F0und an old short story, from 1996
Jeff had another girlfriend, down south where he was doing his Ph.D. Carl was still getting over a woman who had broken his heart. Thomas wanted to get his life in order, God only knows how long that could take. Frank had coerced me into having sex once when I didn't want it. David was a flailer, Pete had halitosis, I don't think Marcos was legal. Charles borrowed money which he did not return, Shane chewed tobacco, Lawrence had issues with his mother, Michael had issues with mine. Joseph and I stopped clicking, and Jim and I never did, I just thought he would be good for me. Yeah, I'm sure you've heard that story before. Right, right, when you work behind a bar, you hear them all.
The thing is, I wanted a relationship. No, let me rephrase that, I wanted a husband. I wanted the companionship, the security, the regular sex. My life was so empty. Same lousy routine every day. Stupid job, dates with losers, a lot of TV watching. Sometimes I'd go to the movies three or four times in a week. It drove me crazy, watching all those people up on the screen falling in love, half the time not even appreciating what they had. I knew if I had a husband my life would be so much better. Unfortunately, I had been trying to make a husband out of every Jeff, Frank and Lawrence who came along. It took me awhile to realize that maybe I should wait until I met the right guy, instead of falling in love with every man who could make me come. You too? Hmm. You don't mind if I speak frankly? Pour me another, and I'll tell you one I think you haven't heard before.
I'd been celibate for about a year, with only a couple of "encounters of the brief kind", and I will admit that I had become pretty into self-gratification. I am not referring to shoe shopping or eating ice cream in front of the TV, or whatever it is men think we single gals do. I am referring to what men will refer to as "slapping the salami", "whacking off", "beating my meat", "jerking the one eyed trouser trout". I'm not sure about that last one, but you get the point. I was spending a lot of time masturbating, which I guess women aren't supposed to do, since I can't come up with a single colorful metaphor for female auto-eroticism.
Point being, I was forming an intimate relationship with produce and hand-held massage tools, when I started having visions. I have always had visuals at the point of orgasm. Typically brief and picturesque, although a bit trite, flowers in the sunshine, a full moon, waterfall, stuff like that. After six months of going solo, the visuals were getting strange. A bus stop, a newsstand, a food processor, nothing particularly romantic there.
Well, one Saturday morning when I was vibrating happily I had a vision. It was of a movie theater at which I saw my first boyfriend from high school, buying a ticket. I figured that my manless state was making me nostalgic. Later that afternoon my friend Sarah called me up to see if I wanted to see a movie. We agreed to meet outside the theater. Imagine my surprise as I walked up and saw my old boyfriend there. He looked great. I told him, honestly enough, that I had been thinking about him. Didn't tell him when. We caught up a little while I waited for Sarah and he waited for his wife to park the car. Depressing. He was always an incredible lay. Sunday night I indulged again. As I was coming, I had another image. I was being introduced to a new guy at work. Hmmm? Personal assistant is the official title, although you might as well say slave and get it over with. And yes, I will have another margarita, thanks.
Anyhow, I had a typical shitty day at my job Monday, and I figured the vision thing was a coincidence. Monday evening I was "not inclined" if you follow me, and Monday night I had a distressing dream about fighting with my boss and getting fired. Tuesday morning I cringed as my boss approached me. But rather than the nasty boss of my nightmare, he was the cheerful friendly boss I knew and distrusted. He asked me if I would mind training a new temp. I acquiesced, and he brought in a man and introduced me to him. It was the man in my vision.
Tuesday night I pondered the bizarre coincidences I had experienced. Was the rush of hormones releasing some hidden psychic power? Was I able to become one with the universe when I came, thus seeing all? Was this just some goofiness caused by too much time spent alone? In the interest of science, I picked up my vibrator. Orgasm was tricky to reach, since I was so eager to get to it, but when it arrived, it was long and intense, throbbing throughout my body. The image was more typical of my masturbation visions. A handsome man whom I was having some very gratifying sex with. I figured the premonitions, if they were indeed visions of the future, were over.
A week passed without anything out of the ordinary happening. I had just finished up on the Mcguire project, and I decided to treat myself to a long lunch. I was just finishing my Caesar when I saw the handsome man from my vision tending bar. He looked exactly how I had pictured him, only with clothes on. I felt intensely attracted to him, but then, I felt like I'd already had sex with him. I left a phone number on a cocktail napkin for him to find. He called and asked me if I'd like to come over to his place for dinner. A man cooking for me? No way I'd pass that by.
