Page 74 of Can't Always Get What You Want

Just a peek.

Just to pass the time,I tell myself.

I slide off the bed, walk over slowly like I’m disarming a bomb, and tug it open?—

Oh.

Fuck.

Staring up at me is an impressive collection of vibrators. Not one. Not two.Three. And a bottle of lube.

I blink. Once.

Twice.

Well then! Now we’re ready to party!

My brain momentarily short-circuits.

On one hand: private. Personal. Possibly crossing a line.

On the other hand: I didn’texpectthe drawer to be hosting a silicone party.

Bright colors. Multiple sizes.

One of them has sparkles.Sparkles.

Newsflash: curiosityalwayswins.

Reaching in, I carefully lift the purple one like I’m handling a lightsaber made of sin. It’s heavier than expected.

Smooth.

Intimidating in ahow does this even workkind of way.

I press the button.

Nothing happens.

I press it again, harder this time, like it's a stubborn elevator. Still nothing.

I shake it. Because why not? That’s what people do with remotes and vending machines, right?

Then, with the grace of a caveman discovering fire, I slide my thumb over a smaller button near the base?—

Bzzzzz.

Bzzz.

It vibrates to life like it’s been waiting its whole life for this moment.

I jump. Actually jump. Nearly drop it.

“Okay,” I whisper, awestruck. “Wow. This is intense.”

Fucking gnarly!

I've never held a dildo before. Definitely not in my current situation—fully clothed, alone in a girl’s bedroom, trying not to panic that I’ll be trapped here the remainder of the evening alone.

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