Training (Jenlisa Adaptation)

Jennie

My birthday weekend isboring, but nice, which is the way I like it. Mum and I keep it very lowkey. A few years ago, I thought that she'd never even see me turn seventeen; now every celebration with her feels like a milestone. She bakes me a cake, and we spend most of the weekend chatting and eating and watching films. I wouldn't ask for anything more.

Lisa texts me on Sunday night, while we're in the middle of a reality dating show.

I hope you havent forgotten ur homework ;)

The sudden thud of heat between my legs is so strong I almost drop my slice of cake.

I haven't touched the vibrator yet. It's hidden inside a balled sock at the bottom of my suitcase. I'm scared to try it. It's one thing for Lisa to get me off; but I don't think I'll be able to make myself come. And if I don't, I'll feel terrible.

I turn off my phone and try to focus on the show, but that tiny text burns through me. It's all I can think about. Onscreen, two of the contestants kiss, hot and heavy. I shift, remembering Lisa's mouth on my throat. And the inside of my thigh. And my nipple.

I stand up abruptly, smiling at my mum. "It's getting late. I think I'll go to bed."

One hour later, I'm twisted up in my sweaty sheets with my shiny new vibrator between my legs, and I still can't come.

I just can't do it. I press the vibe against my clit, rub it in circles, and I can feel myself building up to some kind of peak, but no matter how long I try, I just can't reach it. Without Lisa's hands, gentling me, relaxing me, I can't get out of my own head enough. I try to slide the bullet inside myself, remembering Lisa's fingers crooking in me, but it hurts so much I feel like I'm tearing something. I have to blink tears out of my eyes.

I give up, pressing the off button and flopping down onto the sheets. A hot wave of shame bursts up in me, squeezing my chest. There is something wrong with me. What girl can't even get herself off, for God's sake? Instinctively, I grab for my phone.

Lisa picks up on the fourth ring. "Hey, babe." Her voice is rough, like she was asleep. "What's up?"

"I'm so sorry," I babble, "I can't do it."

"Can't do what?" She pauses. "Hey, honey, are you crying?"

"No. Just—I'm trying to do like you told me, use the vibrator, and I thought it would be easier this way than with my hands, and I've been trying and trying and I got so close but I can't finish, and I'm just so fucking mad at myself—"

"Wait, wait, hold on. Slow down. You're lying in bed, jacking off right now?" She sounds strange.

"Yeah."

"Fuck, Nini. You can't just call a girl and tell her that."

"Sorry. You're right, this is—weird." I sniff. "I'm sorry."

"Why do you keep apologising, honey? Why would I be upset?"

"Well, you've spent all this time trying to help me, and you bought me a vibrator, and I still can't make it work—"

She tuts. "You have to get over this idea that you owe people orgasms, babe. You're a woman, not a sex toy. Your orgasms are for you, not anyone else."

I squirm in the sweaty sheets. "It's just so frustrating. How can you do it to me, but I can't do it to myself? I really need to come, and I can't."

"Jesus. Okay, sweetheart. Please don't be sad. What do you want from me?"