This was something minor I could dominate. As soon as the word occurred to me, I stifled a giggle. Already, I was lighter. This is what I needed: laughter, victories, and orgasms.
This week was full of big upheaval, and bigger challenges lay ahead. Small wins like this mattered. They’d give me strength.
I walked back to my bed, heart pounding, sweat on my brow. My fingers clenched around the sex toy that symbolized too much.
I was like a shy teenage girl touching herself for the first time instead of an experienced, once-daring thirty-something who’d lived with a partner for years. Damn Beau for stealing my confidence.
This was one battle I had to conquer on my own. I allowed this to happen, and I was responsible for taking back my sexuality. Alone, I’d find the person I used to be before Beau berated my enthusiasm, my sounds, my wetness, my desire.
He berated and mocked me, small things at first but with increasing frequency, until so much of my life was ensuring I didn’t do anything todisplease him. In service of that, I covered my tattoos, stopped wearing makeup, didn’t work out as much, and muted my personality.
After a few days away from his influence, I had greater clarity than I’d had in years. It wasn’t going to be as easy as deciding I deserved better, but it wouldn’t get better unless I believed. And I’d start with a little self-pleasure.
With a deep breath, I spread my legs. It’d been so long since I played with myself or had someone else pay attention to my body. I nearly leaped off the bed when I touched the toy to my clit on its lowest setting, but I tried again.
In no time, my body clenched tight. I bit back a moan as my first orgasm in a year crashed over me. My body arched up from the bed, and I shattered.
When it was over, I lay limp and drenched, exhilarated and exhausted in equal measure. I wanted to laugh and cry. Holy hell, that was amazing! It was a shame I denied myself this simple, healthy pleasure.
After I cleaned up, I put on my pajamas and crawled back into bed. My exhaustion consumed me. Once I settled, Miss Priss jumped onto the bed and curled up.
Right before I fell asleep, I acknowledged to myself that it was Jake’s face in my mind as I crested my peak. Damn. I was in so much trouble.
After lunch, I remembered about my car, and it still wouldn’t start.
Me: The battery charger didn’t work. Mechanic guru,what do you suggest?
Jake: A new battery will probably fix it. Let’s try that first.
Me: Was this all a ploy to get me to spend money at Dusty’s?
Jake: Yes, I set up an elaborate scheme to get less than an hour of labor.
Me: I knew it!
Jake: I can’t replace it before you have to go to work, but I can drop you off and take care of it tonight.
Me: If it’s too much trouble, I’m sure Neil would give me a ride.
Jake: After yesterday, I want to.
Me: Me, too. Thanks. Let me know if it’s too much of an inconvenience.
Jake: Never.
I worked on my design work until it was time to get ready for my shift. After a moment’s hesitation, I pulled out a shirt from the back of my closet. It was another shirt I told Beau I got rid of. He thought it was indecent, but it wasn’t. It highlighted my tattoos and strong back, yet it made me feel feminine.
From the front, it was a normal, well-fitted short-sleeved shirt. The back was open until it hit my natural waist, and I wore a low-back bra.
This was my quiet rebellion, my way of celebrating the end of my relationship. It wasn’t a signal that I was available. God, no. Instead, I was reclaiming myself by doing the things that brought me joy.
And, hey, if I get a few extra bucks in tips, I wouldn’t be sad about it.
I dreaded the actual breakup ahead, but a weight lifted from my shoulders. The conversation was going to be terrible, but at least I was in a stronger position than I’d been in months.
When Jake pulled into the driveway, I pushed out the butterflies with a deep breath. I was desperate for Jake to like my tattoos, but I refused to think about why. My breaths grew shallow as I jogged to the passenger side of his truck.
“How’s your day been?” he asked.
