““Wait, you clean my dildo?’ I ask, slowly. ‘Every week, I clean it with the polish.’ ‘With furniture polish?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Jesus.’ Sophie got me the dildo for my birthday present three years ago. I have never used it. No matter how little sex I get, I’ve never been able to get turned on by a piece of rubber. And thank God; I’d probably have died of toxic poisoning by now with half a gallon of Mr Sheen being wedged up my vagina. ‘Katya,””
