A Perfect Mess

Beyond her kitten-like curiosity, Marie couldn’t explain why she found herself rummaging through the medicine cabinet in the kids’ bathroom. She had lost jobs for less. But the house was spotless, she was ahead of schedule, and she had no other jobs scheduled for the day. She was running her hand over the tippy-top shelf when she felt something out of place: A small silver key.

Marie knew every corner of the house, and she headed straight for the mysterious black box — a big cabinet that was always locked — in Mr. and Mrs. Engles’ walk-in closet.

Marie placed herself somewhere between a trusted member of the Engles family and a stubborn house ghost. Their lives were an open book. She knew what they owed on their mortgage and how much they spent on coffee every month. There was a seediness about them, too, hidden just below the surface like the dirty magazines under a stack of Sports Illustrateds or a skimpy Pokémon trainer outfit in Mrs. Engles’ lingerie drawer — which she wore, no doubt, to tame Mr. Engles’ wild beast.

The cabinet had caused a fair deal of daydreaming. Marie jiggled the key into place. She wondered aloud if this was Pandora’s box.

The cabinet was stocked with several trays of sex toys, including a long white wand with a soft, bulky head that Marie had always seen advertised as a back massager. Marie giggled at one whole shelf with a garden of dildos sprouting up in all sizes, shapes, and colors. And there were enough bottles of lube to grease the rails of the Transcontinental Railroad.

One particular item looked out of place. Its dark, trapezoidal shape was cut diagonally into two parts by a thick silver indentation; a makeup case would have attracted less attention in a woman’s purse.

“Satisfyer,” she said, reading the raised lettering.

Marie held the object in her palm as she walked into the bedroom. She tugged at each side to break the magnetic seal. On one side, a soft molding of white silicone sloped up towards one end that was topped off with a flat, mesmerizing hole.

Marie hit the “+” button and the device hummed gently. All she could think about was getting out of her wet clothes.

She had always liked the Engles. They had treated her right. But they were cheap bastards about the air conditioning. She had thought about asking them if she could turn it down while she worked. But she had lost jobs for less.

The thermostat showed a temperature that brought out the frizz in Marie’s dark hair. She flicked the power to the fan. Even a hot breeze felt cool over a red shirt that was darker everywhere except for the places her bra had soaked up her sweat.

She tossed the vibrator on the bed and stripped off her shirt and the bra. Her hair felt free when it was pulled out of a bun. Her tight, pocketless jeans slid easy over her slender hips and her precious cheeks but slowed over her toned legs, revealing her sticky, tan skin. A purple pair of panties dropped over her ankles.

Marie had never been naked in the Engles bed. She grabbed the vibrator, pulled down the comforter, and scooted back on the bed, planting her feet wide and bending her knees high. Nothing got her horny like snooping around someone’s house, and she was pleased to feel how slippery she was on the insides.

She dialed up the “+” on the vibrator until the pulse felt stronger in her hands. It was still quiet. The bottom of its dark opening whirled like a dervish. She briefly stuck it inside her, but she couldn’t feel much of anything so she let it slurp over her sensitive folds. It moved slowly but inevitably towards her clit. When the opening clamped over her and the suction took hold, it plucked at all her hidden strings at once.

“Madre mia!” she said.

Marie had elaborate fantasies of many of the people she worked for. They unfolded in the rooms of a house like scenes in a dirty picture. The Engles were like her. They were not old. They were not young. She had always been attracted to them, mostly because of their genuine smiles. She had a recurring vision of watching them fuck in their bedroom until she was spotted in the corner.

Mr. Engles fades away. Mrs. Engles welcomes her with open legs. Marie’s tongue leads her to the spot that needs scrubbing. It laps the wetness out of Mrs. Engles’ pussy. Only her tongue is left and it twists and twirls into a blur of pink.

She would have come in a few minutes if not for the fat, fluffy cat that jumped on the bed and stuck its wet nose in her ear and started to purr. She laughed and shooed it away to focus on the purring over her clit.

Marie let herself forget about time — the universe can wait for a woman to come. She held the vibrator in place — 10 or 15 minutes — until she couldn’t resist her restlessness. She dialed hit the “+” 14 or 15 times until it was no longer responding, gyrating her clit in tiny circles. Her fingers push through the tangles of her wet muff and stiffened them up inside her as she forcefully rubbed the thick underside of her clit, compressing the vibrations.

The rubbing became more intense and vigorous until she started to shiver. Her knees twitched and tightened and the muscles in her legs contracted. She spoke in tongues of joy and as her fingers slipped out several splashes of her deviousness spilled over the bed.

Marie’s heart slowed and her mind drifted away. Thoughts of nothingness gave way to the echoes of children’s laughter. The thought of laundry jerked her out of a cat nap. The screen door of the side entrance beneath her slammed shut.

“Shit, shit, shit!” she said, throwing on her clothes.

Marie grabbed the vibrator, still humming, and clicked the “-“ button until it was at its lowest setting. But she couldn’t turn it off. “Fuck!” she said.

Panicked, she tossed it on the wet spot in the bed and hid it with the comforter. She ran downstairs and grabbed the check — possibly her last — from the kitchen before blowing past the children. “Bye, angels,” she said.

As she drove away, her body still tingled. She felt pleasure and a sinking feeling of apprehension as she wondered what the Engles would think of the mess she had left.

This story is part of a collaborative writing project, “Three Stories, One Toy,” on Junkérotique. To read the whole collection, please click on the stories below.

To read a synthesis review of the Satisfyer Pro Traveler, the toy that inspired these stories, please visit Slippery Junk.