Full tummy and empty mind. Back to writing in the Chronicle Of Laynie.
We were maybe five minutes out from the Everwood city limits when she broke down and at long last said, "Thank you."
"Huh? Wow, total one-eighty."
"Don't be a dick. I mean it, thanks for helping me out, even if you were totally evil back there. At least you came with."
Smiling and declining to fully acknowledge her thanks/apology, I said, "So... you got what you wanted. Any plans for using this stuff?"
"No," she sighed, then took a few more deep breaths to slow her pulse. "Not yet. I figure I'll just... y'know, look at them for a few days, get used to the idea that I own something like this. Then I'll get freaky."
"It's not freaky," I laughed. "Everybody uses them. There's no ball gags or electrified nipple clamps in this bag of tricks, so I think you're in relatively safe waters."
"Sometimes I could honestly swear you make this stuff up on the spur of the moment."
"All true. Some of my old classmates were into the real stuff."
"Nipple clamps? Seriously? Geez, that doesn't even sound hot, not at all!"
"Not to you and me. Different strokes for different folks." Now I couldn't help but grin. "Wanna know what kind of strokes I'm into?"
That floored me. In all of my years of hanging out with Amy Abbott, I've come to be able to predict almost everything she could possibly say in reaction to any given situation with about 99% accuracy. This one time I hit the remaining per cent, and it was about something this intimate? I almost wet myself. "Wait... I mean, really? You wanna know what I do?"
"Of course!" she snapped, as if I should have been expecting this. "God, I even let you do it for me last time, so do you really think I have any idea what I'm doing? Please, tell me how you get started, how to set it up, how to sit, how... breathing exercises, I don't know!"
I was smiling, I was blushing, I was staring out at the road whizzing by. "Uhh... well, let's see. Never told anybody how I do it. I guess I've never given it a lot of thought; when I'm doing that I put my body on auto-pilot, y'know?"
Even just thinking about what I was about to tell her put me in the mood to act out the instructions, if you catch my drift. It was really weird, made me feel like somebody was turning me inside-out or something. "Well... okay, so first I make sure I'm alone... then I put on the music. Sometimes I light candles, sometimes it's like, who cares if there's candles?"
"Good, good," she grunted, gripping the steering wheel with grim determination as if we were outlining the plans for breaking into the First National Bank of Somewheresville. "Candles and Coldplay. Then what?"
"Lube, lots of lube," I told her nervously. "Sometimes a condom."
"You can put condoms on these things? Why?"
"So it doesn't get you pregnant," I snapped impatiently. "Come on, try and use both halves of your brain for once; it makes clean-up easier, and if you use a ribbed one it can change the sensation. But you won't have that problem, Miss Jelly-Sleeves."
"Eep." She really "eep"ed, it was cute.
"Then I... um, are you sure you care about this?" She didn't answer. "Then I might start touching myself without it, just a little. Play with my tits. Eventually, when I'm starting to feel, y'know, loose or whatever, I pick up the thing and... go to town."
Now Amy was looking a smidgen more like I looked; ashamed that we were talking about this in such fine detail. "Okay. But I want to know more than 'go to town'; sorry, I know it's overshare but I really don't know how this happens."
"God, there's only so many ways it can go! You open your legs, you move the tip of it around until you find the only hole wide enough to admit it and then you put it in! If you're in the mood for the shakes you make it shake you, if not then you don't, and just like that old Who song you go in, and out, and in, and out... and then you speed up when it's almost over, and then you make some silly noises you hope nobody ever hears, and then you probably need a big glass of water! Is that more like it?"
Now both of us were panting. Like, really panting, like we were doing it right there in the car. I hadn't even realized I was half-shouting at her until afterward. Amy whispered, "Yeah... yeah, that's more like it. That's what you did to me."
"For God's sake, Amy, I'm not sure how much more I can help you handle this stuff! What, do you need to watch me, too?"
"Maybe I should."
"I..." But I couldn't come up with much else to say. There needed to be a change in tactic. "Listen. I don't think this is anything I can keep helping you with, okay? It's... making me uncomfortable."
Amy swallowed. "Me too. I mean it, it really is freaking me out the way things are going, but all I know for sure is that... that you really made me feel amazing that night."
