3 - Valerie
I wake up when my phone rings. It’s Emma.
“Oh. My. God. Val. You will not believe the night I had!”
She’s practically yelling down the phone in excitement. Groggy, I rub my eyes and try to understand what she’s saying. My voice is husky and hoarse when I respond.
“Why, what happened? Are you ok?”
“Am I ok?! Are you kidding me?? I just had the most mind blowing night of the century. Holy shit, Val, you would not believe it. I just had the craziest, most animalistic sex of my life. I haven’t even slept. He was so good, and his cock was huge!”
I groan in response, still trying to wake up. It isn’t unusual for Emma to wake me up with her crazy antics. I just wish she hadn’t done so on my first day off in two weeks. I sit up in bed, holding the phone to my ear as she talks nonstop while I try to keep up.
“I met him at this bar and we connected right away, you know? Like we were just drawn to each other. He had me bent over his kitchen counter, pulling my hair back, ahh even just thinking about it now is driving me nuts. Val, you need to sort out this orgasm thing of yours because life's too short to not have a night like that!!”
“Sounds exciting, Em.”
“You wouldn’t believe. Seriously. You need to have an orgasm. Or twelve.”
“I’m going to the doctor this morning actually, I’m going to ask them about it,” I respond.
“About the orgasm thing? That’s good! Because I can tell you, you are missing out. Big time.”
As if I didn’t already know. Her words sting. I love Emma with all my heart but sometimes she can be so oblivious. I know she doesn’t mean to hurt my feelings but when she goes on and on about how great her sex life is, it just makes me feel so... Inadequate. I tell her I need to get ready for the doctor and I hang up the phone.
I lay back down and stare up at my ceiling. I wonder if there are any other ceilings that have been stared at as much as mine. I seem to know every inch of it, every crack in the paint and the way the light hits every corner of it. I should put up a photo like they do in dentists’ offices so at least I’d have something to look at.
I get up and turn on the shower. I look at myself in the bathroom mirror as the water warms up. I look a bit tired but nothing a good shower and some makeup won’t fix. War paint, as Emma calls it. I need to feel as confident as possible when I go to this doctor’s appointment because if I feel the slightest bit insecure about myself I might chicken out and not ask about my problem.
My mind is racing as I shower. How will the doctor react? I’m sure they’ll be professional. I hope it’s a woman.
As I get ready I try not to think too much about my appointment. I pick out my favourite jeans and a tight white tank top. I blow dry my hair and put on some makeup, making sure my blue eyes pop. I even put on some lipstick, thinking of Emma and her signature power red. I choose a dusty pink colour, understated but flattering.
I throw on a cardigan and look at myself in my full-length mirror. I feel good. Simple, casual, but pretty and confident. Like someone who is capable of having mind blowing orgasms.
At least I hope so.
It’s nice to be wearing jeans, and to have a bit of a sleep in. Even though I’m nervous about my appointment it’s nice to have a day off. I’ve been working so much this past while, and I’ve finally hit my stride at the office.
I’ve started making some big sales in New York real estate. Month after month I was the top sales agent in my area, so my boss has finally given me some bigger listings. I’m breaking into the multi-million dollar mansions now, which means a bigger commission but more difficult clients. It’s cutthroat, thankless, and non-stop, but I know how to sell a house. I smile. I can’t come but at least I close a deal.
Whenever life gets hard I’ve always just thrown myself into my work. When I broke up with Bryce it was the perfect time to pick up more hours at the office. Still, it’s nice to have a day off, even though I need to confess to the doctor my most embarrassing secret.
Deep breaths. After this morning I’ll be buying a direct ticket to Orgasmtown, population: me. Hopefully.
I grab my keys, wallet, and phone and head down to my car. Shoulders back, head high. Fake it till you make it, I tell myself. I’m going to ask the doctor why I can’t have an orgasm. I’m doing it. Try and stop me.