The Shop Girl and the Priest

I sprayed drinking water across the table we were having lunch at.

"What?" I giggled, wiping my chin.

"Orgasm, Darling," said Cheryl, "you know, come?"

"Yes," I said, "I know what an orgasm is!" I said with a blush. I knew, but I'd never had one.

I had begun experimenting with self-pleasuring back in school, and although I wasn't an expert, I enjoyed rubbing my body without resort to the final orgasm. I did get extremely wet down there and my nipples hard as a rock, but I never really played around with that part of my body that had for the last few years had represented nothing but agony and misery.

"Honestly, Sugar," she said sipping her tea. "When I'm 'riding the cotton pony,' there's nothing like it."

"Riding... what?" I was in a fit of embarrassed giggles.

"The cotton pony, when Carrie comes to stay, Girl Flu; honestly, Jai, you're soooooooo sweet!" She put down her cup and leaned forward, "I've been known to grab Pete and have him screw me senseless halfway through. Shit, but it's nice!"

Here was Cheryl's advice in action. She had joked for the last year that the one thing that I needed to sort out my problems 'down there' was 'a good length,' and here, wrapped in shiny heat-sealed plastic was the good length she had suggested, along with any number of glories within this box of delights.

It said it would thrust at different speeds, had vibrating rotating beads and the trademark rabbit on the side.

I just loved Cheryl even more than before, I had been at rock-bottom, and just opening her present had lifted me a little bit. I sent her a text.

'Loved the party, thank U so much 4 my present 😊'

Her reply was simple.

'Use it 2nite Babe, perfect end to a perfect evening 😉'

I thought hard,

'Hasn't been so perfect ☹, My Dad has been an total arse since we got back'

Her reply was instant,

'Come round and I'll open a bottle of wine, sweetie. Always here for a chat, luv U'

I sent her hugs and kisses and said I would if I needed to.

I opened another package and found a bottle of perfume and a small box of jewellery; another package was a really nice top that I'd once spoken fondly of in the store. I would have bought it myself, but knew I'd get grief if I wore it. I knew exactly how much all the gifts had cost and also knew how much my friends earned.

With tears in my eyes, I carefully unwrapped each package placing each with the gift card. I started to realise quite how much booze I'd put away that evening. I hardly ever drank alcohol, so technically it was lots, during what had been a lovely evening up until my parents had done their thing.

That was it really, I wasn't allowed to be happy; my exams had gone to rat shit, and I had to pay. Just to drive in the dagger, they were nicer to my sister because of it.

I lay back on the bed and my head swam, the illuminated numerals on the bedside clock radio bounced around the room. I closed my teary eyes and laid perfectly still, hoping that I would sleep.

I woke at four in the morning with a dry mouth and a full bladder, went to the bathroom and relieved both problems. I stared at myself in the mirror. Eighteen years of age and had achieved none of the big plans I'd had four years previously when I picked out my exams.

The following day was a Sunday and I wasn't at work. My thumping head forced me awake and I made my way downstairs and to the kitchen.

Dad was in the garden, moving into the shed every now and again, and I knew he could see me. His short glance at me was as unpleasant as it had been the night before, I wasn't going to get an apology or an explanation from him, that was for sure, and I was fucked if he'd get one from me.

Taking my phone from my dressing gown pocket, I sent Cheryl a text, asking if she was in and fancied a coffee as I'd get some lattes on the way round, Cheryl replied immediately that she was, and I should come straight round and not to waste my money. She'd get the coffees from her machine.

I brushed my hair, cleaned my teeth and left, ignoring the full tea pot and breakfast things Mum had laid out with my mug, something she'd never done before, and I figured might have been by way of an apology before she'd left for the church service that was so much a part of her life.

It was a ten-minute walk to Cheryl's place, and by the time I got there my head had cleared somewhat. The fresh cool air had reinvigorated me, although there was just the hint of a hangover at the edges.

Cheryl's gate opened into the garden, and I made my way through the wonderfully dishevelled plot full of toys and bikes and a huge trampoline I'd bounced on with her daughters, Rosie and Ruby, that summer.

Over coffee, I told her of my parents' snobbery and the rather backwards apology of the night before.

As if from nowhere, I was in tears and Cheryl was hugging me.

