“No teeth?” the buxom blonde offered, twirling one of her pigtails.
“Good one,” Clarissa said and smiled. “But let me get straight to my point. The key to performing good oral sex on a man is enthusiasm.”
I can’t lie. Oral sex had never interested me. Manny made no secret of his desire for fellatio but I was never that comfortable doing it. It felt awkward and embarrassing. Eventually he stopped asking for it. For the last few years, we both seemed content to treat his penis like a melting ice cream scoop. I gave it just enough licks to form it into a peak and then straight to penetration.
“The more energetic and enthusiastic you are,” Clarissa said, “the happier the penis. With this product, it does some of the work for you warming your mouth and heating him up at the same time. I blow on it and it gets hot and the penis says… wow!” A few women giggled. She had everyone’s attention.
“So now let’s say I want to change it up the next time, you know, practice my enthusiasm. This time I might have a piece of ice tucked into my mouth and now it’s hot and cold. Try it!” Mahjong was smiling at me. I looked down at my order form. I hadn’t taken any decent notes and I was suddenly angry with myself for not paying more attention.
“If you want to liven it up even more, you can buy popping candy from the corner store and put them in your mouth and then lick the penis for special effects!”
When I was eight years old at my cousin’s wedding, my other cousin Vargoo slipped me a handful of popping candy. We laughed riotously as it exploded in our mouths. That is until we got caught by one of his uncles who exclaimed wildly that we were eating crack in the back alley. I wasn’t allowed to hang out with Vargoo again. My mother made a point of telling me that candy would only rot out my teeth and no one wanted a toothless bride.
Mahjong smiled widely. “I love popping candy. It’s a poppy good time!”
“When do you sleep?” I asked Mahjong sarcastically. She smiled and flicked me in the knee with her penis pencil.
“Yes or no, things can get lost inside the vagina?” Clarissa said. She waited for an answer and when no one put one forth she offered it on her own. “No. Nothing gets lost in the vagina. What that means is that it’s closed. So if you put anything in there, it will come out. Just relax. It’s not lost. It’s in there.”
The long-nosed lady behind me put her hand up to tell the story of a friend who lost a ring in her vagina. Her boyfriend at the time, thinking it was a clever way to propose shoved the diamond inside her but when it came time to ask her the question he couldn’t find it. They went to the hospital and once it was retrieved, he got down on bended knee and proposed.
“But it wasn’t lost was it? On to the next question then, true of false, things can get lost inside the anus.” She waited a bit longer for an answer.
Like a voice in the fog, I heard, true from someone near me.
“You are correct.” Clarissa smiled at Mahjong. “Now ladies, this is important, the anus is not like the vagina. The first few inches of the rectum are empty and then after that there is a natural vacuum which means whatever I put in there had better have a loop on the end of it, something I can hold on to or it should flare out at the bottom. Like the lamp, but not the lamp.” I felt my sphincter involuntary spasm against the cushion.
“So always remember this about the rectum, ladies, because if you don’t, and you lose something in there, well that’s a trip to the hospital and you better hope the doctor is cute!” She winked. Two women laughed. I felt my dinner coming up.
She put down the canister of liquid that got hot and while she reached over to get another product, I took my first real notes: Hot stuff = oral. Anus = no lamps.
“Now the next product is lubricant. This one is especially good because it is water-based.” Clarissa held three oval bottles in her hand. “It comes in three flavors. Strawberry is the best seller. Lubricant is important because at different times of the month, you may feel dryer than normal. After giving birth, your body’s lubrication changes too. As you get older, vaginal dryness becomes an issue. Lubricant tricks the brain into thinking you are more aroused than you actually are so it helps you feel more excited.”
Clarissa went on to present a numbing cream, two kinds of body chocolate and several products for enhancing internal tightness and one for promoting multiple orgasms.
Like a student cheating on an exam, I tried to spy the menu of the woman lying on the floor next to me to see which items she was checking off. She caught me looking at it and moved her paper away. I looked over at Mahjong’s paper but couldn’t see any check marks in the mess of erotic doodles on her sheet. I faked a sneeze to take a quick glance at the paper in the lap of the lady who had handed me the cushion and noticed she had ticked more than five items. I took my penis pencil and made five random checks of my own as Clarissa brought out a game box.
“Now this is a great way to increase communication and have fun while playing,” she said, holding the box up to her chest. “The aim is to win favour coupons which are good for thirty days after the game is played. Remember the most important part of the word foreplay is play!”
The game seemed like a good deal all around. It had a blindfold I could use to sleep in with on the weekends, the timer would replace the one my mother broke in Yahtzee when she caught me cheating on my score card and the pretty pink note pad was perfect for grocery lists.
Clarissa then presented a few other stimulating liquid products, some edible body paint and five kinds of massage oil. When she was done, she asked if anyone wanted to take a break before the toys. Almost everyone shot up from their seats without hesitation and lunged at the island of food in Isabelle’s kitchen.
I headed straight for the coolers in a bucket near the fridge.
“I’m so glad you came out tonight!” Jenny said to me. Her eyes were completely glazed making them appear like two shiny blue marbles. “I didn’t think you would come. Cum! Ha! Leena did you hear what I said?”
Everyone, including Isabelle’s neighbours, probably heard her.
“I’m so happy for you,” I mumbled looking instinctively for Mahjong. “I guess I’ll see you at the wedding next week.”
“Are you going to wear a len-goo?”
“Sorry?” Despite the fact that she was still shouting, I had no idea what she meant.
“A len-goo. You know, a len-goo. Your traditional clothes. The clothes of your people.” My people? My people were the same people as her people. I saw Jenny picking out a blouse in the mall two weekends ago in the exact same shop as me.
“You mean a lengha?” I asked.
“Yes! A len-goo! Oh please wear it! Johnny will just love it! Oh my God Lee, did you make these samosas?” She stuffed the entire triangle into her mouth. “So good!”
“I bought them. But I did make the chutney.”
She dipped another triangular pastry in the green liquid and then stuffed it in with the half-masticated heap already in her mouth. “That chutney is so good! I’ll have to barf tonight or I’ll never fit into my dress!” She darted off to talk to the other girls in the kitchen.
Isabelle
