Page 129 of Let's Kiss and Tell

When we get back to my apartment, Marsh and I eat our tacos and then put onSingin’ in the Rain.As Gene Kelly, Debbie Reynolds, and Donald O’Connor start laughing over their flipped couch, Marsh nods to the Cleo sitting on my coffee table.

“What is that?” he asks.

“A vibrator,” I say. I reach over and pass it to him.

He analyzes the tool, much like how I did when I first got it. “Thisis a vibrator?”

“Mhm. Crazy, right?”

“It’s so…not vibrator-looking.”

“They also have three other colors,” I add. “I have so many I don’t know what to do with them.”

“So, naturally you display them.”

“The whole purpose of this vibrator is to make it blend in with your other home décor.”

“So, thepointis to have it displayed in your home,” Marsh says like he’s trying to understand. “Interesting.”

“I mean, I kind of respect it.” I take the beige, silicone instrument that does very much look like something you would pick up at a minimalistic home goods type store in Venice. “Vibrators don’t have to be pink and baby blue.”

“I’m not knocking it.” Marsh shrugs. “Can you give me one too so I can display it on my bookshelf?”

“You may be joking, Marshall Oakley, but now this one is yours.” I pass him the Cleo that’s in my hand. “Now youhaveto display it, and I will otherwise be offended if you don’t.”

He shoves the vibrator in his pocket. “So, do you have a drawer full of sex toys? Or is that a really obvious stereotype.”

“I actually do,” I say, embarrassed. “Do you want to see?”

“I would want nothing more.”

I pause the movie and then guide him to my bedroom. When he walks inside, I suddenly feel like a teenager who has her crush over while her parents are away for the weekend. I turn on a warm light on my nightstand, and Marsh begins to eye my space with a look of fascination. His focus shifts from the frames on my wall to the slight mess on my desk to the light fixture above my bed.

“Here.” I open one of my dresser drawers, revealing a display of handcuffs, dildos, vibrators, lube, cock rings, and anal beads.

“Holy shit.” Marsh lets out a coarse laugh. “You weren’t kidding.”

“I told you.”

“This iscrazyyou have all of this.” He picks up furry handcuffs. “How often do you use these?”

“Never.” I answer honestly. “Brands just send them to me. Almost all of them are unused, but I feel bad throwing them out.”

“Secret Santa gifts?” he offers.

“It gets old,” I say.

“So, you really just leave these untouched?” he asks.

“I feel like if I rely on things like this, it would be hard for me to have an orgasm without it.”

“Are youopposedto using them?”

“No, I just don’t really have—” I look at him. “Doyouwant to use them?”

“I mean, you have a whole drawer of stuff here…It’s kind of a waste, right?”

Marsh is full of surprises. Not only am I so deeply fascinated by him on a cognitive level, but whenever the topic of sex comes up, he keeps me on my toes. It’s like we’re both discovering more of what we like and don’t like, together.