"I did what they told me!" I spluttered, "Okay, I fucked my exams because of my periods and hormones, they send me off to work and insist I give them almost all my wages for housekeeping. Trudie fucking CURES ME, and it's almost like my dad resents me getting better without him! What does he bloody want from me? When I point out the truth all he can come back with is 'all the time you live in my house...' Fuck him!"

"If you want to stay here for a while, I have a spare room if you want it!" she said straight away. Cheryl was buying her house, thanks to some money left to her by a grandparent, and said the extra money would be most welcome.

I stayed for lunch, thanked Cheryl for her care and said I would sleep on her idea.

At home, Mum asked where I'd been and that I'd missed Sunday lunch, something I hadn't done for years. Dad folded his arms and shook his head with pursed lips.

I looked straight at him.

"Oh, come on Dad," I said quietly and putting a hand on his, "I been SUCH a disappointment to you for the last few years, me not being at lunch could not come as any surprise."

"Please, Jaime," Mum said not looking me in the eye, "last night... we didn't mean for it to come out the way it did."

"You were brought up to better things," snapped Dad angrily, butting in. "Your sister has..."

"Always Karen," I said with a sigh just like Dad's. "Every single thing I've done since my fourth birthday, you've thrown Karen in my face. 'Karen could ride a bike by herself before she started school," I tried to copy Dad's tone, then looked at Mum. "Of course your sister could read before she started in reception class.' Karen was potty-trained before she could walk and her shit didn't stink." I squeezed Dad's hand and he whipped it away, "You wonder why I always thought I was a disappointment?"

Mum put a hand to her mouth as she realised what had been going on. The was a similar pause from Dad, who quickly came back in.

"Oh, here we go," said Dad, "There's the Jaime we know and love."

"Is that really the best you can do, Dad?" I said coldly, "Not only do you think me taking a tablet to stop me being in pain instantly means I'm some kind of slut, next you insult some of the sweetest people in the world who put that party together for me out of their own pockets and bought me some lovely presents, you have to talk about them like they are the scum of the earth."

"We did not!" said Mum.

"Okay, Mum, perhaps you didn't," I turned to face my Dad, "But HE tore into them in the same way he always does about people on the soaps I'm apparently fixated on."

There was an uncomfortable pause as Mum thought about that. Dad, on the other hand, sat up with a start.

"Fixated," he said. "That's the first long word you've used in years." He nodded with the self-satisfied smile on his face at his humour at my expense.

The ignorant twat was actually laughing at me. I was now fuming and it was nothing to do with hormones.

"So I only use short words do I?" I said. "Well here's two short ones," I looked Dad in the face, "FUCK... YOU..." I growled.

"While you live in my house..." Dad snarled back.

"I'm moving out!"

"Jaime!" Mum jumped up with a start.

"What, Mum?" I snapped back. "None of us in this house are perfect, are we?" I said to the confirmed church-going Christian. "But I am made to suffer for it."

"Suffer?" snapped Dad, "What the BLOODY HELL do YOU know about suffering Hmmm? Hmmmm?"

Again, I could see Mum's face as she processed that. It wasn't like Dad had suffered that much, either. I looked at Mum who did seem upset rather than angry.

"Look, I live here but no one 'likes me,' not Dad, not Karen, sometimes not you. I didn't quite get the exam results expected and you all fell on that like wolves and I've been punished ever since for it."

"Punished?" said Mum, looking across at Dad.

"I quote, 'A bout of hard work to teach me a lesson, enough of a punishment...'" Mum was in shock, but Dad clearly wasn't and almost seemed to be enjoying this.

"As I've said before," he sighed with a big self-satisfied smile and folded arms, "Aaaaaaall the time you live MY house..." he chimed.

"I've been offered a room by one of those awful soap-fixated women," I said.

"And you'll be back in a week!" snapped Dad triumphantly with smiley-pursed lips, "with your tail between your legs!" He waggled his head and was so impressed he stood up for his lap of honour around the coffee table laughing again.

"Yeah, because I really need to live in a house where no one likes me and I'm the butt of the jokes, when I'm not being the whipping girl, of course."

"Jaime..." Mum gasped, "Please... please, let's talk this..."

"Talk about what, Mum?" I shouted back, "What's he going to listen to?"

"Leave her!" Dad shouted. "Doubtless, with all of her medical expertise she'll have no problem getting a job as a doctor!" He gave a big belly laugh that convinced no one.

If I hadn't been sure before I really was now.

