The first day after the divorce began with the fact that I woke up in an empty apartment and did not immediately realize where I was. Then I rememberedโthis is my apartment. It’s a rented, one-room apartment with floral wallpaper, which I hate, but I’m not going to change, because I’m moving out in a year anyway. Yesterday we signed the papers, I took three boxes of things and left the hell out of there. Well, like three โ two with clothes and one with every little thing that was a pity to leave.
I didn’t sleep well. My head was buzzing, my mouth was dry, and I was drinking wine from my throat all evening because the corkscrew was left in that apartment, and I hadn’t thought of buying a new one. In the morning, I lay on the mattress without bed linenโI didn’t take the sheets either, I was too shy to rummage in the closet with himโand stared at the cracked ceiling. The crack looked like a crooked river. I thought that now I have time to look at the cracks and think about all sorts of nonsense, because I no longer have to cook breakfast for two and I don’t have to pretend that I like it when he turns on the news all over the apartment in the morning.
I didn’t want to get up, but I wanted to drink and go to the bathroom. I got up, pulled on the first thing I could findโhis old Tโshirt, which he hadn’t picked up because he’d forgotten, and I hadn’t reminded him-and went into the kitchen. There was a noise in the faucet, the water turned rusty, then normal. I drank two glasses in a row and lit a cigarette through the window, although I don’t know how to smoke and I don’t smoke. I just bought a pack at the supermarket yesterday, along with wine and something else, I don’t remember anymore. The cigarette was bitter, the smoke was in my face, I stubbed it out on the edge of the sink and went back into the room.
The boxes were in the corner, I didn’t get to them yesterday. I opened the first one โ there were clothes, all crumpled, because I was stuffing them in any way. The second one contained books, a mug, charging pads, and cosmetics in a bag. The third, the smallest, had a strange thing in itโI dumped everything I didn’t know where to put it, and taped it back in that apartment so I wouldn’t have to think. I peeled off the tape and opened it. There were old photos on top that I wanted to throw away for a long time, but I didn’t throw them away. Under them is an old phone charger, a disc of music that I no longer have anything to listen to. And even deeper, wrapped in bubble wrap, she lay. Pink, with a shiny base, seven vibration modes. My husband gave it to me two years ago for my birthday. Well, when he gave it to me, he thought it was funny, that I would be offended, but I wasn’t offended. I even wanted to use it, but then for the first time he said something like “are you serious?” and I put it in a drawer and then in a box when I moved, and here it is.
I held it in my hand and looked at it. The film creaked under his fingers. Someone drove by in a car outside the window, and a dog was barking in the yard. I thought, why not?
I sat down on the mattress, still holding her. The Tโshirt was long, reaching to the middle of my thigh, and I suddenly felt that there was nothing under it – I lay down yesterday without panties, because all the panties were left in that washing machine, which I did not unload. It was a little chilly, but not cool enough to get dressed. Or enough to undress further. I did not know.
She unwrapped the bubble wrap, and the film crackled loudly, as if someone was burning a bonfire in silence. The toy was heavy, pleasant to the touch, smooth, only slightly rough at the tip. I ran my finger over it, then down the inside of my thigh. Just like that. To test how it feels to touch myself without haste, without looking back at the fact that someone is snuffling nearby and waiting for me to finish so that he can too.
I’ve always been shy before. Even with him, even after all these years. I turned off the lights, I turned my back, I did it quickly and almost guiltily, as if I was stealing something. And yesterday, when I signed the papers, I had only one thing in my head: now I can turn on the light. That’s such a stupid thing. Not “freedom”, not “new life”, but just to turn on the light and not hide.
I put the toy on the pillow and went to the bathroom. It smelled of bleach and someone else’s lifeโsomeone had lived here before me, and the smell remained. I washed quickly, not looking at myself in the mirror, but then I did. Her face is swollen, there are shadows under her eyes, and her hair sticks out in all directions. Beautiful girl. But I knew my bodyโit was normal, I liked it, and it was probably the only thing that had happened in recent years. sexrasskaz.com The years have not changed. Stomach, thighs, chest โ everything is in place, everything is mine. I ran my hands down my waist, down to my pubic area. The hair grew back there because he liked it smooth, and I adjusted. Well, let it be. Let them be.
She returned to the room, lay down on the mattress, and covered her legs with the edge of the blanket she found in the box. I took the toy. My hand was shaking a little, as if I was doing something forbidden, even though I was alone in my apartment, in my bed. I put it in first gear. The humming was quiet, almost cozy. I applied it to my stomach, then lower, to my thigh. My skin tingled and prickled. I spread my legs, bent my knees, and put her there. The first touch was almost awkward, as if I’d forgotten how. But after a second, the body remembered everything on its own.
I took my time. For the first time in a long time, I took my time. She drove it slowly, in circles, then pushing harder, then almost removing it. His other hand was on his chest, squeezing his nipple, and it was hard as a rock. I looked at the crack in the ceiling and thought: here it is, the river, and I’m floating. My breath caught, and I shifted into second gear, then into third. The humming became louder, I felt my lower abdomen tighten, as everything there shrank, and that’s when, for the first time in a long time, I moaned โ not restrainedly, not into a pillow, but in full voice. No one heard. Or I heard it, but I didn’t care.
I came fast, maybe too fast, but it didn’t matter. It was important that after that I didn’t jump up to get dressed, didn’t run to the kitchen to do something, didn’t start going over in my head what he would say if he found out. I just lay there, panting, with a toy in my hand, and stared at the crack in the ceiling. She still looked like a river. I don’t know where it was flowing. But I knew for sure that now I didn’t have to ask permission to swim on my own.