The Dildo That Stole Claire Bonneville's Memory
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Claire had never had a panic attack, but she felt a kinship with those thusly afflicted as she stared through the windshield of her car at the establishment called "Christie's Toy Box."
She'd never done anything like this. In her opinion, had someone looked up the entry for "good girl" in the dictionary, her picture might be there. Not that she was completely innocent. She'd giggled with her friends as they watched the occasional porn video, but that had been years ago, decades, in fact.
And while she'd heard quite a bit about sex toys, she'd never owned one. The very idea of going into an adult entertainment store seemed so foreign to her that she couldn't believe she was actually parked beside one. The same frustration that had driven her to get this far made her open the door and place one foot onto the ground.
Christie's was located about fifteen miles outside of town, just off the interstate. It stood alone, the only building in sight, perched next to cow pasture, as befitted a place that was a social pariah. But that was good, because Claire couldn't have gotten up the courage to go there if it had been in town, where anybody might have seen her going inside. As she scurried toward the entrance, she had a brief but hilarious fantasy that, when she entered, she'd find Jennifer, the neighborhood
buying all sorts of perverted things.
A bell dinged as she opened the door. She expected everyone in the place to turn and stare at her, but forged ahead.
She'd assumed it would be a dark, sleazy kind
of place. That it wasn't, was her first surprise.
There was a woman behind a counter, hunched over a Sudoku book.
Nobody looked at her. The place was well lit and, other than the actual contents, looked like any other store she'd ever been in.
There were half a dozen people browsing around, and none of them gave her so much as a glance. She suddenly felt silly in her floppy hat and
big sunglasses. Upon impulse, she removed them.
She was surprised at how liberated that made her feel.
Now the woman looked up at her.
"If you need any help finding anything, let me know," she said.
"Okay," said Claire, gratified that her voice sounded firm.
She moved then, looking first at the wall on her left. It was literally covered with things packaged in plastic. She hit the jackpot within twenty or so feet, where she saw penis-shaped objects of every size and color. It was like being in that candy store in the mall, where it
hours just to examine everything they offered.
She stifled a giggle as the word "flavored" leapt off one plastic container at her.
Her mood turned from apprehensive to fascinated. All the objects arrayed in front of her were phallic shaped, but there the
similarity ended. The variety was astonishing. They went from things that were slim and smooth, to those that had ridges, and even spikes. She winced as she looked at one monstrosity that was double ended, with protrusions on the shaft, a veritable Swiss army knife of dildos.
She arrived at the section where things looked lifelike. This was more like it. Her eyes wandered over the different colors and sizes. Some had testicles attached, and looked so real she had a short, uncomfortable
fantasy that involved a knife and some unfortunate man.
She leaned forward.How on earth did they make these things? Did someone model for them? Were they copies made with casting materials?
She did let out a giggle one time, as she saw one called, simply, "Lenny". Only then did she take in the plethora of
names some advertising agency had come up with, all of which meant
She looked at her watch. She needed to hurry.
She picked the most lifelike one that matched her own coloring. She was conscious of the fact that it was bigger than her
At least she could depend on this one to be firm and ready when she needed it.
The clerk looked put her Sudoku book aside and used a hand-held scanner to ring up the sale.
"Good choice," she said."You'll like this one, but we're having a special on Wascally Rabbits. Forty percent off. And they vibrate too. They're amazing."
Claire swallowed. This was a transaction just like any other she'd ever made, but it still felt surreal.
"No thanks," she said. "Just this one."
The woman lowered her voice, conspiratorially.
"I'll give you a card good for forty percent off any item. It's good for sixty days, okay?"
"Sure," breathed Claire.
Five minutes later she was back on the interstate, headed east.
The dildo was in the bag in the back seat, the one that held all the other birthday presents she'd gotten at the
party her best friend had thrown for her, earlier that day.
"You won't believe what I got for my birthday," said Claire as she set the bag down on the dining room table.