Even as I slammed my bedroom door, I could almost see his self-satisfied smirk and affected shoulder roll as he laughed to himself about his comic genius.

I'd bought a large suitcase for the foreign holiday I'd been planning, but when I brought it home, Dad had simply got more 'Wicked stepmother' and told me that if I could afford a holiday then I could afford more housekeeping, and upped it by forty pounds a month.

I had been aiming for Greece, not for the outrageous piss up that many of my friends and colleagues did, but Athens and the Acropolis and soak up the atmosphere of the ancient culture, a bug I was bitten by as a young girl reading about the Iliad and the Odyssey; although many of my school friends still ribbed me that Homer was just a Simpsons Character.

I thought about that and picked up my schoolgirl copy of the old picture book my beloved Maternal Nan had given me, 'The Ancient Greeks and Romans'.

History; I'd been planning to study history at university and get into archaeology or teaching. That was how I thought I would have spent the last few years at least, not getting sworn at, sat on a checkout or making sure the tinned carrots were lined up with the labels facing outwards.

Via Facebook, I knew my best friend Judith was in her first year at Warwick, studying architecture and talking about the fantastic time she was having and the two festivals she was going to that summer. All I'd had done was go to see some touring retro-shows at the local theatre that were from Cheryl's youth, with loads of the ladies from work older than me.

It was time to change. I threw my clothes into the suitcase, careful only to take the things that I had bought myself or had been presents. I grabbed a large plastic trunk on wheels and put in my bits and pieces, my presents from the night before, books and some favourite old keepsakes.

As I did, I heard Mum's tearful, 'What have we done, Rod,' instantly shut down by Dad's usual self-righteous grumbling insistence that it was nothing and 'she's just looking for attention AS USUAL,' as they headed upstairs to get changed for evensong.

Carefully I carried the box downstairs and listened to my parents in their room, now loudly arguing about whether that was necessary. I tiptoed upstairs, took my suitcase and grabbed my coat.

I left my key on the shelf next to my mobile phone -- it was still in Dad's name, even though I paid him for it with my housekeeping - and slid out as quietly as possible and was at Cheryl's house drinking tea fifteen minutes later.

It was pretty obvious that I'd gone, and I knew Dad would be all proselytising and 'as soon as she apologises she can come back,' and laughing 'let her see life in the real world, she'll be back with her tail between her legs soon enough!'

No, I fucking wouldn't.

Using Cheryl's laptop I cancelled my direct debit to my Dad, instead sending a smaller amount to Cheryl's account, then ordered a new phone and emailed some close friends about my change of address.

The first thing I noticed when I set up my new phone was Karen's broadcast across Facebook that 'Bloody Jaime had done it again' and I'd soon learn that hissy-fits are okay up to a point, but bloody ignorant SHOPGIRLS should use their experience with groceries to learn which side their bread was buttered. Karen wasn't that funny or that clever, and I guessed it was one that Dad had thrown into the conversation and she'd copied onto social media.

I unfriended her and unfollowed her as soon as I read that comment.

Aunt Polly and Uncle Frank PM'd me and offered a friendly shoulder to cry on, a hot meal at any time and even a sofa to sleep on; with enough notice, an actual bed.

*****

I quickly settled into life with Cheryl and her girls, paying rent and housekeeping, and babysitting when necessary, even getting the girls up for school in the morning, sorting their breakfast and packed lunches, which they always considered a real treat.

Cheryl had her boyfriend Pete, and with me in the house it meant she could stay at his place and 'enjoy herself' without worrying about her children coming in to visit.

Cheryl asked, but never nagged me about 'boys,' telling me there was no rush and that I'd learn about them in my own time and at my own pace.

Dad never approved of 'boys,' and preached that study and hard work were far more important. Mum, on the other hand, was different, and as soon as I reached my fourteenth birthday, started innocently talking about one or two of the 'sweet young chaps' at church, and how the 'Youngsters Group' was going so well and had the biggest smile on her face when she hinted at the romances that took place there as a result.

Yeah, right; I'd grown up and gone to school with most of them, and while they were mostly nice, I wasn't attracted to any of them, especially Jeffrey, the one that had made fun of my lack of breasts in year ten and had come up with the insult 'Samie-Jaime,' which caught on with the rest of my school.

