A Vibrator Buzzes in the Wind

Before my move to L.A. I apartment-hunted online and daydreamed about the sunshine, the grass, the hills and the amenities my new home would have.

I'd have a huge pool with hot tub adjacent, and a gym I could use at all hours. And sometimes I found that, but along with the other Craigslist posts there was always a catch. Nine times out of 10 it meant I'd be sharing a one-bedroom with a 42-year-old named Richard who specified he needed a “companion,” not a roommate.

But I did it the easier way and found people I could call “friends” who had at least one of the three necessary amenities in their apartment buildings. Offerings of food and beverage were, and still are, guaranteed entry.

"I found this crazy recipe for microwavable tacos, let's try it. Oh, and hey, wouldn't it be cool to drink some of this champagne from your hot tub!?"

It's the hot tub that gets me. I've learned to love and need it, almost as much as I do my boyfriend. And my vibrator. Oh yeah…my vibrator. This story might get sad.

For our first Valentine's day together, my boyfriend took us on an hour drive to a place called Puddingstone's Resort, an oasis of private cabanas with hot tubs overlooking a lake with views of mountains.

It's a beautiful place and the best gift I've ever gotten. He took note and took me there for my birthday this year. This time I knew what to pack and how to prepare.

We made it in time to watch the sun set from our hot tub, and as he undressed me (teamwork!) I pulled out the red silk pouch that protects one of my prized possessions – an ultra-sleek Japanese-motor-powered waterproof vibrator.

A gift from a sexpert friend who used to work in an adult shop. I had been saving it for a special water-full occasion. Like now.

I barely noticed the balloon-ridden private cabana, with rose petals, candles and sparkling cider in plastic goblets. And the only thing separating us from the beautiful skyline were a few metal bars. These bars geniusly protected us from falling out of the cabana…and cleverly allowed us to contort in some acrobatic sex positions.

A sunset of this caliber looks 10 times more beautiful while you're being railed from the back AND the front. (Cuz you're holding onto the bars, and bars are like rails…get it?)

As the kissing turned to heavy petting I reached for my red silk bag and removed some essential items.

Then I noticed (thank goodness) the sign that said informs horny patrons that no gels, soaps or “other” that could contaminate the water were permitted. $200 fine. We decided it was not worth the additional lubrication.

And that left us with the waterproof vibrator, which I held underwater for a moment to test its waterproofability.

“Oh wow! Look at the colors of the sky!" boyfriend said.

I turned to look at the sunset, propped the vibrator on the side of the tub and leaned on the metal bars while he slowly kissed my neck, shoulders and anything else he could get his mouth on.

The view – both his and mine – was amazing, the sex was getting intense, and I lost myself in the whole experience. Other than our soft noises, the atmosphere was totally silent until:

Rolling, rolling, rolling….plunk.

What the hell was that?

I leaned forward to look over the side of the cabana, which, as luck would have it, was on a sloped hill, and saw my never-used waterproof sex toy sitting on the ground below us next to a cup I assume the previous tenants had lost in the same way.

"Oh shit. That was my vibe."

"Do you want me to get it?" boyfriend asked.

"It's on a slope. It's dark. You're going to kill yourself."

We left it there to die, never used, and never to fulfill its destiny.

But more embarrassingly, we left it there for the staff to find the next day.

I can only hope we've become a Puddingstone legend.

“The tale of two clumsy hornballs.” Or something like that.

Contact Tatiana at talktotatiana@gmail.com.


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