A Dental
Persuasion
by Rick Tornello
“OH
breath of a thousand camels”.
That’s
what she called me one morning.
“And you ain’t no spring flower either,”
I said, quickly moving out of her fists thrust.
“If you
want to PLAY this morning, you’ll do
something about that breath of yours, shave and
freshen up. I can wait, and I will bring things
to a simmer… while you’re busy,”
she said, smiling, rolling onto her stomach.
Never one to
say no to such an invitation I headed into the
bathroom. I noticed the two new sonic style tooth
brushes. My old battery operated one sat inside a
coffee mug along with the stimulator and regular
brushs. The old one has a rotary head and a
pulsing brush. It works just fine.
The sonic brushes make a humming sound like a UFO
in a sci-fi movie.
A creature of
habit, I used my old one, shaved and quick
showered as per her verbalized commands. After
the games had been completed she said, “come
on you fuddy-duddy, try the new ones I purchased.”
“I tried
it but I don’t feel clean after using it,”
I said tongue in cheek. “Since I drink lots
of coffee I sometimes mix baking soda with my
nonfloride tooth paste.”
“So try
it your old way on the new one. You always want
me to try new things.” She giggled.
So why not,
and I added a glop to the head, put it in my
mouth and turned it on. The vibration I felt the
first time, really a hum, is different with the
soda. I felt a vibration through my entire skull.
“What did you just say?” I asked her,
my mouth foaming like a mad man.
“Nothing.”
“What do
you mean nothing? I heard you say something.”
“I didn’t
say a thing. I was thinking about dinner.”
“I must
be crazy but I swear I heard you say something,
about pizza, clear as day.”
The next morning we were both getting ready for
work. The aroma of fresh perked coffee drifted up
to our suite from the kitchen below. She looked
over at me, “well how did you like it?”
“Like
what? We didn’t do anything.”
“The
tooth brush, you idiot.”
“I don’t
know I sort of like the old one.”
“Give it
time.”
“Yeah
whatever.” I thought, first your rabbit, now
a brush, what’s next?
We’re
still in the bathroom; she’s in her scanty
undies brushing her teeth as I watch. She put the
whole tooth brush in her mouth in a most
provocative manner and looked at me.
I was thinking a quickie would be nice, and about
all sorts of positions. I notice that she dipped
the brush head into the soda. Her teeth are
always sparkling. Why she needs that, I’ll
never know.
She looked at
me in a strange fashion and said through a foamy
dripping mouth, “Not gonna happen.
Definitely not THAT!”
“What’s
not gonna happen? I didn’t say a thing!”
“A
quickie.
“I have to be at work, I have a meeting, and
I’m clean.”
“I never
said that, and since when did that ever stop you,”
and I add, “before we were married?”
She flipped me
a finger, the finger with the ring. “I got
this,” she said laughing hard.
I wondered. A
quickie is not an unusual thing for me to suggest.
“I guess I was hoping out loud,” I
responded. I knew I didn’t.
####
The following
morning we are both bent over our individual
sinks brushing with the sonic brushes. She took
my brush batteries and hid them. I dip mine in
the soda. She mimics me. We begin to brush. I
look at her, she looks at me. We both look at the
brushes.
I rinse mine
completely of toothpaste and soda, and brush
again. She slowly does the same, staring at me
all the while.
I stop, add
the paste and soda. She does it too. I brush, she
brushes. We stop, toothpaste and soda dripping
and foaming from our mouths like two mad dogs.
“What did
you say,” I ask.
“No, you
first. What did you say?” she responds.
“I was
wondering why you like that when you’re so
close to orgasm. Then I heard you say that…”
“It
brings me higher, just that little push you do,”
she finishes my sentence.
I say out loud,
“neither one of us said a thing. I though it,
and you answered it. Something is very strange
here. Where did you say you purchased these
brushes?”
“I got
them mail order. I saw an ad on the internet
something about the best cleaning anywhere in the
universe.
“The dentist said sonics work better.”
“Well
they do a hell of a lot more than clean that’s
for damned sure,” I exclaimed. My old
brush never did this. These don’t do a thing
with that toothpaste we use. But when we add the
soda, the load on the motor changes the frequency
and somehow, I’m guessing here, there’s
a chemical reaction tied to the frequency and the
field of the motor that allows us to convey our
thoughts to each other.”
“Yeah,
but only in the bathroom while we brush our teeth.
A lot of good that will do,” she says.
“Maybe
that’s a good thing.” I quickly respond,
adding, “We can transmit, but can we block?
I’m sure we have private thoughts that are
not meant for each other, no less anyone else.
Could you imagine?”
“We could
learn how,” she says.
At breakfast
we look at each other and I tell her, “I’ve
been giving this brush stuff some thought. I’m
not sure I want to practice mind control, or mind
reading on you, or you on me. As much as I wish I
could read your mind, I’m not sure I really
want to, most of the time anyway.”
She stands up,
smiles and says, “Read This,” as her
dress slips to the floor.
By
Richard Tornello © 2011
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