I had just finished my work week and decided to stop at a local Chinese restaurant on the way home. This particular restaurant was the one that I usually frequented, although it wasn’t as good as it used to be.
My usual tactic was to simply pull up to the take-out window and order. They were rarely busy and the kitchen staff could whip up an order in under five minutes. This time, however, there were several cars in front of me at the window.
Since I didn’t want to wait for each of the people in front of me to order and get their food prepared, I parked my car and went inside. It had been years since I had gone inside of the restaurant and it was obvious that nothing had changed since then. The decor was old and tired. It was obvious that they were hanging on by a thread.
I walked up to the counter, which was cluttered with all kinds of random stuff. An older lady walked from the kitchen and asked if she could help me. She was certainly Asian, but whether she was Chinese or not, I couldn’t ascertain. I placed my order: Pepper steak and General’s chicken (Yes, that’s how they list it!) with a couple of a la carte egg rolls added in for good measure. It was a lot of food, but I was picking up enough to last the entire weekend.
The lady offered me a complimentary drink while I waited for my order, but I politely declined. I preferred to sit at one of the chairs near the entry door, instead of at a table. Besides, I knew that the food would be out quickly and I didn’t want to feel obligated to sit there and drink an entire beverage.
True to my previous experience, the food was ready in less than ten minutes and the lady called me up to the counter. She asked if I wanted plastic utensils, soy sauce, and the other usual accessories, all of which I declined. For some reason, she seemed to have “taken a liking” to me.
She offered one of their “special” fortune cookies. I smiled and pretended to be impressed, all of the while thinking that there was nothing special about their fortune cookies. They were exactly the same ones that every other Chinese restaurant handed out.
Instead of reaching into the usual square cardboard box and pulling out a factory-made fortune cookie wrapped in red-printed clear plastic, she pulled out a handmade cookie wrapped in a little pouch similar to the ones that fried wontons were packaged in. She gave me the parcel and held my hand with both of her hands. She gently caressed my hand as she gave me the following instructions: “First, you crack open the cookie. Then, you read your fortune. Lastly, you must eat every bit of the cookie.”
I really didn’t know what to think about this whole “magic cookie mumbo jumbo,” so I simply nodded at the lady and left with my order. “Good luck with your fortune!” She shouted as I headed out the door.
As I drove home, I couldn’t help but be a bit taken aback by my encounter with the lady.
In case you are wondering, my name is Alexa. I am twenty-four, female, and recently single, hence the barricading myself inside the house for the weekend. It was the story of my life, one failed short-term relationship after another.
Once I arrived home, I placed the General’s chicken in the fridge and opened up my Pepper steak with fried rice along with a couple of eggrolls. This particular Chinese restaurant was the only one in the area that actually made their own eggrolls, and they were really good. There wasn’t much meat inside them, in fact, I couldn’t really say whether they were chicken, pork, or both. They were always freshly fried, so they were super-crispy on the outside and the shredded cabbage inside still had a bit of bite left. The secret combination, though, was dipping the eggroll into the Pepper steak gravy.
I managed to eat about half of my platter, along with two of the eggrolls. That was a pretty large meal for me. The remaining food was bundled back up and placed next to the other container in the refrigerator. As I was getting ready to dispose of all of the unneeded packaging, I discovered that the fortune cookie was still in the bottom of the brown paper bag.
I pulled the package out and looked at it for a moment. Even though I was completely stuffed, I decided to give it a try. I pulled the cookie out of the paper sleeve and looked at it for a moment before cracking it open. This was very different from the usual fortune cookies handed out. I never much cared for those, anyway. They always got stuck in my teeth, and although they were mildly sweet and crunchy, they weren’t very satisfying.
The fortune read, “A perfect solution to your deepest desires will free you from impetuous interactions.”
“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I thought.
I took a nibble of the cookie, and it wasn’t too bad. It was extremely crispy and had a mild sweetness, as well as some spice that I couldn’t identify. It reminded me of the crispy edges of a funnel cake. I contemplated what the fortune could be referencing as I ate the remainder of the cookie.
Once finished, I turned my chair toward the front door and waited for a solid thirty seconds. When Joe Burrow didn’t burst through the door and ravage me, I was finally convinced that the whole fortune cookie thing was complete bullshit.
I took a bath and settled onto the couch with my tablet. After watching a couple of episodes of Yellowjackets, I decided to call it a night. I hopped onto the bed and stared at my oversized, stuffed bunny. “Do you wanna fool around a little bit, Bun-Bun?” I asked him.
He, of course, didn’t answer, but he was always down for a bit of late-night fun. I pulled my nightshirt up as high as I could and started to gently tickle my exposed torso with Bun-Bun’s delicate fur. It was a pretty common activity anytime that I needed to get off before bed. Predictably, I was soon covered with goosebumps. I'd discovered that doing so made me more sensitive and receptive to physical stimulation.
Although Bun-Bun and I had taken our relationship to a different level in my adulthood, that hadn’t always been the case. There is an often-played home video of my fourth birthday party that clearly demonstrates the rocky start to our friendship.
It was your typical children’s birthday party. I was all dressed up and opening presents when Dad brought out a huge box. It was huge compared to me, anyway. I ripped away the wrapping paper and lifted the top off of the box. I couldn’t even see over the top of it, so I reached inside and grabbed hold of one of its ears. Mom announced that it was a bunny and I got really excited. I pulled on it until I toppled over backward and dragged this stuffed toy on top of me. After staring at it for a moment, I was not pleased that its white fur was mostly splashed with boyish colors like blue and purple. I shoved it away and gave it a couple of kicks for good measure.
“He’s a boy!” I pouted.
I refused to even go near the stuffed rabbit. Eventually, Mom took it to my room and put it in the corner, but I wouldn’t even touch it. That was the case until one night when it was storming outside.
There was thunder rumbling and lightning crashing outside. I remember trying to talk my parents into letting me sleep with them, but they told me that I had to be a big girl and sleep in my own bed. When I got back to my room, I was still scared and crying. Then I saw that big, boy-rabbit and thought that maybe he could protect me. I dragged him over to my bed and eventually managed to hoist him up onto it. I held onto him all night long and somehow managed to survive the storm.
After that night, Bun-Bun always slept on the bed with me. He successfully protected me from storms, monsters, wild animals, intruders, and anything else that I imagined would possibly sneak into my room at night. I can only assume that I couldn’t say the word “bunny,” so I substituted “Bun-Bun.”
While I still cuddle up with Bun-Bun sometimes, some of our adventures have gotten pretty naughty. As I was saying, I don’t think there is a single spot on my body that Bun-Bun hasn’t explored.
I have always enjoyed sex. Even if it isn’t particularly good sex, or if it is brief, it usually feels good for a little bit. Perhaps it isn’t always worth the cleanup afterward, but to me, sex is kind of like the “bad pizza” analogy. Even if it’s bad, it’s not usually terrible.
It always seems that when I am actively single, the fact that I don’t have a partner makes me want sex even more. Bun-Bun can testify to that fact.
I cradled Bun-Bun in the crook of my left arm as my left hand explored my body. My right hand drifted inside of my panties as I started to softly rub my clit.
After a few minutes, it was obvious that not all of my “itches” were being scratched. I slid my panties off and spread my legs. With both hands between my legs, I had two fingers inside me as I attempted some degree of clitoral stimulation at the same time. I could feel Bun-Buns soft fur tickling my left breast as my arms shifted him around. The goosebumps had returned and I was gaining momentum. My face felt hot as I gasped for air with my mouth wide open.