My Dad's Best Friend Moved Into My Spare Room After His Divorce, and the Promise He Made My Father Lasted Four Days novel · Chapter 18 of 24

Chapter 18: The Wand

The closet under the attic stairs was four feet wide and slanted.

Ed had to fold himself nearly in half to stand in it.

He didn't seem to mind.

He had my back against my mother's camel coat and his mouth on my throat before the bulb stopped swinging.

"Bag," I said.

"After."

"Now."

"You said nobody touches anybody until you say."

"I'm saying!"

He laughed against my collarbone, low, and reached up over my head without letting go of me.

The bag was a plain brown paper one with the top rolled down.

I'd bought it at lunch on a Monday, in a shop off Dodge with a bell on the door.

He unrolled the top and looked in.

He didn't say anything.

He drew out a small white box, opened the flap with one thumb and took out what was inside it.

It was a wand the length of a hairbrush handle, soft matte silicone, gray as a river stone.

It had a round head the size of a plum and a charging cable coiled beside it.

He held it flat on his big palm.

"Huh," he said.

"Don't say huh."

"I'm not. I'm just..." He turned it over. "How does it go?"

"The button. Hold it."

He held it.

The head buzzed to life against his hand, a low, thick purr that made the whole closet hum.

Ed's eyebrows went up.

"That's strong."

"It has settings. Hold it again."

He pressed.

The pitch dropped to something softer.

"That's the one," I said. "Mostly. For a while."

His eyes came up from the toy and found mine.

They were calm, and dark, and entirely attentive.

"Show me," he said.

"Show you what?"

"How you work."

Heat went through me from throat to knees.

"You want a lesson," I said.

"I want to get it right."

I pulled the coats off the rod behind me, the camel one, the long gray one, the plaid one my mother wore to every Husker game.

I dropped them on the floor in a heap.

I sat down on them with my back against the wall and my knees up.

It was a fat soft nest that smelled like cedar and like her.

Ed folded himself down in front of me, kneeling between my feet, and his hair brushed the slanted ceiling.

I pushed up my skirt.

I wore the thin gray cotton underwear that I'd put on on purpose that morning.

I lifted my hips and he drew it down my legs, slowly.

"Now," I said. "Don't touch me with it yet."

"Okay."

"Put your mouth on me first. Slow. Like on the bench, but slower."

"Yes ma'am."

He lowered his head.

His beard dragged along the inside of my thigh and his tongue came out, flat and warm and unhurried.

I let my head fall back against the wall.

He knew what he was doing.

It was a gift, to be known that fast.

For a long minute I just listened to the wet sound he made and felt the tension climb.

I put my hand in his hair.

"Okay," I said. "Now."

He lifted his face.

His mouth shone, and he held the wand up between us, humming low.

"Not on the middle," I said.

"Where?"

"Beside it. To the left. Barely. Feather."

He set the round head against me, a hair to the left of my clit, lighter than breath.

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