"I remember that," she thought to herself. What she was trying to recall was the first time she used a vibrator. She had friends in school who had them and spoke very little about them. They were mystical and taboo for her in high school. Only smutty girls used them, or so she was told. Most of her friends either didn't know what they were or too embarrassed to ask about them.

She didn't like secrets, but she also didn't like the buildup of tension that came with not having the release she needed now and then. A friend had confided in her once about using one, actually using something else. She had even heard of women who used the oddest of things, brush handles, spatula handles, spice containers and the oddest, a curling iron. She hoped it hadn't been on when the woman used it.

This was a world she had never thought about. She didn't want it to be dirty. She suspected more used a vibrator or dildo than would admit, but never dreamed of eliciting a full confession.

But the time had come. The big step, probably not that big, was about to be made. She would buy a vibrator.

First was the dilemma of getting one without anyone knowing. (This, of course, was way before the days of internet privacy. ) Then there was the issue of where to get one.

She knew some of her guy friends subscribed to Playboy or Penthouse. She wondered if there was a mail order thing in the back of one of those like there were for toy soldiers in the back of her brother's comic books. "I am a smart girl," she thought to herself.

"Hey, it's me. ( Hi, what's up? ) I'm curious about something and I hope you can keep it private. ( Sure, what's up? ) I was curious about your, uhhh ... mmm ... 'man' magazines. I've never seen one before and, well, I just, well ... ( Curiosity, go the better of you? ) Ya ... I guess. Do you think I can borrow one for a few days, just to kind of see what's in one? ( Sure, no problem, I'll slip it inside a Sports Illustrated or something and leave it in your mailbox this afternoon. ) Thank you so much, I'm so embarrassed. ( Don't worry about it, I'm glad you thought of me, ... I guess! ) It's sweet of you to keep it quiet. I may even be nice and tell your new female interest how great a guy you. ( Really?!?! ) Ya, well, I'll look for it in my mailbox when I get home. (Ok, bye.) Bye!"

She couldn't wait. Were the ads in the back or not? What did they look like, how would it feel, what color would it be, would it be too big, too long, too skinny, uggggghhh, "I hope not!" she said.

He made good on his word. It was wrapped inside a Sports Illustrated issue right where he said. He was such a good friend. She would have to think of a way to reward him for his discretion.

And he was good looking. Ya, she would talk to the girl he liked, but maybe there was something more, a gift certificate, who knows. He was so sweet.

She turned to the back and looked at the ads. Slings, strap-ons, OH here it is. Dildo's and vibrators.

She was impressed with the selection, but cautious about her brother walking in and finding her looking at a magazine of naked women. She couldn't tell, but there was a number for a catalog she could order. She found the number and got the catalog sent.

A few days later it came addressed to her in a discrete envelope. It looked like junk mail but remembered the operator telling her it would come from North Carolina. How quaint. “Raleigh, the vibrator capital of the U.S.”

She flipped through the pages and found WAY more than she expected. Most of it she needed an unabridged dictionary for an explanation. "A what?” she heard herself say now and then.

There were lots to choose from, smooth, ribbed, studded, life-like, glow in the dark, and lots more. She like the idea of something plain, but a little exotic.

The Pickle.

It was a regular 6 or 7 inches long about an inch or an inch around and studded with quarter inch knobs. Perfect. One problem, it was lime green an looked like a pickle! And hence the name.

She dialed, took her dad's credit card and ordered. "I hope he doesn't check the statement."

Later she took $15 and put it in his wallet with the credit card while he wasn't looking. That would be the first and only time she ever put something in her dad’s wallet.

A few days later it arrived, addressed to her again and again, discrete and from North Carolina. She imagined someone in a warehouse whose job it was to stuff packages with sex toys. What did they tell people they did all day? Did they get the rejects? Who knew?

It didn't matter, it had been days and she was getting more and more edgy. When did this all start?

She sat in her room alone with her new toy. She turned on some music and locked the door. Mom and dad were gone for the evening for dinner and her brother was at a friends. "How convenient," she thought. It was almost too convenient.

She couldn't wait. What do I do? She turned it on. It's low hum was almost as relaxing as the music. She laid back on her pillow and placed it between her legs. Her left hand snuck up to her nipple.

She touched her breast with compassion and tenderness. "Oh gawd, I hope no one walks in." The Cranberries were singing "Linger" in the background.

The hum was quiet and slow. She moved it toward the middle of her legs and moved it up and down. the knobs passed over her clitoris softly and smoothly as she was wet.

The knobs tickled and teased her. Like a silly playmate on too much caffeine. She decided a few more minutes of this wouldn't hurt. She wanted to feel it inside. Slowly she slid her pickle inside. It vibrated and told her it was her friend in a passionate way. It slid in and out and was most seductive when it was about to go in.

She slowly pushed and pulled. She felt more and more tense. "What's going on?" But she didn't want to stop.

She pulled her hips up and down squeezing gently to feel the vibrations more, the more she squeezed. She moved it back out and massaged her clit again.

She felt a tingle and wanted to know this thing more. She fluctuated between inside and out.

Her breathing was short and staccato. It was in perfect rhythm with her hips. She breathed in, her hips went up, she rubbed that sweetest of spots and turned up the knob, she exhaled and closed her eyes.

She was getting closer to something, but wasn't sure what it was. She started to see something like spots and feel something deep inside her or was it all over her or was it right where that thing was vibrating?

She pushed it inside her then pulled it out and let out a small whimper. She rubbed her clit and felt something really exiting about to happen. She went faster and her breathing was so fast now. She was scared, she was excited, but most of all she wanted more.

Then she felt it, that release she had been looking for. It came and stayed and she felt it. Ohhh, sweet pickle!

"Oh my gosh," she thought. "That was good, I hope I can still walk."

She turned off her new toy and laid there catching her breath and trying to remember where she was.

Then an idea hit her. She reached over to her dresser and pulled it out.

The next few days seemed like a blur in the morning and the evening. Not too much and balanced, but oh so fun. She really liked the shower and her new friend, "Mr. Pickle," but she had to be really careful about noise and how long she was in the shower.

A few days later she called him back.

"You got your magazines back without your mom knowing, right? (Ya, that was a good idea to hide it in a poster tube. ) I thought that would be good. Did you develop my film I asked you for. ( ... ... ya ... ) did you see what was on the pictures? ( ... uhh ... ya ) Well, you were so sweet I just wanted you to have a little keep sake. I only shot those for you since you were such a sweetheart about all of it. ( ... thanks ... I'm flattered ... wow ... ) You deserve it, ANNNNNNDDDD your friend is really interested in you. She wants to go out with you she said. ( Awesome! ) Thanks for all your help! ( No problem, anytime. ) Ok, you tell me how your date goes. ( I will. ) Bye ( Bye ).

She heard him smile through the phone.