"Try me," said John, whose eyes remained on the TV screen.
She took a deep breath and reached into the bag. She pulled out the dildo, which she'd removed from the packaging.
It felt firm, astonishingly lifelike, except
it was cold.
He finally looked, and she wiggled her hand. The silicone masterpiece in her hand swayed.
"You're shitting me!"
She finally had his full attention.
"Who the hell gave you that?"
"Cindy. She said it was for when I wore you out and needed more."
He stood, and approached. There was an odd look on his face.
"You're not going to ... um ... actually use it ... are you?"
"You haven't paid any attention to me in months, John."
"You know how tired I am when I get home from work."
"I know how late you stay up and watch TV," she countered.
He stared at his potential replacement, gripped in her manicured fingers. His face smoothed.
"You won't use that," he said, firmly. "You're not that kind of girl."
"I'm the kind of girl who has needs," she said, her voice level.
He grinned. "You won't use it. And you don't need to. I'm your husband. I'll take care of you."
"You haven't been," she reminded him, anger simmering under the smooth features of her face.
"I've just been tired. Everything will be fine, Claire. You don't need that."
"Whatever," she said, suddenly unwilling to extend whatever this was. She turned on her heel and took the bag with her presents in the bedroom.
He didn't follow. She was pretty sure he'd gone back to sit down in front of that thrice damned TV again.
She sat on the edge of the bed and lifted her hand to look curiously at her brand new dildo. She'd taken it out of the plastic packaging
hastily, and hadn't taken the time to examine it. That would be all she needed ... for Mrs. Hopkins, next door, to look out her window and see her, sitting in her car,
fondling a rubber penis.
It seemed heavier, now that it was out of the packaging. It was both more flexible than she'd expected it to be, and amazingly firm at
time. It was a permanent erection.
It was her permanent erection.
Her nipples tingled inside the sensible bra she was wearing.
She had no idea what to do now. She'd bought the damn thing. Her plan had been to show it to John, and she'd expected him to perceive this actually quite lovely thing as a threat. She'd hoped he would show her that she didn't need something like that. But all he'd done was tell her she didn't need it.
He did that a
telling her what to believe ... what to think ... what to do ... what
and did not need.
She wrapped her
around the dildo and, tentatively, stroked it.
It wasn't like John's. Nothing
moved on it. It was lifeless.
She tried to
using it, and felt frustrated that she wasn't sure she'd know how.
Did you just stick it in?
Did you move it in and out? How
deep should you go? This thing was almost
twice as long as John
was. It would touch her in places she'd
never been touched before.
If she used it.
He still hadn't
bed. She'd gotten home late, hoping he'd
already be in bed, so she could show him the toy then.
No such luck.
With a sigh, she removed her other presents from the bag and sorted through them. Some went on the dresser, some on the vanity, and a couple in the chest of drawers. They were typical kinds of presents from people she worked with ... a scarf ... a tube of fancy bubble bath crystals ... a pair of ankle high insulated slippers, for wintertime. Cindy had actually given her a very nice silk blouse. She admired it again as she hung it in the closet. She'd have to make sure John didn't talk to Cindy about the dildo. She didn't think he would. Cindy intimidated him. She was beautiful, out of John's league, and he knew it. She also exuded self confidence. Cindy knew men like John lusted after her,
and undressed her with their eyes, but she ignored them. She had better things to do than lower herself to their level.
She was suddenly tired. Her plan had failed. Now she owned a dildo which was useless to
her. He was right. She wouldn't use it. She couldn't. She'd be too embarrassed.
She opened the drawer in the night stand and dropped the long, pink, astonishingly realistic
faux penis inside. It thumped heavily.
Feeling drained, she undressed, performed her nightly rituals in the bathroom, and put on
Crawling into bed, she put on her sleep mask, leaving the light on. If she turned it off, he'd just turn it on when he came to bed anyway. Sometimes he was so thoughtless.