To make a long story short: He cooked well. He entertained well. He spoke well. He fucked well. Okay, more than well. He was stunning. The casual encounters I'd had before had failed to bring me to orgasm, they were really sex for the sake of human company. This guy knew all the tricks, though. He let my excitement build and fall several times until he pulled me over the brink into orgasm. And as I came, and he came, I had a vision. I saw him sitting on a chair, lazy and full of attitude, breathing deeply of a cigarette as I handed him money and berated him. As I faded into afterglow, I was upset. I had no idea what the vision meant. A lover's quarrel? Was he a freeloader? An asshole more interested in my money than my company?
He seemed worried by my strange behavior. He held me close and kissed me and told me how beautiful he thought I was, all the things I want to hear from a lover. But I couldn't shake my feeling of dread. I couldn't tell him what went wrong, but I tried to reassure him it wasn't him. He called a cab for me, and I went home. Over the next few days I made a lot of bad excuses, and I told him I wasn't ready to date. I couldn't allow myself to get involved in another bad relationship. He was already too tempting, and I could feel the symptoms of love rising like a fever.
Over the next months I abused my self. I masturbated daily, sometimes twice daily, until my body was raw and numb, and I was crawling up walls aching for an orgasm that I was too overwrought to achieve. I was looking for visions, more specifically, I was looking for Mr. Right. Each of my visions had involved men. If I could only get a glimpse of a future husband, I could get off the dating rollercoaster. If I had any doubt that my visions were of the future, it was allayed. I viewed a raise, which I was given the next day, and a major battle with my boss, which I was able to avoid. I even saw a terrific job at another firm, which when offered, I snapped up. My life was getting better and better, but I still didn't get a vision of what I really wanted to see.
Okay, one more, but no salt this time.
Well, let me tell you, after awhile I began to suffer a pain as fierce as any suffered by any new bride. I knew I had to change my tactics. I became my own best lover. I would put off masturbating for a few days, then take a whole evening to bring myself to it. I'd take a long bath, drink a glass of wine. I'd watch an erotic film, touching myself lightly throughout, so as to extend the period of anticipation. When I settled into my bed with my toys, I would continue to take my time, touching my self across the thighs, running the vibrator across my stomach, letting it settle against the mound of Venus. I could create long multiple orgasms that way, and get more cohesive visions. When I finally saw myself in a wedding dress, I was ecstatic.
The groom was a man who worked in my building, on another floor. He was in public relations and wrote press releases. He was an ordinary looking guy, cute enough. Sandy blond hair, brown eyes, crooked front teeth. One leaned slightly over the other. Really very sweet. I took my time courting him, arranging to run in to him on the elevator, or in the lunchroom. Our first date was at his request. We had a tremendously romantic evening, but I did not invite him in afterwards. If this was going to be my husband, I wanted to wait. The funny thing is, he never really pressed the issue. We'd see a movie, or go to dinner, then kiss a little before he'd walk me to my door. Even when we'd have a quiet evening in front of the TV, he seemed happy just to neck like teenagers. Not the most exciting man I had ever been out with, but he was comfortable to be with. No, I wouldn't say I was exactly in love, but I was coming to love him. Sort of. My visions at that time delighted me. I saw a nice house, a pretty child, another promotion at my job. I felt happy and secure, and even started to try not to have visions, so I could concentrate just on my body, on making myself feel great. I'd buy vibrators of different types, to suit my mood. Some nights I'd tell my husband-to-be I was working late, and I'd go home and spend the evening with myself.
I didn't sleep with him until last night. He proposed last night. We went out to our favorite restaurant, the one we went to on our first date. The night was warm and beautiful, we went dancing afterward. Then we went for a midnight walk in the rose garden at the park. He pulled out this gorgeous diamond ring. We hugged and kissed and when he asked me in to his house for a nightcap, I didn't decline. We made out on me couch for a long time. He is a nice kisser. I let him undress me and take me to bed. I really don't know how to say this in a nice way. No visions. No orgasm. Okay, he's lousy. I said it, he's a lousy lay. And he snores. I stayed up all last night listening to him snore and thinking. This is the man I'm going to spend the rest of my life with. This man is my future. This man.
Nah, I can't have another. I have a ring to return and batteries to buy.
--1,770 Words