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“Except what?”
“We blew out all the lights and a small tornado trashed the studio a little.”
Sacha barks a laugh.
“Oh my god, you did that much damage without having sex or an orgasm? I’m going to have to warn the town council of the damage that’s imminent when you finally re-pop that moldy old cherry.”
“Hey!” I protest. “That’s super gross.”
“So is your pathetic ass right now. Go put real outdoor peopley clothes on, and some makeup. I’m calling an Uber.”
“But it’s not time to get Ade from school yet.”
“Magical Rooster!”
“Is that like a KFC? I could eat some fried chicken.”
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
* * *
So it turns out that I can’t apply makeup for shit when I’m drunk and Sacha has to take over. She also dresses me in some hideous floral dress that she found hiding in the back of my closet. I’ve literally never seen it before in my life. It’s not black. She even forces me into some sandals.
It also turns out that The Magical Rooster is not in fact a fried chicken restaurant. It’s not even a fried chicken takeaway. It’s not somewhere you’d ever want to eat.
“It’s a sex shop,” I whisper to Sacha when the Uber pulls up outside. I can’t breathe. “I can’t go in there.”
“You can and you will. Wait here,” she instructs the Uber driver. I cringe. I can’t go in there and then get back in here. He’ll know what we’ve been doing!
Sacha ignores my feeble protests and drags me from the car. I start chanting in my mind ‘please don’t let anyone I know see me.’ I figure it is a prayer more likely to come true than ‘please ground open now and swallow me whole.’
Inside, my brain explodes. I don’t even know what I’m looking at as Sacha drags me through the store. My eyes feel like they’re on stalks or like they’re going to pop out of my head. There’s displays...moving on their own. Oh my god. How much did I drink?
“Sacha, good to see you.”
“Hey Juniper, and you. My friend here needs help. Like, serious, never had an orgasm in her life, help.”
“Sacha!” I smack her arm and cover my face with my hands. It’s burning with embarrassment.
“Don’t worry. That’s what I’m here for. Lots of women don’t orgasm with men. Even some that think they have, definitely didn’t until they tried my products,” the shop owner says, turning to me. Through my slightly parted fingers I can just make her out, but I can’t meet her gaze.
“I suggest you start with something small, nothing too scary or intimidating.”
“Actually,” Sacha cuts in, confidently. “I think we should load her up. Like, with one of everything. Or near enough. Maybe not back door stuff, she’s a bit skittish.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” I squeak.
“Anal, sweetie.”
“I know what the back door is! I’m inexperienced, not a moron! I meant, what do you mean ‘load me up?’”
“Well, once you try this, which is gonna be as soon as we’re done here by the way, you’re gonna get addicted. So you’re gonna want to experiment. And it’ll really suck if all you’ve got at home is one little toy. You might start using household objects, and I do not need to be called out to my bestie’s house to rush you to the ER so that you can have a ladle removed from your hoo-ha.”
“A ladle?”
“Or a cheese grater. I don’t know. You might be a kinky bitch.” Sacha shrugs before turning back to the owner. “Can you make up a medium…no, a large box of toys for us. A real selection of everything you offer, but no butt stuff.”
“Sure. Solo play or couples?”
