Page 20 of Dirty Diana
I smile, remembering that I brought a gift too. I reach into my purse and pull out a wrapped box.
“For me?”
“Yeah, for us,” I say. “Open it.”
He lifts the lid and inside, lying on its own satin bed, is a very large, neon-orange vibrator. It glows cheerfully in the dim light.
“Hmm, I didn’t realize how bright that color would be,” I say. Oliver and I have never talked about using toys together.
“Maybe it glows in the dark?” he says.
I lift it from the box and it hums so loudly we both startle. The old us would be doubled over laughing by now, but tonight, we’re earnest and focused. The only sound in the room is the vibration. Almost like the rattle of a small lawn mower.
I switch it off. “It was hard to tell how big it was, at the shop.”
“You went to a sex shop?”
I nod.
“Did anyone see you?”
I try to read his face. “Just Emmy’s teacher. And your mom…I think they were together?”
“Ha ha. I meant, did anyone working there see you and offer to help?”
“I was kind of in a hurry.” I think about my hopeful shopping day—new shoes, new vibrator. Now I say, “I don’t think it’s for us.”
He turns the vibrator over in his hands, genuinely curious. “Who is it for? It’s got straps.” He loosens one, then tightens it again. I watch his hands, strong and gentle. “It feels a little…advanced? Doesn’t it? I wouldn’t even know where to put it. I mean, aren’t I enough?”
“Of course you are.” I smile. “It was just an idea.” Clearly not a good one. I was moving too fast, forgetting who Oliver and I are.
“I think I’m a little scared of it,” Oliver says. “What if it turns on us?”
I’m already putting it back in my purse. “I bought the wrong one.”
“We could try it.”
“Is that what you want?” I try not to sound annoyed.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Not really, no.” He looks up. “I just want to connect with you.”
In my head, the wordconnecthas never sounded so dull. Yes, that’s the whole point of tonight—connection.But when Oliver says it out loud, I feel like I’m sitting on the edge of the bed next to an octopus, his tentacles wrapping around me and pulling me underwater.
I brush the hair from his forehead. “I do too.”
“Do you?”
His question makes me more annoyed. Of course I do. Don’t I? Why does an easy night have to turn hard? The longer we go without sex, the harder it is going to be to get back to each other. And it does feel like a place I have to get back to, somehow—like an island that my boat keeps drifting away from, farther and farther. I’m never sure where Oliver is in this tired metaphor. On the beach? In a boat of his own? Underneath my boat, one tentacle draped over the hull?
I lie back on the bed and pull Oliver toward me. He kisses my mouth, gently. I close my eyes.
Oliver shifts beside me on the hotel bed and asks, “Why don’t we take a bath?” his lips still touching mine.
I open my eyes inches from his. “Good, yeah. That sounds really nice.”
“You get in first. I’ll order us some room service. What would you like?”
He’s pulling away, I realize. I hug my arms to my body. “You decide.”