"I'm not trying to say I liked it because I'm in love with you or anything bad," she went on hurriedly, a tear sliding down the cheek closest to me. Probably the other one, too, but I couldn't see it well enough by her reflection in the window to tell. "But it felt great. You really knew what to do to me, I felt so safe because I knew you care about me-"
"Not like that I don't! Sorry, but I can't be your fluffer anymore, I just can't, okay? Time for the baby bird to leave the nest and fly all on her lonesome!"
"But I need your help, Laynie, I really do!" A tiny sob slipped out before she whispered, "I know I'm a pain in the butt, but just... one more time? Show me how to do this so I can do it for myself and then I'll never bother you about this again, I swear!"
"I am not a whore, Ames!" I shouted. "I can't just put out for you! You're acting like this is no big deal for me, like I masturbate my friends all the time, well, news flash – I don't! You are the ONLY friend I have ever done that for, and it was an extreme circumstance! I- I don't wanna touch- I can't do that, it's too much, too much for us to do together, okay?"
Suddenly we were at my house. Yeah, neither of us noticed we were there, but deep down I realized we'd been parked in the driveway for a few minutes. We both blinked, and Amy was the one who whispered, "How did we get here?"
Instead of answering, I got out and slammed the door. It was five seconds later that Amy came flying out of the SUV after me and said, "Wait! Laynie, don't go off like that, please?"
"It's okay," I told her shakily, unable to really look at her. "You're cool, we're cool. Just... can you give me a little space for a while?"
"I don't want space," Amy protested desperately. "I can't have this mess things up with us, not like Tommy did, I... that was already one mistake too many, I can't let there be another one."
"You tried to get me to fuck you!" I told her bluntly, and she grimaced and looked away. "It's... how am I supposed to even start to list the many reasons that is not acceptable? And what, you wanted to watch me do it to myself so you can learn how? That's crazy! Just look it up on ScrewTube or something!"
"It's not that I wanna... watch you do it," she said – in a very unconvincing manner.
"Yes you do!" I gasped. I gasped again when she didn't deny it. "You already told me that you liked me being in the room, that it heightened your pleasure or whatnot, and now you wanna watch me ream myself with one of your new toys!"
"NO!" she protested, shaking her golden locks from side to side. "No, you were gonna use Old Blue! Wasn't that the whole point of me getting my own equipment?"
At that, I took a few quick breaths and ran my hand through my sporty black hair. Oh yeah, I got it cut again; did I leave that out? It's a total Demi from Ghost, but less boyish. Guess there's other stuff more important than stylists taking center stage. "Okay. Look, I'm sorry, but I can't do this anymore. Not this stuff. Is that clear? Am I getting through to Apollo 13 up there?"
"I can't. You have to go it alone."
"But I need this." Her voice dropped a lot as she leaned in with a this kind of lost, confused look in her eyes, like this was scaring her way worse than it scared me. Which was already "to the max". "You're my best friend, and I need your help with this, okay?"
"You can't have my help with this. That is all there is to it. Face it, Ames, we all gotta grow up sometime."
For a long while, she stood there, all tense like she wanted to keep fighting with me, and then she kind of rubbed the end of her nose and said, "I know. I'll try by myself. I'm so scared I'm gonna mess it up."
"That's impossible. Even if you don't get it right the first time, nothing's going to change forever. You'll just be forced to start over is all."
Suddenly she had me in a crushing hug. "I'm sorry. Thanks for putting up with my crazy ass."
That was the last I saw of her. I mean, it was earlier today, so obviously that's not some huge scary statement and nobody's gonna call in search and rescue. I'm just saying- hang on, phone. It's Amy. WTF?
AUTHORESS'S NOTE: Ooh, what might Amy want at such a late hour? Yes, more angst; I apologise, but I felt like we needed a screaming match to offset the comedy of the previous chapter. I mean, what is Everwood if not a touch manic-depressive? You're up, you're down...
Soulless: Amusingly-awkward is my current place of residence :D13th: Haha, that's priceless! Do you have a dance routine to accompany? You need to download "Dirty Little Pop Song", memorise it, belt it out in glorious falsetto for your flatmates. Or "Like A Robot", but that could give off more of a wrong impression than you intended...
NEXT: The phone call from Hell; the first link in the chain reaction.