Page 2 of Doll

I sighed and collapsed onto my back. “No, Tiffany. I’m not.”

“So you’ve never even—come?”

“Please don’t make me say it,” I sighed.

“Holy motherfucking jumping Jesus!” she exclaimed. “Girl, how are you still alive?!”

I burst out laughing and propped myself up on my elbows and looked at her.

“I mean—seriously! If I don’t get at least one nut a day, I rage harder than when I’m on my period!”

“Tiffany!” I laughed.

“I’m serious! You know how they say an apple a day? Yeah, well that saying really should be a big-O a day keeps the crazy away.”

“Maybe I’ll put that on a bumper sticker and sell it,” I laughed.

“Hey, if it pays for your tuition,” she laughed. She checked her phone and frowned. “Max wants me to come over. I gotta run.”

“You’re still sleeping with that idiot?” I groaned.

“Hey, I know he’s a fuck boy,” she admitted. “But he’s got a huge dick and he’s gonna do boy-girl shows with me on cam and doesn’t want any of the money.”

“He’s just happy to be getting laid,” I replied. Tiffany winked and finger-gunned me.

“Bingo!” She got up and headed for the door, but not before giving me a very stern look. “Look, Gwen. I’m worried about you.”

; I had to laugh. She was talking to me like I’d just told her I was thinking about going on a murder spree and she had to stop me. Telling her I’d never gotten off before had thrown her for a loop. I could see she still wasn’t even sure she fully believed me.

“Go online, get yourself a vibrator.”

“Tiff—”

“A big one!” she insisted. “Powered by like a fucking lawnmower engine if possible! Throw on some PornHub, or think about your dream guy or celebrity crush or whatever, slap that bad boy on your clit and don’t move until you fucking come! You get what I’m saying?”

“I get what you’re saying,” I chuckled.

“Oh—and then come cam with me!”

She walked quickly from the room, texting Max on her way.

“Not going to happen!” I called after her.

But she was already gone. I heard the front door slam and slumped back down as I thought about how much I sometimes wished I was her.

Tiffany had it all. Good looks, popularity, guys fawning all over her, dick appointments whenever she wanted them (not that I wanted to have multiple appointments on any given day—just one, thank you very much!) and most of all, self-confidence, which I was seriously lacking.

After staring at the paint chip in my ceiling where my old Bieber poster used to hang, I sat up and opened my laptop, went to Google and did a search: vibrators.

I pressed enter and a million results came up. Remembering what Tiffany had told me, I refined the search: powerful vibrators.

More results came up and I clicked the first one. It looked like a massager that my grandpa used to use on his back before passing out on the couch after Thanksgiving dinner. It took me to a site filled with all kinds of things; dildos, vibrators, some pink circular looking thing with nubs all over it that I couldn’t even begin to understand.

The blurb sounded great and it had four and a half stars, but then I noticed the price,

$187.45.