CHAPTER SIXTEEN - SHE BOP

Dearest Nurse, I’m warning you, this one's gonna be graphic.

“Window five, please.”

I padded across the linoleum in my combat boots, up to the plexiglass to see a stout, blonde woman with a messy bun, and a blue, marbled mask.

“Hello!” I chirped, grabbing the attention of the line of fellow filers behind me. Apparently, one is not expected to be cheerful when filing for divorce.

“Hello!” She chirped back. At least someone got it.

I never read directions if I can help it. I’d much rather muck around and figure out whatever it is on my own, while cursing and throwing things around in frustration. I’m convinced it takes less time that way, but it doesn’t. With this divorce, however, I followed every single one of the LegalZoom filing instructions to a T. Shows you how much I want this, doesn’t it? Fucking showed me. I read directions. A lot of them. And I liked it.

“These are for you.” I gloated, handing her the three, pristine copies of the four forms necessary to start the divorce process. While waiting in line, I had seen a few folks sidle up to the counter without the right paperwork, and get sent away. Not me, motherfucker. I read the directions!

“Thank you!” The blonde woman coo’d, and whether she was or not, I told myself she was very impressed with me.

She then proceeded to stamp the papers about three hundred times with four enormous stamps she closed her fist around and banged repeatedly like an angry judge. It was awesome. She even double fisted the stamps at one point. Just KA-JUNK, KA-JUNK, KA-JUNK, like a crazed, stamp-happy octopus.

“That looks like fun.”

“Yeah, I guess.” She chuckled.

“I’d like to stamp some of those myself!”

She laughed out loud.

See? I told you I was charming.

She handed me the forms I needed to serve Paris, and even though I was annoyed that I couldn’t just give them to him myself, I was so relieved. The whole thing only took about fifteen minutes. I could have skipped down that ridiculously long marble hallway at the downtown L.A. courthouse. Maybe it was just the fact that I had done it. That I was actually going through with things, and it would only be a matter of time until my marriage was dissolved. I’m sure that’s part of it. But my silly, little girl state of jubilation was also due to some very successful, recent experimentation.

The day Puppy decimated my brand new clit stimulator, I had a bit of a meltdown. I was exhausted. My life was chaos. I was terrified of running out of money, and this bitch had the canine audacity to blow my whole masturbation plan to smithereens. It was Paris’s birthday, I knew that, but I still asked him to refund me for what his dog had destroyed, and he did. He gets it, sometimes.

I was feeling a bit rushed in my mission to figure out once and for all how to get myself off. I had wanted to start immediately, but sex with Romeo had banged up my tilted uterus so much that I had a swelling/spotting issue for a few days. (Yeah… we needed to calm down a bit.) And then, almost immediately afterwards, I got my period.

I know there are some women out there who love getting busy on their period, but I am not one of them. Nothing makes me feel less hot than being bloated, crampy and moody. And the idea of masturbating over a towel so I don’t get blood all over the sheets just seemed antiseptic and weird. So, I waited.

Another reason I was so bummed about Puppy’s stimulator attack, was that my period had finally ended. I was already more than a third of the way into this project. It was time to get busy! (I mean, I couldn’t disappoint you, dearest Nurse, could I?) I was clearly under the impression that figuring out how to get myself to climax was going to take some time. I, however, have never used sex toys before.

I ran over to my local sex shop that day after physical therapy. (I have bulging discs in my neck from bad writing posture. Needless to say, my therapist isn’t in love with the fact that I’m doing this project.)

“Okay, so I’m a total luddite when it comes to these things…” I said, approaching the sales girl, and immediately hated myself. Who says ‘luddite’ in a sex shop? Recover, Juliet. Now.

“So, tell me, which of these things does the thrusting?” I asked, gesturing awkwardly to an enormous wall of brightly colored falices. I had already grabbed another cute, little stimulator, but I do know me a little. I’m a penetration girl. If I was gonna get ‘er done on my own, I was going to need something shafty.

