Would You Rather

5 - WYR: have two dicks that might work or one that definitely does?

FINLEY

No sane person should ever find comfort in fingering the arteries of a cadaver. It's a good thing nobody ever said I was sane.

With the lingering memory of Fidan's hands on my waist and the tiny kiss we shared over the first lime haunting me, not in a horror movie way, but like ghosts do in shitty ghost shows, I can barely focus on shit. My brain is operating on unforseen levels of stupidity, haphazardly yelling "all these signs point to..." insert dramatic noise here "a demon infestation" every thirty minutes and making a huge deal out of almost nothing.

I'm sort of miserable.

Well, that and my assigned cadaver lab buddy, I love her to bits, only ever really talks about how she's perceived in the world. It's an alarmingly specific bit that gets tiring after you realize she's completely unaware of it.

"Like, just, he said I come off as confident but I just can't see it, you know? Fin, do I come off as confident?" I look up at Melissa, sigh, and nod.

"Yeah, Mel, you're pretty confident." Lying to your friends is not a good thing to do, but I can't really tell her deadpan no, Mel, you're obsessed with how people view you which is like step number one to insecurity.

"Whatever, it's whatever," she looks down at the cadaver. "I need to stop seeing him."

"Who, Caden?"

"Yeah," she mutters. "I just... I hooked up with him this weekend... again."

"Again? Girl. Come on," I stand straight, gloved hands on the stainless steel desk. "I thought we agreed to stop hooking up with miners for good." Caden is her shitty step-brother's best friend and, in this lab, public enemy #1.

"It's not my fault!" She laughs. "We just- wrong place wrong time. He got mad at me at the party for flirting with another guy and then, bang."

"Literally."

"No, not literally," Melissa digs in, using a pair of forceps to inspect a muscle abnormality in our cadaver. It takes quite a gut to talk about sex when a sixty-five-year-old's dead bloodless dick is out in front of you, but you really can't phase us much anymore. "I think, honestly, that I have vaginismus."

I frown, writing down the notes on the muscle abnormality, trying to figure out what it is just by looking. "Explain that to me."

"Well, okay, it's not like we didn't try to have sex," she starts. "This is a healed muscle tear, write that down. Left biceps. But okay, we tried. It just didn't go. You know? Like it didn't get in. And I've had sex before and like those guys worked."

I look up at her, reconsidering everything I've ever said about Caden, the potash miner. "So he's huge."

"Not particularly."

I revert back to my original opinion of him.

"But okay, here's the thing, like, I wanted it, you know? Like I really wanted it, but it just didn't work."

"So you think you have vaginismus."

"That's what the signs point to, I guess."

I look at Melissa and her short curly blonde hair and crazy intense eyeliner for this early in the morning. "Maybe you were nervous."

"But I wasn't."

"Subconsciously," I offer. "Like somehow you might look weird to him or something."

She thinks on it, "eh, enough about me, how was your weekend?"