Page 154 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
“Nope, no, no, no, no. We are not going into details. I love you, Rosie, but you and Henry are like siblings to me; I don’t want to know about fingers going up anyone. Gah, gross. He knows he has a dick, right, and he can use it on you?”
“It was foreplay. He was getting me all . . . juicy.”
“Again, no. Do not say juicy.”
“Moist?”
Delaney made a disgusted noise on the other side of the phone. “Rosie! Have you not learned one thing from all those groups we participate in on Facebook?”
In my pursuit of being an author, I joined some book groups on Facebook. My goodness, did they like posting penis pictures. Delaney joined to “help me” after she saw me scrolling through my newsfeed and saw a butt shot of a sexy cover model. Such a horndog. But, in all honesty, I couldn’t blame her; the guy had a nice tush. Now she was a part of the same groups. It led to great conversations, but they mostly revolved around the uncircumcised dick she saw that morning. I was privileged to hear her talk about wanting to have sex with one just once, so she could give it a test run. Like we always said, it was for science.
Referring back to her question about those groups, I answered, “I’ve learned that penises come in all shapes and sizes and that the majority of the female population likes a good tattoo and appreciates a bad boy.”
“They also hate the word moist, Rosie. It makes them cringe, it makes them want to pick up their firstborn child and sell them on the sidewalk for five dollars or best offer, just to buy a razor blade so they can slice their ears off. Don’t you remember that one post, who was it . . . ugh, that crazy pink-haired author. She writes books about chocolate and dildos.”
“Oh, Tara Sivec. She’s a real delight. She likes meerkats and posts the funniest videos of herself dancing while basting turkeys. She wroteSeduction in Snacks. There’s actually a scene from her book,Passion and Poniesthat I wanted to try with Henry. The hero and heroine try to eat food off each other, but all they have are gross things like olives and cheese wiz. What a hoot,” I replied, laughing a little too hard.
“Um, hey, stalk much? That’s creepy. You shouldn’t know that much about an author, but that’s beside the point. She asked readers to list their most hated words to be used in books, and do you know what the number one word was?”
“Anal seepage?”
“Fuck you. No, you’re disgusting. Jesus, Rosie. It was moist. They hate the wordmoist.”
“What’s so wrong with it? They also hate the word panties, but what else are we supposed to call them? Underwear? That doesn’t seem very sexy. Unless every character for the rest of their lives wears thongs, you have to call them something else. So what is it? Underwear or panties?”
“I can’t even handle you right now,” Delaney said, deflated.
“And what’s wrong with saying lady folds? I mean, that’s what they are. They are folds of skin on a lady’s body. Lady folds is way less vulgar than the P word. And I really don’t think I’m ready to use the term ‘sex’ to describe Virginia. Oh, and that’s another thing, apparently naming your private part isn’t wildly accepted either. What’s a writer to do?”
Delaney took a deep breath then let it out. “I don’t know, Rosie. Maybe ask your stalkee, Tara. Maybe she will take a break from her meerkat turkey basting and answer your questions.”
“Hmm, that’s a good idea. I think I just might.”
Questions ran through my mind about the proper terms for vagina and how I could address them to Tara, when Delaney said, “Are you going to ask me your question?”
I tried to remember what I was going to ask, where this conversation was leading. “Oh, yeah, so lots of sex. I know there are such things as yeast and bladder infections, but those are more of an itch to the vag more than anything, right?”
“Umm, is this a question for your gyno?”
“Maybe, but I don’t want to go there again, not for another year. Last time I went, I saw hot-man doctor, and this was before the red brick road incident. He said”—I cleared my throat from embarrassment—“he said he had to part my hair to get a good look.”
Silence.
Then, “I’m about one sentence away from hanging up this phone on you.”
“I’m sorry,” I said quickly. “Yeast infections are itchy and bladder infections make it feel like you have to pee all the time, kind of a burning sensation, right?”
“Right,” she drawled out.
“So what is it when your lady part feels heavy?”
More silence.
Too much silence.
Silence like she was no longer on the phone anymore kind of silence.
“Hello? Delaney? Are you still there?”