“Well, those are wands.” She said, expecting me to know what she meant. I looked at the picture on the package. It roughly resembled an electric hair styler, but with a knob at the end. It looked like it thrusted…?

“So… those don’t thrust?”

“Um… no. Those are for clitoral stimulation.”

“Oh…” I said, feeling very stupid. So, you don’t shove the knob part up there? Okay, well, I’m learning.

“I think you want one of these.” She said, and gestured to a row of Rabbits - basically vibrating dildos with a little rabbit-shaped protrusion that stimulates the clitoris at the same time. “Some like the more realistic shape with the head, and some like these bet—“

She didn’t even get to finish her sentence before I grabbed the pink, “realistic” shaped dildo.

What I always remembered most about Romeo’s cock during those sixteen years, was that it had the most gorgeous head. Soft, like a horse’s nose, fleshy, and wide. Just perfection. And somehow, the designers over at Rabbit headquarters got his shape almost perfectly. I marveled at the vibrator I knew would be mine, and just hoped it would get the job done.

That thought makes me laugh now.

Big still comes into my room at night. Sometimes she wants a glass of water. Sometimes she wants a hug. Sometimes she pretends she wants a glass of water to get a hug. Regardless, the last thing I wanted was for her to bust in on mommy, naked from the waist down, flopping around with a buzzing dildo inside her. I suspect she will have enough for her future therapist without such incident. So, I waited until I had a night off.

Like I mentioned, I’m not into watching porn. It’s a turn off for me. I can’t stop thinking about the poor actors involved, and even the unsuspecting, twenty-year-old cameramen who occasionally get peed on, shattering their fantasies of female ejaculation forever. But imagining sex acts has always turned me on. Additionally, I’ve read a few romance novels in my day, and just the words can definitely get me going. (I am a writer, if you haven’t gathered.) And so, I had a thought…

I wonder if there aren’t some sort of dirty talk recordings on the internet I could find…

What an ass I am sometimes. You’d think I’d never heard of phone sex. I grew up in the 90s, for fuck’s sake. Sex hotlines were IT back then. I love that I’ve been checked out of the scene for so long I didn’t even think that sound-only pornography would be a thing.

“Audio porn!” I exclaimed. Like, duh. There it was. Exactly what I was looking for, right there on Google. Tightwad that I am right now, however, I didn’t feel like paying for yet another fucking subscription. (Everything is subscription based now, and I’m just over it.) But then I noticed that Audible had a nice selection of literary erotica…

I am big on Audible. It is THE BEST way to do project research while cleaning up after two wild children, working out, or making dinner. And the best of the best? I had four free credits waiting for me. They actually belonged to Paris, who took over payments on my account for all the self-help books he was buying. As such, I knew there was a chance that Gotta Have It, 69 Stories of Sudden Sex might pop up in his phone library as well, but what the hell? He already knew I purchased a sex toy. Would it really be a shock to see I was listening to sexy stories also? And who knows? Maybe he could get some use out of it as well. (See? I am charming and giving. I’m a regular fucking Santa Claus.)

And so, finally, after Tilty the uterus had healed, squeezed out a period, I replaced my stimulator, got a Rabbit, discovered the wide world of audio porn, and found a free night without the girls, I was fucking ready.

I took a hit from my weed vape. I have a habit of getting into my own head, pretty much always. Some people can work while they’re high. Not me. When I have THC in my system, I can’t follow a single thought to its natural conclusion. Everything becomes a glorious jumble, and then I just give up. I only smoke before I go to sleep, but let me tell you, weed is a gift from the gods for people like me. Just shuts the ol’ brain right the fuck off.

I got comfy, put all the toys and lube where I could easily reach them, locked Dog out of the room, and turned on the audio book.

