like her job so much, she’d call him and quit before he had the chance to wheedle out all the humiliating details. Although, maybe if she did it now she could avoid the face-to-face embarrassment?

Rising on unsteady feet, she cast around for her cell phone. Vaguely remembering that she’d knocked it off the arm of the couch, Samantha glanced to the floor, spying her DKNY handbag still stashed beside the lounge from that dreadful night with Paul. Grabbing it, she drunkenly upended the contents over the couch. Her cell spilled out along with two hundred individually wrapped condoms.

The little foil packets cascaded everywhere. On the couch, over the side and across the coffee table. Preferring not to relivethatnight in this state, Samantha ignored them as she plonked herself down, scattering the condoms further. Focusing on her phone, she tapped in the code which took several attempts with so much vodka on board.

Eventually she managed it, navigating straight to Nick’s number in her recently dialed folder and tapping on his name. He picked up within three rings but she didn’t give him a chance to speak first.

“You won, okay?” she muttered accusingly, her words a little slurred. “You won.”

There was a pause. “Are you okay?”

“No. You were right. I couldn’t go through with it. I hope you’re satisfied. It’s just sitting there, looking at me, silently taunting me. Even the vodka didn’t help.”

“Vodka? How much have you had?”

“Oh, I’m pretty smashed.”

“Jesus! If I’d have known you were going to have to wipe yourself out to use the damn thing I would never have dared you. For God’s sake, it’s a vibrator, not a cyanide pill.”

Samantha ignored his bitching as her stomach started to reject its contents. “Oh, God. I’m going to be sick.”

Moments later Samantha was holding on to the toilet seat with one hand and her hair with the other, wishing she was dead. She retched and retched, bringing back all her Oreos. Had she been sober she would have lamented the loss of such an exquisite biscuit.

A loud banging on her apartment door interrupted her pity party.Nick. She knew, deep in her bones that on this humiliating night, it could only be him.

Go away. Just go away and leave me alone.

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