Page 11 of Little Paper Games
With the lockdown, it wasn’t like I could go meet someone. She assured me that the appeal to online dating was, in fact, the animosity of it all if done right. That I could just let go and be free because there was a screen and a keyboard between me and whoever I talked to. The idea seemed absolutely abhorrent if you asked me.
Janie’s answer to that issue, however, was to send this. This giant, heavy box. A box full of sex toys. I’m not kidding. The bitch had sent me a giant toy box. Literally. What the hell was I going to do with all of this? And where the hell would I put them?!
I finally got the box to the base of the staircase and decided that it would be easier to unpack the box and take them upstairs in batches. If I tried to carry the whole box upstairs, that would end badly.
“Janie, I can’t believe you,” I half seethed into the phone as I began unpacking the colorful plethora of dildos and other paraphernalia.
“Shut up, Kenny-Benny Babe. And yes, you can believe me,” she joked.
“Ew, I hate when you call me that.” I made a wrinkled-up face that she laughed at over FaceTime. Thank God that feature was readily available with the current state of affairs.
“Why do you think I do it?” She made a pssh sound into the phone, still laughing at the faces I made as each item was revealed.
“You should know I tried to return the whole damned box,” I smarted off.
“I know, that’s why I made sure there was a no return policy,” the bitch laughed at me.
“You’re a bitch.”
“You’re just sexually repressed, love,” she tossed right back.
“Shut up.” I could feel the blush on my cheekbones. “What the hell is this even for?”
She cracked up at that. The oddly shaped string just didn’t make sense.
“That, my wonderfully innocent friend, is a set of anal beads,” she chortled into the phone.
“Anal beads!? You mean these—” I cut off, shocked.
“Yup, backdoor love at its finest.
Don’t knock ‘em til you try ‘em.” If I could have gone outside, I would have walked clear over to Janie’s house and beat her for all this.
“I want to beat you. Did you know that?” I grumbled, pulling package after package out of the box.
“Oh, that kind of toy isn’t til the bottom of the box,” she cackled.
“The fuck does that even mean?!” My eyes had to be wide as saucers. She was right though. The deeper I got into the box, the more obscure and strange the toys seemed to get.
“Oh, you’ll see,” she teased, giggling as she took a sip of her hard cider.
“Can you believe that they delivered it to the other door, though? I had to get this box from fucking Jude Lincoln.” I know I needed to let it go, but the man just annoyed me to no avail. Everything he did seemed centered on irritating me.
“I still can’t believe that Jude lives next door to you,” she chortled with an over-exaggerated wagging of her brows.
“You say that like it’s a good thing. You hate him just as much as I do,” I reminded her quickly.
“Hated. Hated. Past tense. You are the only one hanging on to those primary school emotions, doll. Yeah, he was a bit of a tool in school, but weren’t they all? I mean, seriously, name a man that you personally know who isn’t a tool,” Janie pressed, her sass only growing with each drink.
“Easy peasy! Mitch Clarke,” I stated with a smug smile.
“Nope, that’s cheating. Mitch Clarke isn’t a man, he’s your father. It’s different,” she corrected, wagging her finger at her in chastisement.
“Regardless of the point you’re trying to make, Janie Cooper, Jude Lincoln is, in fact, a giant tool-ish asshole of a man. He’s not changed a bit!” I fought, feeling the wine hit me a little stronger the longer we talked.
“Okay, well, we will have to disagree on that point, Miss Clarke. And on that note, I have a date with my own box of toys tonight.” she stood, doing an obscene bow-chicka-wow-wow sound with a suggestive hip action.
“More than I needed to know, Janie,” I called out, gathering all the trash and packaging, and throwing it back into the empty box.