As she drifted off to sleep, "sometimes" in her previous thought became "most of the time."
She didn't think about the dildo until she got to work the next morning. She wouldn't have thought about it then,
except Cindy sauntered into her office and leaned against the door
"You'll never guess where Janet said she saw your car parked last night," she said, without preamble.
Claire froze. She'd left the party and driven straight to Christie's. Then she'd gone home. There was only one place Janet could have seen
her car that she would comment to anyone about. She thought furiously. It would do no good to deny it. And there was no way in the world she was going to confess to Cindy Richardson why she'd actually been there. Better to try to play it off.
"Christie's? I was looking for something to use as a gag gift for a friend of mine," she said, trying to keep her voice calm.
"No problem there," said Cindy, as if this were the most normal conversation in the world. "I could spend hours in that place."
"Really?" She couldn't keep the surprise from her voice. This was astonishing!
"What? You think there's some reason why I wouldn't be seen in there? They don't exactly know me by name, but I've dropped a pretty penny in that place."
"I am astonished," said Claire, deciding to just be truthful.
"Don't be," said Cindy, grinning. "What'd you get? Anything interesting?"
Claire tried to suppress her amazement at Cindy's casual acceptance that a woman like Claire might visit
a place like Christie's Toy Box. She thought about the plethora of things she'd seen, and tried to remember one of
them that was more innocuous than a ten inch rubber dildo.
"I was just getting some ideas," she said. "I was looking for something silly. Like they
have something they call 'Instant Pussy'." It was out of her mouth before she realized she'd actually said
it. She blushed furiously.
"Somehow I thought
you didn't swing that way," said Cindy, arching one eyebrow.
"No, no!" gasped Claire. "You drop this in water ... it's a capsule ... and when it melts, it turns into a little sponge,
shaped like a cat."
"Oh yeah," said Cindy. "Good grief. I remember one of my boyfriends in high school buying something like that from a vending machine in the toilet of a filling station. For some reason he thought that would get me to let him play with mine."
Claire was suddenly
"Do you think Janet will spread it around I was there?"
"What if she does?" said Cindy. "You're an adult. It's a store for adults. There's nothing wrong with patronizing
"Yes, but people will talk."
"Fuck'em if they
can't take a joke," said Cindy.
Cindy was like that. She was so unafraid, so sure of her own identity, so willing to be herself, even if other people disapproved.
"I don't need the grief," said Claire.
"Then ignore any drama that develops," counseled Cindy. "You're good at your job. It's nobody's business where you go or what you buy on your own time. By the way, did you get anything for
"Like what?" asked Claire, carefully.
"Like something to liven up your sex life, of course," said Cindy, completely unashamed.
"What makes you think there's anything wrong with my sex life?" asked Claire, a little
"Because you're normal," said Cindy. "So am I. So are our husbands. I've been married ten
years. I know the deal. It happens to pretty much everybody. There's no shame in taking matters into our
own hands - pun intended - when life lets us down now and then."
"Oh?" Claire felt prickly with anger at Cindy's blithe assumption that Claire and John were having problems of some kind. Almost immediately, though, she admitted to herself that, whether it was rude or not, Cindy was right on the money.
In fact, Cindy's allusion to the concept that she, too, got less attention from her husband than she wanted, made her feel a little better somehow. That feeling transposed into bravado. "What do you use, then?"
"Me? I'm a Rabbit fan, tried and true," said Cindy, shamelessly. "I've worn out two of them. When I had to buy the third one, I decided to
spend a little more and get a better quality one."
"Oh," said Claire, helplessly. She hadn't expected
the woman to actually answer her.
Suddenly she remembered Sudoku woman saying they were having a special on "Rabbits." Claire had no idea what a rabbit was, other
than a long-eared, fluffy animal. And she didn't think they were selling bunnies at an adult toy store.
"They were having a special on those last night," she said, more to herself than to be heard.
She was, of course, heard.
