She checked herself in the mirror and frowned. She strived for perfection but never saw it in herself and couldn’t accept that it didn’t exist. But she really needed everything to be perfect. Especially tonight. Because tonight was the night she was finally going to let Brett have his way with her.
She wore a vintage dress from the 1950s, but she wasn’t one of those trashy, tattooed women who wore vintage dresses out of some stupid obsession with pinups. She was a conservative girl and modern dresses were slutty. She wore nylons, because all women should wear nylons. And finally, she wore a pearl necklace and matching earrings, because well, you have to have pearls.
But behind her conservative venire, Ginger hid a secret. An obsession stored in her basement. A basement she claimed was unfinished. Was an absolute mess. A basement she never let anyone see.
Especially not Brett. She loved him. If she didn’t love him, she wouldn’t have relations with him. She simply wasn’t that kind of girl. She wanted to marry him and would wait until marriage to have relations, but she was a realist and knew he might leave if she acted like too much of a prude.
If they got married, she’d get rid of the things in her basement. After all, she wouldn’t need them. Brett would be enough. And Brett would never have to know her secret.
When Brett arrived, he brought flowers as a man should. She fixed him dinner as a woman should. She served him Scotch. She drank Sherry. He told her he loved her cooking. He asked for seconds. They talked and laughed. She kept catching herself staring at him, thinking of how much she loved him.
After dinner, she served petite fours and continued drinking Sherry. She could feel herself getting tipsy and knew a lady would stop drinking, but she was having so much fun. And it was so nice being near him.
They sat together on the sofa. He touched her leg and it felt electric. He held her hand. He leaned in and kissed her gently. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned into the kiss. She began to feel a need. A need she hadn’t let herself experience with a man for a very long time. Too long a time.
He whispered against her lips. Told her he loved her. How he felt like he could tell her anything and hoped she felt that way too. She agreed and kissed him.
Ginger was just intoxicated enough to think she really could tell him everything. He’d accept her no matter what her secrets were, because he truly loved her. She should tell him about the basement. Actually, she should show him the basement.
She straddled him, pushed his back against the couch, and kissed him deeply. He grunted. She felt a surge of power and confidence.
She stopped kissing him and kept her hands on his chest. “Do you want to see my playground?” she asked coyly.
“Do you mean…umm…like have sex with you?”
“Well, yes, but I want to show you my playground first.”
“Do you have a swing set in the backyard or something? I really have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“No it’s not that kind of playground and it’s not in the backyard. It’s in the basement.”
“You mean the basement you never let me see before?”
“Yes, but you said we could share anything. So, I feel like I can show you what’s in the basement.”
She missed the look of concern on his face. A sudden invitation to see her basement seemed a little more than suspect.
“Umm…that’s okay. Really. There should probably be some secrecy in a relationship,” he rambled, “You probably shouldn’t know everything about someone.”
He aggravated her. “You said we could share anything!” she whined, “Now why won’t you go to the basement?”
“Ginger, I think you’ve had too much to drink.”
She was too lost in her tirade for reason. “Stop being a wuss and come with me to the basement!”
He stared at her.
She got up, took his hand and led him to the basement door. He slowly turned the knob and hesitantly opened the door.
She flipped on the light. All he could see was a set of plain, wooden stairs, and a washer/dryer at the bottom of the stairs.
“I don’t get it.”
“You can’t see it from here silly. Go down the stairs.”
She gave him a small push and he descended the stairs reluctantly. At the bottom of the stairs there was a small exercise room with a treadmill and an exercise bike.
He sighed with relief. “This is your playground?”
“No,” she replied and opened a door he had thought was a closet.
She turned on the light.
He jumped, “Oh my god!”
Staring at him was a long-haired blonde sitting in a chair, dressed in nothing but a bra, panties, and heels.
Ginger laughed. “I didn’t mean to scare you. She’s just a doll. A very realistic doll. She even has a tongue that works.”
He looked around. There was also what appeared to be a masturbation chair. And a sex swing. And various dildos and vibrators in a glass case.
He had no idea what to say. “Why do you have all this stuff?”
“I have immoral urges that I can’t control. I get them out here,” she babbled, suddenly nervous. He wasn’t reacting the way she thought he would, “I always planned to get rid of it.”
Her heart sunk. “We can go back upstairs. We can just forget about this.”
“Yeah, let’s go upstairs.”
He rushed out of the room and up the stairs.
She hurried behind him.
“This doesn’t change anything does it?”
“I don’t really know who you are.”
“Stay and have another drink.”
“I have to go.”
He crossed the living room and hurried toward the door
“You’re going to come back right?”
He didn’t look at her as he opened the door. “Yeah sure, just give me some time.”
She didn’t believe him but couldn’t stop him. She wanted to cry but didn’t. She knew what would make her feel better: her darling Sarah and her wonderful, full-functioning tongue.