Amanda never responded to my “I miss you” text; in fact, she hadn’t talked to me at all since that night. It had been a few days, and I’d since sent her some questions about how I should be planning this event. Was I supposed to provide alcohol? Do I need decorations? Am I expected to have music going? I needed professional help for this professional party; besides the post on the forum, I really didn’t know what I was doing. But there was only silence from Amanda for five days until she suddenly sent me a text asking how work was going.
I was boggled. Did she not see my texts? Or did she just not care? I thought she was supposed to help me! Contacting swingers in a suburb outside of Tampa was never something I saw myself doing in the name of love. Wait, I shouldn’t have said love. Don’t tell her I said that.
I was conflicted. I was happy that Sandy had given me permission to do what I had already been planning to do, and half sad that a person I’d fell head over heels for was apparently ignoring me. Around 1:00 A.M., a beautiful black woman in an elegant black dress, and a tall, white, business-looking man in a khaki sport coat, combed-back dark hair, and black suit pants came inside. Definitely not our usual customer base, especially at this hour.
“Hi! Can I help you guys?” I asked.
“Hello, we, um, read about this place on the lifestyles board?” the woman said.
Holy shit.
“Oh, hey! I’m Taryn, the event coordinator,” I paused, “but the event isn’t for another two weeks. It will look waaaaay more exciting by then. I promise.” The man looked around, sizing up the store as if he was some kind of health inspector.
“Where does the play take place? We’re in the middle of a store? I can’t bring our pet here! Where would we engage? On top of a stash of magazines?”
“We, um, don’t allow pets in the store. Unless they’re service animals, of course.”
The couple looked at me with disgust.
“Let’s go honey, I had a feeling this was a scam.” The man walked in the direction of the door.
“There’s no scam here! I promise.” Then I quickly realized they meant a pet human, who served them sexually, and not a yippy Chihuahua that this woman would carry around in an oversized purse. I needed to make myself some flashcards with all the terms from the swinger dictionary so I could memorize them. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “It’s my first event here! I’m in the process of putting away the magazines. They won’t be in the way.”
His wife wandered off to look at the shoes. We actually had a great shoe selection, most likely because Sandy really loves heels. She found a pair of stiletto heels on the rack, then bent down to look for a pair in her size. Finding one, she slipped off her little block wedges, and inserted her stocking-clad feet into the nine-inch, patent-leather Mary Janes.
“You like these, Chuck?” she asked. If he didn’t say yes, he must be blind. She looked incredible, the height of the shoes elongating her already graceful, dark legs. Anyone would want those legs wrapped around them. The husband smiled and nodded in approval. His mood changed to a slightly calmer energy as he ogled his wife in the heels.
“So, we have these private rooms here, where you can do anything you want. And it’s of course pet friendly.” I smiled. “Do you want me to give you a tour?”
“Yeah, sure!” the woman said. The man grumbled and went along.
I guided them through the back of the store, and showed them all the ROOMZ and the special features of each. I showed them how to work the TV in the big room (even though it literally entailed pushing an “on” button on a remote), I showed them our selection of lubes, I did whatever I could in my power to make six dirty rooms with tissues and televisions in them as exotic as possible. I felt like a used car salesman. The couple looked pretty stoic and unimpressed. I desperately didn’t want my event to fail before it even started. What if this couple went to the forums and told everyone how lame this place was? I couldn’t stop thinking about how they could so easily dash my dreams; it was the only thing on my mind—well, except for the thoughts of Amanda that hadn’t left my brain since we met, and my amazement at how this woman could walk in those heels. She still had them on, and she was rocking them all over the store.
“I love this place,” the man said suddenly. I was completely caught off guard. “It has like a ’70s vintage porn theater feel. It’s awesome. I assume no photographs are allowed in here, correct?”
“Uh, yes.” Note to self, put up a sign that says No photography allowed and then—it will be official. No photography will be allowed. I can make that happen.
“So, are the rooms always available? Or just during events?” the woman asked me. I like how she said “events” as if there were lots of them all the time.
“Ha! These rooms are literally open 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. I think they MIGHT be closed on Christmas—for, like, an hour.” I laughed, and they laughed with me. I was glad my humor was able to bring us all on the same page.
The couple gave each other a sly smile.
“A year ago we had a child,” the woman said.
“Congrats! That must be one beautiful child,” I said. Was that inappropriate? Either way, it was definitely true.
“The baby sleeps in our room and it’s been so hard to find time to…”
“To fuck?” I said.
“Yes!” they both answered.
“We have a sitter for the next two hours—our evening plans ended earlier than expected,” the husband said.
“Oh! Sure, I’d be happy to set you guys up in a room. In fact, if you buy the shoes and any toy in the store I can let you use the room for free!” I took it upon myself to make a package deal. These could be great repeat customers, with extra money to spend, and a good sexual attitude.
“Honey, go pick out a toy,” the woman said, although before she was even done with her sentence her husband was off to find one for them to use.
“So, what’s your name?” I asked, after a few moments of awkward silence.
“Cherise,” she said. “And yours?”
“I’m Taryn!”
“Taryn, are you a unicorn?”
Ha!
“Oh, ha, ha, no I’m not special or anything. I’m just, you know, doing my job. Unless, you were asking if I was literally a unicorn—but I don’t think those actually exist.”
Damn it, I was losing her! I can’t ruin this now, I’ve gotta think of something clever to say.
But before I could utter another word, she leaned in and kissed me. Her big dark lips tasted like peaches, because of her lip-gloss. I was in shock. I could smell her perfume, it was a bubble-gum scent, but a sophisticated one. I could feel her soft skin, silky but almost plastic.
“You’re new in this lifestyle aren’t you?” She smirked at me.
“Yeah, kind of. I guess you can say that.”
“Why don’t you join us?” she said, and then she kissed me again, more intensely this time. With her silky dress, giant breasts, and fake hair, it felt like kissing a Barbie doll. It was definitely nice fake hair, that moved like hair and looked like hair, but I could feel little pieces of tape in her head where the hairpiece attached.
Would Amanda be proud of me if I joined? I got more aroused by imagining this as some kind of sexual test I had to pass in order to get her to come back, a hurdle in an obstacle course of cock and pussy that I had to conquer to get the prize. I was up for the challenge.
I nodded a hopefully seductive “Yes” to answer her question.