"Did you get one?" asked Cindy, once again making Claire feel a bit breathless at
how bold this woman could be. "What brand? I know almost all of the brands,
and which ones are good and bad. Have you opened it? You can't return it if you've opened it."
"I didn't get one of those," said Claire, holding up her hand to stop the woman. For some reason, she felt compelled to say
more, and was astonished to hear her voice add, "I just got one of the
"To each, her own," said Cindy, shrugging.
"Have you ever tried a Rabbit?"
By now Claire had decided that, as far as Cindy was concerned, this really was a normal, casual
conversation. Somehow that made all this
"Actually," she said, her voice low, "I don't even know what a rabbit is."
"Oh you poor girl," said Cindy, sounding like she was actually sad. "We must discuss this further. But not now.
I need to get some actual work done. Tell you what. Tomorrow I'll bring mine and show it to you. That's the easiest way to describe
"You can't bring
something ... like that ... to work," moaned Claire.
"I can if it's in my purse and nobody can see it," said Cindy, confidently. "In fact, let's both be a little
naughty. You bring yours and I'll bring mine. It will be our little private show and tell. How about it?"
"That's crazy," said Claire.
"That's what makes
it fun!" grinned Cindy.
And then she was gone, leaving Claire to get a very late, very slow start on her work. Even after she got going, she had a hard time concentrating on her duties. Twice she made a simple mistake and had to start over.
She was just lucky that her workload was light that day.
Claire almost always got
home from work before John did, and this day was no exception.
She fixed herself a light meal, knowing that if she prepared something for both of them, John would
more than likely ignore that and make his own dinner. Their tastes had always been different, when it came to food. She tried to eat
healthy. She got plenty of exercise, and had no trouble staying in her current size clothes. John liked fatty, prepared foods, and didn't seem to care that he had developed a paunch.
Claire didn't delude herself. While she was in pretty good shape, she didn't have Cindy's looks, or even the kind of looks that
made men notice her. Her hair was auburn and long, but even at five feet eleven, she felt like she blended into a crowd of
other women so that she felt invisible. Her breasts were still firm, and sagged only a little.
Standing in front of the mirror naked, she saw the lean runner's body she'd always wanted, but felt most men didn't
appreciate. Then there were her shoulders, which looked too wide, and muscled. To her, they looked manly. The manly look was from her workouts
in mixed martial arts, something she'd picked up in college.
But she just felt better, knowing that she was taking care of herself. She ran three times a week, though lately
she'd been running shorter distances. Life intruded, preventing her from running for the hours that she'd spent doing that in both high school and college, and for the distances she'd commonly run back then. Back then she'd had aspirations to be a marathoner, but she'd only run in one of those since she got married. As she thought about that, she decided to go for a run that night. John would most likely come in, get a plate,
and sit in front of the TV with it. What he watched didn't
interest her, so she might as well go get a little exercise.
She was dressed in knee length spandex shorts and a loose tank top when John came through the door. She was bent over, tying her shoes.
He slapped her on the
ass with one hand.
"There's my girl," he said. "Nice
"Thank you so much," she said, looking over her shoulder at him.
"You make me feel so lovely."
"Because you are," he said, missing the sarcasm in her voice. His
response sounded canned, automatic. "I'm
With that he seemed to
forget her, ass and all.
She sighed, opened the
door, and went for a little run.
When she got back she was sweating and breathing hard. She'd pushed herself, working off the feelings of aggression she felt.
John was, as she expected, sitting in his recliner, the remote under one hand and his dirty dishes sitting on the floor
beside the chair. Usually, she picked
them up and took them to the kitchen.
She leaned against the
matching recliner and stretched her calves.
"What's on?" she asked, just to make conversation.
"Bones," he said, without looking at her.
"Ugh," she said, wrinkling her nose. They were more
graphic on that show than was necessary, in her opinion.
"I'm going to take a shower."
A commercial came on as
she walked away.
"Hey!" he called.
