Amie
Mimi offers another round of hugs once we’ve set the time for dinner. Gwendolyn isn’t pleased that they’re going to be late for their appointment and Mimi reminds her that she owns the damn hotel, they can be late if they want.
As soon as we’re alone, I wilt like a flower under a heat lamp.
“I wonder if they could inject her with a new personality the next time she goes in for a Botox touch-up,” Ruby mutters once they’re out of earshot.
I sip my Perrier and sigh. I’ve wondered the same thing on many occasions. “You know, I keep thinking she’s going to warm up to me eventually, but it never seems to happen.”
“I don’t think she can warm up to anyone. How she managed to procreate is truly a mystery.” Ruby picks up the appetizer assortment menu the server has left for us.
We’re trying a little of everything so we can narrow the menu down to something reasonable. Well, Ruby will try everything. I’m on a very strict eating regime because the wedding is coming.
“I don’t want to think about what procreating looks like with her.”
“I imagine it isn’t much different than what she looks like most of the time, except she’d be naked.” Ruby takes a sip of her mimosa. It looks delicious.
“Or maybe not. Maybe she just wears crotchless panties so Fredrick can get up in there without inconveniencing her,” I whisper.
Ruby snort-giggles and smiles. “Oh my God. Can you even imagine?” She grows serious again. “I really don’t get it, though. Everyone loves you.”
Everyone except for Armstrong’s mother, anyway. “Armstrong thinks she feels threatened because I’m taking him away from her, but I think she just doesn’t like me. It seems like the harder I try, the worse she gets.”
“So you’ve talked to him about it then?”
“I’ve tried. He doesn’t seem to think it’s a big deal, but we spend so much time with his family. I just want her to like me.”
Since Armstrong has a very close relationship with his mother, I have an unreasonable level of perfection to live up to in her eyes. It’s difficult to see Bancroft’s mother with Ruby. It’s clear she genuinely likes Ruby, and that Ruby likes her as well. In fact, his family acts as though the sun rises and sets for Ruby. I don’t need Gwendolyn to worship me, I just want to have the kind of relationship with my mother-in-law that doesn’t involve excessive anxiety. Unfortunately, I don’t know how to make that happen.
Ruby pats my hand and smiles. “It’s impossible not to like you, Amie. Maybe planning this party together will help.”
“Maybe.” I have my doubts.
“How’s the wedding planning going, anyway?” Ruby asks. “You must be excited now that it’s only a few months away.”
I should be excited. Unfortunately, wedding plans fill me with dread these days. It’s not that I have cold feet. Not more than is normal, anyway. It’s that I’ve given up far more control over the wedding plans than I ever intended just to make things easier with Gwendolyn, and clearly it hasn’t improved our relationship at all.
I decide to focus on the positive. “The dresses are supposed to arrive in a couple of weeks. If we’re lucky we’ll have a fitting before the Halloween soirée.”
Although if that happens, I’m sure to be spending even more time with Armstrong’s mother. She has an opinion on everything and since the reception is being held at one of the Millses’ hotels she’s been heavily involved in all aspects of the planning, which Armstrong seems to think is totally reasonable. Since my family lives out of state, my own mother hasn’t been very involved.
“And you must be super excited for the honeymoon, right?” Ruby lowers her voice to a whisper so only I can hear her. “You’ll finally be deflowered after all these years.”
I snort indelicately. Ruby is very well aware that there is no flower to pluck where I’m concerned. I dated a lot in high school. And typically not the kind of boys I could or should bring home to meet my parents. I figured if I wasn’t supposed to have sex it wouldn’t feel so good. Speaking of, I could really use some soon.
“I hope once we’re married things will pick back up in the in bedroom.”
“What do you mean?” Ruby stops sipping her mimosa, which is already half gone.
I wave my hand around in the air as if my comment doesn’t matter. “The stress of the wedding is making things . . . difficult.”
Ruby frowns and gives me her full attention. “Does that mean you’re not getting much action?”
I fiddle with my napkin so I don’t have to look at her. Ruby and I have always been pretty open with each other about our sex lives. I’ve probably shared much more with her than she needs to know, but then, we’ve been friends for more than a decade.
She was the first person I told when I actually was deflowered back in my junior year of high school. Well, Ruby and I went to prep school. The boy I gave my virginity to was the son of my father’s mechanic. Brent Harper was a serious bad boy and oh-so-good with his fingers. That translated very well fully naked. Unfortunately, that “bad boy” reputation was well earned. Last I heard he was in prison for embezzlement with no chance of parole. Ironically, he’s not the only boyfriend I’ve had with a mug shot. The bad ones were always hard to resist.
“Hello! Amalie?” Ruby waves her hand in front of my face.
“What?”
“Are you low on action?”
“I don’t know. Maybe I’m being too demanding. I mean, I know I have a healthy drive, probably a little too healthy sometimes. It’s why I’m at the gym so much these days, but running and yoga really aren’t a replacement for sex and orgasms.” I realize I’m playing with my hair and fold my hands in my lap to cease the anxious behavior.
Ruby glances around the restaurant, maybe to make sure we have privacy. “When was the last time you had sex?”
“Umm . . .” I look up at the ceiling as I ponder the answer to this question. Beyond the blowjob I gave to Armstrong in the car on Monday, it’s been a while. “Maybe a week ago?”
Ruby raises a brow. “Maybe?”
I consult the calendar in my phone, just to be certain of the accuracy. “Oh. Wow.”
“Oh wow, what?”
The last day marked with an “O” was nearly two weeks ago. “It’s been thirteen days.”
