as an unstoppable flood of memories from my past threatened to overtake me. My delectable suppressor was gone; not a drop of rum left in my stein. As I looked down at the last piece of ice floating at the bottom of my glass I heard Clarissa direct the question again to someone in the room. I was surprised to see her staring at me for the answer.
“I’m sorry?” I said choking back my own saliva. “What was the question again?”
“True or false, approximately 50 % of all couples experience sexual difficulties?”
Mahjong instantly rose to my defence.
“Why don’t we ask the bride-to-be that question?” Eventually all the women focused on Jenny. I heaved a deep sigh of relief as Mahjong put her hand on mine and squeezed it.
“Yes, Jenny!” one of the drunker girls said. “Tell us about your sexual difficulties with Johnny!”
“Your fiancé’s name is Johnny?” Clarissa asked. “So it’s Jenny and Johnny?”
Jenny smiled. She seemed to revel in the dreamy satisfaction of how people reacted to hearing their names together. Though Jenny had completed her degree in business at university and had interned with a top-ranking company, she chose not to take a permanent position in marketing but opted to work as a receptionist for a downtown law firm when she graduated. She wore very provocative clothes to work and enjoyed watching the young clerks fawn over her vying for her affections. She never let any of them get farther than a kiss on the cheek. The moment Johnny was hired to the firm with rumours of being fast-tracked for partnership she made her move like a well trained panther securing his undying love, a two carat ring and the promise she would never have to work again - all within eight months of his arrival.
“We don’t have any sexual difficulties,” Jenny said slurring her words. “We fuck like rabbits all the time! He’s an animal!”
“Woohoo!” several of the girls to the left and right of Jenny said at the same time.
“Well I’m happy for you. But the answer is true. Most couples experience sexual difficulties at some point. Communication is the key.”
I had heard it so many times before: Communication is the key. Communicate your needs to another and then they will know what makes you happy; communicate your goals at work and you will rise to the position you have longed for; communicate your feelings and others will listen with open hearts. When I communicated my needs to my mother, she told me to shut up and stop being so sensitive. When I communicated my need for more money at the accounting firm where I worked, my boss told me they were experiencing cut backs and instead gave me more work to do for the same pay. When I communicated feeling insecure about my body and the extra weight I had put on after we got married, Manny simply said, “All couples get fat after they get married.” The extra weight he gained on his long frame only made him look healthier while my extra poundage made me look shorter, dumpier and frighteningly close to a brown troll.
“Okay, last question.” Clarissa said. “True or false, when the G-spot is properly stimulated, a woman can ejaculate one to three quarts of liquid.” I looked over at Mahjong who had a devilish smile on her face. She winked at me, sat back against her pillow and quietly watched the women around her gasp in both horror and amazement. I was one of the women gasping in horror.
“Has that happened to you?” I whispered to Mahjong.
“It was a freaking tsunami the first time. I thought I peed all over the guy and the dumb jerk got all cocky and wouldn’t stop smiling. But let me tell you Lee, it put the ah in ah-mazing!”
How had I known Mahjong all these years and somehow I never knew this? She shared details about each of her lovers from girth, width and duration but this piece of information was news to me. In fifteen years of knowing her I could recite the nicknames she gave to all her lovers from Andrew Apple Balls to Thick Dick Victor. I could tell you her shoe size, how she cheated on her exams in university and which one of the Spice Girls she would have sex with but somehow this was a subject we had never discussed.
“The answer is true,” Clarissa said. “The first time it feels like you have peed all over your partner.” Mahjong had a smile on her face and an I told you so look in her eyes. “But let me take the time to explain this because it’s important.” Clarissa positioned herself squarely in the middle of everyone’s gaze and looked down at her pubic area drawing everyone else’s eyes down at the same time.
“The G-spot is on the outside wall right here,” she said poking her belly just below her navel. “If you put your finger inside you and crook it like you are motioning come here, come here you will be pressing against it.” She looked back down to her pubic area and made a circle with her other hand over the hub of her bottom belly. Then she bent her finger as though it was stimulating the circle from the inside. “Now as I continue to stimulate this area, it goes from about a dime-size to a quarter-size and with clitoral stimulation… well let me put it this way, you’ll have to change the sheets!” She smiled broadly.
“I’ve heard about them but I’ve never had one,” a woman with bright red lipstick said. “Is it pee?”
“No,” Clarissa said. “Everyone thinks that it is but it isn’t urine. It’s natural and it will feel unlike anything else you’ve ever felt. It’s really quite incredible.” She resumed her position by the side of the table, directly in front of me.
In under an hour’s time my mind had become flooded with too much information, some of it getting lost in the cloud of rum that had firmly settled into my blood stream.
“There is one thing I can’t stress enough ladies,” Clarissa said resting one leg over the other and leaning against the table. “You need to know your bodies better than anyone else. If you don’t enjoy sex with yourself, how can you expect someone else to?”
Suddenly there it was in a language I could fully understand despite the fog of rum: If you don’t enjoy sex with yourself, how can you expect someone else to?
When I had arrived at the party, I had no idea what to expect but after hearing Clarissa state it so plainly, the words formed an inescapable truth I could no longer hide from. I knew from that moment on, there was no turning back.
Chapter 2
“I’m going to present a lot of product in a short period of time,” Clarissa said. “Before I do, let’s look at some lingerie.” She reached behind her and brought out a straw basket covered in a gold cloth that in my slightly inebriated state looked like a giant samosa. She even folded the fabric back like my grandmother taught me when she first showed me how to make them. “Remember ladies, your lingerie says a lot about you.”
She pulled out a brown teddy with ruffles. It would make me look like a misshapen chappati. If your lingerie says something about you, what was mine saying about me? My bra was over eight years old and had three holes in the lace at the back which only marginally exceeded the number in my thick cotton underpants. I cancelled out the section marked lingerie on my menu. A blazing red pen would have made me feel better, but I only had the little penis pencil to work with.
Clarissa smiled politely at everyone’s reactions to the pretty lace outfits and then widened her grin when she brought out a few costumes. Police Officer, French Maid and the School Girl all got rousing applause. The runaway hit was the Nurse’s costume.
“I’m a nurse!” a pig-tailed