She turned to look at
"Did you use it?"
"Did I use what?"
"You know," he said, a sly look on his face. "The
rubber cock. Did you use it?"
She felt the anger bloom in her belly again. She didn't want to admit he was right.
"Wouldn't you like
to know," she said, instead.
"Maybe if you'd have come to bed, instead of sitting in front of that idiot box all
you'd know," she said.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah," he said, grinning.
She turned away and
went, somewhat stiffly, to find refuge in the bedroom.
The water felt
pummeling her body. It was good to get
the sweat off.
Fondling the bar of Irish Spring, she soaped up her hands and then spread the suds over her arms
and upper torso. As her hands slid over her breasts, she was more aware of them than usual. She let her fingers linger and tease her
She'd masturbated before, of course. It had taken her years to get to a place where she didn't feel guilty about doing it.
But in her case, it seemed to take forever to bring herself to completion. She usually did that in the shower. If she did it in
bed, she was always worried that John would come in and catch her.
But it took so long that she got pruney skin
if she stayed in the shower.
She abandoned her breasts to wash the rest of her body. She gave her groin some extra attention too, stroking.
Her pubic hair felt coarse. She only trimmed it minimally, even though she didn't particularly like the feel of it under her fingers.
She'd thought about shaving, but John had to shave every day to remove his stubble, and she didn't want to have to shave
every day. She didn't actually know how often she'd have to do "maintenance". For all she knew it might be the same as shaving her legs and under her arms, which was only every other week. She just didn't
think about things in that manner.
When she got in
tried to read, but she was vaguely uneasy.
It took reading the same paragraph four times before she
Her head rolled
pillow to look at the night stand, where her brand new, still unused
She couldn't do that.
She slid one
the waistband of her pajamas, her fingers seeking in the familiar,
She had done
she was younger, but it had seemed more experimental back then, as
the more frequent ... more required sense in which she engaged
activity these days.
She looked at
automatically worried that John might come in, and her free hand pulled
sheet over her lower body.
angry, slightly pessimistic part of her mind assured her that would not
case. He never came to bed early.
He almost never came to bed while she was
unfamiliar, coursed through her body and she threw the sheet back,
her legs. Her fingers delved more
firmly, rubbing, pinching, massaging, as her hips gave a little
lurch. She slipped a finger within,
hooking it so the pad would apply pressure to her bud.
delicious. It wasn't as good as having a
penis inside her, but it still felt luscious.
She'd read someplace that women had two kinds of orgasms, one
on the clitoris, and the other associated with penetration and the
inside of the vagina. She was pretty sure the orgasms she'd had - and they were few and far between - were of the
second kind. She liked rubbing her little nubbin, but she really craved something stiff inside her, moving around.
Again, her head
and her eyes fixed on the night stand.
Was that why she'd chosen something so outlandishly oversized?
She'd only seen three cocks in her life, and
all were about the same in overall appearance, nowhere near as
the thing she'd purchased. Had her
subconscious chosen something larger than life in some attempt to
her? As she rubbed, not actually trying
to coax an orgasm from her body, she thought back to the time, almost
twenty-four hours before, that she'd stood in front of that wall,
an astonishing variety of phallic shapes.
She tried to
why she'd picked the one she'd taken to the register.
All she could remember was being nervous and
embarrassed. She did remember
choosing one that was Caucasian, as opposed to one of the black ones.
She hadn't given any consideration at all to
a garishly colored one, such as blue, pink, purple, or bone white.
She'd chosen something that looked as
lifelike as possible. Was that because
she wanted the real thing so badly?
through her loins distracted her. She
didn't think about the irony of the situation.
What she needed was within arm's reach.
But the pressures of culture, society and upbringing prevented
stepping across the arbitrary line of becoming a woman who used sex
She just wasn't
kind of woman.
