“So you stood in the middle of the store and whipped people?” I laughed.
“Well, I showed people how to whip their partners properly if that’s what they were into,” she explained.
“That’s so interesting. I wish I could get a famous sex author to come to our store to talk to anyone about anything. It’s usually just a bunch of horny old men looking to jerk off. That and drunk people. We sure do get a lot of those at 4:00 A.M.!” I replied.
“Yeah, but the fact that you’re in one of the last few remaining shops outside the adult use zoning jurisdiction is pretty cool. You gotta keep that going.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, like, it’s great that people get to come to an upscale shop like Hustler and talk about sex, but people can actually have sex in your shop. There’s not a lot of those left.”
“Yeah, I don’t really know much about it but I know Sandy is grandfathered into some old law because of the lease. But when I’m cleaning up semen on the floor at 6:00 A.M., it doesn’t exactly feel like much of a privilege!” I said.
“As someone who definitely doesn’t like semen, or cleaning for that matter… I’m telling you, it is.”
We both laughed. A waiter came and delivered a very large plate of French fries that looked more like baked potatoes cut into slices, with various colored sauces. Amanda ate one, multi-dipping into every sauce cup. I would have feigned disgust if she didn’t look so goddamn sexy dipping that fry.
“They really have the best fries here,” she said. “Try one!” She dipped one into the red sauce, which looked the most basic out of all the sauces. She probably assumed I was a standard ketchup-and-French-fries person, which was accurate. She reached over the table, slid the French fry in my mouth, and gave me a kiss to seal it in. The sauce was tomato-based, but more than ketchup; it was spicy, and vibrant, various flavors that I couldn’t name melding into a unique whole, much like the kiss Amanda left on my lips. The combination left me ravenous.
“Come over here!” she said. She signaled me to sit on the same side of the table as her, and I obliged without hesitation. I wanted to be closer to her. And to the fries, of course.
“You know, you could probably do your own kind of workshop at the store. If your boss isn’t even there half the time, I’m sure she wouldn’t care,” Amanda said.
“What do you mean?”
“Like, if you just put the word out that couples and single women, or whoever, could come play with each other in the store, you would get a ton of people in there and probably sell a whole bunch of products. I bet a lot of people in the area just don’t know what you really have going on in there.”
“Or a lot of people in the area know exactly what we have going on and that’s why they stay away!” I answered.
“Well, you have the foundation there because of the store’s incredible position. Some younger blood like you could really change things up if you tried.”
She had a point. If our store really was in such a unique position, shouldn’t we try to use that to our advantage?
“Okay, let’s say I did do an event,” I said. “Would you help me? I don’t know what I’m doing!”
“Yeah, sure!” she said.
“How can you help if you don’t even live here?” I asked.
“I have an unlimited data plan on my phone, and I am really good at using airplanes,” she smiled.
Was she telling me she would come? Were we making future plans? I honestly couldn’t really tell. She spoke in these very fragmented sentences, always hinting at things but never stating them. I felt both anxious and inspired at the same time.
“So really, you’ll help me?” I asked. I wanted to latch myself onto her like a koala bear to a tree and make her stay for a couple more days. Or weeks. Or years. I wasn’t sure which one yet.
“Don’t do this for me,” she said, “do it for your store!”
I had worked at Dreamz for about two months now. The decision to work there was not much of a decision. It was the only place hiring that was less than a mile away from where I lived. I was, however, beginning to like it. I had known Amanda for about twelve hours, and I was smitten. Putting more effort into a part-time job logically made just as much sense as putting more effort into a twelve-hour lesbian relationship, when I never even identified as one. But logic doesn’t always apply when you’re still drunk off an orgasm.
“Why?” I said. “Maybe I want to do this for you.” I pouted like a little doll. I think I was flirting? Not sure if I was doing it successfully.
“Well, don’t,” she sternly said, “but do it,” she added, also sternly. I wish she would have shocked me with her fancy futuristic-looking electric wand while saying that.
“All right. Maybe I will.” I grinned. She fed me another French fry, like I was a good dog who had properly followed a command and earned a treat. I think I subliminally just agreed to not have a crush on her and to care about my job more, and I wasn’t quite sure how I felt about that. But I was under her spell, and I was high on hibiscus drinks, perfect fries, and stunning lips.
We kissed, and kissing in public felt very official to me. I had never been kissed at a fancy restaurant before. I know, Amanda doesn’t consider this a fancy restaurant, and perhaps every restaurant in Los Angeles looked just like this one. Maybe there were spices and herbs on the McDonald’s burgers there, but I considered this quite fancy and I considered this a date.
After a few more courses of decadent burgers and a velvety dessert, she slyly slipped her credit card to the waiter. The check hadn’t even come yet! How could she be so confident that she could take care of the bill without even seeing it? I tried to do the math in my head: between the drinks and the food, this meal definitely cost over $150. Maybe more than that. I can’t remember how many plant cocktails I’d had. Was it two? Was it three? I was lost in a blur of lust and decadence. The waiter swiftly took her card and returned it hastily with a receipt. She signed the bill without even looking at it. I had no idea what to even offer to pay, since I had no idea what the bill cost. I was in a panic and at a loss for what proper lesbian date etiquette was.
“I got it, don’t worry,” she said. Apparently I was not subtle about my panic. She smiled at me, which calmed my current nerves, but a whole set of new ones were beginning to arise because I knew our date was coming to an end.
We stepped outside and she hailed two cabs, one for me and one for her. I don’t know why we couldn’t have shared a cab back to the hotel; my car was still there. Wasn’t it on the way to where she was headed next? It must not be. Right? That had to have been the only reason to separate us, after such a lovely date. A few extra moments with her would have been nice. Of course, maybe it was better to just tear off this Band-Aid and say goodbye.
She kissed me outside, I slipped my hands underneath her suit jacket and felt the softness of her T-shirt. I loved the taste of her mouth, I loved the softness of her skin, and I loved the feeling of her breasts pressed up against mine when she came close to me. It was a new feeling, but it felt like a complete natural extension of my sexuality.
“Bye, Taryn,” she said as she opened her cab’s door.
“You mean ‘see you soon,’ right?” I countered. I couldn’t help it. Maybe I was coming off as needy, but I didn’t want to let her go without knowing for sure whether I had a shot with her or if this day would become one lonely but cherished memory.
She winked at me. “Yes, see you soon.” Then she slid into the cab. I watched the car carry her away, the end to our first, and hopefully not last, adventure.
I sat in the cab on the way back to my apartment, pinching myself. I couldn’t believe the last twenty-four hours of my life had happened; sexual surreality clouded my mind.