Mumbling to myself, I slipped it over my head. The material was so soft that it glided over my skin, fitting over my ample breasts and skimming my hips, giving me a curvy outline that looked nothing like me. “I guess it’s okay,” I told her begrudgingly.
“Let’s see.”
Someone pulled back the curtain, and the three of them gasped. “Helen,” Becks whispered. “You look stunning.”
“And younger,” Lizzy added.
Vee leaned in and hung up about twenty more hangers draped in clothes I’d never choose for myself. “And we have more for you to try, so I hope you brought your credit card.”
We finally crashed through my front door hours later, tipsy from the additional cocktails we drank with dinner, carrying a stupid amount of bags filled with dresses, work outfits, shoes, and lots of new underwear that I’d already told myself I would return as soon as I could.
“Right, get your laptop out. We have more things to buy and one more thing to do.” Vee grabbed some scissors out of the drawer in the kitchen, opening and closing them manically as she wobbled slightly on her heels. “I’m going to cut the labels off all of this lot and throw away your old lady underwear, just in case you were thinking of taking anything back.”
My friends knew me too well.
When she came back a few minutes later, laden with my underwear that she unceremoniously threw into the bin, the three of us were sitting around the small dining table, wine poured, laptop open.
“What next?” I sighed, looking between my friends, knowing we were about to have the conversation I’d been avoiding all afternoon.
“When did you last have an orgasm?” Vee asked matter-of-factly as she sat across from me and lifted the wine glass I’d filled for her.
“Erm?”
“Oh, God. That doesn’t sound good.” Becks’ eyes widened.
I picked at my fingernails, trying not to look at any of them. “I mean, with Gary, things hadn’t been good for a really long time. You all know that. We’d not had sex in about two years, but if I had to guess, five years ago.”
Vee spluttered, her white wine showering the table. “Thank fuck you’re divorced now. But what about when you last gave yourself an orgasm?” she asked as she wiped up the mess with her sleeve.
My cheeks heated. I hated how often I blushed.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Helen. We all do it,” Lizzy reassured me. “I have a husband who takes pretty good care of my needs, but I still like some alone time with my favourite vibrator.”
I rimmed my glass with my finger, hoping the ground would open up and put a stop to this. However, it didn’t, and I was forced to answer.
“I’ve never done it,” I mumbled so quietly I knew they wouldn’t hear me.
“What was that?” Lizzy asked.
I lifted my gaze, sucking in a breath. “I’ve never done it.”
“Never done…” Vee’s eyes widened. “Never?” she screeched.
I shook my head. “I was a teenager when I met Gary. We only had sex a handful of times when I fell pregnant. I’ve only ever been with him. I’ve never touched myself, never experimented. We had sex a couple of times a week at the beginning, but then Conner and Callum came along and we didn’t have time. Overthe years, we had it less and less… once or twice a month, then once or twice a year, then… well. Anyway, sex was okay. I came sometimes. It was over pretty quick. I never felt the urge for anything more.”
My friends stared at me, open-mouthed.
“You’venevertouched yourself?” Vee confirmed.
I chewed my lip as I shook my head again.
“You’ve never used a vibrator?” she added.
“No.”God, why do people insist on talking about this stuff?
“Did you at least experiment in the bedroom? Go on top, have him fuck you from behind, standing up?” Lizzy checked.
I screwed up my nose. “I tried it on top once, but he told me that my stomach wobbled and it was putting him off.”