And so, as she
the past, she worked at it until, with a luscious little shudder, she
aware of any
change in her life.
the fact that, for the first time, she hadn't cared whether John walked
her or not while she masturbated.
deciding that her own pleasure was more important than keeping her
knowing how she got it, was also responsible for the fact that, before
for work the next morning, she retrieved her new dildo, wrapped it in
towels, and stuffed it deep in her purse.
She actually giggled as she started the car and glanced at her
sitting on the passenger seat.
somehow, someone would know what was in her purse as she entered the
of her office building. She expected, at
any minute, for someone to call out her name and announce that she was
But no one did.
bumped up against her purse, but neither looked at her nor said
In her office,
her purse in the bottom right drawer, just as she always did, and then
in her desk chair. She looked
around. Everything was as it always was.
Jimmy, the building courier, went past the
glass partition beside her door and waved.
She was startled to see her hand up, fingers wagging back at
him, as he
felt blossomed in her chest. It was a
kind of excitement. She took the time to
examine it, and realized it wasn't new after all. It
was just like what she'd felt as a girl,
when she got away with taking her bra off in the girls bathroom at
going all day without it. She'd been
sure that somebody would castigate her for that, but she'd gotten away
Now she felt
again. It was the thrill of being a
little naughty ... of knowing you were being naughty ... but also
you were going to get away with it.
agitated. It was insane, but suddenly she
tell somebody what she'd done. She
wanted to expose her bawdy behavior and get some kind of approval.
down on that
impulse, sobering instantly. It was
enough that she'd done this crazy thing.
Now it was time to get to work and ensure that her secret
Claire was just
finishing up a file when Cindy popped her head in the door.
"We going to
lunch?" she asked.
Giovanni's," said Claire.
"Did you bring
it?" Cindy grinned,
then, was something close to admiration, based on the fact that Cindy
look furtively to the sides, or come in and close the door before
question. Claire knew exactly what Cindy
was referring to, and she recognized her impulse to assume others would
know what Cindy was asking about. But
common sense told her that nobody could really infer from that question
might pertain to.
her chest as she looked at her friend and said, "I did."
Her heart lurched as she admitted it.
"Me too," said
Cindy, still grinning. "We can show
and tell at lunch."
Giovanni's?" gasped Claire. She had
a mental image of the cool, dark interior of the Italian restaurant,
upscale clientele, erupting into chaos as she walked through the dining
waving a big, flesh-toned dildo around in her hand, like an old time
threatening someone with a billy club.
"We'll ask for
booth in one of the alcoves," said Cindy.
"It will be nice and private."
"You know this
"Not at all.
It's just a couple of working girls
discussing recreational possibilities.
Nothing strange about that."
sees what we mean when we say 'recreation'."
"Guys love the
of us girls using vibrators. It drives
"I know Danny
does," said Cindy, referring to her husband. "He
begs me to let him watch."
lying!" gasped Claire.
"If I'm lyin'
dyin'," said Cindy, crossing her index finger over one of her
breasts. "I can get him to do just
about anything I want by teasing him with my little friend."
him watch?" Claire was trying to
imagine that scene, and she felt the heat of a blush blossom on her
sometimes. I make him beg, but I only
let him watch every once in a while.
That way it's something special."
it at lunch," said Claire, airily.
"See you then!"
Claire to lean back in her chair, stunned.
It was hard enough for her to imagine how mortified she'd be if
even found out she diddled herself, much less form the
her mind of him standing there, actually watching her do it.
She felt weak, as if she were struck with a
bout of hopelessness.
strength. She fiddled with papers on her
desk as she tried to come to grips with this new world in which she
herself. She'd seen Danny Richardson at
parties. He seemed like a nice guy,
normal in every way. He was polite, and
didn't look at her breasts when he talked to her, like many other men
did. Now, the image of him standing there,
excited, leaning over his wife while she put something in her vagina,
watched ... it was just insane.
But she could imagine
And that was
step along the pathway that was steadily leading Claire Bonneville to
interesting places she had never been before.
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