Page 80 of Enzo
I cringed. “Yeah… okay.”
“I’m not a therapist,” Doc added, shifting in his chair, “but there are ways to, you know… test the waters. Toys.”
“‘Toys’?” I blinked at him, horrified. My voice cracked around the word as though it didn’t belong in my mouth.
“Yeah. Toys,” he said as if we were discussing the weather, not me and the crater in my chest where sex was supposed to live. “Silicone. Rechargeable. Realistic. Or not. Whatever floats your boat. You wanted advice—I’m giving it.”
I was mortified and I swear I was burning up.
He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees, gaze steady and unflinching. “Look, some people—survivors—fuck. If you’re serious about wanting sex then start with your hands. Then maybe try a plug, small at first. Lube’s your best friend—don’t be shy with it. Then a vibe if you can stand it. Maybe something that looks like a cock. Maybe not. Some people find the shape’s a trigger, so you keep it abstract.”
I squeezed my knees together. I felt as if my brain had short-circuited.
Doc kept going like he hadn’t just detonated a bomb between us. “No goal. Not orgasm. Not penetration. Just… sensation. Can you touch yourself without dissociating? Can you breathe through it? Can you stay present? That’s the test.”
I opened my mouth. Closed it. My cheeks were burning.
“I…” I couldn’t get words out. My stomach was in knots. “So… me getting erections now… after everything… that’s normal?”
“Yeah,” Doc grunted. “It’s normal. Your body’s working. Get out of your own way.”
“Okay.”
“We done here?” Doc asked, staring at his watch and probably making a mental note for how much to charge.
“No. Wait.” I had another question that I couldn’t bear to ask the others. “So, I wanted to ask… I mean… how do I even go about maybe hiring someone?”
“What—”
“Not just anyone,” I hurried to add. “Not someone forced into it. I mean someone who’s there because they want to be, someone who cares about what they’re doing. Someone who might be… patient. Experienced. Like a high-class escort, I guess.”
“Jesus Christ,” Doc muttered, staring at me as if I’d suggested something obscene. “Are you serious?”
“I mean… yeah.” My voice wobbled, but I forced myself to stay firm. “I don’t want… mistakes. I want to be sure I know what I’m doing.”
“Christ.” Doc shook his head and laughed, but it wasn’t funny. “Look, Robbie, that’s… fuck this.” He stood, grabbing his keys off the table. “I’m out of here.”
“Wait!” I grabbed Doc’s arm, desperation clawing at my throat. “Just… listen. You help people, right? People who need it? Well, maybe some guy out there is the opposite of me. Maybe they need… I don’t know, tenderness and shit. Maybe they’re looking for a way to find control too. Maybe… maybe I just need someone who knows what they’re doing.” My face burned. My throat felt raw. And all I could think was that I’d proved everyone right. I was a mess. A fucking embarrassment. A kid, just like Doc said. Having this attraction to Enzo—it fucking terrified me. I’d never felt this before. Never dated. Never made love. Never lived the same way as others. And yet, here I was, wanting to be perfect for Enzo, wanting something unnamed and unknown, and it scared the hell out of me.
“You’re talking yourself in circles,” Doc muttered again.
“I’m serious,” I said. “I want to stay hard, have sex, have an orgasm. Because Enzo should get the best of me, not the broken pieces.”
“Enzo,” Doc stared at me, eyes like flint. Then he said, voice low and cutting, “You think hiring someone to fuck you is gonna fix your head?”
“I don’t know,” I said, almost choking on it.
Doc cursed, loud and raw, then shoved to his feet and threw the door open. “Enzo!”
“No! Wait!” I shouted.
Doc shook me off. “Fuck this stupid kid before he fucks someone else!”
Rage ripped out of me like a scream I couldn’t contain. I launched at him, fists flying, scratching, biting, hitting every bit of him I could reach. “You bastard! You don’t get to say that! You don’t get to talk about me like that?—”
Arms wrapped around my middle—strong, unrelenting. Enzo. He dragged me back, my feet kicking, me still reaching for Doc. My nails had torn red lines down Doc’s neck and he wiped at them, smearing blood and looking almost satisfied.
“Let me go!” I yelled, writhing in Enzo’s hold. “Let me go, let me go?—!”