He met me at the church a year or so after I started work at the Supermarket and had gone with Mum to 'help out' at a jumble sale, even though I no longer went to services. I saw him looking me up and down in my one of my older dresses that had tightened up around my new, much fuller, figure.

Now considering himself terribly grown-up and taking the A-levels I hadn't been allowed, he tried to re-introduce himself as 'Jeffers,' and tried very hard to be cool about things. I made out like I'd only just recognised him and asked him to step outside with me for a moment. He smiled like an idiot.

He soon lost it when I let him know that I still hated him for the misery he created around me and the last thing I wanted was him leching at my new curvy figure, or to even try to pretend that nothing had happened less than eighteen months before. Having listened to lots of angry people in the last months, I stepped closer and stabbed his skinny chest with my pointer finger, telling him in very professional tones that if he ever came with punching distance of me again, I'd break his glasses and his nose with the same fucking punch.

He tried to speak.

"Go on," I said. "Go and tell my mum and the pastor that I just threatened you, but one important thing, JEFFERS; remember NOT to call me 'Samie-Jamie.' I did tell my Mum that you were the genius who came up with that particular torture at the time. She probably hasn't forgotten."

I never saw him again.

No, there were still no boys on my radar, and since I moved in with Cheryl my bedtime and bath time experimentation had increased in both regularity and effort. I had my plastic battery powered sexy birthday present in my bottom drawer for when I needed it, but I was still too terrified of the thing, to be honest, and it was still wrapped up.

Within a few weeks of moving in, Cheryl started to talk about her long-planned Ann Summers party and that all the girls that were coming from the store.

"I'll babysit for you, Cheryl," I said with a grin.

"Will you fuck," said Cheryl with a laugh. "The kids will be with their Nan and Grandpa and you'll be right here modelling slutty underwear, drinking wine and having a laugh!"

That's what I did.

On Cheryl's advice ,the night before I shaved 'down there,' a first for me, taking off the lot which involved some yoga moves and the use of a mirror. I was quite impressed with the look, having considered leaving a strip, but I wanted bare and that was how it stayed from then on. The next evening, I was in jeans and a T-shirt with excellent make-up done at the store by one of the health and beauty girls, helping Cheryl set out chairs and checking the oven for the snacks she'd put in.

By eight o'clock, her living room was full of her friends and lots of the ladies from work. As soon as the wine flowed we were off, and the toys were brought out first.

I was shocked!

I knew such things existed, of course, and had one in my bottom drawer, but had never seen any of them 'for real.'

Sharan, the sales lady, was good at her job and stood before us explaining what each did, the kind of effects they had and the kind of results the buyer could expect, suggesting that we hold the buzzing toys to our noses to get the full effect, assuring us they hadn't been anywhere else.

"LOOK!" said Cheryl with a giggle. "Jai has that one in her bottom drawer!" finishing with a screech. I did, but never mentioned it was still shrink-wrapped.

The laughter was raucous, and as I got tipsy my blushes decreased with my alcohol intake. Then Cheryl called for me and another girl from our team, Ali.

"We'll come back looking even sexier than we do now, ladies!" said Cheryl.

We all trotted upstairs slightly nervous, but for Sharan, the Ann Summers Sales Lady, who was already unzipping her immaculate blue dress to show off her amazing tanned form, wearing a black lace body stocking that clung to her.

"Right girls," said Sharan. "We'll start with the camis, bodies, sexy nighties and then work our way down to the smaller and sexier!" She looked us up and down. "Come on!" She clapped her hands and Ali smiled, shrugged and pulled off her tight T-shirt. She had a nice figure, but I was actually pleased to note that my tits were bigger than hers. "You too, Jaime. Here's yours!" She handed me a whole mess of red lace, silk and bits of string, "I'll give you a hand with that one," she whispered.

"Thanks!" I said, still trying to work out how to put it on. I unbuttoned my jeans, looked to my left and saw both Ali and Cheryl removing their trousers and taking their panties down with them. Ali had a strip of pubic hair like I'd considered the night before. I took the plunge and pulled off my T-shirt, slid down my jeans and stepped out of them. They weren't tight like Ali and Cheryl's.

"Look at all of these curves," Cheryl snapped as I stood almost naked but for my bra and knicks before her. "Where have you been hiding all this? Fucking hell, Darling, you are really sexy," she grinned, eyeing up my now flat pubic region in a way that no one ever had before.