Friday, February 5, 2010

Let's Do Lunch

“I hate my vibrator!” Sasha huffed as she slumped into the chair, dropping her shopping bags at her feet. “I swear it was designed by men.” She laughed and mocked, "Oh, let’s shove hard plastic up there. Oh, and let’s make it strong enough to break bones while we’re at it!" She doubled-over laughing and slapped the table. “Why not just sell 'Jack Hammers for women'?”

Abby’s eyebrows shot up and she gave Sasha her trademark, “I can’t believe you just said that,” look. “Okay, then. Rough afternoon, Sasha?” Sasha chuckled and patted Abby’s hand, “You’re such a prude. But I love you for it.” Kyra shook her head at the two of them. “So get a new vibrator, Sasha. It’s not that big a deal. Or better yet, get a man.”

“That’s not the point, Kyra. It’s supposed to give pleasure, not inflict teeth shattering pain.” Kyra rolled her eyes and replied, “Well, you’re not supposed to suck on it while it’s vibrating!” Kyra laughed and then thought about it a minute, “I dunno. I like mine. Maybe you’re just doing it wrong?” Sasha scoffed, “I’ve been doing this for twenty years. I think I know how to use a vibrator. Nope. Invented by men just to torture us, I’m positive.”

Abby blushed and stared at her salad. It was difficult to listen to their conversations sometimes. “Personally, I don’t see the point of a vibrator. I’d rather have a man. A vibrator can’t kiss you, or hold you, or do any of the things a man can do.” Sasha grinned, “True, Dear, but it won’t stand you up or cheat on you either. Its sole purpose is to bring pleasure. A man’s sole purpose is to please himself first and you as an after-thought—IF it’s convenient.”

Kyra considered each argument before weighing in. “I don’t think all men are like that, Sasha. But I do think it’s nice to have a quiet evening by myself once in a while. I don’t have to curl my hair, shave my legs, or play courtesan to some guy who probably won’t call when he said he would. Or who’ll talk over me and insist that his opinion is right and mine is drivel. A vibrator may not be better—but it’s a hell of a lot more peaceful.”

“No,” Abby shook her head. “No, a man is better. The way he looks at you as if you’re the only woman in the world, the way he holds you, strokes your cheek…a cold plastic toy can’t compete with that. Where’s the romance in drilling your…your…hoo-ha? No thank you, I’d take a man over that any day.”

Sasha crossed her legs and leaned forward. She tapped the table and snickered, “I love a good man, too. Don’t get me wrong. But sometimes I get so sick of the “everything is all about me,” crap they spew. Pouting like little boys just because they don’t get their way—please! Kyra’s right about the vibrator being more peaceful. Except for mine, that is a painful hunk of junk and headed for a landfill.”

“I’m telling you there’s no way a sex toy is better than a man. No way at all. It can’t sniff the crook of your neck, or tickle your belly with warm breath. It can’t snuggle on the couch and watch a movie. It can’t say ‘I love you.’ You’ll never convince me it’s better. Besides, it just feels wrong to grope myself and ride a ...a …well, you know.” Abby crossed her arms and leaned back in her chair, her mouth forming a thin line of finality.

Kyra laughed at the two of them. Each made a good point, but neither would budge. It was pointless to try and sway them. So she took a bite of her salad and listened to them bicker amongst themselves.

Sasha railed on and on about the evil contraptions men invented to abuse women with. “Look at high heels. Sure they look sexy, but what woman has ever said, ‘Wow, my feet feel fantastic after an eight hour day in heels!’ Of course they don’t. Perched up on your tippy-toes about to fall flat on your face is not comfortable! I’m telling you that vibrators, heels, and underwire all have men’s name on it.”

Abby shook her head. “I’m confused. If you hate your vibrator and you think that it’s a man’s way of torturing you then why do you think it’s better than a man? That’s some kind of crazy double-think.” Sasha snapped, “No. It’s just a fact. If a woman had invented a vibrator it would color coordinate with our nighties and feel good.”

They laughed at that while they finished their lunch. Then a tiny old lady stopped them as they were packing up their shopping bags. Her wrinkled face was sweet as an angel’s. She set a large black purse on their table with shaking hands. “Hi girls,” she began, “I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation and I thought I might offer a bit of wisdom.”

The three younger women encouraged the elderly woman to join them. They smiled at each other wondering what such a darling old lady could possibly have to say. The old woman declined to sit and opened her purse instead. “Well, I’ve been married for over 53 years and there’s one thing I can say for sure…” Her frail voice trailed off as she dug through her bag. “What you want is a synthetic dildo and the Lion’s Den has them for twenty percent off.” She proceeded to fish out the toy to show them.

They sat there, silent and dumbfounded, as the old lady put her toy away, closed up her bag, and walked off. Sasha was the first to recover. She looked at Kyra and Abby and chuckled, “And that, Ladies, is reason enough to be wary of little old ladies with big black satchels.”


  1. For the record--I'm with Abby. Lol.


  2. I'm with Abby, too! HA - I will never look at sweet old women with monstrous purses quite the same way again. Nice dialogue - great subject.

  3. Thanks! Gotta admit that I felt guilty about comparing men to a vibrator, but no more. Not after reading the FlashBastard...


  4. I'm sorry, I think I took a wrong turn. Could someone please show me the way out.

  5. Lol. What's wrong Mr.Gully? Too much estrogen for you?

    Hmmm...There's somewhere I could lead you. You trust me, right?


  6. No. No, I do not.

    I don't trust you, or your little dog.

  7. Or your flying monkeys, for that matter.

    **word verification was PSION! Then I re-loaded. I own a Psion - one of the neatest bits of portable tech ever.

  8. So now I'm a witch? Hmph.

    You should trust me, Mr.Gully. I've nothing but good intentions for you--honest. Lol.

    Well...maybe some other intentions that I'll tell you about later...


  9. Oh. My monkies don't fly--they screech, lmao!