I probably should have read the directions, or at least experimented with my new thrusting Rabbit a bit before diving right in. I mean, I do like to figure things out myself, but managing four buttons worth of thrusting, pulsing, and vibrating for the first time is a little much when you’ve already gotten into the lube. Not to mention the fact that - now that I know Tilty is tilty - I was trying to find a good position for her by hoisting my ass up onto a stack of unruly pillows. Between the out of control dildo, the pillows, and the fucking lube, I felt like a unpracticed Cirque du Soleil act in an earthquake.

The first sexy story flew right by while I was juggling, but by the second, I was pretty sure I had gotten the hang of it. I listened for a bit first. A strange little story about a woman watching a couple seducing one another from the shadows. I didn’t know voyeurism was my thing, but it was definitely working.

I slid the Rabbit inside and turned on the thruster. Immediately, my eyes flew open. Holy shit, those Rabbit people know what they’re doing! I could get down with this!

The story continued, and it was getting better and better. The couple was screwing now, and the voyeur had started to touch herself. I was totally digging this.

I decided it was time to activate the bunny ears. With a buzz they came to life, and I pressed them into me.

Wow… this… this is something!

I was trying not to think too much, the weed definitely kicking in, but I was astonished. Why the fuck had I never gotten one of these before? This was incredible. Things were definitely heating up in all sorts of ways…

But then the story started getting weird. The voyeur was peeing, and loving it. I’m not into body waste during sex. Piss and shit? That’s for the toilet. Even my two-year-old knows that.

My first thought was, let’s shut this business down and skip to the next story. But you can’t just yank out a thrusting dildo. It’s a suction thing. So, my stupid lubie hands are sliding all over the controls, making the thing go fucking haywire with thrusting and manic vibrations. And the story was still going! Now the bitch was peeing all over herself, and it was so fucking gross, I couldn’t stand it!

I reached for my cell to turn the damn story off, but suddenly, my arm wouldn’t move. Nothing moved. Omigod, I can’t move!

Like a seizure, my entire body was gripped, and all I could do was hold onto that crazy ass Rabbit for dear life until… my brain went dead. Literally, it was as if I had gotten hit in the head with a frying pan, but with no pain, just a momentary blackout.

The awful story ended, I finally managed to turn off the Rabbit, yanked it out and vomited out an involuntary sob. All I could do in that moment was lay on my side and cry. What was happening to me? I mean, I’ve always been one of those girls who cries after particularly good sex, but this was something else. This was more. Because, dear Nurse, in that moment, I realized I had never, ever felt anything like that before.

It was glorious. I had gotten myself off on the very first try. But it was also heartbreaking. How had I never experienced this before? Did this mean I had never actually climaxed until now? Why did I wait so long to take an interest in myself? I told myself I was broken. I told myself I had orgasms before, they just weren't that good. But there was always a question in the back of my mind... Had I ever really cum? Now, for the first time in my life, there wasn’t a doubt in my mind that’s what I had just experienced. And I cried that night because I’m not broken. Romeo had tried to show me that me back when we dated, and sixteen years later, I had finally proven it to myself. I can have every kind of fucking orgasm a woman can have. And I went to bed that night with only one thought on my mind: Shit. With toys like these, who needs men?

And to prove my first success wasn’t a fluke, I went at it again last night, even though my vestibulitis was kicking.

I never wanted to have sex when I felt the soreness flaring up. When I did, I told myself, meh. I’m not going to get off anyway. Might as well get on all fours, get him to cum quick, and then get an ice pack.

I went into this self session with a bit of the same mentality. I was hopeful, but not banking on anything. But wouldn’t you know it, within minutes, I was gripped again. This time for much longer, just seized up like a fucking maniac, making a face that roughly resembled Arnold Schwartzenegger in Total Recall.

Fuck you, vestibulitis, vaginitis, whatever. You ain’t got nothing on me.

Needless to say, I’m thrilled about this development. But there is work to be done. I still have no idea when things are coming or how to control them. The work up isn’t smooth, and I have no idea how to let go when I find myself in that ridiculous, get-your-ass-to-Mars grip. I want to be a master of my body. I want to own it. And I never want to be dependent on anyone else to get me off again. Not even Romeo.

