“It happens everywhere. Every city has their own set of hidden gems.”
“You’re very good with drunks.”
“Well it takes one to know one!” she replied.
“I don’t see you as the type to pee in a store,” I said.
“Hey, if you’re into that I’d be happy to.” She kissed me. And truly, I actually thought about it for a minute.
“I AM KIDDING!” she said. “Don’t you know how to take a joke?” she asked while pulling the back of my hair in such an aggressively sexy way.
I was relieved. Kind of. But I would be lying if I said I didn’t find it slightly erotic at all.
“So—I swear, I didn’t do this for you—but I did actually put the word out to swinger couples to come hang out here and I’m planning an event specifically for them in two weeks.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really.”
“Where is the flier for it? I don’t see one!” she said.
“I don’t have a printed flier! They’re so old-fashioned. And not in the budget,” I said. “But it’s all over this one message board! And a couple read it and came in earlier tonight to check the place out and, and, I… had sex with them!”
“You WHAT?!” she said, looking incredibly surprised. And I could tell she didn’t believe me.
“I did! I was their unicorn!” I said.
“Oh look at you—quick with your swinger terminology. Is that why you’re wearing bright purple?” she asked
“No! I’m wearing bright purple because my other shirt got too sweaty after I had sex with them, so I put on this purple thing to look nice for you.” We paused and just blankly stared at each other. “Along with these panties!” I pulled my pants down and showed her the top of my black lace panties, with a little pink bow on top. I think she actually was starting to believe me. I felt guilt and pride at the same time.
“I am really shocked, little Taryn.”
“I wasn’t doing it for you, but I thought of you the whole time. Well, for a good portion of it anyway. And I feel like, your plane must have landed here for some cosmic reason so I could tell you in person. I wasn’t sure how to tell you over the phone. Mostly because you rarely answer my texts,” I said.
“I answer the ones I feel like answering,” she smirked.
“Yeah, I can see that.” I jumped in her chair and kissed her and kissed her, again and again. I felt so emotionally drained. I kind of wanted to scream. I wanted to bottle up this moment and drink it later when I would inevitably miss her again and she would inevitably not respond to me.
“What’s this?” She picked up the copy of Make Me Creamy that the shorts/pants customer so abruptly left on the store counter.
“Oh, it’s uh, a return. A guy came in and, well, he used it, and left it here. I guess he didn’t want it!” I said.
“Well, let’s watch it!” she said. “You’ve got a TV back there and nothing playing on it!”
I actually forgot that the thing on the wall in the back of the store was, in fact, a TV. It had never been used and I treated it like a decoration. Why didn’t I ever put a movie on? So many boring hours could have been spent with my eyes focused on something else. Between the sporadic live sex in the store that I observed on a small monitor, I could have been watching pre-recorded sex on a large screen.
Amanda bent down and wiped the dust off the DVD player behind the counter, and successfully figured out how to insert the disk (god, is there anything this woman can’t insert?). And there we were, me and Amanda, sitting at the cash register as it turned from dark to dusk outside watching a surgically enhanced blonde girl strip her fishnet bikini off in slow motion, in front of an Olympic-size swimming pool. She held my hand. We were on a date.
Our porn cuddles were sometimes interrupted by customers wanting to make a purchase. I rang up a few of them here and there with an incredible amount of enthusiasm. I could see that Amanda liked when I was a diligent worker, even if it meant ringing up blow-up dolls, fake vaginas, and herbal Viagra. She barely blinked an eye at the fact that I literally had sex with two people at the same time not even three hours earlier, but she did get incredibly offended by the fact that I almost sold someone silicone lube instead of water-based lube with their Flesh-light.
“You know that will basically ruin the product?” she barked at me. She was basically like an encyclopedia for things that gave people orgasms. She genuinely cared. It’s like she had a PhD in sex toys.
“I had no idea,” I said.
“It says ‘USE WITH WATER-BASED LUBE’ on the back of the box!” she exclaimed. “How do you not know?”
I didn’t know what to say.
“How does she fuck standing up in those heels?!” Amanda said, pointing at the screen that displayed a woman in what seemed to be nine-inch heels, on a staircase, having sex with a muscular man with a large cock. I thought of Cherise who also successfully had sex in large heels just a few hours earlier, but she was on a couch most of the time and not standing on a staircase.
“Sometimes heels make some women feel sexy,” I said. “It turns them into superwomen.”
“Well, not me,” she replied.
“Have you ever even worn high heels?” I asked.
“My mom made me when I was in a dance recital in the fifth grade! I fell flat on my face. And then just a few weeks later I came out of the closet.”
Well, well, well. Finally, something I had more experience in than Amanda had. It was time for a lesson.
I grabbed a pair of red, patent-leather heels that we had in stock. I sat on the floor, slipped off my Converses, and put the heels on. My toes bunched up and stuck out of the open-toe shoe, daggers of sharp black hairs jutted out of the area around my ankle that I buckled the strap around. I should really shave more meticulously if my sex life was going to remain active like this. I now actually looked like a younger version of Sandy with giant red heels, a purple corset, and cotton leggings. I walked around the store like it was a catwalk, my ass and calves felt tighter, and my posture felt incredibly statuesque.
“How do I look?” I batted my eyes at her.
“A little ridiculous, and kinda hot!” she answered. She kissed me, in the middle of the empty store, and we did a middle school slow dance to the loop of generic keyboard sounds playing on the porn DVD behind us. I could see the Tampa morning sun peeking in through the crack under the door and knew that soon enough she would be going back to the airport.
“I don’t want you to leave,” I whispered into her ear as we danced.
“Well, I have something for you—to keep us together even when we’re apart,” she said. She went over to the counter, kneeled down, and reached inside of her backpack. What was happening? The rational part of my brain knew there was no way she could be proposing to me, but the rational part of my brain also visibly saw her kneeling on one knee, and reaching inside of a bag. What else was I supposed to think?
She pulled out a very sleek-looking box. I thought she might be giving me a new unreleased version of the iPhone (which would have come in handy since she was indirectly the reason why my screen was now broken) but it said “We-Vibe” on the front.
“What is that?” I said.
She opened the box and pulled out this purple, curved, mini U-shaped thing. It reminded me of a clip my mother used to use on bags of potato chips to make sure they wouldn’t go stale.
“Put this on,” she said.
“Uh, ok?” I stretched it apart and put it on like a bracelet.
“No, no—stick it IN you,” she said with delight.
I was skeptical, but I complied, pulling my pants down around my ankles and moving the lace panties to one side. I felt like I was balancing on stilts, with the new shoes I was wearing and my pants limiting my movement. I channeled my inner porn star getting fucked by a staircase and held my balance.