“Since you’ve had sex?” Ruby asks, maybe just a bit too loud. Thankfully we’re in a private corner of the restaurant. “Didn’t you stay at his place on the weekend?”
“I did, but he’d had a busy week and fell asleep before I could jump him, and no. I was right about the sex being a week ago.”
“Then what’s been thirteen days?” Ruby’s eyes go even wider and she grips the edge of the table. “Don’t tell me your period is late.”
I shake my head. “That’s next week. It’s been thirteen days since I’ve had an orgasm.”
“Oh.” Ruby sags with relief. And then her mouth drops open. “Thirteen days?”
I nod.
“That doesn’t make sense if you had sex last week. How is that possible if you haven’t had an orgasm? And how can you survive that long without having an orgasm?”
Maybe this wasn’t the best place to bring this up.
The server stops by our table with an assortment of appetizers and goes to the trouble of describing each and every one of them.
“Oh my God! These are adorable!” Some of them are adorable, others are a little creepy. They’re all Halloween-themed. There are coffin-shaped tarts, the mushroom caps look a lot like eyeballs, which is a tad unappetizing, and there’s something on the plate that looks unnervingly like a spider. We wait patiently while he talks. I can tell it’s taking Ruby a great deal of restraint not to dig right in and try everything.
I think I’ve managed to get out of our discussion about my lack of orgasms, but as soon the server has disappeared, Ruby leans in and whispers, “Is your clit sucker broken or something?”
That’s Ruby’s affectionate term for my favorite personal pleasure device. In my opinion, there is no better way to get off. Apart from actual sex, obviously. “No. It’s not broken.”
“Is your clit broken, then?”
“It’s not broken either.”
“You need to explain this. Aren’t you the one who said an orgasm a day keeps the mood swings at bay or something?”
This is totally my mantra. I’ve lived by it for years. Since I had my first orgasm, to be quite honest. I learned exactly what it took to get me off by the time I was seventeen. It was a fluke really, and I generally don’t have trouble reaching orgasm. Well, lately with Armstrong it’s been a bit of a problem, but I think it’s psychosomatic on my part.
I can usually manage to get off in under three minutes under the right conditions. I don’t need the typical ten to fifteen or sometimes more that seems to be the general average, at least not when I’m excited, and who isn’t excited when there’s the prospect of an orgasm?
“I’m trying something new,” I mumble.
“Something new? Well it sure can’t be good if you haven’t had an orgasm in thirteen damn days.” Ruby pops a mushroom cap in her mouth and moans. “We definitely need more of these. These go on the list.” She dabs the corners of her mouth with a napkin.
“I think we may want to consider the appearance of some of these. We could save the horrorish themes for the drinks instead,” I suggest. I pick up something that looks much like a stabbed heart. It tastes delicious. I think it’s a stuffed pepper.
“So what’s this new orgasmless torture you’re trying out? This sounds worse than that burpee regime last month.”
I choose one of the normal looking appetizers, an endive and shrimp hors d’oeuvre, and nibble the end. “Well, I’ve been having some difficulty orgasming with Armstrong lately.”
“Like he gets a finger cramp from all the rubbing? Just get out your clit sucker and you’re golden. Better yet, make him be the clit sucker.”
“He doesn’t know about the CS.”
Ruby blinks at me. “Wait a second. You haven’t introduced him to your toy collection?”
I can feel my cheeks going pink. The honest answer to this is no, I haven’t. I did try once, but he was not pleased when he saw the size of my vibrator, which surpasses him in both length and girth. “I stay at his place all the time and my collection is at my place.”
“I can see how carting around your trunk of magic tricks would be a little cumbersome. Oh my God. Remember that time you forgot to take the batteries out of your g-spot lover?”
“Oh, I remember.” The vibrator Ruby’s referring to has a rounded angled head to it that hits the g-spot. It’s rather accurate in its curvature.
“I’m pretty sure that airport security guard fell in love with you that night. He wanted to give you the rubber glove treatment so bad.” She wags her eyebrows.
“He was hot, wasn’t he?”
“So hot. And those tattoos. My lord. Just delicious.” She picks up a tomato tart and takes a small bite. “Almost as delicious as these. They go on the list, too. So back to your orgasm drought. I’m not getting why you haven’t had one just because Armstrong is having difficulty getting you there.”
“I think it’s just the stress. I figured maybe if I wasn’t helping myself out every day it would be easier for him to make it happen.”
“But you haven’t had sex in a week.”
“No.”
“Didn’t you stay at his place on Monday?”
“I don’t stay at his place on Mondays because he has squash on Tuesday morning and if I stay he won’t get enough sleep.”
Ruby sets down her fork and regards me for a few long seconds before she releases a long, slow breath. “Please don’t be offended, but are you sure you really want to marry this guy?”
I know she’s just trying to be a good friend, but when she says things like that, wearing that expression, it makes me wonder if my cold feet are more than just normal wedding jitters. Armstrong is a good choice; he’s stable, solid, intelligent, organized, and goal oriented. He’s everything my other boyfriends haven’t been. And he’s never been arrested, so that’s a serious check mark in the plus category. Also, my parents approve wholeheartedly of my choice, another huge check mark. “We’re just going through a phase. I’m making it sound worse than it is. We’ve both been busy. Planning a wedding is stressful, especially with Gwendolyn involved.”
“If you say so. It’s never too late to back out and find a new penis to sit on for the rest of your life.”
The server returns with a new platter of appetizers, ending the conversation. But now I can’t help but worry: What if it doesn’t get better? What if things don’t go back to the way they were before the engagement? The CS is amazing. It gets the job done every time, but I don’t want it to be my primary source of orgasms for the remainder of my sex-having years.