"I don't feel like I know what I'm doing with my life."
Ellie looked back at me, casting a wry smile over the dishevelled mass of her sweaty blonde hair. "Well, that makes two of us. Hell, that makes seven of us. Maybe not Josh actually; that boy seems to have everything in order."
It had been a quick, after-work fuck. It was only about half an hour before I had to get up and make dinner for the group, but at the moment I wanted nothing more to lay in bed, spooning Ellie. Or, failing that, laying in bed by myself thinking about the universe. Really, the laying in bed was the important part.
"What brought this on?" Ellie said. "Did being in a rape scene really shake you up that much?"
"No, it's not that?" I said. "Are you feeling okay, by the way? No soreness or bruises or..."
"For the millionth time, I'm fine."
"And when I called you..."
"No, I'm not upset with you! I wanted to hear things like that!" It was far from the first time we had talked about the subject, and I had frantically grilled Ellie on whether or not I had done something wrong. Even if I had participated enthusiastically, there was still some nagging part of my mind that couldn't accept that treating a woman that way was okay, even if she wanted it.
But ultimately I had bigger problems on my mind. "Fine, fine. But I'm serious about feeling kind of adrift. I look on Facebook and all of my friends are moving on with their lives - getting jobs, getting engaged, going to grad school, having kids. And I'm living in a single room, working at a sex shop, with no future."
"Yeah, but I bet all those people would kill for your sex life," said Ellie.
I was forced to smile. I wrapped my arms around Ellie's waist and snuggled up closer to her, resting my limp penis up against her thick ass. "Maybe. But sex isn't everything."
"That wasn't what you were saying half an hour ago." Ellie chuckled. "But I'm serious. I got married right after college. I spent all my time either at the firm or at home, especially after I got pregnant. I spent my twenties pursuing goals, giving up everything fun, just for some appearance of success. And then in my forties I became a pleasure-seeking bohemian. I think you're the one doing things in the right order."
Part of my mind told me that Ellie was right. I should enjoy my life, and be grateful for having found a place like this. But part of my mind was still restless. I felt that I needed a goal to work towards. Something that I could feel I was actually making progress on.
Maybe I could write a book. Nah. I was a lousy writer.
---
The situation with Troy was just adding to my uncertainty. I had enjoyed our time together (who wouldn't?) But I was starting to worry that it meant something different to him than it meant to me. He had added me on Twitter, something I was still trying to find a use for, and amongst some charming jokes there were a lot of strident political posts and re-tweets. I supported most of the causes he posted about, but I something still made me pause when someone said that all cops were bastards, or that Canada Day was a celebration of genocide. Did fucking dudes mean I had to be a communist? (Julia probably thought so.)
These were the things I wondered about as I sat through another quiet day at the sex shop. All of the political pins and signs glared at me anew. Commands to free Palestine and end the war sat alongside a ever-growing display of titles like
Sorority Sisters 7
or
More Than Just Friends
that looked pretty mainstream to me. I'd be lying if I said my eye wasn't drawn to the porn DVDs at times, but I wondered how they jived with tearing down the system. I guess even Alexis had to make compromises.
There was a woman in the far aisle, weighing up dildos like she was evaluating oranges at a supermarket. I was trying not to stare at her, as this was supposed to be a welcoming place, but it was hard. She had straw-yellow hair tied in twin ponytails running down past her shoulders, with large golden earrings in the shape of ankhs. Even though we were deep into fall, she was showing a lot of her ivory-white skin, wearing a tight-fitting leather corset and mini-skirt with thigh-high boots. My eye kept fixating, however, on the black collar around her neck, with an unadorned padlock looped through its front.
I had to remind myself not to get too attracted to anyone who came in here. It was hard, seeing a lot of women, most of them attractive, in a context that always reminded you of sex. But they were interested in the toys and books and DVDs, not me. Hell, most of them were lesbians. But at the same time, I figured there was nothing wrong with looking and fantasizing a little bit.
The woman eventually came up to the cashier, carrying a pair of gray metal handcuffs, silk ropes, and an intimidating-looking flogger.
"For a friend," she said with a grin.
"Seems like a kinky friend," I said.
"Yeah, she's a real freak," said the woman, pulling a cigarette from her purse. "Do you mind if I smoke in here?"
It was definitely a non-smoking space, but for some reason I said "Nah, go ahead."
The woman lit up and took a drag. She gestured to the wall of DVDs. "You ever watch those movies?"
"Er, not those particular ones, no."
She laughed. "Relax, I know that every guy watches porno. I watch it too. It's too bad there isn't one of those little viewing booths in this store, or I could go in the back and rub one out right now." She watched me carefully, as if measuring my reaction.
"Well, if you want I can talk to the owner to get one installed," I said. Trying to keep my expression as neutral is possible. "But I'm sure she'd be worried about getting a bunch of perverts in here."
The woman winked and pointed at herself. "I think it's a little too late to worry about that."
I rang up her items, my throat suddenly dry. "I hope your friend has fun."
