Page 4 of My Turn Petal
Wild and consuming.
I want all of it inside me but right now I can’t have it—hopefully, someday I will.
I thread my arms through the black sleeves of my leather jacket—the one with theBreak Metext in the back. I toss the black sling bag over my head and snatch my black kitten helmet from the kitchen oak dining table.
Right as I’m about to leave my phone rings again.
“Did you forget to mention another exquisite idea,” I answer mockingly, but mostly amusement is lacing my tone as I lock the door of my apartment.
“Not far off. Mila thought hiring someone to be at your service might work if they could help you with your condition.” Hesitantly, he clears his voice.
“You’re joking.” I’m trying to digest his words but they get stuck somewhere in the middle.
I simply can’t take it seriously.
“Think about it. It makes perfect sense.” I already envision him presenting his idea with hand gestures all over the place as he makes his case, scoring homerun. “You get to dictate what you want and they will do it and get paid.”
“What do you want me to do?” I shake my head to myself. “Advertise the nation, asking for someone to try to open my flower and have sex with me. No thank you, that’s a recipe for disaster and a siren call for creeps. And for the record, I’m not sure it will help my situation.”
Absolutely not. This is a terrible idea.
“Come on, Frankie. Your condition is not a life sentence. You went to therapists and sexual consultants before.” He exhales a breath.
“My condition feels like a life sentence. Vaginismus is a time-consuming terrorist. I’m exhausted, and frankly, also perplexed and embarrassed.”
Maybe I’m overreacting but I will not stoop so low and ask someone to help me for money.
Well… saying it like that to myself doesn’t sound so bad. Still, do I want to involve another person in this?
What if that person will bail on me? Forget our appointments, or get bored?
They all do.
The key here is consistency and discipline, without it no change will occur.
“I don’t know Jude. I’ll think about it.” It’s all I can offer at the moment. It’s not a strict no but also not a pronounced yes.
“That’s all I want, for you to think about it. No attachments. Strictly help.”
That’s my problem; I can’t detach. Intimacy shouldn’t be like this, if that works for some, fine. But I need more, I can’t just be with someone and treat it like it’s a meaningless act.
I love Jude to death, but sometimes I want to strangle him like the brother I never had, that keeps pressuring me into doing stupid shit that got me in trouble, more times than I can count when we were kids. But now, it’ll probably end up being my salvation.
Theo
Shecan’tseemebut my perked ears can hear every syllable she utters. The moment I heard her smoky voice, I got back into my apartment but left the door ajar.
I want to give her privacy but I’m also curious since I heard her say something that nearly got me choking.
Advertise. Open her flower. And have sex with her.
Frankie Anderson, the badass biker from across the hall, apartment B4. The woman I can’t get out of my head. She gave me an amazing sleeve and a couple more tattoos for the past three years I’ve known her.
I had to find a way to spend time with her when she first moved here, and tattoos always appealed to me.
There’s still something riddling about her.
A key I cannot find.
