Page 67 of Touch Me

“A spunky poet,” she said in a tone that revealed her skepticism.

“No. He was funny, though. And really clever.”

“Did you fuck his brains out?”

I rolled my eyes at her. “No.”

“Oh shit, babe, why haven’t you moved on from masturbation yet?”

“Trust me, I’m trying. He just wasn’t the right guy for it. But I still had fun. He was wonderful, and it was so . . .”

Oh, how do I describe it?

“It was nice.” Ahhh, shit, that didn’t do it justice. “No, it was better than nice. It was special. He was really sweet, and I tell you what, he totally got his rocks off.”

“No fucking kidding.” She rolled her eyes.

It’s so hard to explain what happened when I was with these men. Society put sex on a pedestal that was fifty stories high. But every one of those stories was meant to be appreciated, explored, experienced.

I was learning a lot about sex. I was learning a lot about men.

And along the way, I was learning a hell of a lot about me.

That afternoon, when I finally made it home, wearing one of Lolly’s dresses that was two sizes too small for me. I opened my diary and at the top of the page for 27th of February, I wrote Mr. William Richards, room 16, My Devil in Disguise. I filled the rest of the page with details of my fun morning with Mr. Average, the man who was everything but.

People were such interesting beasts. So much emphasis was put on what we looked like, and yet it was what we had hidden beneath those layers that was worth showing.

I curled onto my side, tugged my sheet up under my elbow, and as I allowed sleep to take over, I tried to find a word to rhyme with contentment.

The only good thing about grocery shopping was the abundance of shoe stores in the shopping center I went to. Eleven shoe shops may seem extreme in one shopping center. Not for me, though. There could never be enough shoe shops.

I swore the shoes called out to me, invited me in with their enticing colors and fabulous new styles. Today, I simply couldn’t walk past one of my favorite shoe stores; Wittner.

I didn’t need shoes; I had more than enough to last a lifetime, but I bought a pair all the same. Today’s purchase were floral patterned pumps, with killer heels and a bargain price at just $129.

With my new purchase swinging off my arm, I made my way toward the grocery store. Along the way, a dress on a mannequin in the Portmans window caught my eye. It was not something I would normally wear . . . black sequins from top to bottom, shoestring straps, tight-fitting and short. Very short.

But it was definitely something my naughty twin, Memphis, would wear.

I slipped into the boutique and found the dress on the rack. I grabbed two sizes and went into the changing room. The dress was heavy, considering how much fabric there was. I chose the smallest one first and glided it over my head. Wriggling it into place was easy, given the stretchy material. My instant reaction was to tug it down, but it didn’t go any farther. The hemline sat high on my thigh and that made it much shorter than I was accustomed to.

I turned to inspect my backside and bent over to check if my knickers showed; they didn’t.

The dress was sexy and nothing like I’d normally wear. That made it the perfect dress for Memphis. Maybe I could find a wig, too; I’d become tired of the black one. Blonde might be a nice change or copper-red.

I wriggled back out of the dress, and after purchasing it, I went to the shopping center’s information booth. Pacific Fair was one of the biggest shopping centers in Australia, and it may just have a store that sold wigs.

I was in luck; a store called Starkles specialized in high-fashion designer wigs and hairpieces.

The selection of wigs was overwhelming. I had no idea there would be so many choices. I was greeted by Tania, an overzealous, twenty-something, saleswoman with perky boobs and a squeaky voice who took control, and I allowed myself to be swept up by her passion. She obviously loved her job.

After a brief tour of what was on offer, she placed me in one of the leather chairs in front of a mirror and brought over wig after wig. I tried on short, medium, long, and extra-long, curly, straight, black, red, blonde, and multi-colored, full wigs and just ponytail additions.

Even the blonde wigs were abundant in choice. There was platinum blonde, strawberry blonde, golden blonde, and blonde streaked with copper. Tania made it loads of fun, and not once did she ask me what I needed the wigs for.

It reminded me of the scene in Pretty Woman where Julia Roberts tried on dozens of outfits in the designer store, and all the staff fussed over her.

What surprised me was how many different colors suited me. My natural hair was light-bronze, brown, and was thick and long, reaching halfway down my back, although I usually wore it up in a ponytail or bun.