“Okay, so you have to file a response. It’s just two forms.” I said, handing Paris an open folder when he came to drop off the girls this evening. “You fill this one out, and all you need to do is sign that one, and take them in.”

“Take them in where?” He asked sternly, without looking at me. This is Paris’s move now. Just get the words out, and leave. But I couldn’t let him go yet. This was business.

“The courthouse. The address is right here.” I pointed to one of the sticky notes I had placed on the forms, letting him know in detail what he had to do on which, how many copies I had made for him, and even letting him know to bring his checkbook in case there was a filing fee.

“Great.” He said, taking the folder.

He had been pissed at me since I texted him that I had filed the divorce papers that afternoon. Like I said, I didn’t realize I couldn’t just serve him myself. I legally had to have someone else do it. (I’m sure there’s a reason for this, but it just seems so goddamn stupid to have to pull someone else into your relationship drama with an uncontested divorce. But I could go on about the ridiculousness of this process, and no one wants to hear that.)

Would you like to be one of your friends? I texted him, trying to be nice.

Have one of your friends do it. Mine are busy.

In case you’re wondering, dear Nurse, this is the real Paris. He’s been on his best behavior for a while now, thinking he could get me back. Today he realized really and truly that this is over. The papers have been filed, the case is in motion, and it will not stop until we are very, legally divorced.

Fine. I texted back, and wracked my brain all the way home trying to think of who I could ask to take time out of their day to serve Paris and fill out the stupid form. As soon as I pulled into my parking spot, it dawned on me.

“Hey, [Juliet]!” Chirped Nosy Neighbor. You know the one. She smiles at everyone, talks about herself ad nauseam, and then either gossips about you behind your back, fucks with your shit, or both.

My Nosy Neighbor leaves her dog shit bags in a pile in what was once a communal mud pit that I turned into a grassy play area for the girls. She waits until there are ten or so, and then finally takes them to the trash. It’s disgusting. I even bought her a garbage can and put it down there so Little wouldn’t be running around with baggies full of massive, Australian Shepard turns. But did she use it? No. Because she’s Nosy Neighbor, and she fucks with your shit.

Nosy Neighbor was, of course, the first to notice that Paris had moved out. She texted me, asking if I wanted to walk our dogs together sometime. I said, sure! That would be great! But, let’s be real, I’m never going to take her up on it. She’s Nosy Neighbor, and her dog is a spaz.

But there are some things Nosy Neighbors are really good for, and that’s getting in other people’s business. The minute I saw her, a lightbulb went off. This bitch would fucking love to serve Paris for me.

“Oh, I mean, sure. Of course. I’m really easy going.” She said, immediately spinning my request to serve my ex husband into a commentary on her own character. “I just want everything to be easy, and for everyone to be happy.”

Sure you do, Nosy. Sure you do.

When I texted Paris to say Nosy Neighbor would be serving him, he flipped.

You know I hate her. I fucking hate her, [Juliet]!

Hey, Paris. I gave you a choice. I was willing to hit up one of your friends and make it easy. You decided to be a dick. So guess what? Now Nosy Neighbor’s involved.

But I got to hand it to him. He was at least polite. I could hear him from the mailboxes.

“I just want everyone to be happy.” I could hear Nosy Neighbor say again to him as he left, once again making our drama about her.

I suppressed a smile. I am one hundred percent sure Paris wanted to murder her in that moment.

“Yeah… thanks.”

And off he went.

So, in sum, dearest Nurse, it has been a very productive few days. My divorce is well underway. Just a few more filings, and the hard part will be over.

But more importantly, I am repairing my damaged relationship with my body, pleasure, and sex. A relationship that, if I’m being honest, was fractured long before my marriage, before Romeo, and well before I was even aware of “hitting bottom” and vestibulitis.

But where that relationship first began to crack is a story for another day. If I’m brave enough, perhaps tomorrow.

Sincerely yours,

Juliet