Page 31 of Satan's Spawn
After ten minutes of stalking in the park, I ran off and returned home, continuing my sleuthing with Google. Which was useless, because I came to my senses, refusing to pay any background check websites for a guy who probably hasn’t thought of me since orientation.
Shaking Crayton from my thoughts, I turn the rabbit on, inserting it into myworkingwet vagina, which is always a friendly reminder it’s not my ability to get aroused that’s the issue. It’s my ability tobenefitfrom it.
Reaching for my phone, I move on to the next video, another one with Mandy where she gets stopped by a very crooked cop.
Or should I say cop with a crooked penis?
I go through my usual routine, visualizing and steady breathing, adjusting the vibration settings trying to find the perfect one. It feels good, don’t get me wrong, but there’s not a tingle or any other inclination it’ll go further than a vaginal massage.
I continue trying to draw out the feeling anyway, in hopes tonight will be my lucky night.
It isn’t—because after ten minutes of Mandy getting railed bent over a police car, I call it quits, clean off my devices in my en suite bathroom sink, then hop back into bed an orgasmless specimen.
I will die on this miserable hill; I’m convinced.
Just as I get comfortable under my blanket, the ding of a text coming through surprises me. I reach for my phone on the nightstand and check to see who it is, finding Archer’s name across the screen.
Archer
See you tomorrow, California. If you need any help setting up your room, I got a pretty good eye for decorating.
I could be sassy and tell him since it’s after midnight, we’re already into tomorrow, but I decide against it. I’ll save the sarcasm for when we’re all living together.
Me
Should I bring the coffees?
Dancing dots appear on the iPhone screen, right before the next text comes through.
Archer
Americano for me. Thankyaaaa very much.
I smile as I close out my phone, connecting it to the charger before settling back into bed. I’ve spent the last week hanging out with both Archer and Hendrix in between shopping with Mom for school. When we weren’t hanging out, we were group texting or video chatting. It’s become an everyday routine.
A couple days ago they both took me to the most amazing park called the High Line. It’s an elevated railway transformed into a linear park overseeing the west side of Manhattan. It had the lushest green trees and bushes stretching around twenty blocks, along with benches and bed chairs seated perfectly for a gorgeous view of the city.
Besides the piers after orientation, the High Line has been one of my highlights since moving here.
Hendrix and I will be meeting outside the building in the morning, so I reach over for the small notepad I keep on my nightstand and add another to-do to my list, making sure to text her when I wake up about the coffees. I’m unable to deny the excitement I feel to have already made two friends here.
I’ve never been the “more the merrier” type up until orientation.
It gives me some hope, knowing I’m getting a bit more comfortable with this new world—okay that’s a bit of a stretch—but it feels like it.
The concrete jungle is nothing like La Jolla. Not a scent of salted air to be found, only mountains of buildings and heat so thick it feels like I can slice through it.
I’m grateful for the few positives, though.
Two good friends, good food, and living in an area of the city that has so much life to it I know I’ll never stop discovering something new.
Let’s just hope these new discoveries are strictly pleasant ones.
And nothing like the ones I found inside the female bathroom. Or sitting alone in the park tonight.
* * *
The morning passed with a blur:between Mom overdoing herself making a three course breakfast—which I could barely eat from jitters—to the three of us rushing out of the condo with all of my luggage because the town car decided to show up early.
